Chapter 43 #2
When she returns, I stand and lace my fingers with hers, noting the flush still high on her cheeks.
This simple gesture—holding hands in public, walking together like any normal couple—feels strangely significant.
Until tonight, we've been hidden away in my home, our connection a secret kept between bedroom walls and stolen moments.
But here, walking through the restaurant with her small hand in mine, I feel something fundamental shift inside my chest.
I lead her toward the exit, hyper-aware of every detail: the weight of her hand, the way she keeps pace beside me despite the careful precision of her steps, the subtle way she bites her lower lip.
People glance our way—some curious about the age difference, some disapproving of what they think they see.
I don't give a damn. For once, I'm not calculating every move, not concerned about who might see us together or what conclusions they might draw.
The cool night air hits us as we step outside, and I watch her shiver slightly. Without thinking, I pull her closer, my arm sliding around her waist possessively.
Maybe I should talk to Harper about this. She might understand this connection between us, this thing that's grown beyond physical attraction into something I can't quite name. She's always wanted me to find someone, to be happy, to stop burying myself in work and isolation.
Who am I kidding? She would kill me. This is her best friend—the girl she's known since they were kids, the one person Harper trusts above all others.
The betrayal would be unforgivable, and I'd lose not just Harper's respect but probably her entirely.
The thought makes my stomach clench with something that feels disturbingly like fear.
Fuck, I hate how much I love this. How much I love the way Skye looks at me, the way she responds to my touch, the way she's changed everything about my carefully ordered world without even trying.
I open the car door for her, watching as she slides in carefully. The knowledge that she's been sitting through dinner with the plug in her ass, that she's been wet, wanting and thinking about me claiming her, has my cock straining against my pants.
After settling behind the wheel, I pull away from the restaurant, my mind racing faster than the car cuts through the California night. The city lights blur past us, but all I can think about is the woman beside me, the way she's somehow become essential to my existence in the span of weeks.
What happens when summer ends and she leaves?
Returns to Pennsylvania, to her life there, to college and friends and a world that doesn't include me?
The thought carves something hollow inside me, a void I'm not prepared to acknowledge.
I've grown accustomed to her presence, to her laughter filling my house, to finding her curled up on the couch with her sketchbook, completely absorbed in her art.
The idea of her absence feels wrong in a way I'm not prepared to examine too closely.
My spiraling thoughts scatter when I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened. I glance over to find her leaning across the console, her fingers already working at the buttons of my pants with determined precision.
"Skye," I say, her name somewhere between warning and plea, though we both know I'm not going to stop her.
"Yes, sir?" she answers sweetly, her breath warm against my neck as she presses a kiss to my skin, never pausing in her determined efforts to undo my pants.
There's something intoxicating about the way she calls me that—not just during sex, but in moments like this, when she's being deliberately provocative.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, focusing on keeping the car between the lines while she frees my cock and wraps her delicate fingers around me.
The contrast of her soft hand against my hardness pulls a groan from my throat.
"You're going to get us killed," I mutter, but there's no real complaint in my voice.
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my throat. "Then you better concentrate, Mr. Grayson."
She leans down without hesitation, taking me deep into her mouth, and my vision nearly whites out at the sensation. The wet heat of her tongue, the way she hollows her cheeks, the complete enthusiasm with which she worships my cock—it all combines to make thinking about anything else impossible.
"Fuck," I mutter, struggling to keep my eyes on the road as she bobs her head, taking me deeper with each pass.
She moans around me, the vibration shooting straight through my body, and I barely avoid drifting into the next lane. The streetlights blur past as I fight to maintain control of both the car and myself. Damn, I love this girl.
What the fuck am I saying?
I try to tell myself it's just the pleasure talking, just the physical release making me sentimental. But even as I think it, I know it's a lie. This feeling—this overwhelming need to protect her, possess her, keep her—goes far beyond anything physical.
Her tongue swirls around my crown in a way that has me fighting for control. Her free hand braces against my thigh, and I can feel the heat of her through my pants.
"God damn, baby, I'm going to come if you don't stop," I warn, torn between wanting her to continue and needing to maintain enough focus to drive safely.
She releases me with a wet pop, her hand continuing to stroke my length as she looks up at me, eyes wide and lips swollen from her efforts. "Please come down my throat," she whispers, her voice innocent despite her filthy request. "I want to taste you."
I nearly run into a speed limit sign, jerking the wheel at the last second. "Jesus Christ, Skye." I groan as she takes me back into her mouth, this time with renewed purpose, her lips stretching around me as she takes me as deep as she can.
I thread my fingers through her hair, guiding her movements, pulling her down until she gags slightly around me. The sound shouldn't turn me on as much as it does, but there's something about her complete submission, her eagerness to please me, that drives me wild.
"God, I love your mouth," I say, unable to resist thrusting up slightly into the wet heat. She moans her approval, the vibration sending shivers through me. "Are you wet for me?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
She nods around my cock, and I reach across the car, between her legs, finding her panties completely soaked through. The evidence of her arousal nearly undoes me. She's dripping wet just from sucking my cock, from pleasing me, and that knowledge is more intoxicating than any drug.
"I want a taste so bad," I groan, stroking her through the damp fabric, feeling how swollen and ready she is. She responds by sucking harder, one hand playing with my balls in a way that has me seeing stars.
I stroke her clit over the damp fabric of her panties, and she whimpers around me, her hips bucking against my hand. The combination of her mouth, her sounds, and the knowledge that she's getting off on pleasuring me pushes me over the edge.
With a deep groan, I come down her throat, my body tightening as waves of pleasure crash through me. "God damn, Skye." She swallows every drop, her tongue continuing to work me through the aftershocks until I'm completely spent and struggling to remember how to breathe.