Chapter Sixteen #2
Christopher groaned at my eagerness as I tugged at his tie, then worked his buttons loose.
His own hands roamed—sliding down my back, sinking into my ass, pulling me flush against him until I felt his hard length pressing into my belly.
A whimper escaped me at the promise of him.
My hands fumbled with his belt, but before I could unfasten his pants, he was grabbing me, pushing me back until my back hit one of the deep freezers.
His mouth broke from mine, lips moving down my neck as his hands snagged the hemline of my shirt and started to drag it upward.
He pulled back long enough to free me of the material before his lips were on me again, moving across my throat, up the other side of my neck.
A trembling awareness moved through me as his hand drifted up my side before sliding down the cup of my bra and closing over my breast.
Heat pooled as I arched into his touch, a small whimper escaping me.
A rumbling sound escaped Christopher as his fingers moved inward, circling my nipple until my legs felt weak, until my breath was coming in short, sharp huffs.
Only then did his head duck, sucking the point into his mouth, making a ragged cry escape me as my hand slapped down on the back of his neck, holding him against me as his lips pulsed, as his tongue curled and his teeth scraped.
He moved across my chest to tease me until I was whimpering and clinging to him.
Only then did he lower down further, lips kissing down my belly, then across my waistband as his hands worked my button and zipper free, then dragged the material of my pants and panties down to my ankles.
He paused, taking his time sliding the flowing material over my boot, then freeing my other leg.
But the second he was done, his restraint snapped.
He spread my legs and was right there between, his tongue sliding up my core like he couldn’t hold himself back for another moment.
My breath caught at the slow, intoxicating drag of contact as his tongue circled my clit.
His hand slid up, palming my ass, his fingers flexing on my skin each time a soft moan escaped me.
Restraint was slipping, second by second, my whimpers turning into deep, aching moans as my hands clutched the back of his head, holding him against me as he circled relentlessly, never letting the pace or pressure change, allowing my body to climb effortlessly.
Pressure built with each movement until desire spiraled, wild and breathless, and my breath was catching as the orgasm pulsed through me.
Christopher groaned against me as the waves moved through me, as a long moan escaped me.
He stayed with me through it before tilting his head upward, kissing the triangle above my sex, then moving up my belly, between my breasts, up my neck, then finally pressing down to mine.
It was a hard, hungry kiss.
And as his hips shifted closer, I felt his own need against me.
I reached down, palming him through his slacks, loving the way his breath caught and his hips rocked against the sensation, chasing more of it.
My hand left him only to work his button and zipper down.
Christopher’s hands grabbed his waistbands and shoved them down, inviting the touch we were both hungry for.
His breath hissed against my lips as my hand closed around him without a barrier. I stroked him a few times before sliding my thumb across the head, making his hips buck and a rough curse escape him.
He broke the kiss, his heated gaze watching mine for a moment, a silent question there.
As if there was anything I could possibly want more in this moment than him inside me. I gave him the slightest nod.
It was all movement then as he reached for his wallet, dug for the condom, lifted it to nip the corner with his teeth, then grabbed my wrist to move my hand away so he could slide it on.
Finished, he reached down, grabbing me behind the knee on my bad leg, hauling it up, spreading me wide, then stepping closer.
Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings, my belly flipping, my sex clenching.
He reached between us, gliding himself against me once, twice, three times. Until I was whimpering. Until my hips were writhing.
Only then did he slip down, press, then slam deep inside me.
I wasn’t sure which was louder—my moan or his groan—as he surged deep.
His forehead pressed to mine as he sucked in a deep breath, looking for restraint.
I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less.
I rocked my hips.
I dug my hands into his ass, pulling him against me.
Christopher’s head tilted, watching me for a second before giving up the fight with his self-control.
There was nothing soft or sweet right then, just the clawing need, the desperate search for relief.
His thrusts were hard and deep, getting faster with each moment. My own hips rocked to meet the sensation as the desire swelled, tightened, then released with a long, ragged cry.
“Fuck,” Christopher groaned as I came, fucking me harder and faster. Then his whole body tensed as he slammed deep and came with me.
His forehead pressed down on my shoulder afterward, his breathing as ragged as my own.
As for me, for just a moment, I gave in to the need to cling to him, to hold on tightly because some part of me was afraid that as soon as I let him go, he would put a wall up between us again.
Eventually, his head lifted, his forehead pressing to mine as he took a deep breath, likely ready to say something about how this was a mistake and we couldn’t do it again.
But there was a knock at the door that had us springing apart.
“Shit,” Christopher said, frantically trying to put himself back together.
I reached down with numb hands, pulling my bra, then panties and pants into place. And tried to ignore the way my heart felt like it was deflating.
Christopher grabbed his tie, putting it back on with an efficiency that I would have found impressive if I wasn’t grieving the loss of the closeness.
Finally, he found his jacket and strode toward the front of the store.
Alone, I let out a shaky breath and glanced around.
And that’s when I saw it.
A flash of shiny new metal where it shouldn’t have been.
Sitting behind the sword tip near the feet of an ancient suit of armor that had been in the corner of the room since I bought the place, since no one actually wanted those damn things anymore.
A strange laugh escaped me as I clomped over toward it, leaned down, and grabbed the drive just as Leo and Nero’s voices filled the front of the store—bright and easy, compared to Christopher’s tight, uncomfortable tone.
There was nothing I could do about Christopher and his inner struggles about being with me.
But there was something I could do about Robin’s murder… and what she’d died protecting.
I made my way to the front of the store.
“Boys?” I called, waving the flash drive as they all turned to look at me.
“No shit,” Leo said, looking a mix of amused and frustrated.
“Where?” Nero asked at the same time.
“The knight in the corner. Right behind his sword.”
“Guess you had a point about the mayonnaise jar,” Christopher said, shaking his head, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.
“Let’s take this over to Zeno.”