Chapter 5 #6
“I could get addicted to you,” she’d said.
But now she looked wrecked, hungry.
Like the song had done something to her she didn’t expect.
Good.
Because she’d been doing that to me all day.
“All night,” she whispered.
“What?”
She shook her head faintly. “Nothing.”
Her lips hovered close enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath. Wine and strawberries and that coconut lotion. My brain stopped functioning somewhere around the scent of her skin.
My hand slid to her waist without asking permission, thumb brushing the bare strip of skin where her dress shifted.
She inhaled sharply.
Didn’t pull away.
The world narrowed to inches.
To breath.
To the sound of leaves moving overhead.
I waited—some stupid, old-fashioned part of me needing her to close the distance first.
And then she did.
Not rushed.
Not clumsy.
She leaned in like she’d already decided.
Like this wasn’t a question.
Her mouth brushed mine once—soft, testing.
Lightning.
Actual lightning.
Every nerve lit up.
I kissed her back slow, careful, like I was afraid too much pressure would shatter the moment. Her fingers tightened in my shirt. She made this tiny sound in her throat—half sigh, half surrender—and that was it.
I was done for.
The kiss deepened without either of us meaning for it to. Her lips warm and sure. Mine chasing hers. My hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there wasn’t space left to breathe.
She tasted like summer.
Like the first day you realize you’re happy.
Like something I didn’t want to ever end.
Fireflies blinked around us like we were inside a snow globe.
Candles flickered.
Somewhere, far away, the city kept moving.
But here—
It felt like the only two people left on earth were us.
She broke the kiss first, but only barely. Our foreheads still touching. Her nose brushing mine. Her breath shaky.
My thumb stroked the line of her spine without thinking.
Her fingers slid into my hair again.
Then she whispered my name.
Soft.
Like a secret.
“Ethan…”
My chest tightened.
“Yeah?” I breathed.
Her eyes searched mine, something vulnerable and electric and reckless all at once.
And then, barely louder than the leaves—
“Take me home.”
Like there was no other ending to this night.
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
I nodded once, brushing my thumb over her cheek.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
The drive back to my condo was a slow burn.
Streetlights streaked across the windshield in gold ribbons, but I barely saw them.
Her hand rested on my thigh—light at first, then heavier, fingers tracing idle circles that felt anything but idle.
Every circle sent heat straight to my cock.
I kept my eyes on the road, jaw tight, one hand on the wheel, the other covering hers, pressing it higher just to feel her smile against my shoulder when she realized what she was doing to me.
The elevator ride was torture. We stood side by side, not touching, the air between us crackling like a live wire.
I could smell her—coconut lotion warmed by her skin, honey-sweet from the wine on her breath, something darker and needier underneath.
She glanced up at me, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded.
I didn’t smile. I just looked at her like I was already inside her. Her breath hitched. Good.
The door to my condo clicked shut behind us, and the city lights spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting her in silver and shadow. I didn’t bother with the lights. I turned, backed her slowly against the wall, and finally let myself touch her the way I’d been starving to all night.
My mouth found hers—harder this time, no more careful restraint.
She opened for me instantly, soft and eager, tasting exactly like coconut and honey and the kind of sin that ruins a man for anything else.
I groaned into her mouth, hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against me so she could feel how fucking hard she’d made me.
She whimpered, nails scraping up my back under my shirt, and the sting of it shot straight to my dick.
I broke the kiss only to drag my lips down her throat, tasting salt and summer on her skin.
She arched into me, breasts pressing against my chest, nipples already peaked and straining through the thin fabric of her dress.
I palmed one, thumb circling the hard bud, and she gasped my name like a prayer.
“Ethan…”
Fuck, the way she said it—breathless, desperate—made me feel ten feet tall and reckless as hell.
I pulled back just enough to peel her dress over her head in one slow motion, letting it pool on the floor.
No bra. Just smooth skin and those perfect breasts, nipples tight and begging.
I didn’t ask. I just lowered my mouth and took one into it—hot, wet suction, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out.
She tasted like warm honey here too, skin sweet and addictive.
Her fingers twisted in my hair, holding me there, hips rolling against mine like she couldn’t help herself.
I moved to the other breast, giving it the same worship, while my hands worked her panties down her thighs.
They were soaked—Christ—and when they hit the floor I dropped to my knees without thinking.
She was bare, waxed smooth, folds already swollen and glistening for me. Warm. Tempting. Fucking perfect.
I looked up at her, met her eyes, and let her see the cocky grin I couldn’t hold back. “Been thinking about this all night,” I murmured, voice rough. “How you’d taste. How you’d feel.”
She shivered, thighs parting just enough to invite me in.
I didn’t make her wait. One long, slow lick from entrance to clit, and her knees buckled.
She tasted like heaven—sweet, salty, pure want.
I spread her with my thumbs, opening those warm, slick folds, and devoured her like I’d been starving for years.
Tongue circling, dipping inside, sucking gently on her clit until her thighs trembled and her nails dug hard into my shoulders.
She was close already—so responsive it made my chest ache with smug pride.
But I wasn’t letting her come yet. Not until I was buried deep inside her.
I stood, stripping off my shirt, kicking off shoes and jeans faster than I’d ever moved in my life.
Her eyes raked over me—hungry, awed—and it fed the cocky bastard in me.
I lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her to the bedroom.
Laid her out on my bed like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.
She reached for me, hands sliding down my chest, nails scraping just enough to make me hiss. I settled between her thighs, cock heavy and aching, nudging at her entrance. She was so wet I slid through her folds easily, coating myself, teasing us both.
“Look at me,” I said, voice low and commanding.
Her eyes locked on mine—dark, trusting, wrecked.
I pushed in slow. Inch by inch. Watching her face the whole time.
The way her lips parted on a silent gasp, the way her brows drew together in pleasure so intense it almost looked like pain.
She was tight—velvet heat gripping me, pulling me deeper.
When I was fully seated, buried to the hilt, I paused, letting her feel every thick inch stretching her, spreading those warm, bare folds around me.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You feel like heaven, baby. So tight. So perfect.”
She clenched around me involuntarily, and I nearly lost it right there.
Her nails raked down my back—hard, possessive—and the sting made me thrust once, deep and deliberate. She moaned, back arching, breasts pressing up against my chest.
I started to move—slow, controlled rolls of my hips at first, savoring every slick slide, every flutter of her walls around me.
Then faster, harder, when her legs tightened around my waist and she started meeting me thrust for thrust. The room filled with the sounds of us—skin on skin, her breathy cries, my low growls, the wet rhythm of me claiming her.
I angled my hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her sob my name. Her nails dug deeper into my back, scoring lines that would mark me tomorrow, and I fucking loved it. Loved how she let go, how she trusted me to take her apart.
I reached between us, thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight circles until she shattered—walls pulsing around my cock, milking me, her whole body trembling as she came with a broken cry that sounded like my name and surrender all at once.
Only then did I let myself go. Thrusting deep, chasing my own release, spilling inside her with a guttural groan against her neck, tasting coconut and sweat and her.
We stayed like that—wrapped together, hearts hammering, breath ragged. I kissed her slow and lazy, tasting honey on her lips again.
Mine, I thought, possessive and smug and utterly ruined.
All mine.