20. Cora
20
CORA
T he back door of Lowcountry Automotive is unlocked when I turn the handle, the dim light and soft hum of the machines now comforting as I step inside. It smells like motor oil, and while I would have balked at it before, all I can think about is the way it mingles with the smell of pine and sunscreen on Talon’s skin.
The heady, masculine scent has me borderline feral, and I can’t remember a time I’ve ever reacted like that to a man. Maybe it’s our muddied history or the way I loved to hate the way he got under my skin, but either way, Talon Banks is becoming everything I never wanted.
And absolutely everything I need.
“I brought dinner,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “Have you eaten?” Talon’s eyes lock on mine before taking a leisurely perusal of my body.
“I’d like you instead.”
Standing straight, I pout as I look into the takeout bag. “But I slaved over this meal for you.”
“Did you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs, the invitation clear.
Dropping the bag on the desk, I move the papers to the side and sit on the worn wood top and watch as Talon pulls himself closer until he’s nestled between my thighs, his big, calloused hands running from my ankles to the hem of my cutoff shorts.
“I promised you a truth,” I say, a little breathy as I watch him touch me.
“You did,” he says smoothly, his hands still running their course, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Which one do you want?”
“Were you out on a date last night?” The question is a low rumble, his fingertips gripping my thighs and pulling me closer to the edge of the desk.
“No.” His blue eyes flare with annoyance, as if he’s picturing an alternative worse than just a date. “I like to dance, and there’s this really great place a couple of towns over that I go to twice a month.”
“Dancing.”
“Swing dancing, ballroom, Latin.” I shrug. “It depends on who’s in charge. I took lessons when I moved in with my dad, and it’s just something I’ve tried to keep up with.”
“Do you have a partner?”
“Are you volunteering?” I tease but lose my breath when Talon presses his lips to the inside of my wrist.
“Depends on what I’m up against.” His palm finds the back of my neck as he pulls me down, his mouth close to mine. “Depends on what we’re doin’ here, Cora.”
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” I admit as his tongue peeks out to swipe along my bottom lip. “I just—” I moan when he does it again.
“Use your words, Firecracker.”
“I want more, Talon.” My eyes drop to his lips then back up to meet his gaze, our faces so close our breath mingles, the smell of his mint candy and my vanilla lip balm in perfect harmony. “I like the way you made me feel and I just want more. ”
His lips crash over mine as his arm bands around my back, pulling me into his lap, my legs straddling his as he pulls me impossibly closer.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he groans as he places hot, wet kisses down my neck.
“I need to tell you something else,” I manage and he pulls back, creating space I absolutely do not want but desperately need.
“I’m listening,” he rasps, his chest heaving, stretching the fabric of his shirt with each and every inhale.
I grin at the mix of wildness and sincerity in his eyes as I rake my fingers through his hair and tug until he grunts, his fingertips digging into my hips.
“I’m not ready for you to see my boobs.” I swallow but don’t look away. “I had a breast reduction after college that had some complications and required a second surgery. There’s scarring, and while I like them…” I trail off because saying some guys thought they look disgusting was too hard to say.
“Fuck every single one of them,” he growls, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. It’s sweet and reassuring, and I have to blink rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like them being touched? Or does it hurt?”
I open my mouth to speak and then frown as I try to remember the last guy I let actually feel my bare skin and not through some layer of fabric.
“It’s been a while since anyone but me really had a chance, but I do like them being touched.” I shrug because I won’t be embarrassed at enjoying getting myself off.
He smirks and nuzzles against my boobs through the cotton of my T-shirt until I laugh. “I cannot tell you how hot that is,” he murmurs.
“You gonna be dreaming about that?” My grip tightens in his hair as I pull him back to look at me.
“No question.” He tilts his face up to meet mine. “We’ll go at your pace. I’ll give you whatever you want. But when you’re ready, I promise to erase every thread of insecurity you have.”
“I hope you do.” Licking my lips, I add, “But right now I want your head between my legs,”—I brush my lips against his—“and then I want to ride your cock until we’re at risk of breaking this seriously ugly chair.”
“I happen to like this chair.”
“More than getting me naked?”
“Not even close,” he murmurs as he picks me up and places my feet on the ground, his hand immediately working open the button on my shorts. Talon drags the denim and my underwear down until they’re pooled at my feet. “No lace?”
“Lace is for dance nights.”
“I can assure you, Firecracker, you won’t be wearin’ lace for any other man but me.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
“Yeah? So, you think we’re doin’ this?”
“Oh, we’re definitely doin’ this,” he says seriously, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger as he pulls me down for a searing kiss. “So I’ll say it again. The lace is mine.”
“You ripped the last ones.”
“And I’ll probably do it again.”
“I want to be mad,” I pant as my tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his eyes grow impossibly darker, “but it was really hot.”
“You’re wet just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been wet for you all day,” I admit and he growls.
“Then say the words that will give us what we both want.”
“Dominick is sixty-five and a perfect gentleman.” I sniff and he chuckles, the sound menacing as he lifts me onto the desk, the wood cold against the bare skin of my ass.
“We’re not talking about him or any other man when I’m about to feast on you.”
“You should really lighten up, Talon. I?—”
The taunt dies on my lips as his tongue licks up my seam, his hands anchoring my thighs where they rest on his shoulders. He’s not gentle, and I love that he’s so obsessed with getting me off he can’t be bothered to slow down.
“Just like that,” I beg, the roughness of his beard sending sparks of pleasure through me as I buck my hips against his face.
Strong hands hold me down, as his tongue gentles, the feverish ministrations disappearing in a flash, and I whimper.
“I want the words.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I seethe, looking up at the industrial ceiling. Talon sucks my clit into his mouth, my back bowing off the desk in response. But just as quick as he does it, he stops, the loss of him making me cry out in frustration.
“It’s not that hard, Cora.”
“I don’t wear it for anyone, you ass. I wear it for me.” I lean up on my elbows with a huff, but then my breath catches because oh my god, is he hot. Talon’s strong jaw and bitable lips are shiny with my arousal, the beast of a man looking so damn sexy between my thighs.
And he’s covered in me.
“I got all night,” he drawls, leaning into his accent and driving me to the point of distraction.
Pushing up a little more, I brace myself with one hand while I tangle the other in his hair and pull.
Hard.
He grunts, his eyes locked on mine. “I will keep wearing them for me ,”—he opens his mouth to argue so I yank his hair again as my lips tip up in a smile—“but I’ll allow you to take them off me.”
“Only me.”
“If you’re good,” I concede.
“Set on drivin’ me crazy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see how you like it,” he taunts, sending a rumble against my core as he licks and sucks and devours me until I’m screaming his name, begging him to do it again.
And again.