Page 34

I don’t want that to matter. Not now. Not after she’s all but admitted to turning me inside out, on a daily basis, for nothing more than sport. Instead of answering her, confessing to her that I love her, that I’ve loved her for as long as I’ve known her, I don’t say anything at all. The time for pretty words and true confessions is long gone.
I wrap a hand around her hip, the long fingers of my hand gripping her while my thumb slides up the middle of her. “So, when you asked me to zip you into your dress...” The scrap of lace between her legs is wet. I crook my thumb, jerking it to the side to give myself access to the slippery warmth beneath it. “That was just more of you driving me crazy.” I whisper it, finding her center with the pad of my thumb while my other hand cups one of her breasts, its tight peak pressed against my palm. It’s not a question and I don’t phrase it like one.
I start to move my thumb in slow, lazy circles against her clit and she whimpered, eyes closed. “Patrick, I didn’t—”
“Shhh...” I dip my head to the breast I’m cupping, grazing her nipple with my teeth before drawing it into my mouth for a slow, hard suck. I keep at it—teasing and sucking until I can feel her thighs start to shake under my hands and her chest heave beneath my mouth.
When I have her on the brink of coming, I stop. “I want the truth, Cari. Not excuses.” Take a step back. “Turn around,” I say, putting some weight into my command.
The sudden absence of sensation opens her eyes. She’s looking at me like she has no idea who I am. That make two of us. She levers herself off the wall and does what I tell her, Arms folded and pressed into the wall, she pillows her face against them while I position her hips, angling them off the wall so that her tight, round ass is pressed firmly against my cock. “Spread your legs.” I lean into her, whispering it against her ear, while I trail my fingertips along the inside of her thigh. Again, she does what I tell her.
A guy could get used to this.
“Earlier, when you bent over to put on your shoes.” I say it calmly, each word brushing my lips against her ear. “That cock massage you gave me with this...” I grip her ass with both hands, thumbs feathering against the thin strip of cherry red lace nestled between her cheeks. “That was on purpose.”
Her spine goes stiff. “Patrick—”
I deepen the pressure of my thumbs, pushing just enough to loosen her knees. “That was on purpose,” I say again, making it clear I’m not interested in apologies.
“Yes...” She moans the word, the sound jerking my cock like it’s on a leash. “I—”
“To play with me.” If she has an explanation, I don’t want to hear it. We’re past that now. “To push me.”
“Yes.” She whispers the word but I’m only half listening, too busy to care.
“Is that what you were doing, Cari?” I hook that strip of cherry-red lace with my finger and pull it to the side even farther. “Were you trying to push me?”
“Yes...”
“What did you think would happen?” I cup her wet, throbbing pussy in the palm of my hand, the tip of my middle finger pressing against her clit, giving her slow, lazy circles. “That once I figured it out, I’d just keep my hands to myself. Let you keep twisting me in knots.” She starts to rock against the pressure of my hand, the motion grinding her ass against me.
She moans softly, fucking herself with my hand. “No—”
The feel of her. The sound she makes when I touch her is enough to push me over the edge if I let it. I fight for control, hiding behind the calm, cool exterior I use to conceal the way I really feel. What I really want. “This whole time…” I slip two fingers between the soft folds of her, barely breeching her entrance, nothing more than a promise of relief. “It was just a game. A joke.” Their way eased by her arousal, I fuck my fingers into her, fast and deep. “Is that what I am to you, a joke?”
She’s shaking her head, whimpering, her hips moving against my hand. “No…”
Pulling halfway out, I give her short, shallow strokes, each one grazing her clit, while I use my free hand to gather her hair and pull it away from her face. Her eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted slightly, panting with need.
Pulling my fingers free, I can feel the hot, tight walls of her pussy tightening, trying stop my withdrawal. “Open your eyes, Cari.” I say, raising my glossy fingers to my mouth. She does as I say and opens her eyes, lids heavy with arousal. She watches as I put my fingers into my mouth and suck them clean. She tastes just like I imagined she would. Warm and wet. Dark and sweet.
I want more.
I drop to my knees behind her to cup her ass in my hands, dipping my thumbs under her cheeks to spread and lift her toward my mouth to drag my tongue up the center of her. She cries out again, moving against my hands, seeking the pressure of my mouth. I pull my face away and she whimpers. “I want you to come all over my face, Cari,” I say, hooking my fingers around the lace at her hips and jerk her panties down around her knees. “Tell me that’s what you want.”
“Yes…” The word trails off into a shuttering gasp when I bury my face in her, licking and sucking at her pussy lips, the taste of her almost enough to pull me apart. Pushing my tongue deep, I find her clit. Tongue pressed against it, I start to suck her off—hard, relentless pulls against tender flesh. She bucks against the mouth, pushing herself against my face, her hips rocking against the suction created by my lips and tongue. “Patrick... oh, god...” Each breath a gasping sob. “Patrick, please. I can’t—”
She starts to quiver against my mouth, her swollen clit throbbing on my tongue, begging me incoherently. I don’t stop, fingers digging into her ass to hold her against the unyielding pressure of my mouth. She lets out a shuttering moan that sounds like my name as a sudden shot of honey coats my throat. I keep sucking, wringing out every drop of sweetness she has to give me, until she’s limp and still.
When I finally moved from between her thighs, she’s sagging against the wall, caramel-colored hair falling across her face, breath ragged, body slicked in a sweat. She looks spent. Completely satisfied. I like that I’m the one who did that to her. That I’m the one who made her come.
Standing, I turn her around so that she’s facing me, tendrils of hair curving around her breasts. I work my pants down around my hips again. “Take your panties off,” I tell her, licking at the sweat-salted tips of her breasts and she arches into my mouth just before I break away again. Reaching into my pocket, I tear off one of the condom Conner gave me—God bless him—and I rip it open to roll it on.
She doesn’t say anything. She just watches me while she steps out of her panties.
I reach for her, fitting my hands under her ass. Lifting her, stepping into the widened cradle of her thighs. She wraps her legs around my hips, eagerly pulling me close until the tip of my cock finds the slick, wet center of her. I look down—watch as her soft, wet folds split around the blunt, swollen head of my shaft. I rock against her hips, pushing myself deeper and deeper with each thrust. “Fuck, Cari,” I groan against her neck. “Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” The walls of her pussy squeeze around my cock and it feels so good I’m almost blinded by it. Unable to stop myself, knowing I have to get inside her, I grit my teeth and stroke into her with a deep, hard thrust that brings us hip to hip and has her letting out a shattered moan.
I don’t move. I can’t move. Not if I want this to last so I kiss her the way she kissed me that night in my car. My tongue licking and swirling inside her mouth. I kiss her until I can feel her drowning, until she’s lost to everyone but me. One arm anchored under her ass, I lift a hand to her breast. Caressing it, rolling its tight, swollen nipple between my fingers, squeezing until she cries out.