Page 86 of With a Cherry On Top

Not myself.

“If you were living life for yourself, you’d slam me against that counter, wouldn’t you?” Her nose almost brushes mine, lips breathing on my skin. “You’d show me how much you want me, and there would be no second-guessing. No mistakes, no regrets. Would there?”

My fingers twitch, aching to touch her, but I stop myself. My heart thuds harder, faster. It feels like I’m suffocating. I want her, and it scares the hell out of me. I breathe in, but the air feels too thick, like I’m trapped in some kind of fucked-up loop I can’t escape.

“But you won’t,” she says, voice cold. “Because that would mean accepting you’renotperfect. That you never will be, and if the people around you can’t get on board with that, then they don’t deserve to be in your life.”

“Enough,” I grind out. “Please, just . . . stop talking.”

“You—”

“Shut up, Charlotte,” I snap, hating the words as they come out.

She lifts onto her toes, and for a breath—just one—I think she’s going to kiss me. Or smack me. Instead, her grin turns lethal, her chin jerking up in a dare. “Make me.”

Fuck.

Something inside me snaps. Maybe it’s the way she challenges me, the way she’s been pushing and pushing, teasing me for weeks with every word, every glance. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s right; I want her, and I’d rather regret her than never know how she feels.

Before I can stop myself, my hands are on her, grabbing her by the arms, walking back until her ass hits the counter. The sharp sound of her gasp echoes through the kitchen, and her breath comes in quick, shallow bursts as she stares up at me, a defiant glint in her eyes.

The now small, feeble voice of reason reminds me that this is a choice I can’t come back from, a path I’ve already walked and brought me to my demise. But Charlotte is right—maybe this is a mistake I have to make. Maybe life isn’t worth living without those.

I’m so fucking close I can taste her, my hands gripping the counter beside her as I lean in, and every instinct in me screams to kiss her, to press my lips to hers until neither of us can breathe. Maybe she’d let me—she hasn’t pulled back. But I don’t want to ignore hernokissingrule, so my lips find her neck instead.

The first touch is tentative, just the barest graze of my mouth against her skin, but it’s enough to wipe any doubt. Enough for me to know that mistake or not, I’m never regretting this. The pulse under my lips, the warmth, the soft, flowery edge of her scent—I can’t stop.

My hands roam over her body. I kiss her harder, more urgently, my mouth leaving a wet trail across her skin as I move from her neck to her collarbone, then lower. I follow the curve of her chest, her ragged breath matching mine, my hands sliding down her sides then gripping her hips.

The hem of her dress brushes against my face as I drop to my knees, until my hands lift it higher, exposing the slope of her thighs. My breath catches in my throat when I look up at her, my fingers trembling as I push the fabric higher inch by inch.

Dark green eyes are on me, lips parted and gasping for air.

“Tell me to stop,” I growl as I notice the wet patch on her see-through pink panties, fingers hooking at the sides.

“No.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I slide her panties down her legs, the scent of her arousal the only thing I can focus on. That is until I hook one of her legs over my shoulder and I’m faced with her pussy, bare and glistening.

She’s breathtaking. All freckled skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress.

Her thighs part a little wider, so open, so inviting...

And I can barelybreathe.

My lips graze her inner thigh first, just the lightest brush, and Charlotte gasps, her fingers diving into my hair, tugging, guiding. I don’t give in yet. Instead, I take my time, dragging my mouth higher, closer, teasing her with featherlight kisses and warm exhales.

Her whimper nearly breaks me.

Some part of me thought I’d never get to do this. I certainly thought so on our first night together on TOP. I watched her come thinking that’s all I’d get from her. And now she’s here, dying for me to eat her out.

Maybe the last two years weren’t a punishment—just a test, and this is my fucking prize.

Her hips lift off the counter, desperate for more, but I press a firm hand to her stomach, holding her down. When I glance up, her eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed. She looks...ruined.Destroyed. And I haven’t even started yet.

“Please,” she slurs, breaths shaking out of her lips.