Page 17 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

SIERRA

I expect her to kiss me, to close the gap, and press her lips to mine.

But this is Rose, so of course she doesn’t do that.

She catches my lower lip between her teeth and bites down.

I cry out, my hips lifting from the mattress.

I desperately need her hands on me, but it’s not like I’m going to say that.

Rose pulls back a hairsbreadth and runs her tongue along my lip. She captures my left hand with hers, bracketing my head and holding me against the pillows. My eyes flutter closed as she brushes my ring with her thumb, a shiver rushing down my spine. Why the fuck is that so hot?

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she whispers, and I don’t have time to process before her lips are on mine and my mind goes blank.

For a moment, I feel nothing, and then all I feel is her.

She consumes me, flooding my senses until there’s no space for anything else.

Rose smells like the world after a thunderstorm, but she tastes sweet.

Like Earl Grey and vanilla, warm and cozy.

Her lips are velvet moving over mine, soft to the touch but claiming and demanding. Like she might suck the soul out of me, just for fun.

And then she moans, the sound vibrating through me and instantly taking the top spot for my new favorite sound.

I’ve spent so much time with Rose, not necessarily willingly, and I could’ve sworn I’d seen every side of her.

If I had to, I could describe her with ease: a little shy, a lot awkward, sharp and blunt like a steel axe, biting cold like a January frost.

But her moan is anything but shy, and her fingers are anything but awkward as they snake between our bodies, teasing and toying with me.

She drags her warm lips down my jaw, soft and intentional.

Her breath tickles my skin, and I squirm beneath her as she moves over my throat, nipping at my shoulder, and sliding down my body.

She pinches my nipple between her finger and her thumb, and I push my head back into the pillows, a ragged curse spilling from me.

As she grips my sensitive skin harder, I squeeze my eyes closed, and my thighs try to close around her, like dominoes falling in a line.

My body searches for friction, but Rose uses her free hand to spread my legs.

She tugs on my nipple once more, well into pain territory, then closes her lips around the hard tip.

The switch-up of sensation is almost too much to bear. I don’t realize I’ve knotted my fingers in her hair until she carefully untangles them and stretches them over my head.

“Hold on to the headboard,” she says, her breath blowing warm across my nipple. I whimper and she grins, her chest and cheeks flushed maroon.

She sits back on her knees, brushing her thumb over my nipple once more before drawing her finger down the center of my torso.

Her finger stops right at the edge of my underwear. “I like you a lot more when you’re lying here all soft, your body begging for me.”

Her condescending tone breaks through my haze, grounding me. I glare at her, because it’s about as much as I can manage without combusting. “I hate you.”

Rose smirks. “Oh, really?” She hooks her fingers in my underwear. Instead of pulling them off, she tugs them roughly to the side, and her eyes flame when she takes me in.

With a featherlight touch, she drags a finger through my lips, stopping just short of my clit.

Holy fucking shit. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been touched by someone. Why the hell does it feel so good?

“Hmm, you’re pretty wet for me, considering how much you claim to hate me, wife .”

Wife . Oh god, this is really going to fuck me up.

I try to hold on to a shred of some kind of control, but my body fights me, straining to get closer and closer to Rose. I can feel her watching me, her gaze burning my skin, her finger painfully still.

“Rose.” I grind my teeth together, wrapping my legs around her. She holds steady, though.

“You want more?” she asks, her voice smooth and cool like marble. I nod and she hums, leaning over me until her body is pressed against mine. Her hand is trapped between us, still a fraction of an inch away from where I want her .

Warm air tickles my nose, and I open my eyes, sucking in a breath when I realize her face is hovering right above mine. My eyes fall to her lips, pink and a little swollen. I lick mine, missing the taste of her.

“Be a good girl and say please, wife,” she murmurs, increasing the pressure of her finger. If she was just a little bit higher up, I’d already be coming.

“Seriously?”

She smirks, nodding, and brushing her lips over my cheek.

I groan, trying to move my hips, but she has me trapped.

Rose has the upper hand here, and she knows it.

This is more than her being dominant and me being submissive; this is the same fight to the death we’ve been in for a year.

And it’s about time I took back a little control.

“Please, honey,” I say, lifting a hand to cup her face. I’m both happy and surprised I don’t sound like I’m begging, because I’m damn close to doing just that. “You feel so good. Please give me more.”

Rose pulls back, her eyebrows lifting in surprise before she narrows them. I didn’t miss the bob of her throat when I called her “honey” at the picnic, or the way her pupils dilated.

She chuckles, humorless. “You’re playing with fire, Sierra,” she says against my lips.

I slide my fingers into her hair, dragging my nails over her scalp until she lets loose a soft sigh. “Then light me up, Rosie.”

“Fuck,” she mutters, then presses her tongue between my lips at the same time she drags her finger up, finally grazing my clit .

Lights sparkle behind my eyelids, lighting up the darkness like fireworks. Rose circles my clit slowly, soft and gentle, but her mouth is anything but. Her tongue battles with mine. With her free hand, she grips my face, her fingertips pressing hard against my temple.

I twist beneath her, my body ablaze as she drinks down every whimper, every cry, every curse trying to escape my lips. She pulls back, giving herself more room, and pinches my clit lightly between her fingers.

“Oh fuck. Rose .”

“There it is,” she replies, sounding smug as fuck, but it’s hard to care when she moves back and teases my pussy with two fingers. “Is this oka?—”

“Yes, yes. Fuck, please.” I’m officially into begging territory.

“Listen to you begging for me.” Of course she noticed. “You sound so good,” she says, pressing her fingers inside me and curling. I clench around her, my head spinning. “But you look even better. Falling apart for me suits you.”

I want to argue, to talk back, to prove her wrong. But she’s not. Falling apart for her is exactly what I’m doing, and I couldn’t stop even if I tried.

Her thumb brushes back and forth across my clit as her fingers curl inside me, hitting something fucking magical. Pressure builds to a boiling point at the center of my chest, and I gasp for air because I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly.

She pulls her fingers out of me, and I cry out at the loss of her. Her ponytail tickles my thigh, and I open my eyes, my vision hazy. I look down just in time to watch her spread my thighs and duck her head between them.

Her lips close around my clit, and I think I leave my body for a second.

Her name is ripped from my throat, my fists clenched so tight I can feel my nails pressing into my palms. Rose lavishes me with her tongue, bringing me to the edge of a cliff.

She groans, the vibration almost enough to tip me off.

Just as I’m sure I might fall, she pulls away.

She stares up at me, framed by my thighs, her lips soaked. With me.

Oh god.

“Do you want to come now, or do you want me to drag it out?” she asks, and fuck me, she’s panting.

“I get a choice?” My voice is like gravel, hoarse from crying out.

“This time,” she says. “This time you get to choose. Don’t get used to it, though.”

This time . This isn’t a one-time thing. We live together, we can do this whenever we want. It’s not like I have to hold back now, because this is all we have.

“I want to come.”

She raises a brow, expectantly.

“Please may I come?”

“Good girl.” And she fucking winks. Rose Cannon. Winking. Have we stumbled into Wonderland or something? “As you wish, wife.”

And then her tongue is on my clit, her fingers are inside me, and for a brief moment, I forget that I’m supposed to hate her.

I soar, pleasure hitting me full force as I plummet into the depths of the strongest orgasm I’ve had in…

ever, po ssibly. Heat ripples over my skin, so hot I feel like I could burn up.

It’s the kind of heat that steals the air from your lungs, punishing and exhausting, but I never want it to end.

Rose rolls her fingers inside of me and grazes my clit with her teeth, pulling me deeper into the orgasm. Every time I think I’ve hit the peak, I somehow soar higher. And when I finally crest, my scream dies on my lips, as every shred of energy I have is stolen by pleasure.

I float back into my body slowly, Rose bringing me down at a snail’s pace by pressing soft kisses on and around my clit until I stop shaking.

She sits up, presses her palm flat against my thigh, and squeezes. I try to raise up on my arms to look at her, but I just flop down.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a soothing tone I’ve never heard from her. She rubs gentle, tentative circles on my thigh, like you might pet a cat if you’ve never met a cat before.

“I’m… fuck. Yeah, I’m fine,” I manage, gulping in breaths.

Rose crawls up to sit beside me and reaches for my cup on the nightstand. “Drink,” she orders, a soft command I’m all too happy to oblige. I chug the water, but she pulls the cup back. “Slowly. Don’t choke, please.”

I roll my eyes but do as I’m told—I might as well get the last of it out of my system, because as soon as we’re done here, I’m done listening to her. When I’ve had enough water, I hand the cup over, and she sets it on the nightstand.

“Just give me a second to catch my breath and I?—”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head. “ Not tonight.”

I frown, wondering if I’m misunderstanding, or if she really means… “Are you seriously going to make me come that hard and not let me reciprocate?”

Her lips quirk up. “Next time.”

She stands up and turns her back on me, walking out of the room and leaving me goddamn speechless.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—this is Rose we’re talking about.

I’d probably be more surprised if she was the hang-around-after-sex type.

She made sure I was okay, made sure I had water—it’s more aftercare than some of my previous partners have provided.

I blow out a breath and close my eyes, swallowing down the post-orgasm crash of serotonin. I rub my face, and my cheeks are burning to the touch. What a strange turn this night took. I can’t believe she didn’t let me touch her. I thought for sure she’d?—

“Come on.”

Rose’s voice jolts me out of my brain and I turn my head, cracking a lid to find her standing in the doorway. She’s still wearing nothing but that fucking thong, but her skin is flushed pink. I may not have touched her, but she clearly enjoyed this.

“Come where?”

“I’m running you a bath. I’ll order food while you’re in there.” She holds out a hand, beckoning me closer.

My body protests as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I swear my bones creak with every step I take toward her.

“Why?” I ask suspiciously.

She rolls her eyes, her ponytail swinging behind her and almost hitting me in the face as I follow her to the bathroom.

“Because I’m not the kind of asshole who doesn’t take care of their partner after sex.”

She might not be that kind of asshole, I’ll give her that. Especially when I see the tower of bubbles in the tub. I recognize the sweet scent of the lemon snowdrop bubble bath Maggie gave me last Christmas. It’s my favorite.

“That explains the bath,” I say, testing the water with my pinky. It’s not too hot, so I drop my underwear—how the hell did she make me come so hard without even getting me out of my underwear?—and climb in. I sigh as the water rushes over me, soothing my muscles.

I settle back against the tub and skim the top of the water with my fingers. “It doesn’t explain the food, though. You’re going to eat dinner with me?”

Rose immediately wrinkles her nose. “Oh. No, I wasn’t planning on it. I just figured I should probably feed you. I mean, I will, if you really want me to.”

I almost say yes, just because she looks like she can’t imagine anything worse. But as nice as this has been, I’m not all that interested in spending time with her when we have our clothes on. “I really don’t want you to.”

“Great.” She sounds relieved. “I’m ordering pizza.”

“Pizza sounds good,” I reply, but she’s already on her way out.

“I wasn’t asking. Enjoy your bath,” she says, closing the door behind her just a little harder than necessary.

And just like that, everything is back to normal.