Page 24 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

ROSE

God forbid we add a little color to our living room with some flowers. Not everyone likes living in a showroom. - S

T he second Sierra steps over the threshold into the apartment, I kick the door closed and press her up against it. I had to fight the urge to get her to pull over no less than a dozen times on the drive home.

Being eaten out on a public trail wasn’t on my radar for the day, but holy shit, I’m pretty sure it’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. And then she thanked me. I never expected this side of Sierra, but I like it. Well, I like what it does for me, anyway. I don’t like Sierra.

Her eyes are wide as I press my forehead against hers, my lips brushing the tip of her nose.

“You’re driving me crazy.” I don’t mean to say it, and I don’t sound happy about it. I’m not happy about it .

For two weeks, all I’ve been able to think about is touching her. Kissing her. Making her come. For two weeks, I’ve successfully avoided letting her touch me because I know it’s going to wreck the modicum of self-control I’ve been clinging to.

Well, goodbye, self-control.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not,” she replies, her warm breath tickling my face.

“You like driving me crazy, huh?”

I lift her sweatshirt, and she gasps as my fingers graze her waist. They’re ice cold, but they warm up quickly with the heat of her skin.

“It’s what I’m good at, isn’t it? Driving you crazy, honey.”

There’s that word again. Honey . I thought she was saying it to deliberately piss me off, but I’m not sure. Her eyes flash, for a split second, like she’s pissed off at herself because she didn’t mean to say it.

I catch her lip between my teeth and she groans, her eyes fluttering closed. At normal times, I couldn’t pay Sierra to do what I want her to, but when I have her like this? She’s putty in my hands.

“Shoes off,” I tell her as I pull her away from the door and kick mine off with difficulty. Sierra tied my laces before we left the hike, and she must have been a Girl Scout or something, because they’re the most secure knots I’ve ever seen.

With both of our shoes off, I make her sweatshirt my next priority. As I pull her through the apartment toward my room, I leave a trail of her clothes all over the floor like breadcrumbs. Thank god the bunnies are tucked up safely in their gated area of the living room.

I push her onto my bed and lean down, making quick work of the button and zipper on her jeans. “Lift,” I say, hooking my thumbs in the waistband and pulling them off.

“In a rush, Cannon? You’re awfully demanding today.”

Demanding, desperate… What’s the difference?

“Do you want me to slow down?” I ask, hoping like hell she’s going to say no. The hour I’ve been waiting to get my hands on her already feels like an age, but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“I didn’t say that,” she replies, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Her underwear has to go. It’s in my way, and if she doesn’t want me to slow down, I’m done with waiting. I pull it down her legs and throw it away, spreading her thighs and sighing happily as I kneel between them.

If her surprised yelp is anything to go by, she doesn’t expect me to dive right in, but it quickly turns to a moan as I run my tongue through her folds. Already, I feel a little drunk on her.

If I’d known she tasted like this, if I’d known how high I could get on the little sighs and whimpers she sings, we could have gotten along better earlier.

I’m not above casual sex, and, sure, sleeping with your roommate isn’t known for working out well, but it’s not like we would’ve been risking a friendship.

What a waste of a year, when I could’ve been making her come over and over and over and?—

“Rose,” she cries, as I press my tongue inside her. I need her closer. My face is pressed right against her pussy, but it’s not enough. I need more.

She protests when I pull back, sitting up and spluttering. “Where are you going?”

I don’t answer right away, instead stripping my clothes off, piece by piece, as she watches me hungrily. I climb up onto the bed and lie down with my head on the pillows. “Get up here.”

“What?”

“Sit,” I order, pointing to my face, and Sierra’s eyes go comically wide.

“Absolutely not. I’ll crush you!”

“Fuck, that sounds amazing.” Yet another inside thought slips out, but I don’t mind, because Sierra’s lips part and her cheeks flush scarlet.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says softly.

One thing I didn’t expect about Sierra was her lack of confidence in her own body. I should have. I’m obsessed with her body, and since when do Sierra and I ever see eye to eye on anything? I’m going to make her see it, though.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

Sierra tilts her head, chewing her lip. “Somehow, against my better judgment, yes.”

“Good. Because this”—I point between us—“is only going to work if we trust each other. I trust you to use your safe words if you need to stop or slow down, or if you just don’t like something. And I need you to trust me to do the same.”

“Ugh. When you say it like that…” Sierra pouts as she kn eels on the bed, crawling over to me. She hesitates, so I reach up and grab her chin, gently.

“Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about this for hours, weeks, hell, a year ?

Because I will, if that’s what you need.

I’ll describe in detail all the dreams I’ve had about you sitting on my face, falling to pieces on top of me, since the second I laid eyes on you.

I can tell you just how many times I got myself off thinking of this exact moment, if it’ll make you realize how badly I want this. ”

Sierra sucks in a breath, still as a statue, before sitting up on her knees and sidling closer to me.

She pauses. “Do you actually keep a record of the things you think about when you’re getting off?

Because it seems like the kind of thing you’d do, so I can’t tell if you actually know the number or if that’s just a line. ”

I roll my eyes. “I have a journal. It’s not an exhaustive list, but I write about it sometimes.”

“Interesting… Can I read it?”

I furrow my brow. “No. Now, are you going to get up here and ride my face, or what?”

Nerves flicker across Sierra’s features, but she nods. “Okay. Do you want me facing the headboard, or away?”

“Away.” I have no preference, but I suspect facing away from me will be easier for her.

Sierra takes a deep breath and swings her leg over me until she’s straddling my face. My mouth waters, desperate to get all over her, but she hovers above me.

“Sit,” I say, grasping her hips. I don’t pull her down. I want her to feel comfortable enough to do it herself .

“But I?—”

“Trust, remember?”

She releases an anxious whinny. “But what if you can’t tell me to stop because I’m on top of you?”

“If I need you to stop and can’t talk, I’ll slap your thigh twice. But it’s not going to happen, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

I squeeze her hips. “Now be a good wife and soak my face.”

Sierra curses and lowers herself. She stops just shy of touching my mouth, but it’s close enough. I pull her down the last half inch and moan in relief when my tongue finally touches her pussy.

All it takes is a few strokes of my tongue, a few brushes of my finger over her clit, for her nerves to disappear. She rocks against me, rolling and grinding her pussy over my mouth. It’s everything I’ve ever imagined and so much more.

She leans over slightly, and I use the new angle to run my tongue around the rim of her ass.

“Oh fuck,” Sierra cries, her thighs tightening around my head.

I’m in heaven .

She seems to like me playing with her ass if the increase in volume is anything to go by. I drag my tongue from her ass to her clit and back again, and she falls forward further, holding on to my thighs to brace herself.

“Rose,” she moans, reminding me of my name right before she zaps it from my head when she drags her hand up my thigh and presses her thumb against my clit .

“Is this… fuck , is this okay?” she asks, testing me with soft, gentle circles.

I’m unwilling to take my mouth off her long enough to answer, so I moan against her pussy and spread my legs for her.

She takes the invitation immediately, rubbing my clit with two fingers as she works her pussy all over my face.

I drink her in, savoring the taste of her, trying to focus on how she tastes and not on the not-so-gentle attention she’s showing my clit.

She wrenches a cry from my throat, but it mingles in the air somewhere with hers until I can’t tell who’s making what noise.

Her thighs are twitching as she gets close, and I want to taste her coming on my tongue. Apparently, we’re more in sync than I thought, because Sierra pinches my clit at the same moment I close my teeth around hers, and we both spiral into oblivion together.

I’m not a multiple-orgasms-a-day kind of girl—I’m too easily overstimulated—but for the second time today, I feel myself go limp under Sierra’s touch.

I feel her everywhere, like an assault on each one of my nerve endings, but it doesn’t feel too much like it usually does.

It’s a soft rippling pleasure, like a stone skipping across the water that keeps going into the horizon.

When we’re like this, a beautiful mess of moans and cries, trembling bodies, and heavy breaths, it’s all too easy to forget the reasons we dislike each other.