Page 10

Jonah

My apartment is clean as it’s ever been, the lights are low, and I’m just about ready to jump out of my skin by the time eight o’clock rolls around on Friday night.

My flight landed a couple hours ago, and I raced back across town to get here and tidy the place up, clean myself up after the long flight, and get dinner ordered and warming in the oven.

I’d much rather have cooked something, but between the tight turnaround and my own unsteady nerves, I didn’t trust myself not to make a mess of it.

Not to mention, Susie might not even want dinner.

Maybe it was presumptuous of me to assume she would. Maybe all of this is presumptuous, too much, way out of bounds for a simple hookup.

The thought draws me up short, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.

Even though the conversation we had while I was at my parents’ place was long and sprawling, we didn’t talk about what this is . We didn’t make any promises or declare any intentions, and for all I know, Susie’s content for it to be what it’s been.

Fun. Casual. Simple.

So maybe getting dinner sends the wrong message.

Before I can decide one way or the other, there’s a soft knock at my front door.

I cross the room in a few long strides, all tangled thoughts of how badly I might have messed this up forgotten at the prospect of seeing her again in the flesh rather than on the other side of a video call.

And when I finally do? I’ve got no thoughts at all.

There’s nothing but Susie standing—impossibly—in my doorway.

There’s nothing but the pink flush on her cheeks and the uncertain smile on her lips. Nothing but the scent of her— gods, the scent of her—and the soul-deep need to touch her.

“Susie.” I barely recognize my own voice, as husky and pathetically steeped in need for her as it is, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Hi.” The flush on her cheek deepens. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shifts from one foot to the other, a reminder that I shouldn’t keep standing here gawking at her like an idiot.

I step back and gesture her inside, suddenly hyper-aware of my space, trying to see it through her eyes.

Are the lights too low? Is the decor too rustic? Is it too much of a bachelor pad? Would it have been better if I’d offered to come over to her place rather than—

She unzips her jacket, and instinct takes over—apparently the only thing stronger than my debilitating, self-conscious indecision.

“Let me help you with that,” I offer, resting my hands on her shoulders.

Susie relaxes under my touch, leaning into me and drawing a low, unstoppable rumble of pleasure from the depths of my chest.

I don’t even have time to wonder if it’s another misstep, if I’m going to freak her out by rumbling at her, before the jacket’s off and set aside, and my hands land on her hips, nudging her to turn and face me.

With a slow, delicious smile spreading on her lips, she complies. She raises her arms and loops them around my neck, pressing the full length of her body against mine. Her fingers toy with my hair and that rumble gets louder, more insistent.

Right. This is right.

Susie is right.

The two of us here, together, touching, is right.

The last of my doubts and hesitations and chronic overthinking slides away.

How could I hold on to any of it when I’m here, in Susie’s embrace, feeling like some piece of myself I didn’t even know was missing has finally, finally slotted into place?

“This has felt like the longest week,” she murmurs, fingers still working into my hair and the intoxicating smell of her arousal blooming between us.

“Missed me?” I can’t help but tease.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I might be able to guess.”

Unable to stop the hunger gnawing a hole in me from the inside out, I dip my mouth to hers. She rises up on her tiptoes to meet me, and the kiss she presses to my lips lights up every nerve ending and every instinct to taste her, to fuck her, to keep her. To hold her and never let her go.

We both groan, a desperate chorus to accompany our grasping hands and straining bodies, like neither of us can be close enough to be satisfied, like this hunger isn’t just mine alone. Like this makes just as much sense to her as it does to me.

I run my tongue along the seam of her lips and they part immediately.

Is this only the second time I’ve had the opportunity to kiss her?

Could have fooled me, because there’s something about kissing Susie that feels like years and decades. Like we’ve done this a hundred times, a thousand, and will do it a thousand more.

I stroke into her slowly, teasing, building, until I can’t, until urgency takes over and I plunge into her, plundering, claiming.

Reaching down, I grip Susie’s pert, perfect ass and haul her up against me. She wraps her legs around my waist, presses her denim-clad pussy into me and groans.

Fuck, I’m already hard as stone for her.

There’s no way she can’t feel it with the way I’m holding her.

Greedy and insistent, I press against her and she groans again.

By the time I walk us over to my sofa and sit, settling Susie against me so she’s straddled over my lap, she’s rolling her hips on me, grinding into me.

She grips my hair harder, leans in, and runs the tip of her little pink tongue over my tusk.

I growl and give her ass a light smack, and she yelps in delight.

“Are you still so greedy for me, Susie? Still so impatient?”

Her only reply is another roll of her hips and a whimper, such a desperate, lovely sound that I chase it with my mouth and get to work on removing all the layers between us.

Jeans removed, Susie settles back over me and I splay my hands wide across her lower back, fingers dipping beneath the waist of her underwear to give her ass another squeeze.

Leveraging that grip, I flip our position so she’s sprawled across the sofa’s cushions, then make myself comfortable between her thighs.

She shifts, makes room for me, and sinking into the cradle of her hips is like the pull of a magnet, natural and inexorable. Her thighs grip me tight, and the mouth-watering scent of her wafts up between us.

I murmur some nonsense about it as I dip my head to taste her skin. I tell her how delicious she is, how incredible she smells, how much I can’t wait to have my mouth on her as I sink down, down, down to the slight curve of her stomach and the hem of her sweater.

Susie Grove and her godsdamned sweaters.

I’ll be seeing those sweaters in all my dreams and all my fantasies from now until forever. For as long as I live, I’ll be seeing those sweaters.

But right now, this one has to go.

I catch the tip of my tusk in the soft fabric, and Susie takes it as an invitation to pull it up and off of her, tossing it aside and leaving her bare except for her panties.

“No bra?” I ask, entirely unable to tear my eyes away from her perfect breasts, her rosy pink nipples catching the lamplight.

“Thought I’d make it easy for you,” she says, breathless.

I chuckle, wondering at the truth of it.

Maybe it always would have been this easy. Maybe if I’d had the courage and taken the initiative, we could have had this for years already.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now. Not when Susie Grove is all but naked in my apartment, and not when her lips are parted so prettily, just begging for another kiss.

I give her that kiss, and a few more as I work my way down the delicate lines of her throat, over the fluttering pulse point right at the base of it, over the dip of her collarbones.

Her skin is just as sweet as I imagined it would be.

Lips fastened around one taut nipple, I suck and lick and nip at her until she’s crying out again, until she’s arching into me and tugging at my hair.

Wild, writhing, heart pounding fast in her chest, I lavish attention on one breast, then the other, working her near to a frenzy before continuing toward my destination.

“I’ve been thinking about this since last time, how much I want to taste you,” I murmur, toying with the waist of her underwear. “Are you going to let me, Susie?”

Her fingers fist in my hair, urging me lower, and it’s all the answer I need.

But as much as I want to rip this little scrap of lace off her and bury myself between her thighs, I’m already too close. The muscles low in my abdomen ripple and tighten, my balls ache, and I thrust into the cushions a couple of times just to get a bit of relief.

Gods above, I’m going to come in my pants if I’m not careful. One good taste of Susie and I’m done for.

Catching my tusks in the elastic at her waist, I give it a gentle snap, and she gasps and squirms. I take a moment to study her, to admire the sight of her pretty pussy covered in delicate black lace and commit it to memory, searing it into my mind.

I lick her over the panties, cover her with my mouth and suck.

“Lace,” I taunt, running my tongue up her slit over the fabric. “How did you know lace was my favorite?”

“Lucky guess,” she gasps, and I must not be doing my job right if she’s still coherent enough to form words.

I slip her panties off and toss them aside. My mouth waters, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to lean back in and get a real taste of her, but I can’t resist pausing to look.

Gripping her thighs, I spread Susie open for me. A gorgeous flush blooms on her cheeks, races down her neck and stains her chest until she’s nearly glowing with it.

“Just so pretty and pink for me everywhere, aren’t you?”

I barely recognize the words coming out of my mouth, barely recognize the person I become when I have her like this.

Raw and instinctual, the pull that hasn’t left me since last Friday at the Bureau.

Gods, has it only been a week?

It feels like this hunger has lived in me for years. And maybe it has—dormant, waiting for me to find the courage to do something about it.

And now that she’s here, now that I’ve found that courage, I can’t wait any longer. Can’t wait to taste her. To devour her.

I lean in and tease her swollen clit with the side of my tusk. Gently, and remaining mindful of the pointed tip, I rub it over her, make her moan and grasp me harder before I finally get my tongue on her.

A taste isn’t enough. I need to be inside of her, to learn the shape and the feel of her, to know exactly how she likes it.

I spear my tongue into her, plunge as deep as I can, and stroke forward. Susie cries out and tugs me closer, presses that sweet pussy against me and grinds. I rumble my approval into her and she moans again, soaking my face with her arousal.

I could do this forever. The taste of Susie Grove on my tongue could sustain me for a lifetime, and I’d gladly spend the rest of my days right here, licking her, listening to all the sweet sounds she’s making and knowing I’m the one who’s bringing her pleasure.

But my little human might not have that long.

Her muscles tense, her cries grow more urgent, and her tight channel squeezes hard around my tongue. I pull back, and her hands scramble for purchase in my hair, desperate to bring me back.

“Not so fast,” I admonish, delighting in the quiver that runs through her. “You’re going to give me at least twenty minutes of this.”

She bites at her lip and gives me a shaky nod, but as soon as I lower myself back to her, I know it’s a lost cause.

And fine, we’ll get this first one over quick so she can give me a few more.

Tongue at her clit, I ease one finger inside her, then two.

She’s slick and hot with her arousal, but it’s still not an easy fit.

When I glance up, though, there’s not a bit of discomfort on her face.

Her head’s thrown back, mouth parted on a gasp, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut as she rides my hand, chases her pleasure, tightens and tightens around me until she shatters.

I stay with her through every spasm of her climax, lick and suck at her until she slumps back against the couch cushions.

“Again, Susie,” I command, nipping her thigh with my tusks. “I’m not done yet.”

Despite her boneless pleasure, a little smile turns up the corners of her lips, and my heart might burst at the sight.

Gods I love playing with her like this, love seeing her respond to this side of my nature that I didn’t even know existed, love the sweet little grumble of protest she makes even as she buries her hands in my hair and drags my face back to her pussy.

Just as she’s coming down from the tremors of her second climax, I finally relent, shifting myself back up onto the couch and pulling her over me.

Straddled over my hips again, Susie’s hands find the waistband of my jeans immediately. Making quick work of the button and zipper, she shoves them roughly down over my hips, revealing her prize.

Fuck, the sound she makes when she finally has me bare.

A strangled little gasp of surprise, of delight, accompanied by a widening of her eyes and her mouth falling open on a gasp.

She takes me in hand, and that gasp turns into a wicked smile.

Susie must have taken a few pointers from watching me stroke myself on our video call, because there’s nothing gentle about the way she tightens her grip and tugs.

My breath hisses through my teeth. “Fuck. Yes. Just like that.”

She strokes me once, twice, again, and the devious, satisfied expression on her face is the last thing I see before my head drops back against the sofa.

“Your shirt,” she says, dragging her teeth over my throat. “Take it off.”

I freeze.

A bucket of cold water over my head couldn’t have done more to jerk me right out of the moment than those words and the light tugging grip she has on the bottom of my shirt.

My throat tightens, and all my muscles bunch with the immediate need to get up, leave the room, put some space between us.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

This same old tired need to cover myself, to make myself invisible, to hide.

I drag a breath in through my nose and make myself meet Susie’s eye.

And the worry I find there, the uncertain frown that’s replaced all the beautiful lust she was wearing just a few seconds ago, sends my stomach plummeting right down to my feet.