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“Yes.” She chuckles softy. “Two days and two nights.”
“Okay then.” Before she can put me or my dick through any more emotional whiplash, I take two steps and haul her up into my arms, smiling when she immediately locks her legs around my waist like before.
“Then I better make them count.” I make sure Mike is on the couch (which he is, licking himself, no less) before carrying her to my bedroom.
“Oh, I’m counting all right,” she whispers, her hot breath moving up my neck. “And at last count, I’m still down by one.”
I lay her on my bed, letting my weight settle against her while she hums “A Little Less Conversation.” My lips vibrate against her neck, and I smile, promising myself then and there to give her all the action she can handle.
* * *
* * *
Two days, he said.
His lips continue their journey down my neck, across my collarbone.
Two days of this.
I asked for him to back off. To let me go back to the hotel. To start tomorrow. And he did. Without question (though with a hilarious look of disappointment).
But when I watched as he sorted through various types of ‘dates’ he could set up for us over the weekend, I wavered. He was so agitated, like the fate of the world depended on him getting these two days right. And everything about him in that moment led me here. To his bedroom. His mouth moving down my body.
Two days.
My mind wanders to the consequences of this night. Monday morning at the office? Our contract? My heart? One sharp nip of his teeth beneath my collarbone and I’m back in the moment.
Consequences? What consequences?
“Bell… fuck, you feel so good.” He slides down my body, his hands curving under my hips, his fingers curling into my back jean pockets. “I have to taste you.”
I’m not about to say no to that.
Quickly, I unbutton my jeans and toe off my boots all at once. His hands take over, grabbing my waistband and stripping my jeans off my legs, turning them inside out. Sitting up, I grab my tank with both hands and rip it up and off my body. I’m about to reach back and undo my bra clasp, but his hand on my thigh stops me.
I look up from his large, strong hand, resting on my pale skin, into his eyes. I’m used to his wink, his smirk, his slightly arched brow. Any of those expressions are panty-melting. But now, with no distractions, without the back-and-forth indecision of us, Chase’s eyes are serious. There is a deepness to them he doesn’t usually reveal. Though fully clothed, Chase Moore is stripped bare in this moment. I see his desire, but also his pain. He’s wounded. Like me. And though that shakes me, makes me want to start stacking bricks between us, it also makes me want him more.
He’s so much braver than I am.
“You’re so goddamn perfect. You know that, don’t you?” His voice is soft, hypnotic, floating above the restless noise of the city in the background. “Everything about you, I want. Everything.” His hand on my thigh tightens at that last word, the intensity palpable.
I’m not sure I have it in me to give him everything. But I’ll give him two days.
I continue to strip off my bra, freeing the heavy weight of my breasts from their confinement. I toss the lace aside, never breaking eye contact with Chase. When I touch the waistband of my panties, his hands cover mine. Dropping to his knees, he leans forward, my legs spread farther apart to accommodate his broad shoulders. He gives me one more meaningful look before he dips his head, dragging his nose up my lace-covered center, inhaling deeply.
“Mmmmm… so good,” he murmurs, kissing my clit through my panties once, twice, before finally pulling down the lace barrier.
I lift my hips, helping him, wanting him to devour me. Instead, his eyes lock between my legs. His tongue peeks out between his lips, as if imagining tasting my wetness. My desire. Moments pass and still he simply looks. Part of me thinks I should be embarrassed by his blatant scrutiny, and yet the larger part of me is more aroused by his interest, his intense focus. I’m about to give in and ask for his mouth when he finally leans forward, letting his tongue caress my sensitive flesh. Bottom to top, circling my clit in one hard, fast movement. He isn’t fooling around. His tongue is firm against me, tasting me.
“Holy…” I lower my back to the bed and close my eyes, allowing him dominance over my body. His hands curl under my thighs then hook over my hipbones, holding me in place while he devours me.
This must be what it’s like to lose your mind. My whole world, every thought and feeling, is centered on Chase’s mouth moving against me. I’m desperate, my skin on fire, my stomach tightening.
He slides a finger in me while sucking on my clit. I’m close, so fucking close. A second finger follows, and he curls them ever so slightly, rubbing on the bundle of nerves there.
In a second, the languid, drugged-out feeling evaporates, and my muscles tighten. “Chase. Oh my god. Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.” I barely register that my fingers, once fisted in the sheets, are now locked into his hair and I’ve clamped my legs around him in a vise. How he’s able to continue to—
“Fuck!” My back bows and every muscle in my body tenses as the wash of heat courses through my body. “I’m coming, I’m coming, oh my god I’m coming…” My chant goes on and on as does my orgasm. And Chase is there, right there, teasing out the last sensations until my body drops limp and satiated against the sheets.
