Page 24 of Sweet (Chicago Underground 7)
“What do you need?” he murmured.
“You. I need you to—”
But that was enough. He cut off my words with a well-placed flick. My body clenched up tight, my legs locking straight, my hands clinging to the bedspread as if it could moor me. The orgasm was a soft and pleasant relief, like a warm summer’s rain on my naked, upturned skin.
He wasn’t satisfied. His tongue continued at almost the same rhythm, the same urgent intensity, and my body was too willing to follow. My hips rocked against his mouth, obeying his tune, no longer my own. I was reduced to nothing but moans and sighs, the climb of my arousal and the clench as he withheld. Then his fingers found a place inside me, one that made my back arch up and a high cry fall from my lips. I came again, harder this time, and sweeter.
“Almost there,” he promised.
Oh God, I’d die before he got there, wherever that was. But he wasn’t asking for permission. The cautious, solicitous Drew had been left behind at the beautifully arranged table with its candles and flowers. This was the rest of him, feral and insatiable. He licked and sucked at me like he was desperate for every drop of me. I wasn’t even sure he was aware of my pleasure in this, except that I felt my climax grow again. Impossibly, again. My thighs shook with the strain, my vision went fuzzy. I sobbed something, his name, a plea, and then I felt wetness flow over his fingers and bed as I came again.
My sex was still throbbing with the echoes of my orgasm as he quickly rolled on a condom.
“Hands on the bed,” he said.
At the sternness of his tone, I put my hands at my side.
He softened, but only slightly. “Another time, you can have free rein. Tie me to the bed and do what you want to me. But I need to do this right, need to feel you coming around my cock. Need to feel you wet and hot against my balls. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My lips were parted…in surprise, in desire. I clenched my hands in the bedspread. He wanted me to stay still and take it. He wanted permission to well and truly fuck me.
I met his gaze. “Please,” I said.
He was on top of me, inside me. I gasped at the fullness, but there wasn’t even time to be properly shocked. He pounded into me so hard I was forced to relinquish my anchor and hold on to him instead. I grasped his shoulders, and he rewarded me with a groan. His body slammed against mine, both cruel and entirely generous. His harsh breaths were a beautiful music in my ear, an aria I could listen to all night if he would play it for me. But he was more thoughtful than I’d given him credit for, more talented too. He shifted slightly, and his cock found a new angle inside me. The same one he’d found with his fingers earlier, the one that made me arch and strangle a cry. He sought out my mouth with his, fusing our lips together while our bodies dueled in a sensual violence below. The tension inside me built. It strung up tight until I couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned. “Come on me. Let me feel it.”
My body helplessly obeyed. I clenched around him, releasing more wetness just as he’d promised. A choked sound escaped him. He held my shoulder with one hand, my waist with the other. Pinned me to the bed and ground against me, rocking through his climax with an agonized groan.
Even after he finished, he remained inside me. His cock flexed, and my sex rippled around him. In my delirium, I imagined a conversation. Body language. That was fun. Yes, let’s do it again. As if he’d heard it too, he laughed.
“I’m not ready yet,” he said. “But soon.”
He rolled off and lay beside me, keeping hold of my hand. He tugged my hand to him and kissed my knuckles.
“Come on. You didn’t even get to eat the chocolate torte I planned to seduce you with.”
My stomach rumbled, and I laughed.
“That’s it,” he said. “Dinner first. Then chocolate torte. It can still serve its purpose.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I turned to face him, an irrepressible grin on my face. “But let’s both be underdressed this time. No clothes.”
“Jesus, you’re perfect.”
Chapter Nine
The studio was nestled in a row of businesses, tucked behind a small courtyard. The area was relatively safe—I had no doubt it would be safer once Philip found out about it. No doubt he would call in favors at the police station for increased patrols, just like he’d done in Colin’s neighborhood.
My real estate agent and I had done a walk-through and signed the lease that afternoon. I stopped by home—well, Philip’s home anyway, which wouldn’t be my home as soon as basic renovations were complete. I filled a canvas tote bag to the brim with paint and fabric swatches, sneaking in basic toiletries in case I decided to spend the night there.
Or at Drew’s condo.
As I drove back to the studio, rain began to fall in fat drops on the windshield. I slowed down once I turned off the highway. Light from the streetlamps and signage bounced off slick surfaces, creating a dark, glittery cavern. I passed the storefronts where the coffee shop next door was spilling over with a mix of college kids gearing up for the night and tired execs grabbing a latte so they could make it through the bedtime routine. Everyone was huddled against the chilly rain, dashing between their cars and the overhang in front of the shops.
I pulled around to the small parking garage behind the building and slid one of the automatic cards into the slot. The gate lifted, and I found a safe, dry spot inside. Smiling, I slipped the spare key into the bag. Maybe I’d give it to Drew when we met. If it didn’t seem too forward, too presumptuous.
Though I didn’t think so. Things were moving fast but right on track. And maybe not so fast if I considered the years he’d spent waiting for me to be ready—when I’d been waiting for that too.
