Before I could respond, Stella was off, marching into my bedroom and digging through my closet. I followed, watching while she held up shirts and mumbled to herself. Since this suit wasn't happening, I slipped the coat off and set it on the bed.
"My parents only get dressed up for church," she said from inside the closet. "Funerals, weddings, baptisms. They're more casual for Sunday morning mass."
"Okay," I said, nodding. "You're saying I'm overdressed."
Stella barked out a humorless laugh. "I'm saying my father has one suit. He bought it fifteen years ago when Serina got married. He wears it to funerals, weddings, and baptisms. Combined, he's probably worn it fewer than ten times in those fifteen years. He's definitely not wearing it tonight." Another wry laugh. "He's probably wearing dungarees. That's what he calls them. Dungarees. Every pair he owns is older than I am and as we know, I'm thirty-six. But he wears dungarees when he's at home."
"Sure." I kicked off my shoes, reached for my belt. "That works for me."
Stella emerged from the closet, two hangers clutched in each hand. Her gaze dropped to where I worked my belt loose, unbuttoned my trousers. And then—fuck me—she dragged her tongue over her upper lip. Slow, like she was sucking a flavor off her skin.
"Stella," I warned. "You have to—we can't—not right—stop it with the tongue."
She tossed the clothing to my bed and moved toward me. "Stop what?" she asked, sliding my belt free. It hit the floor with a muffled clang, right before my trousers. She smoothed her hand down, over my lengthening cock. "What did I do, Cal?"
"Stella." She glanced up at me, all dimples. I could drink whiskey out of those dimples. I could jerk off into those dimples.Fuuuck."I'm not going to shake your father's hand with the scent of you still staining my skin."
"Then don't use your hand." Her fingers curled around me, light at first and then tighter. "I'd rather have"—tighter—"this."
"We'll be late," I argued. What the hell was wrong with me? There was no earthly reason to argue with this woman. I wanted whatever she wanted and that was the truth of it. But I also wanted to do this right. Show up on-fucking-time. Meet her parents, wear the suit, charm the sisters. Demolish her history and every memory of men before. "We'll be late to your birthday party, sweet thing."
"It'smyparty," she replied, her lips turning up in a pout. I felt that pout on the head of my cock. "I'm allowed to be late."
"Are you allowed to show up with cum on your tongue? Because that's what's going to happen."
"Like I said," she replied. "My party."
She hooked her thumbs under my boxers but I caught her wrists. "No," I said, my hands shaking as I squeezed her. "No."
Another pout. I gathered up all the strength I had, all the stern. And still, it wasn't enough.
I dragged my hand up to her elbow, whirled her around. "Get over here," I snapped, tucking her ass against my boxer-covered cock. I banded my arm around her waist while my free hand yanked her skirt up, covered her mound, teased her through her panties. "You want this?" She nodded. "Words, Stella. Give me words and I give you what you want."
She pressed her lips to my arm. I felt her breath straight through the fabric of my shirt, felt it all over. "Yes, please."
I shoved my hand under her panties, between her folds, ground the heel of my palm against her clit. She cried out against my arm. "Is this what you want, sweet thing? You want to rub that thick ass on my cock while I teach this clit how to come for me?"
"Yeah. This works," she replied with a giggle. "If you don't mind, I'd like it a little harder."
I pinched her. I pinched her clit and I almost blasted into my boxers from the sounds she made alone. "How's that for harder?"
A frustrated groan tore from her lips. "Will you let me suck your cock when I'm done?"
I pushed two fingers inside her, teased the spot that made her cross-eyed, pulled out. Added another. "If you can talk, I'm doing something wrong."
"May I remind you it is my birthday?" she panted. "You should let me suck your cock."
"Goddamn it, Stel," I said, my lips on her neck. "If you don't get there right now, I swear to you, I'll leave you like this."
"You won't," she said through a moan. "You—oh,fuck."
A warm wave of arousal coated my fingers, my palm, as she shook in my arms. A low cry rumbled through her as she broke apart but I didn't stop stroking her. Not when her inner thighs quivered and cunt clamped down around me. Not when her clit pulsed against my palm and she screamed into my arm. Not when her head lolled to the side and she sighed with more bliss than I'd ever heard.
But then, "On the bed. I'm not in the mood to kneel on the floor."
I almost objected. Almost reminded her we had to go and even though I was late to every dinner party and event to which I was invited, I wasn't going to be late to meet her parents. I almost made that case.Almost. "I'm not in the mood to come in your mouth unless you're sitting on my face while I do."
She glanced up at me, her eyes bright. "I can work with that."
