“Jesus, baby girl,” he groans.
Baby girl.
The nickname has me perfuming all over again, even stronger than before. The lotion that had held through the dinner is long gone now, not even a phantom on the wind at this point. He chuckles breathlessly as he cups the nape of my neck, his hand so large his thumb and finger press into the sensitive pulse points under my ears. I shiver against him before whimpering again. He leans down and presses his lips to the top of my head.
His voice is ragged this time. “You’ve got to let me get you to your apartment first. Someone’s going to notice if I stop this elevator for more than a few minutes.”
Luckily, it’s only a few long moments until the door opens, and he’s ushering me into the hallway. My hands shake as I unlock my door and drop my clutch onto the small table just inside the entryway. Rhett wordlessly closes the door behind him, turning the lock. Not even a heartbeat later, his hands are in my hair, and his lips are crashing into mine. My scent surrounds us within a few breaths, drowning us both. He groans, then lets one hand trace down my spine before palming my hip. I can’t help but shiver, goosebumps rising along my skin.
He lifts me with that single point of contact. I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist and desperately palming his neck, and he laughs.
“I won’t let you fall,” he promises.
He eases both shoes off then crosses the small living room, straight into my cozy, intimate bedroom. His lips run up my throat as he pulls on my hair, easing my head back just like Halloween night, as he sets a knee on my bed, gently lowering me to the mattress.
“Rhett, please,” I beg.
My pussy clenches again as he licks along my collarbone then pushes off the thin sleeve of my dress. He hums against my skin. I kick my designer heels to the floor, beyond caring if the bows get damaged.
“You’re better than any dessert at that vineyard. I want to savor everything about you,” he says after repeating the movements on my other collarbone and sleeve. My scent pulses, an edge to it I’ve never noticed before. “Can I do that? Or do you need me too much?”
I pull on his shirt, needing to feel his skin, the desire roaring through me overtaking everything else. There’s no room to be nervous, to let him determine just how fast to take everything given my complete lack of experience. There’s just my need and his body and the intimate knowledge that he’ll relieve the ache that’s pooling between my legs.
“Definitely need me too much,” he mutters.
He sits back on his knees just long enough to strip himself out of the black button-up he’d worn to dinner and the simple white t-shirt underneath. His skin is so fair, I can see veins just under the surface along his arms. Nearly his entire body is covered in freckles. I sit up, following him, tracing a couple of the freckles right around one flat nipple. He sucks in a hard breath, and then lemongrass is surrounding us, too. Slick coats my thighs even as I clench them, desperate for some kind of friction.
Then he’s messing with my dress’s zipper, carefully pulling it down and letting it fall open without catching any of myhair. It’s such a smooth motion, it must be practiced. A wave of jealousy crashes through me. It puts an edge to my scent, and he notices.He gathers a handful of fabric at my hip and then pulls the entire thing over my head, tossing it behind him without ever looking away from me.
“I haven’t noticed another person since realizing what you are to me on Halloween,” he says. I swallow, embarrassed by the reactivity of my body and mind. He’s aplayboyfor crying out loud. Of course he’s been with other people. He reads my expression a bit too well. He cups my chin in a hard, possessive grab and kisses me so deep I lose my breath. His words coast across my lips. “You’re allowed to be jealous, baby girl. I can handle it, I promise.”
My chest heaves as I try to steady my breathing. Slowly, I nod, the movement restricted by his hand still on my chin. He presses a thumb into my lips, his gaze rapt on the way I let them fall open. His lemongrass pulses, and I suck in a hard breath. Without a word, he eases over me, his knees straddling my thighs, the expensive fabric of his slacks rustling against my bedspread, as he winds my hair around his free hand and guides me onto my back.
My heart races, the need to touch and be touched overwhelming.
“Rhett,” I whisper. “Please.”
He smirks, and then he lowers over me, his lips barely brushing my skin as he slowly traces my sternum, both of his hands feathering across my body. Goosebumps follow in their wake. Suddenly, none of his movements are slow or controlled. Every single brush of his calloused fingers against my body has me mewling, clawing at the bed. He circles and then flicks both of my nipples. I cant my hips even as more slick coats my thighs, whining as his hands move to my waist. He traces one nipple with his tongue and then blows on it. My back arches as I gasp.He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give me time to process any of what he’s doing. He does the same pattern to my other nipple, and then he’s sliding down my body, his nose brushing along my hip bone.
He rips the small lace covering my pussy with a single pull of his teeth.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
His palms are hot and unrelenting as he pushes me wide open, his shoulders pressing into the sensitive skin of my thighs as he settles on his stomach. My entire body clenches at the first breath against my clit. And then my entire mind empties, all words dropping into the ocean, when he licks it instead, carefully flicking it. I twist my hands into my bedspread.
How in the world had I missed out on this the last four years? No amount of my toys compares to his heat wedged between my legs, his hair scratching at my skin, his lemongrass scent curling around us and sinking into my sheets. He’s unrelenting, finding every possible inch of my skin that he can, driving me into a raging inferno of need and want and pleasure. He hooks his arms under my legs, propping them on his shoulders, and then plays with my nipples again, flicking them when they turn into tight buds. Then he takes my hand and guides it to the nape of his neck a heartbeat before he pulls my clit into his mouth, sucking slightly. My hips buck, and I twist both hands into his hair, my nails scratching his skin as I try and keep him pressed against me. I’m so close to falling right over the ledge, and I know nothing will ever be the same when that happens.
“That’s it, baby girl.” His words are a rough caress against that sensitive spot where my thighs meet my hips. He lightly bites it before licking it to soothe the sting. “Come all over my face. Let me taste it.”
My body tightens even more, my breath coming in choppy pants as my toes curl into the sheets. My pussy clenchesrhythmically around nothing, that primal desire in me begging for a knot, to be locked with him, my Alpha, as I fall apart. His tongue returns to my clit, unrelenting.
“Rhett,” I moan. “I need?—”
He eases a single finger into me, and it all becomes too much. I shatter against him, my back bowing from the sensation onslaught, a thousand times more intense than my vibrator. My hands slip out of his hair, my nails dragging down his neck, and my hips lift from the bed as I scream. Slick drenches my thighs, and my scent surrounds us in an impenetrable curtain.
He doesn’t seem surprised at all, his grunt pure satisfaction against my clit.
“Fuck, Carys,” he murmurs. “You’re stunning.”
