Chapter One
Zeppelin
“Do you really have to leave?” I ask, my voice a bit of a whine as I reach out to the only woman I’ve ever loved. The one who’s had my heart since we were fourteen.
Zipping up her dress, Chanel Monroe gives me a knowing look. The one that says I know better than to ask her to stay. The one I get every time she graces me with her presence after darkness falls only to leave me before the sun comes up the next morning.
“You know I can’t stay, Zep.”
I’d just gotten home from dropping off Johnny’s ashes with his horrible wife in Seattle last night, and Chanel surprised me. She was waiting on my front porch when I pulled into the driveway.
I grab her arm and yank her back onto the bed. She kneels and looks annoyed but still kisses me. My lips stay closed until she runs her tongue along the seam, coaxing me to part them to grant her access while I slide my hand up her thigh. My fingers touch bare pussy, and I rub until her moan vibrates on my mouth.
She’s not wet enough yet, but I can fix that. It never takes long when we get together. Being together off and on for over tenyears means we’ve gotten practice making the other ache. In her case, drenched with desire.
Sex has never really been a problem for us. We were each other’s firsts, and we learned about ourselves as much as each other during the explorative years. My thumb rubs her clit while I slide two fingers into her opening just like she taught me all those years ago.
And she’s ready. Soaking. Waiting for my cock.
As I build her up to her orgasm, she gasps and yanks her face away from mine. For a moment, I think she’s about to pull away—something she’s never done before. But then she rips back the sheet and grabs my hard cock, stroking in time with my fingers fucking her.
“Damn it, Zep,” she says between pants.
I chuckle when she pushes my hand away and grabs a condom from the nightstand. She flings it at me, and I waste no time putting it on as she hikes her dress up. Her leg swings over, and she sinks her body down onto mine, her warm heat surrounding me.
I lean up to kiss her, but she presses her palms flat on my pecs and rides me like a damned bull. After the past two weeks, I wanted slow. Intimate. Something to get me through until she comes back around.
Everything since she showed up has been frenzied. And this is no exception.
Chanel wants to get off. Get off in a way she can’t outside of my bed. It’s the only reason she keeps coming back, but it’s not enough to make her want to stay.
“Zep, fuck,” she moans, tipping her head back to expose her throat.
If we were in a different position, I’d kiss the spot right along her pulse point. The spot that drives her insane.
Driving her crazy gets my motor running like nothing else ever has, and seeing her ache for me sets me on fucking fire. I’ll do anything it takes to keep her in my bed for as long as possible.
I’m not sure how it’s physically possible, but her hips move even faster, and I know she’s close. I’m not, but I smile when she shakes and gasps, her nails clawing into my chest as she comes. I feel the small trickles of blood as they dig in, to draw blood, but I don’t mind. She could claw the skin off my chest, and I’d be just fine as long as she got off.
She stills and looks down at me with a beaming smile. “Thanks.”
My jaw drops when she climbs off, leaving me achingly hard and very cold. “Um, we’re not finished here,” I say, motioning to my cock.
“You have hands.”
I think she’s joking. She has to be… right? “Chanel—”
“I’m already running late.”
Holy fuck, she’s serious.
She sighs and finger combs her hair. “Can you finish in record speed if I bend over?”
Her least favorite position but the one she knows I don’t last long in. “Yeah.”
She makes her way back onto the bed, pulls her dress back up over her hips and spreads her legs as she holds onto the footboard. I stay where I am, enjoying the view.
“Come on,” she groans. “Chop chop.”
