“That’s it baby. You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”
As she comes down, I slow my fingers and take them up to her lips. “Suck.” I command.
She gives me a dark, mischievous look as she sticks out her tongue and flicks it on the end of my fingers before taking the entire length of them into her mouth and hollowing out her cheeks as she pulls back. Holy shit. This woman.
“You’re really bossy, you know that?” She says while hopping off the side.
“Being bossy gets me what I want.”
“Oh yeah, and what is it that you want, Mr Bennett?”
“You Frey. I want to do life with you.”
She reaches up and puts her arms around my shoulders. Fuck she fits here perfectly.
“I want that too Rory. But I meant now. What do you want from me right now?” She looks up at me, her icy blue eyes dark with need. This woman might just be the death of me.
“I want to ruin you for any other man. I want to make you come so many times that you can’t remember your own name. I want to make up for all the years of not having you and your amazing body.” She swallows and I know I’ve played her at her own game.
Chapter fifty-one
freya
For a second after his words leave his mouth, the whole kitchen seems to go quiet. Not silent exactly. The fridge hums softly behind us. Somewhere outside a car passes along the road. The house creaks in that familiar way it does when the temperature drops. But inside me everything pauses.
I want to do life with you.
Rory Bennett has always been good with words. He’s cocky with them, playful with them, reckless with them sometimes. He says things to provoke reactions. To tease. To get a rise out of people. But this doesn’t feel like that. This feels different. He’s standing so close that I can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of my top, his hands still resting lightly at my waist as though he’s not entirely sure if I’m about to pull away. Which is ridiculous. Because if anything I’m leaning closer. I search his face for a second, trying to see if there’s even a hint of that familiar smirk. Some sign he’s joking. Some softening that suggests he’s about to laugh and say he didn’t mean it like that. But there isn’t. His expression is steady. Almost cautious. Like he’s said something that matters more than he expected it to.
“I want that too Rory. But I meant now. What do you want from me right now?” I say eventually, breaking the tension with something daring.
“I want to ruin you for any other man. I want to make you come so many times that you can’t even remember your own name. I want to make up for all the years of not having you and your amazing body.”
“You say things like that very casually,” I say cautiously. My voice sounds calmer than I feel.
His thumb shifts against my hip, absentmindedly tracing a slow circle through the fabric. “I didn’t mean it casually.”
And that’s the problem. I exhale softly, leaning back against the counter for a second so I can look at him properly. My legs still feel slightly shaky, which is deeply unfair considering he seems perfectly composed for a man who has just completely rearranged my brain and my entire nervous system in the last ten minutes. Typical Rory.
“I just mean,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “those are big statements to drop into the middle of… whatever this is.”
His eyebrow lifts slightly. “Whatever this is?”
I gesture vaguely between us. “This.”
He laughs. “You mean the part where I’ve been trying not to lose my mind over you for the last two decades or the part where you’ve just made a mess all over your kitchen counter?”
My lips twitch. “Both.”
He steps closer again, closing the small gap I’d created without even noticing. His hands slide back around my waist naturally, like they already belong there. My stomach flips.God, this man.
“You asked what I wanted,” he says quietly.
“I did.”
“So I told you.”
I swallow.
