by Lane Hart
“Then try and unplan it,” I suggest. After taking a sip of my beer, I tell him, “The bathroom in the lounge is very private.”
Roman’s eyes stare at me from his mask. “You seriously fuck your employees in the bathroom here?”
“No. We have all male employees at the moment, so that’s a big hell no,” I tell him with a chuckle. “But, ah, the counter is the perfect height with the mirror in front.”
“Huh,” Roman says as he looks over at his wife. “Hold my beer,” he says, handing it to me before he marches up to Charlotte, grabs her hand and drags her away from Madison.
“Roman!” I hear her exclaim. “Where are we going?”
Madison turns to me in question, but I just shrug and look away, downing my beer and then Roman’s, wishing I could forget our time in that damn bathroom.
Chapter Twenty-One
Madison
It’s way past midnight when I finally get to leave the dealership with Cannon in the passenger seat. He said he had several beers and probably shouldn’t drive. I realized he wasn’t joking when he tried to walk outside in the cold wearing nothing but his pants and shoes. Then, I had to help him get his hoodie and cut on before we left.
In the parking lot, when I not so gently suggested that Cannon should ride home with the prospects, he ignored me, climbed into the open driver seat of my car and crawled over the console to get in the passenger seat.
Neither of us said a word on the short drive back to his place; but by the time Cannon unlocked the door to let us inside, with Jake on sofa duty tonight, it’s like a switch flipped, the light came on in his living room and then he was letting it all out.
“You don’t get to be pissed at me!” he starts, leaning his back against the door after he shut and locked it.
“Who? Me?” Jake asks, spinning around to look between us with a line underneath his eyes from his mask. For all I know, my face probably looks the same, but I’ve been avoiding mirrors. I shake my head to tell him I’m the bad guy here.
“I can be pissed at you if I want,” I respond when I stroll into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
“No! I did you a favor!” Cannon says as he follows behind me. Jake flops out on the sofa to watch the show.
“Yes, and I appreciate the fundraiser more than you know,” I say with my back to him while turning on the Keurig. “It was a great turnout.”
“Four-hundred and twelve,” Cannon says.
“What’s four-hundred and twelve?” I turn to ask him with my arms crossing over my chest. Only when I’ve done it do I remember my coat is open and it makes my tits nearly spill out the top of the dress. Cannon’s drunk eyes notice too.
“People,” he replies. “That’s how many people came. You didn’t expect that, did you?”
“No, but that’s great.” I knew there had been a ton of people, as I had talked to most of them.
“You think you’re too good for me. And you are,” he says when he comes closer, slapping a hand down on the counter on either side of my hips to cage me in or hold himself upright, I’m not sure which.
“I don’t think that,” I whisper to him since Jake is just in the other room watching us.
Cannon suddenly releases the counter to cup both sides of my face. “You wouldn’t even let me kiss you on the mouth. I don’t have herpes or anything else. I’m clean.”
I have to fight back my smile at that statement before I cover his hands with mine and tell him, “I never thought you were dirty.”
His glassy, blue eyes watch me, and then he grins. “Oh, I can be dirty, very, very dirty.”
When he leans forward like he’s going to brush his lips over mine, I turn my head and he gets my cheek instead. I’m afraid of what I might do if he kissed me. Besides, we have an audience.
“See,” he grumbles. But that small rejection doesn’t seem to bother drunk Cannon all that much. His lips make a trail from my cheek to my ear and down the side of my neck, sort of like the reverse order of earlier tonight. And just like before, my body reacts even though I wish it didn’t.
“You regret what we did earlier,” his mouth says against my skin, making my eyes close on a gasp. And at this second, I’m thankful that his body is big enough to block my reaction at least from Jake. “I only have one. No two. Two regrets,” Cannon tells me before his hand slips to the back of my head so his mouth can come back up to my ear, tickling me in the best way to make me squirm. “I wish I had tasted you,” he whispers. “And then I wish I had fucked you.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask and then instantly wish I could take the question back.
Cannon’s mouth freezes, and then he looks at me for a second before dropping his face against my shoulder. His body shakes, and then I hear his laughter. Great, now he’s laughing at me. I push against his chest, but he doesn’t move. Finally, he lifts his head and whispers loudly, “There wasn’t any time!” He lowers his voice a little more but not low enough that Jake probably doesn’t hear. “I almost came in my pants, Madison. Me! How fucking embarrassing is that?”
My jaw drops in understanding. “So you…that’s why…”
“Yes!” he exclaims loudly with a vigorous nod of his head. “Let me make it up to you.”
Before I can say another word, Cannon drops to his knees on the kitchen floor, and I’m not sure if he fell down or meant to do it until I feel his hands sliding up my thighs under my coat. I grab them to stop them from going further.
There’s movement from the living room, Jake coming toward us, probably because he thought Cannon fell. The brush of his lips on my inner thigh makes my knees so weak that I almost fall before I let go of Cannon’s hands to slap mine on the counter to brace myself. I didn’t realize I had even closed my eyes until they blink open and Jake is standing across from us in the kitchen. “Get out, Jake!” I yell at him.
“Ah, yes, ma’am,” he agrees before he walks backward several steps and then turns to jog toward the door. I don’t breathe until I hear the front door open and close again. Then it’s like a weight is lifted off my shoulders and I can finally let go, to savor Cannon’s damp lips and wet tongue making its way slowly but surely up a little higher, then a little higher.
I should stop him. I know I should. And I will.
In all my nearly thirty years, I’ve never wanted a man’s mouth between my legs before. It’s too intimate to have their face so close to that part of my body.
Yet, for some reason, I don’t tell him to stop. No, I can barely keep myself from reaching down to push Cannon’s face exactly where I want it. No, where I need it so badly I may die without it.
When he keeps teasing me, I finally give in and thread my fingers on each hand through his fine, blond hair and urge him to kiss me in a very specific place. I hear Cannon’s masculine chuckle as his warm breath breezes over my most private part and through the lace of my panties. His tongue swipes over the entire lacy crotch, pushing up into my body, and I cry out.
Cannon’s hands and my own are suddenly frantic, pushing up my dress and getting my panties down my legs. They’re still around my ankles when his tongue runs through my folds the first time. He does it several more times, as if parting me open, and then he flicks the tip against my entrance, then shoves deep, as deep in me as he can go with his nose pressed to my pelvis.
“Oh my God, Cannon!” I moan as his tongue swirls and lashes inside me until my knees do give out and my elbows on the counter are all that’s keeping me standing up. He withdraws his tongue and replaces it with two probing fingers that take my breath away before his mouth goes to work licking and sucking on my clitoris at the same time.
It’s too much and not enough. I need more, but at the same time, for some reason, I want to push his head away as the pressure builds. The heavy, liquid warmth growing inside of me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve had orgasms before, even one earlier tonight, but if Cannon doesn’t stop soon, I think I may burst wide open.
His fingers pu
mp inside of me, and his tongue lashes against my flesh faster and faster as if that’s exactly what he wants to happen until what my body does is out of my control and under his command.
Giving up the fight, I throw my head back and sink into the pleasure. My fingers are back in Cannon’s hair, and I don’t remember putting them there or pressing his face to my body, but I don’t stop because it feels right. I ache so badly and want it to stop.
“Cannon, please,” I beg since I can’t hold on much longer. His fingers shove deep and then it feels like I’m falling and drowning. My hips buck wildly, riding the waves of euphoria exploding from the center of my body and rippling outward through every inch of me. I should be ashamed of the sounds I make or how I’m drenching Cannon’s face, but I’m not. It feels too good, too mind-blowing to not enjoy it.
Once I’m no longer shouting or moaning, I can hear Cannon’s groans like he’s enjoying a delicious meal. He pulls his fingers free, but I have to gently push his mouth away because I’m too sensitive to any touch right now. He leans the side of his face against the outside of my thigh to look up at me. Then, he lifts his fingers and covers them with his lips, sucking them clean while watching my face.
“Mmm-mmm,” he mutters around them as he closes his eyes. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and…”
I wait for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t, he just slumps against me harder, and I realize – he’s passed out.
“Cannon?” I say, reaching down to shake his shoulder. “Cannon, wake up.”
“Mmm,” is the only sound he makes as his upper body starts slumping lower and lower toward the floor until he flops on his side and curls up like he’s going to sleep with one arm wrapped around my ankles.
“Shit,” I whisper, because he’s out and I don’t think he’s going to wake up anytime soon. Which makes me wonder, if he’s this drunk, will he even remember what we just did – what he just did. But he’s the one who got on his knees. It was his mouth that sought me out. The only encouragement I gave was at the end when I pressed his face to my body.
Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see if he remembers.
I can’t leave him here in the kitchen, sleeping on the floor, though.
First things first, I pull my panties back up and then I try to lift his arm that’s around my ankles. He holds on tight at first. When I get his fingers pried off of me, though, I pull and pull, but all I manage to do is drag him a few inches toward the living room.
Shit.
If I’m going to get him to his bed, I’m going to need help. Which means sucking up my shame and asking Jake and Lucas to carry him.
I lower Cannon’s arms, and he murmurs something in his sleep, something that sounds like my name as I walk away.
Once I’m outside, all I have to do is wave a hand at the prospects in Jake’s car, and they both throw their doors open and hurry up the steps.
“What’s up?” Lucas asks, his expression confused as if he has no clue what was going on. Jake is behind him; and when I see his face, he can’t seem to meet my eyes, which is just fine with me. Guess he didn’t tell Lucas why we sent him outside.
“I need your help, both of you,” I explain to them. “Cannon passed out on the kitchen floor. Could you help me carry him to bed?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lucas agrees. “I knew he was tipsy, but I didn’t think he was that drunk.”
“Me either,” I mutter.
When we all get back inside, one of the first things I notice now that I didn’t earlier is that Cannon’s face is still glistening from what we were doing just before he passed out. I step over him and reach down to wipe his lips and chin with the top of his shirt quickly. Jake clears his throat like he’s trying to suppress a laugh.
“What?” Lucas asks him.
“Nothing.”
“Why did you leave him here if you could see how drunk he was?” Lucas questions Jake.
“He looked like he was happy as could be when I left,” Jake responds, his lips pressed together tightly to keep from laughing or saying anything more.
“Jake’s right. Cannon was…alert when he was in here.”
“I still don’t get why he told you to come outside with me,” Lucas grumbles. “Cannon made it clear that one of us should be inside and to get a decent night’s sleep.”
“You that worried about my sleep?” Jake teases him.
Since I would feel bad if Jake had to sleep in his car with Lucas, I should probably smooth things over. It’s already inconvenient for them enough shadowing me around. “I think Lucas is right, Jake. You should just come crash on the sofa. Cannon probably didn’t mean it when he told you to leave.” The boy looks at me for half a second before his gaze goes back to the man on the floor.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing,” Jake agrees. “I mean, saying!” he corrects in a rush. “Sorry. I don’t mean to say that. He seemed very intent on what he was…doing, and I don’t think he would’ve stopped even if a dozen men tried to carry him away.”
“What was he trying to do?” Lucas asks Jake with his brow furrowed.
“Cook something to eat,” I blurt out at the same time Jake says, “Find something to eat.”
At least we both ended up with the same word, which isn’t a lie. I scrub my hands over my face as I kneel next to Cannon’s face, trying not to smile and failing.
“I think I missed something,” Lucas says. “What was it?”
“Nothing,” Jake and I both reply simultaneously.
“Now, could we please try and get Cannon to bed?” I ask them. “The good news is his bedroom is on this floor and not upstairs.”
“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Jake agrees.
The boys get on either side of Cannon’s body and lift his arms over their shoulders so they’re dragging his legs on the ground. There’s not much for me to do, so I lead the way to his room, flipping on the light so we can see the bed.
It’s funny that I’ve lived in this house for a week and a half and yet I’ve never stepped foot in Cannon’s room. I think that was very intentional on my part. He’s attractive enough when he’s nowhere near a giant king size bed with a thick, light gray microfiber comforter that looks like it would feel like sleeping in heaven.
I peel the soft, white sheets and heavy comforter back while Jake and Lucas stand by waiting. Then they have to use every muscle in their bodies to lift the bigger man up and into the bed.
Once Cannon is stretched out with his head on the pillow, I tell them, “Thanks, I can handle it from here.” I take off one of his dress shoes, then the other, then remove his socks. It’s an oddly intimate thing to do for someone who is unconscious. It has me thinking about how I’ve never actually undressed a man like this before. I look at the door to see if I’m alone or not before I consider whether I should keep going or let him sleep in the rest of his clothes.
If I had to guess, I would bet money that Cannon isn’t the type of man to sleep in anything at night. And while I’m not willing to undress him completely, I do get to work undoing his pants and dragging them down his legs once I see he has on black cotton boxer briefs underneath. I drag them all the way down his long, muscular legs covered in golden hair not much darker than the hair on his head, then off. I don’t think I could easily slip off his cut or hoodie, so I leave them on, covering him up with the bedding. He starts to roll toward his side facing me while I’m still standing there. He blinks his blue eyes open a crack, and then his arm is coming out of the covers, reaching for me and then falling as if it’s too heavy to hold up.
“Stay. Sleep with me,” he murmurs.
“No. You’re drunk,” I whisper to him.
“Yes, I am,” he agrees as his eyes shut again while his lips lift into a lazy smile. “But at least I know what color your panties are…and how good you taste.”
My face blazes in embarrassment before I start to the door. “Goodnight, Cannon.”
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
Ugh, of course only Cannon could manage to be charming when he’s drunk.
And at the moment, I can’t decide if I want him to remember what we did in the kitchen or not when he wakes up tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cannon
I wake up with my mouth so dry I can’t even swallow.
The last time that happened was after I had been binge drinking at Roman’s wedding reception with the rest of the guys and I woke up with a woman sleeping on top of me underneath the Savage Kings meeting table, unable to remember how we got there.
As soon as I can crack my eyes, I know that this time I at least ended up back in my bedroom and alone, wearing too many clothes. I sleep naked, because it’s just better that way. Last night, though, I passed out in my hoodie and cut and boxer briefs. As I sit up and wet my lips to try and remember what happened, the taste hits my tongue, and it all comes back to me.
I somehow went from being jealous and angry at Madison to licking her pussy in our kitchen. That’s the first time I ever ate a woman out in the place where Conrad and I make our food. But I don’t regret it. The fucking sounds she made as I ran my tongue over her clit and fingered her tight pussy replay in my mind, and it makes me want to do it all again.
Except, I can’t remember what happened next. Usually, oral sex is the way to get a woman nice and wet before I fuck her.
I don’t think I fucked Madison. I’m sure I didn’t, because I know I would’ve remembered that.
So, what happened after she came on my tongue and fingers?
I keep drawing a big blank as I rewind the whole scene over and over until my dick is so hard that I have to jump in the shower to give myself some relief.
Just the lightest touch from my hand on my shaft nearly sends me over the edge, telling me for sure that I’ve been aching and ready without a release since Madison and I were in the bathroom at the dealership.