Crazy in Love

by S. L. Scott

  Tugging off my jacket, I let it fall to the floor as I drop to my knees, not wasting any time, and duck under her skirt. The room is dimly lit, but under the thick fabric of her skirt, there’s no light at all. I don’t need it, but I wouldn’t mind seeing her up close again.

  I rely on my other senses and lick her lower lips like a melting popsicle. Despite the cavernous feeling of her skirt wrapping around me, I’m privy to her moans and can feel her body wiggle as her legs open wider, welcoming me in.

  When my tongue plunges into her entrance, her knees grip my shoulders, and her back arches off the bed. The pressure of her hand on my head is felt as she holds me there. “Don’t leave me, Harrison . . .”

  I don’t stop, though the words get stuck in my head. Why would I leave her? Why would that even cross her mind at a time like this? Who the fuck is leaving her unsatisfied?

  The pressure intensifies, and she continues, “So good. Don’t stop. Yes . . . yes . . . so good.”

  Picking up the pace, I fuck her with my mouth and then add a finger into the tightness of her swell.

  The need to come is building, and my erection seeks relief against the bed, though it does nothing to satisfy my urge to be inside her. Distracting myself from my own needs, I take advantage of the time to reacquaint myself with what turns her on.

  Hot breath makes her moan.

  A flat-tongued lick has her panting.

  A good old-fashioned finger fuck has her squirming on the bed.

  I use one hand to pin her down and then add another finger when she begs for more, faster, harder.

  Tremors rip through her body like little earthquakes. I stay steady until her body tenses and tightens around me. My name was rattled off at the peak of her orgasm and then mingled with breathy cursing as she melts into the mattress before me. “Oh fuck, yes. God, yes.”

  Pulling back, I watch as she comes undone, and it’s a beautiful fucking sight to behold.

  When her breathing steadies, I flip the skirt off my head, and it flies over her face. Tugging it back enough to reveal her beauty, I then drop my hands down on either side of her head. “You have a dirty fucking mouth, baby.”

  “Only when it comes to you.”

  “Speaking of coming.” I kiss her—heated more than before and hard as I take control of her tongue. My hips push against the apex of her thighs, and I grind against her. “See what you do to me?”

  “I don’t want to see. I want to feel you inside me.”

  Fucking hell. She’s going to kill me dead with her words alone. “I want you naked on the bed. Or bent over the dresser . . . in the living room. Your choice, but you only have until I’m naked to be ready for me.”

  She scrambles to her feet. With her back to me, she twists to unhook the fasten on the side of her skirt. That puddles around her feet as she starts on her top, unzipping the side and pulling the body-hugger down before stepping out of that as well.

  My pants are hanging open, and my shirt is almost unbuttoned when she pulls the clip from her hair, and it cascades past her shoulders to her back to hang with the rest. Her ass is round and smooth, drawing me closer. I grab her cheeks, and she stills. Glancing at me over her shoulder, she says, “Patience is a virtue.”

  “I have none when it comes to you.”

  A sneaky grin slides across her face before she leaves me with an erection aching to be freed. I finish undressing, trying to decide how I’m going to take her first. She crawls onto the bed, flaunting her ass, so I ask, “Is that an invitation?”

  Slipping her feet under the covers, she doesn’t scramble to hide her body but taunts me with the sight of it before tempting me to rip these covers off the bed entirely.

  I take my time and walk around to the side of the bed, my dick hard and my eyes never leaving hers. I’m about to climb into bed next to her when my stomach plummets. “Fuck.”

  How is this possible?

  Why would I be so dense?

  "What’s wrong?”

  I haven’t been carrying protection around Manhattan. I had no reason to. It’s not like I’m fucking every girl who asks in LA, and believe me, they ask and often. But I’m usually prepared just in case. “I don’t have a condom.” I’m finally with the girl I can’t stop thinking about, and I’m blowing it. “Do you have one?”

  “Those went bad a long time ago.” Unfazed to the panic I feel inside, she rests her hands behind her head. “How long has it been?”

  It’s not that I’ve been with so many in the last year. It’s that they weren’t memorable enough to recall on demand. “Four months, maybe five. I never went without a condom.” I don’t even know what I’m saying. I mean, it’s the truth, but why does that matter now?

  “Eight months for me,” she offers without missing a beat. “I threw out the small stash I had after a bottle of champagne and a broken date two months ago. I swore off men that night. But here you are, and neither of us is prepared. Go figure.”

  “Yeah, go figure.” My dick never falters as we wait for her to determine our next step. “I’ll run to the store.” I turn to grab my pants, but she sits up in a panic.

  Grabbing my hand, she says, “I’m on the pill.”

  “But we need—”

  “It’s okay. I trust you, Harrison.” She pulls me close enough to encourage me into bed with her.

  I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want to stop, not with her. I will, though, if that’s what she wants. She kisses me, giving me every reason to believe her words.

  Cupping my face, she kisses me again before we fall between the sheets. Holding her in my arms, I settle between her legs as her body blooms under my kisses. I can’t blame the alcohol, only myself for what I’m about to do. And although my mind has a million thoughts zipping through it, my body knows what it wants. Her.

  So I won’t tell her no. Nor will I deny her pleasure. Her pleasure is ultimately mine.

  When she moves on top of me, I push everything out of my mind except for what’s right in front of me, on top of me, and around me. Staring at her tits and curves, her smile, and the mischievous glint in her eyes.

  This isn’t how I thought we’d start, but there aren’t any complaints from me. Tatum lifts and then slowly slides down, her heat engulfing me and causing my eyes to close. “Oh fuck.”

  Heaven.

  Hell.

  And the purgatory between.

  I’m caught in every emotion and state of being, lost inside her, no barrier between us, as she begins to ride me. “Look at me, Harrison,” she commands. Her words come out as if the demand itself stole her breath away.

  Opening my eyes, I watch as our bodies move, as they remember the way they once danced. I move to feed the deep-seated tightening inside, but the craving can’t be satisfied. So I grab her hips and start fucking her.

  When she puts her hands on my chest, I drive into her. She comes down and bounces on my lap before hovering over me, our eyes locked on each other’s. “Slow down,” she says, her voice low in the dimly lit room. “I don’t want to rush.”

  Reaching over, she pushes a button, and the curtains begin to close. Here I thought we were about to give New York more of a show than we already have. I pull the covers to my thighs, exposing her bare body for only me to see. I worship at her altar as I give her everything I can when inside her and the passion she deserves with every kiss that’s pressed to her lips.

  Her head tilts back, the tip of her hair wading across the tops of my thighs. When she’s leaning back, her tits are perky, the nipples perfect pink buds begging to be . . . I reach up and run the pad of my thumbs over each one until they perk and harden.

  When her hands land on my legs and those tits are paraded in front of my face, I cup them and then bring one to my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. I leave it wet and wanting like her and move to the other to do the same.

  Though she’s settled on top of me, there’s no less a frenzy of feelings and touches shared between us. Starting a slow bu
t steady rocking action, she feels too good to last long.

  The scorching heat of our bodies’ connection is intense. I take a deep breath, everything feeling more than it ever has before. The barrier of a condom was black and white to the technicolor of being bare.

  Gripping her hips, I thrust up, moving in and out as I hunt for the release that will send me over the edge. I watch her tits bounce as I fuck the breath from her, getting off on how much she’s turned on. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

  The tips of her fingers sweep across my forehead, pushing my hair to the side. “You’re only saying that because you’re inside me right now.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” My words are spurs that get her moving to the pace she was begging from me earlier—faster, harder . . .

  “I’m going to come again,” she exhales on a harsh breath, her eyes still latched to mine.

  The climb to the edge is exhilarating, and my body pulses in anticipation. I’m close, but I want to watch her fall apart again and feel her succumb to the bliss while riding me.

  Bringing her closer, I wrap my arms around the small of her back, and we rock together until her breathing deepens and her eyes close from the lust. Her mouth opens, and, “Harrison,” tumbles from her lips as if I’m her savior.

  When I feel the quakes building in her body, and one begins to erupt, I pull her close and begin kissing and sucking on her neck. “Yes, baby. Come for me.”

  Control was lost already, and her arms tighten around my neck to relish in another orgasm. “Yes. God. Yes!” Trembling around me, she squeezes my dick until I can’t stave off my release any longer.

  Letting go, I move my body on instinct, my willpower lost in the throes of her passion and soft mewls as she comes down. I fuck until part of my soul goes missing, seeking to reclaim its other half. I swear angels sing when the torture that had been packed into a compartment years ago is released. “Oh fuck.”

  She slams onto me one last time before I hold her in place like the last puzzle piece that completes the big picture. I’m emptied of anything of value—my energy, soul, and heart if I’m being honest. I rest back and try to catch my breath. “You . . .” Through panting breaths, I confess, “I knew what we had was special.” I cup her face, a sheen glistening across her cheeks and chest, her skin, and a thrill still so striking in her eyes. “You’re incredible.”

  Laughing softly, she says, “I might have missed you more than I realized.” She leans down and kisses my temple. The tip of her tongue dips out and swipes the salty sweat from my forehead.

  “Might have?” She begins to wriggle away, so I catch her wrist, looping my hand around it gently. She’s free to go, but I like that she stays. “I’m really great at accepting compliments. You should try me and say what you mean.”

  “I just bet you are.” Kissing my shoulder, she lingers before facing me again. “You were better than memory serves, and I have incredible memories of that night.”

  A smirk would be justified, but I grin instead, feeling this moment with her deserves something more befitting. Lightly pinching her chin between my fingers, I say, “It was one of the best nights of my life.”

  “Harrison?” she whispers, her gaze lowering between us as if I’ve gone one step too far for comfort.

  “Don’t lock me out. I’m not asking for anything.” When she looks up again, I swear water shines in her eyes. The last thing I want to do is make her cry. “I just wanted to get that off my chest.”

  “I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

  This time, I do smirk because fuck, I’m now deep in the feels. “Me either.” I chuckle, keeping it inside because I prefer to hear her laughter, which is softer in the afterglow.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re thanking me for sex?”

  The corner of her mouth rises up on one side. “I’m thanking you for tonight.” She slips out of bed, and adds, “I’ll be back.”

  Most women snuggle against me, wanting me to stay. Some even beg or coerce me into it. My guilt gets the better of me sometimes.

  The one woman I wouldn’t mind trying to cling to me has no interest in such things. She disappears into the bathroom, leaving me lying there alone with my thoughts. With my arms spread wide, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. When I’m with her, the mental gymnastics easily competes with the physical demands. I could lie here and go through every conversation we had to try to figure out where I stand in her world, but I’m exhausted and decide to give it a rest for now.

  As my lids grow heavier, my muscles relax against the mattress. Trying to force myself to stay awake, I turn toward the closed bathroom door, and call out, “All okay in there?”

  “All good!” she calls back.

  I give in and close my eyes, unsure how long she’s planning to be gone.

  The scent of soap and sweetness fills the air just as a warm hand grazes across my chest. A kiss to my cheek has me not only opening my eyes but reaching to hold on to the softness of her skin.

  The lamp is now off, inviting darkness to stay. The night might be owning the space, but I see her. I see her bare before me in every way; her face is clean of makeup, and her hair is hanging over her left shoulder. Turning to catch her lips with mine, I ask, “What took you so long?” My voice is gruff with sleep.

  Running her hand over the scruff of my face, she whispers, “Just that magic I spoke about earlier. Do you want to stay?”

  A smile creases my cheeks. I’d already planned on it since I fell asleep, but knowing she wants me to has me feeling like an Olympic gold medalist. “I’ll stay.” Can’t sound too eager, though. Wouldn’t want to feed the ego she wears like armor. I like when her defenses are down, and I get to spend time with the woman she really is instead of what she wants the world to believe.

  When she lies next to me, we stare into each other’s eyes. “If you need to use the bathroom . . .”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She nods, and then her eyes close just before I slip out of bed. I don’t take long in the bathroom and even score a little finger scrub with toothpaste to clean my teeth and have fresher breath. I splash water on my tired face, dry my hands, and then run my hands through my hair. I’m not sure if she’s up for more fun, but I’m not opposed to as much action as she craves.

  Taking a second, I push my palms down against the marble counter. The exhilaration of getting what you want after so long and then having her like no other woman I’ve been with—no barrier between us, just pure heat and lust, desire and Tatum—causes my heart to beat hard in my chest. “Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes closed and try to calm back down before returning.

  I look at myself once more, push my hair back, and return to the bedroom only to find her asleep. Guess I got my answer regarding the rest of the night.

  I slip under the covers. Clearly, she’s a woman used to sleeping in her own bed by how she sleeps in the middle of it. I keep my chuckle under wraps and then move next to her. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark again, and I can just make out her delicate features. She’s a stunner with makeup, but without, she’s truly breathtaking. I can’t believe I’m the one who gets the privilege of seeing her stripped down to nothing.

  So fucking lucky.

  I take my watch off my wrist and set it on her nightstand next to a book and an alarm clock. Though she’s facing me, I pull her close, leaving no room between us, her breathing remaining steady as she stirs and readjusts with her head resting on my shoulder.

  In the quiet of the room, I can only hear the matching cadence of our breathing. I realize I don’t mind that she fell asleep since I get to hold her like this. I kiss her on the top of her head and then fall asleep.

  11

  Tatum

  I shouldn’t like a strong arm around me like I’m captive to this bed.

  But I do.

  Or maybe it’s just him that I like so much. He’s so warm, and I can’t resist staying curled up against him as
though I’ve been left out in the cold too long. Huh. Wonder if there’s some truth to that. Something to ponder when I’m fully awake.

  For someone who can sleep in, I see this time of morning too often. To-dos and random stress, even loneliness creep in at the most annoying times of the day.

  Judging by the faintest light of the sunrise I spy through a crack in my curtains, I’m guessing it’s around five thirty or six. Go to sleep, Devreux.

  That’s not what has me awake, though. Loneliness is the furthest thing on my mind when it comes to Harrison Decker being in my bed.

  I wish I could see his face, but I’m too content to make the effort to turn around. Sigh. I close my eyes, dearly wanting to accept this moment for what it is.

  Comfort.

  Warmth.

  Shelter.

  Cold air rolls over my skin, leaving goose bumps in the wake. I tuck my arm under the covers and tug them higher. Rolling to the other side, I catch a whiff of something in the air.

  Coffee?

  Bacon?

  Harrison?

  Harrison! I open my eyes in a flash when last night finally returns to the forefront of my mind and find the bed empty beside me. Flipping the covers off, I get to my feet and grab my robe from the chair where I left it draped. The silky material slides down my arms, and I fasten the belt around my waist. I reach the living room when I’m pulling my hair out from the collar and freeing it to lay on top.

  Judging by the sunlight flooding the apartment, morning is in full swing. As is Harrison cooking at the stove. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He looks back over his shoulder. It’s then that I regret not taking the time to appreciate the sight of him prior to disrupting him. “Good morning, sunshine. You hungry? We never did get around to eating last night.”

  Resting my middle against the counter of the peninsula, I ask, “Did I not satisfy your appetite?” I don’t know why I lick my lips. Gah. He gets my feminine wiles going. It’s probably how sexy he looks shirtless while holding that spatula in his hand. The black thigh-length briefs don’t hurt either. The way the waistband clings to that V of his lower stomach like I did last night . . . yeah, I bite my lower lip and admire him while I can.