by Eden O'Neill
Fuck.
Her tongue eased past her matte red lips, dueling with mine as I sought to bruise that very mouth beneath her lip stain. She’d probably look like she was stung by bees after this with the job I was doing on her, but I didn’t fucking care. She grabbed for my cock, and I literally growled in her mouth, basically an over-eager teen as I ground into her hand. She got every inch of me through my pants, reaching for my fly.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she moaned, my mouth probably looking the same after we were done. Especially since I wasn’t quite sure that lipstick would hold up. She was no doubt marking me, and fuck if I didn’t want to be marked. “I’m in 518 B.”
Out of my fogging haze and back to reality, and I was right when I eased her mouth away. I’d smeared her lipstick but only just.
My thumb outlined the job I did, the soft red of her lower lip painting her sun-kissed skin. It was quite possibly the hottest shit I’d ever seen. This woman was incredibly sexy, and in more than one circle, that probably placed her completely out of my league. I mean, she was older, because of that, more experienced when it came to life and decision-making in general. Most certainly if the shoe had been on the other foot, had she’d been me, I was sure the responsible thing would have already been done. She’d be upstairs to 518 B.
I would have let her go.
So much debate in my hands, my chest and maybe even a little in my eyes too. I knew when Bri brushed her thumb across my eyebrow. It felt like fucking heaven, and I wanted to bite her flesh.
I did, goddamn me, teeth sinking into her palm. I sucked her skin, the taste akin to cherries, that juicy, that succulent. We both moaned in my running car and when she probed again, for me to come inside and for me to join her, I forced my mouth to let go of her.
I pulled her hand away, lacing our fingers. “Should we?” Should we do this? Should I jump with her? What a time for a conscience, right? I shook my head. “I mean, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do.”
Weak, I knew. Placing the ball in her court, for her to deny me and not the other way around. I suppose, in a way, it was a bit telling of our age difference. I didn’t want to be the reason to shut this shit down, but it was the only way to clear my conscience from the possibility of a heavy guilt. I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. Take advantage of her.
I wet my lips. “There were a lot of emotions tonight.”
A lot of feelings and I saw each of them play in that moment. They ghosted across her hooded eyes and smoked eyelashes, the soft glow of her highlighted cheeks and flushed skin. This woman was a work of art.
And she was pulling away from me.
She physically tugged free from my hand, grabbing her purse.
“Bri—”
“You know, if you don’t want to do this, just say,” she said, laying my shit bare when she whipped around. Her dark mane fell in a flourish over her rosy chest, the heat of before returning to her dark eyes. I hated to see it. See her like this. She shook her head. “Not whatever the hell this is.”
She waved her hand, but I took it. Definitely not wanting to let her go and most certainly not like this. “Bri, we just... we said a lot tonight.” Honest. It had been a lot. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”
“Well, thanks for looking out for me,” she snapped, once again, forcing her hand away. She got out, heeled pumps to the ground. “I hope you think about that while you’re jerking yourself off tonight. I’m thirty-five years old, Ramses. I can handle myself.”
“That’s not what I—”
Door slammed in my face, cutting off my words. I watched her huff as she made her way to the elevator, her head thrown back as she shot inside it like a bullet.
I touched my head to the steering wheel, my car still running before I growled and peeled off to the closest parking space. I was definitely going to regret this. I definitely shouldn’t give in to this. I’d been impulsive before. I’d been stupid before.
Pocketing my keys, I hit the same elevator punching the five once inside. I was amped the hell up. I didn’t fucking care. I was going to chase this woman.
I just hoped she was ready to be goddamn chased.
Chapter Six
Bri
Man child, my only thought as I gobbled a glass of wine in a swallow. I downed that crap like a frat boy.
I mean, he said no to me.
I was embarrassed, on fire. I’d basically thrown myself at the guy when he had no interest in me.
He’d actually been trying to be nice about it.
I didn’t want nice. I wanted savage and wanted someone to help me get out of my head. I wanted escape, to feel lack of control but on my terms. I wanted to be able to make the calls, the shots. I wanted the power.
For once.
I poured another glass as a fist hit the door, one then two swift knocks. No way in hell should my landlord be knocking at my door at such an hour, even if I had called earlier in the week about a slow-flushing toilet. This condo had been new when I rented it, the first tenant, but they were obviously working out the kinks still. This place was flawless outside of that hiccup, polished marble countertops, sleek hardwood floors, and fresh ivory paint. They’d even added an accent wall in a cool silver, making the place just as masculine as it was feminine, something I hadn’t minded since I didn’t fall into the stereotype of a woman in need to fill her life with pink and flowers. Nothing wrong with pink and flowers, but that was something I’d never been into.
Thump, thump, thump.
What the hell?
I chugged the last bit of my wine, ready to lay into someone’s ass and failed to check the peephole before opening the door. I just opened it, ready to unleash the fiery gates of hell, but before I could the back of my neck was grasped and lips crashed down so hard on mine I drew blood.
I tasted his blood, Ramses’s lips between my teeth and my lower lip clamped tight between his, a fluid exchange.
Oh my hell.
I gasped as he completely grabbed my face and shot into my condo, me in tow. His leather-gloved hands warmed my cheeks, his body hard and solid even through his wool coat. His face chilled from the cold, his lips hot as he tasted mine and I drew from his. He came back. Came after me.
And I flooded in my panties, my leg wrapped around him. He tugged it up, his hand up my thigh as he pressed my body to my ivory walls. He grasped and bit my lips, and I moaned, scratching at his back.
“That invitation still open?” he asked, his grin lazy before kissing me hard again. I growled, a shaking and quivering mess in his hands before he finally let go.
He placed a hand on the side of my face, then the other, standing there like a god in a three-piece suit. His coat open, he displayed all the goods, the entire expanse of his long body donned to the nines in harsh grays and handsome black. He oozed swagger like a seeping wound and was the very reason I never questioned how someone of his age had managed to pick me up. I didn’t consider myself a particularly hard lay, but I’d been hard on him. I pushed him.
He obviously pushed me back.
He tugged a glove off his hand with his teeth, his mouth stained in red from my lipstick. He didn’t have a lot, but he had some, and regardless, I had a feeling his lips tingled with natural red just as much as mine beneath the paint. Using that naked thumb, he brushed a rough pad along my lower lip.
“Well?” he asked, basically rasping, groaning. He panted like he’d run up here and maybe he had, or he hadn’t. The back of his knuckles ghosted my cheek. “Tell me you want me.”
Oh my God.
The quiver down to my knees, my swallow hard. Technically, I just mourned the loss of him. Well, not mourned per se but basically. I was forcing myself to get over the fact that a guy I probably neared a decade on turned me down, and I’d been trying to handle said denial with a strong bottle of wine—again. Apparently, I was a borderline alcoholic, wine my default when I was feeling shitty in any situation.
My lips parted. “You came back.”
“You let me.” A smile that tipped his lips up, made him boyish. Guiding my mouth up to his, he fused our lips together again before ensnaring my hips and pressing a knee between them. He’d had to deal with the gathering of my dress, but I easily rubbed hard friction against his muscular thigh. He groaned. “Fuck, I need you naked.”
I needed to be naked. I needed to be out of this dress.
And the door was still open.
I wasn’t quite at the point of voyeurism yet, even post-divorce, and wanting the freedom of whatever this was. I gripped the lapels of his coat, a stark black that hugged every inch of his big body. “Give me a minute?”
He let go, but I didn’t think by choice. He wavered a bit before his forehead dropped to my bare shoulder. I’d taken off my coat and shoes but nothing else. He warmed my neck with his mouth, borderline tonguing me. “How long?”
Good God.
My throat constricted as he peppered kisses dangerously close to the swell of my breasts. But with the strength of a thousand readied females, I forced distance between us when I grappled his shoulders. I held up two fingers. “Just two seconds.”
I needed to get my shit together, my first legitimate one night stand.
And with a younger man.
Something about that excited me, that he desired me. I wasn’t what one would be considered busted, but I was more modest and didn’t do things like this. When I’d met my ex-husband, we’d been in college and he’d done all the work. I hadn’t been easy, made him prove himself to me. In fact, looking back, I think I focused on all the wrong things, how good he’d been on paper and how motivated he’d been. He’d been hungry for his goals as much as I had to become a professor and hit every one of them.
Yes, yes, he’d done that.
That was the past, behind me. That wasn’t now. That wasn’t Ramses.
Ramses.
He kissed my fingers midair, looking like a hungry tiger when he licked, then sucked a polished digit completely into his mouth.
Holy shit.
The vision of him between my legs charged my bud (also between said thighs) on overdrive. I could probably charge a light bulb with it at the present, fuck.
“Two just,” I laughed, giggled like a little girl. Oh God. I forced him back. “Just two. That’s all I need.”
This made him smile, laugh with the timber that hummed deep from within his chest. He pressed his hands to the wall again, staring down at me. “I think I’ve only two within me, Bri.”
I had even less, my hair flicked when he slid a digit down it. He followed all the way down to the tip of the follicles, and my panties were basically drenched, but I managed to ease from beneath him.
I closed the front door.
“Just make yourself at home,” I said, hearing him chuckle from the entryway. Along the way, I picked up my shoes and coat. I hadn’t even bothered to put them away when I’d come in. I’d literally gone straight for the bottle but tucked them both in my closest when I made my way in.
Holy fuck.
I stared at the image in my vanity, hair mussed and lipstick smeared. I decided to rub the matte tone off, which took nothing short of a power sander considering it was virtually smear proof.
We’d been kissing rather hard.
Oh God, was this actually happening?
It was, and I was about to let this guy dick me down until I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. I wanted him to. God, did I want him. I wrestled in my closest for something easier to get out of when I heard him chuckle again from somewhere in the condo.
“Uh, Bri?” he questioned, another deep laugh. “You don’t have any furniture.”
Shit.
I faced palmed myself, all my living room furniture still waiting on delivery. I’d bought it all from the furniture store, but it wasn’t supposed to be delivered until next week. I basically only had what I’d come down from Jersey with, my car, my bedroom furniture, and a fraction of my personal items. I’d wanted to start over here, start fresh. I angled my head. “Sorry. I ordered it, but it hasn’t come in yet.”
Silence from the living room, another laugh. “Well, do you, uh… at least have a bed?”
I did have one of those, and when I reappeared, I noticed he’d dimmed the lights, the electric fireplace on. He’d obviously managed that and made do with my lack of furniture by lounging his big body on the floor. He’d been staring toward the hearth, his coat and dark shoes off. He had the shoes arranged neatly at the edge of the coat, which he spread out like a picnic blanket beneath him, his suit jacket off and folded beside that. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up and tie loose, he angled up on his knees to adjust the flame. Looking like a complete erotic vision.
Looking completely beautiful.
His hair waved in a tousle of angry curls over his eyes, the state he’d been in when he rushed to my door and made himself known to me again. When he’d taken what he wanted, when he’d given himself to me but only after I pushed him. Something told me this Ramses was a very good boy, and I never thought I’d be the one to turn him savage, raw, as that was completely not me.
“Brielle…”
His eyes on my teddy, a raven black as it fluttered over what I considered imperfections. My hips wide and tummy soft. I worked out, but there we just some things the Stairmaster, constant sit ups, and daily runs couldn’t hide. There were things that held history, thighs that subtly weaved with not one, but several tiger stripes. I had stretch marks, most women did, and I was front of Ramses, literal perfection and probably would be well into his days. Guys, in general, were just built differently, age or not.
He angled up, as if in awe of me by the way he stared, but something told me, since I flashed him tits beneath this teddy, his focused attention had something to do with that. I pebbled tight, diamond hard especially in front of his more than observant gaze. His mouth parted. “Damn.”
Good damn or bad damn? I’d ask him if I was bold enough, and really, did people do lingerie if they were causally sleeping together? The last time I’d dated and flirted, I was pretty sure Twitter didn’t even exist.
I scratched bare toes behind my ankle, a nervous tick and something I couldn’t hide. I shrugged. “Too much?”
Please don’t say too much. Please don’t make me feel embarrassed or judged. I already feel completely inferior in front of you.
It took a second for his response, and all the while I felt the pull of a slow retreat back to my bedroom. But then he shook his head, so slow.
“No,” he said, no before waving his hand. “Come here. Come to me.”
Come to him.
Okay.
I couldn’t help but smile, some of that shyness fading away, he brought me down to my knees with him, and on just his hip, he still outdid me in height by like a foot. He was a really big boy, a big man.
He cradled my face as I came down, pushing my hair away. He eased me down to my back, a full hand between my breasts.
I sucked in a breath as he eased the teddy off one of my tits, warming my breast beneath a fisted hand. So Ramses was a breast man, noted.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, my throat jumping. My thighs held a tremble but mostly due to surprise as his hand disappeared between them. I didn’t consider myself particularly body conscious, but this was new, and he was, well, a stranger.
A stranger with beautiful eyes and a hungry mouth, his tongue gliding down my thigh as his finger hooked the lingerie over my sex. He teased me beneath the sheer lace, his eyes peeking up and his grin wicked. He blew hot breath over my pussy lips, his digit playing at the seam. “How do you taste, Brielle?”
He continued to play and tease, and I was up on the balls of my feet. I wanted to grab him. I wanted him to do something but all he did was allow his knuckle to graze my flesh. Eventually, he worked his way through, knuckling my clit with soft pressure but not long before he tugged away.
“Will you rock my shit?” he asked
, pinching my nipple. He tongued my lower lips. “I have a feeling you will.”
A guttural moan when he sucked my folds completely into his mouth, tonguing his way between them with reckless abandon. He latched onto my sex, disappearing completely between my thighs, and the comment I’d made about him being a breast man I completely tossed away.
Ramses seemed to have a taste for nothing but my buzzing flesh, devouring every gush and burst of my heat. I ached over his wool coat, my nails digging into his scalp, which only made him feast harder.
“Fuck,” he growled, his hands completely on my thighs as he spread me wide. He brought both thighs over his shoulders, knotting my ankles behind his head. “I knew you’d taste fucking good.”
I groaned, my ass up as he tore my panties. Like literally ripped them off and tossed them away. This gave him better access to my tiny curls, his teeth biting my mound before retreating back to my hot juices. I buzzed like an angry hive, a bee queen on a throne, and he made me feel that way, not allowing me to escape as he drew from my heat and his fingers bit into my flesh. I was going to come and fast. I wouldn’t last.
“I’m going to come,” I admitted, biting my lip. I tugged on my nipple, expediting the process, and noticing, Ramses pushed my hand away.
He pinned it underneath my butt, holding it with no escape.
“You only get to come from my mouth,” he said, taking my other hand and doing the same. He lifted me up. “Only from me.”
Oh. My. Hell.
Ramses was definitely a pussy guy, laving and working my charged sex. A hard suck, then a bite to my clit, and I flooded like a broken dam over his tongue, and the instant I had, he’d been readily aware.
His eyes hazed to a lazy hood, complete euphoria in his eyes as he groaned and his ministrations between my legs picked up. He drank from my body like a man dying of thirst, licking and sucking with great care. He didn’t want to lose a drop, his mouth seeking mine before my bottom could even return to the coat.