by Melissa Blue
His shoulders flexed, rippling the taut muscles beneath the T-shirt. Just that quickly she forgot about the food. She wanted to splay her hands on his bare skin and let her palms ride that ripple of muscle. She had no doubt her DNA would feel it.
Okay. Personal truth: What she didn't want to touch on his body was probably a shorter list. So his muscles, anything on his person was something she wanted to damn near feel in her DNA.
Adam glanced at her, exhaled a harsh breath as though he could read that want on her face, and then he grabbed the wine bottle. “I made a quick call after class.”
She huffed, the hot spurt of need for him cooling off. “You wanted me to cook for you?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up into a smile. “Did you see the way I demolished that cornbread? I'd be stupid and a liar to say the hope didn't cross my mind. Also, I have a rare weekend off. My kitchen only had crumbs.”
Once again, he cupped her face with his free hand. The innocent contact never felt calming, not when she struggled to breathe instead of moan. The action wasn't thoughtless. Every time, a flash of something she couldn't pinpoint would darken his gaze as though he had needed some part of them to connect.
“So…” Her voice sounded high, thready. She couldn't help it. “You don't like to waste opportunities. I think that's something about you that I really like. Though, it's…intimidating.”
His thumb moved back and forth across her cheek then trailed down to her neck, right on her pulse. Her heart pounded, and her skin felt like it was on fire from the simple caress. It was maddening and unfair that he came equipped with the power to render her into a trembling, aching mess with a touch.
So when Adam asked, his deep timbre another caress along her senses, “Spend the weekend with me, and maybe you'll like it for sure,” she had to swallow the urge to scream yes and then tackle him to the floor.
Think. He'd given her his warning speech in the classroom, but she still needed to know the parameters—needed reassurance, really.
“Not just the night?” she asked.
“I told you,” he said, letting his long stride eat the space between them, “it was never just for tonight. Tonight is just the start.”
Her scalp tingled at the proximity of him. “Oh.”
“That's all you have to say?” The intensity in the simple words seemed to waft off him.
Her stomach flipped under the pull of his need. She didn't encourage that kind of emotion. Never, ever. Adam probably met, and likely turned down, a much more skilled seductress on a daily basis for the last six months. So what woman did he see when he looked at her? What kind of woman could he not turn away? Charlotte wanted to meet her, to be that woman all the time, because that kind of woman could make the world kneel at her feet.
What did it say about Charlotte that even a small part of her craved to be that kind of woman?
He kissed her quickly, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth, and that simple expression dissolved her every thought.
“I love how chatty you are,” he teased. He also pushed her back, step after step until he had guided her into the kitchen nook.
He dropped his hand from her stomach then offered her the wine bottle. “I'll be right back with the glasses.”
She leaned against the cherry wood table, her grip tight on the chilled bottle, watching the way he simply moved. Each stride was sure, but there was almost a cocky bounce to each step. But he was doing his best to put her at ease. So when he came back with the glasses and a cork, she forced her shoulders to lower and her limbs followed the quiet demand to relax.
“You have a view of the Golden Gate bridge,” she said, using way more than two words. “Why don't you keep your windows open?”
“I guess you can say I've become jaded with my view.” He notched his head to a panel on the wall. “You can lift the blinds if you want.”
She wanted. Indecision filled her for another second as she stood at the panel on the wall, but she cut off the light in the nook since he'd finished pouring. The remaining illumination gave the room a nice glow. She grabbed her glass before settling at the window seat instead of the table. With the onset of nightfall, fog had crept in over the bay, and soon, only the top lights of the bridge would be visible.
She sipped her Chardonnay and soaked in the view, awed at the simple but somehow extravagant pleasure. “Do you ever look back and wonder how you got here? Got all this?” She searched for his gaze.
His jaw clenched at the question, which was a surprising reaction to a simple inquiry. “I have moments,” he finally answered.
Adam pushed off the table, and within two steps, she had to clench her glass. Being near him was like standing next to a power line during a thunderstorm. The air didn't crackle but sizzled with energy.
The hairs on her arms rose to attention right before he slid behind her on the window seat. “There's a warm, kind woman sitting in my house admiring the view. This is a moment. None of this should be mine, even temporarily.”
She tensed. “Why?”
He brushed aside her hair to expose her neck. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to talk about my wayward past when I'm about to use my mouth in the most interesting ways?”
A week ago, before she met him, her answer would have been ten—Charlotte would have wanted to know every detail before she let him touch her. But the interlude in the classroom had only been a teaser to what he could do. She wasn't just thinking about his mouth and hands.
He'd talked to the boys as though they were equals, not charity cases for a PR spin to make him look good on paper. He hadn't told them “if you work hard, one day you'll be like me.” Something she heard much too often, both when growing up and when she had a visitor in her classroom.
Adam showed them he could cook his own meals if he wanted, put down chili just like them, laugh at raunchy jokes, and be a guy that knew his past yet wanted something different for his future. Sure, there were more important details or wounds they could dredge up, but did she need them tonight?
“Three,” she answered.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her shoulder that forced her to grip her wine glass.
“I've lost my edge. You should have said negative fifty.”
Laughing probably only encouraged his ridiculousness, but she did it anyway. “Adam.”
The clink of wood meeting glass stopped her laugh. Her pulse skidded when he wrapped his hands around her waist to pull her closer. This position probably did nothing for him, with his hip pressed into her ass, but Adam tugged at her dress's strap, his mouth drawing a trail of heat down her skin. He laved his tongue over her flesh before sucking his way up to the crook of her neck.
When had he balled her hair in his hand? The tight pull tugged at her scalp and only added to the sensations playing over her. He added teeth then yanked down the front of her dress. Her breasts spilled out.
How could she care when every lick and suck made her panties drip with arousal? The scrape of his nails over her sensitive tips was punctuated with the sharp sting of on her neck. Her back arched on its own accord—she needed more. So much more of his lips, his touch.
With another scrape of his nails, her dress pinned down her arms and bared her to the waist. A sharp shatter of glass edged between her deep moans. It took her a second to notice her empty hand. She must have let cup roll from her hand and onto the floor.
How could he complain about it, though? He was busy decimating her. His knuckles pressed pressed low on her spine as he continued to grip her dress. Adam used that leverage to make her kneel on the window seat. She braced her hands on the sill, lost in what his mouth was doing. His mouth was tracing the line of her spine and back up to the crook of her neck.
If Charlotte's arms weren't pinned so tightly, she would have reached up to squeeze her nipples to let off some of the pressure building in them. They were so damn hard and ignored. As though he could hear that silent plea for release, he closed his hands over her bre
asts and kneaded the soft flesh.
“My Charlotte,” he murmured into her ear, “is this what you needed?”
She so wanted to be the woman he thought she was. That Charlotte would voice her need for him to pinch her nipples. But how? She’d never needed that before. If he added a tease of pain with the pleasure he was giving, she could come, no penetration needed.
The only word that made sense from the loud pounding in her head spilled from her lips, “Adam.”
He grunted and squeezed the tips hard enough she felt the promise of pain from his nails. Charlotte whimpered, confused and lost in what he was making her need, almost beg for.
“My sweet Charlotte… You like just a taste of pain, don't you?”
A rip of fabric broke through the roar in her ears then air kissed her ass and her pussy lips. She shuddered at how wanton she felt at being so exposed for him, but he’d wanted an answer when he'd stolen her words again. So she moaned in hopes he could interpret it.
“Spread your hands wider on the window sill,” he ordered, his voice rough and raw.
She freed her arms from the straps and could only imagine the picture she made. Her green dress bunched around her waist, her breasts out, along with her ass and pussy. Everything exposed for his view.
Her feet kissed the curve of her butt, and with her hands braced on the sill, her back had to jut out, making everything below her waist prominent. All of her backlit in the main kitchen's lights and whatever filtered through the fog from the Golden Gate Bridge. Her hair was tucked to the left, leaving her back bare for his purview.
Her breath came in and out as though she was running a race. The rough scour of his jeans against her legs made her gasp. Her every nerve was screaming in her head. She gripped the sill, her nails digging so deep into the paint she would probably leave marks.
Again, all she could say was, “Adam.”
He was taking her world and spinning it on its head. “Can I have you, Charlotte? Tell me yes, and I’ll do what you want.”
She couldn't put her needs into words, so how could he even know to give it to her? “I just want you inside me.” Charlotte barely recognized the raw way she demanded him to take her.
That was all the permission Adam needed. The sound of foil ripping filled the kitchen.
“Adam, now. Please.”
The thick prodding against her entrance stole her breath and then he thrust into her. She gasped, holding onto the sill, hard. The sharp pull on her scalp resumed. He'd fisted a hand in her hair again. She closed her eyes, pushing back into his every downstroke. Their skin made such a beautiful sound, rhythmic and primitive.
“Faster,” she begged.
He grunted, his pelvis slapping against her. Heat tingled along her skin, and just when she thought it was enough for her to fall over the cliff of pleasure, he slapped a hand against the curve of her ass. The harsh sting pushed her over. She was burning up from pleasure, inside and out. Her back bowed as the orgasm worked its way up from her core to her belly. All she could do was cry out as it shook her limbs.
Adam slipped out of her. She whimpered again. He pressed his mouth to the base of her spine. She shuddered at the soft caress. It was such a contrast from the rough way he'd touched her only moments before. He planted another kiss to the middle of her back, then her shoulder.
He used his big, rough hands to angle her face toward his and kissed her on the mouth. “I'm not done with you yet.”
She reached up to touch his jawline and fell into the gentle mating. No nips this time, just his tongue exploring, teasing her until she wanted him buried inside her again.
“More,” she murmured.
“Yes,” he said, his voice raspy.
Adam edged back and then lifted her from the seat. She threw an arm over his shoulder, around his neck, and curled into his warm embrace. If being with him like this felt so earth-shattering, Charlotte never wanted to be done with him. The thought should have clenched her stomach, filled her mouth with the bitter tang of fear, but he brushed a kiss along her brow.
“I'm going to worship you like I should,” he whispered against her skin. “I just couldn't wait. You're driving me crazy, Charlotte.”
At the confession, she wanted to crawl deeper into him. He made her feel shameless, brave, like the woman he saw when he looked at her. So she said, “Then take me to your bed.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adam's heart banged against his chest as he laid Charlotte out on his mattress. She was beautiful. Every inch of her skin had flushed from his mouth and from his dick pounding into her. Her golden, red hair spread across his black satin pillowcases, making her look like a goddess.
He stepped back from the bed and drank in the sight of her. Her rose-tipped nipples seemed stark against her pale skin, but perfectly round for her full breasts. He'd touched her bare, so he knew her stomach was soft, and so were her thighs. But he didn't know what she really tasted like.
And she liked a touch of pain with her pleasure. His cock sent up a needy whine, throbbing with each heartbeat.
He climbed onto the bed, between her legs. “Let's get you undressed.”
A small, shy smile broke out, and she closed her arms over her chest. “And you?”
He'd torn off his shirt in the kitchen and had gotten as far as unzipping his jeans to release himself. “We'll get to me.”
“Adam, I don't know what I was asking you to do to me in the kitchen. I've never… I don't…”
He kissed her. Maybe it was just his testosterone talking, but he liked that she forgot to be sweet when his mouth was on her. Charlotte moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist and using her heels to push him closer. She even dropped her hands from her breasts to grip his hair.
His head buzzed. She kissed like she laughed, with her everything. Soon, she was gyrating her hips, and all he could do was find her rhythm to grind against her. This wasn't what he had promised. This was hot, mindless, and oh so good, but not worship. If he let her, she could drag him into another round of hard strokes that made his toes curl while she came. This time, though, he'd follow her into that abyss.
With all the restraint Adam could muster, he broke the kiss to rest back on his haunches. Her focus narrowed on him, her breath coming out fast and hard. The rosy tips of her breasts had darkened, puckered for his mouth.
“Adam, you taste…” She licked her lips. “Kiss me some more.”
He glanced up to shield himself from the image. When he could think somewhat straight, he worked to get the rest of her dress off. And because he couldn't help himself, Adam stopped long enough to flick his tongue over a nipple. That sidelined him for a minute or two, but soon, he was back to getting the frock off. One of the straps got stuck on her foot. Together, they tried to free it and ended up tangling it worse. Chuckling, he glanced at her. Her eyes were lit with a smile.
“Be still,” he said. “I got it.”
He clasped her ankle and worked the dress free. Instead of going back to her mouth like he wanted, Adam flattened his hand along her arch and pressed his mouth to the spider web of delicate bones. She bit her lip, her attention fixed on what he was doing.
This was worship—no loopholes, just kept promises for Charlotte. He kissed and licked his way up to her calf and then back down to her heel until she moaned, curling her toes. He replaced his mouth with his hands, letting his fingertips slide against her skin like she'd been deprived of touch her whole life. Hell, she had. He hadn't been the one to caress the backs of her knees, the crook of her neck—nothing else counted.
He mapped her out and found a sensitive spot along the underside of her right breast. Her left nipple was more sensitive, much more responsive. His mouth replaced his hands, and she loved to have her belly button tongue-kissed. He had to suck really hard on her collarbone, otherwise she wouldn't sing for him.
Adam worshiped her like his bed was an altar. His cock throbbed. His jeans were soaked with his pre-cum and her arousal because there were ti
mes he'd needed a small release, a tease of friction along his shaft to keep going.
When he finally knelt between her legs, his face a breath away from tasting Charlotte's pussy, her thighs were trembling. He began with long, soft sucks on the lips, her bouquet filling his mouth because his touch, his hands, had left her so wet. Adam groaned. In love at first taste. Here, too she was sweet. He dipped two fingers into her and then licked his glistening digits.
His release beat at his spine. He had to do this, though. He would come in one stroke—he knew it from the way sweat slicked down his back, the muscles in his shoulders tense enough to shatter.
Her nub was swollen, so he continued to ignore his need and fulfilled hers. He lashed his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the hood of her sex protruding, making the task easy.
“Adam, please, make me come. I can't take anymore of this.”
That wasn't asking for much, and at this point, there was nothing inside him that could refuse her. He grasped her thighs, pushed them back, and offered her up to his mouth as a sacrifice. Adam licked her up, a glutton for her sweet cream. When her thighs squeezed tight, he sucked her clit, greedy for every moan that seemed to wash over him.
Charlotte stiffened and her hips arched off the bed. There was no slow, steady buildup to her orgasm. She shuddered then shattered, the pleasure of what he was doing wracking through her. Adam pinned her back down to the bed, feeding his lust with every broken cry and body tremble she gave him as praise.
His heart pounded and every thud intensified the almost painful ache in his balls. He wanted to thrust inside her, but she needed to come down. What she needed came first. The man that he was should have never been given a taste of this heaven. He placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh, letting his fingertips soothe her as best they could.
When he reached her mouth, Charlotte didn't hesitate to draw him into a kiss. She moaned and nipped at his tongue. What was left of his brain turned to mush. A mistake had brought him here, and he was unrepentant.
“Charlotte, my Charlotte, I need to be inside you now. Let me.”