Cal quickly sat forward and grabbed onto his knees as he nearly choked to death. Marching away as he gasped and coughed, he frowned at her retreating ass, griping, “What? Not even a smack on the back ‘tessa? I coulda’ choked to death, and I’m driving so … fuck you.”
She whirled around so fast her billowy dress flared out like a gypsy skirt. With her tanned legs and a golden glow from arms exposed by the open sleeves, she looked like a sexy nymph caught far from nature. She said something, but it took a second or five for him to hear her ‘cause in that moment he couldn’t think of anything else but possessing her. Completely.
His mind flashed. ‘tessa, naked and under him on his big antique bed. Her soft cries as he thrust slow, sure and hard. Unf. Real slow. Real hard.
“That’s why they’re called cabs. Transportation for public hire.” She had a martini glass in either hand, which made her gestures as she spoke fucking adorable. The long blonde hair, and short blue dress. Hell, her bare feet. She could have been selling magic beans, and he’d have been fascinated.
“Anyway, though I happen to think cabriolet is a much nicer word, taxi cab is what everyone uses. I’ll call a cab. You can snarl at the driver and scare the shit out of him and that way I won’t get ripped off or end up in a fountain.”
What the fuck was she yammering about? Who said anything about taxi cabs?
“Another drink means you can’t drive so a cab—no problemo. Capisce?”
Uh, yeah. He was going to capsice her ass—not that that made any God damn sense at all.
Without waiting for him to react, she went back to marching toward the bar cart calling back over her shoulder. “Can I handle the shaker? It looked like fun.”
Oh, so what? He was supposed to get in line and let her take control? No? Then why am I trotting behind her like a crazed fan hoping for a smile? Sheesh. What was happening?
“Unhand my Vermouth young lady and step away. Making the martinis is a man’s job.”
What. The fucking. Fuck. He couldn’t believe anything so lame came out of his mouth, grimaced and accepted that she literally—literally—bent over laughing.
“Seriously Signor Tyler? A man’s job? What century are you living in?”
“Shut up.” he retorted with a chuckle. With his hands on her shoulders, Cal steered her away from the cart. “And for the record Contessa, my father is the sole commander of the bar at home. Does Mom know how to concoct a deadly summer sangria? Yes. But when Dad’s around she acts like she doesn’t know how to open a bottle of wine. Not without breaking a nail and then whining about it,” he snickered.
She snagged an olive from the jar and grinned at him. “Smart lady your mom. Hey,” she blurted. “Ever see Star Wars?”
He gave her a frowning scowl and drawled, “Really?”
’‘tessa laughed and shrugged. “Had to ask. For all I know, you’re a secret lover of all things Jane Austen and have a Mr. Darcy complex.”
“Make your point.”
“My point. Hmmm.”
He studied her while mixing up another cocktail. Maybe another drink wasn’t a great idea.
“Oh right! Star Wars.”
Her laugh was worth the itchy conscience stirring inside. There were worse things than getting them blitzed on vodka. Right?
“Your mom,” she giggled. “She lets the Wookie win. Always a smart move.”
After a few minutes of trading Star Wars quips and working up a good laugh, they settled back on the sofa. He asked because he had to. The heavy conversation of earlier was what? Simply over? He thought women analyzed everything to death. Why wasn’t she heavy-handedly working him over like a masseuse having to pee?
It was wildly disconcerting that she sat cross-legged on the sofa facing him. Her damn dress barely covered her thighs and a steadily intensifying desire to see what constituted seamless hi leg panties made his eyes return again and again to her lap—what there was of it.
“Uh,” he half-growled then cleared his throat, so he didn’t sound like an animal hearing a mating call. “So I tell you I’m living some other guy’s life and your comeback is ‘We need another drink’?”
’‘tessa had this way of making whatever she said sound perfectly reasonable. It was her eyes, though—if he looked closely—that gave her away. He wasn’t entirely sure, but her expression suggested she wanted to give him a hug. But instead she made a face of disbelief—the girl couldn’t act to save her life—and innocently asked, “Oh. Was there more? I mean,” she rolled a shoulder and bit her lip. Ha! “You hate all this shit and aren’t thrilled with the hashtag ‘being Harve.’”
Mother of God. That certainly shut him down. Being Harve. Fuck. Sounded like the title of a self-help book. Did she throw these comments out just to rattle his cage? Cal didn’t get it. How the hell could someone so young be so … so. Ugh. He didn’t know what.
And then she took a detour or made a sharp right. One of the two, and went off in a completely different direction.
She took a sip and licked her lips. Jesus. His cock needed some goddamn breathing room. These pants were strangling him.
“So you talked about going to college with your friend. I get it,” she drawled satirically. “My high school BFF sat next to me on the train every day on our way to art college. She’s a graphic designer now. Hollywood of all places. She shit a brick when I decided to follow up a degree in fine arts with counseling.”
“You’re too young to be a grad student.” Had those words actually jumped out of his mouth? Smooth, dude.
“Ya think?”
Transfixed with watching her teeth bite into an olive and tug it off the pick he almost missed what she said next.
“I have a cut-off birthday. School district guidelines set a date for entry into school. Mine fell in a ten-day window that let parents enroll their kid if he or she passed one of those developmental skills tests. My parents are academics. I passed. I was also a year younger than everyone else in my senior class. Young? Yeah, I gotta’ give you that. But I’m almost finished with my Master’s. Not a bad thing for someone who’s not quite twenty-five.”
He snickered. Who was she kidding?
DAMN THESE THINGS ARE GOOD, she thought when a short sip of arctic deliciousness flowed over her tongue and down her throat. And the olives? Oh, man. She loved olives. Sooo much better than a pickle. Sorry.
“When will you turn twenty-four?”
Charlie licked her lips. Once. Twice. Mmm. Gosh. She could get hooked on these things. She glanced at Ty. He asked a question and was looking at her waiting for an answer.
“My birthday? Um, soon. Right after New Year’s. Capricorn. You?”
Just as he thought. Shee-it. He was already in school when she was born. Not a huge disparity later in life, but now when she’s so young, and he’s … what? A complete man whore? Fuck. My. Damn. Life.
“Pisces,” he muttered.
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner! Pisces was compatible with her sign. Squee! Okay. Maybe she should slow down with the alcohol.
“You. College,” she said, trying to lead him back to the subject at hand. “What did you major in? Not sure, but I’m pretty positive Cornell doesn’t have a Formula One degree program.”
He casually started unbuttoning his vest. Inhaling a hearty gulp she watched his hands, fascinated, as each button slid free.
“Architecture and Design. Frank Lloyd Wright shit.”
The vest came off and he tossed it on a nearby chair. Then he set about removing the tie.
After rubbing her nose with her knuckles, she rested her forearms on her thighs and stared at the drink in her hand.
Boy. She had not seen that coming. Architecture, huh? An all-American boy from the Old Dominion state takes architecture at Cornell and ends up driving race cars in Italy. Lord. His story was even more convoluted than hers.
“What about Harvey? What was he studying?”
He looked taken aback by the question.
“Oh, uh C
hemical Engineering. Basically, he wanted to blow shit up.”
“He blew up his life. And yours.”
Ouch. Cal played with the tie in his hands wrapping it around both fists and yanking it taut. She was staring at his hands. Did she think he wanted to use the tie on her?
Oh boy. His conscience began gesturing frantically from the sidelines, waving him off to safer ground. Any scenario involving ‘tessa and a black silk tie had a neon ‘warning’ sign attached.
She’d made an observation—a harsh one and he should respond in some way. “He didn’t mean to. He was stupid. We both were and shit happened. Doesn’t mean he was a bad person.”
He must have picked the correct answer from a multiple choice list because she beamed at him.
“That’s right, Ty.” She put down her drink, unwound the tie from his hands and tossed it aside. When she slid both her hands into his, he was a goner. “He wasn’t a bad person. Neither were you. Shit happened,” she shrugged. “Maybe not the best way of putting it but there you go. You’ve played the hand you were dealt, sweetie. Honored your friend and managed to stay alive while doing it. I think you can let go now. Don’t you? Isn’t that what all this is about?”
Should he tell her she was saving his sanity? This little scrap of wild child with the flowers in her hair and a big ol’ crystal around her neck—she was saving him with her magic touch and wisdom.
He kissed her because he had to. There just wasn’t anything else to be done. Taking her face into his hands, he looked into her eyes and felt her gentle touch on his wrists. She wasn’t stopping what was about to happen but she was poised to control things.
Fuck that. She’d be doing the submitting tonight. Not him.
Wait. Was that the vodka talking? He hesitated. Eh, who fucking cares if it is? Far as he was concerned, they’d been idling up to this moment, inch by inch from that first moment in the pantry at the villa.
Murmuring an honest, “Thank you,” he claimed her lips. She was right to challenge him to let go of the past. It was time. Time to move on. And he wanted to move on with ‘tessa’s sweet body wrapped around his.
Tasting of the salty olives, he licked the tangy brine off her mouth, exulted when she let out a shaky moan, and threw sense, caution and caring to the wind.
Holding her face gave him an unfair advantage. She was helpless, as Cal tasted lips that clung to his. Knowing he had the power ramped up the excitement burning him up inside. She still gripped his wrists but with every passing second her hold became less about pulling the plug and more about seeking more.
It excited him—how tentative she was. She always hesitated at first, forcing him to go slow when he wanted to devour and consume. Used to getting what he wanted, whenever he wanted, made Cal something of a greedy bastard. But being with this girl was different. There would be no cruise control with her. He wanted to feel every beat of her heart. Inhale her passion when she cried out. Lose his way in her eyes when she came for him.
Shyly demanding with her soft whimpers and trembling mouth, he fed off the intensity of her passion. Holy God. Why has nothing ever felt so good? His heart was thumping and with each shudder rolling off her body, he fell deeper and deeper in lust.
Cal wanted her. Like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Not even the all terrain bike he begged for on his thirteenth birthday that he was so sure at the time that he’d die without. Thoughts of riding ‘tessa engulfed him as a full blown scene alive with unbridled passion, scorching hot sex and the promise of something he couldn’t quite pin down drove his every move.
Swirling his tongue around the outline of her mouth, she opened so sweetly, letting him know she was ready for more. The temptation was there. Just once he flicked the tip of his tongue on hers. Sparking an instantaneous response. Her hands released his wrists and traveled along Cal’s skin until she reached the barrier of the rolled up sleeves. Fuck. He’d never wanted to be naked before as much as he did now. Those gentle, delicate fingers moving on his body would turn him to stone.
But he was getting ahead of himself. Sweet ‘tessa was no overly-experienced professional fuck toy. The nervous sighs and the way her mouth trembled when they kissed were caution flags he wasn’t going to ignore. She was far too precious for a random hook-up or to end up as just another in a life long track record of emotionless fucks.
This girl, this moment was special. He was going to make love to her. Non-stop until she was completely spent and couldn’t take any more.
The soft, needy whimper and the way she grabbed on to his forearms when he didn’t immediately stick his tongue down her throat actually made him smile. No. Seriously. In the middle of the most erotic moment of his life, he smiled. When the fuck had that ever happened before?
Instead of giving his sexy Contessa what she wanted, he took a detour. A slow one as he nibbled and bit his way to her chin and along the jaw quivering beneath his lips. Nothing ever tasted so wonderful.
He angled her head when he reached her neck. As he left slow licks and barely there kisses near her ear, his breathing became ragged and difficult. She exhaled a shocked, “Oh,” when he his questing lips found the nape exposed by his control of her head.
Ah. Excellent. ‘tessa had a weak spot. Her neck. Fanfuckingtastic. It would be his absolute pleasure to ravish those few inches of flesh until she was consumed with aching want and dripping from desire.
Grazing her skin with his teeth, Cal nipped and chewed on the delicate soft skin normally shielded by hair. At the base of her neck, he left slow, wet tongue licks along her collarbone until she quivered beneath his touch. And then he bit her. Hard. In that spot where neck meets shoulder.
Her whole body shook, and the hands that had been glued to his arms fell limply onto his thighs. Cal yanked her forward. She was like a rag doll by that point. Another lick, this one from ear to shoulder. The small whimpering noises she’d been making turned to harsh, husky growls. He bit her again and felt her start to go under. He’d subdued and then conquered her before his tongue got into her mouth. She. Was His.
I’m …
Oh …
Please …
Yes …
Oh …
She was lost. Couldn’t see. Or think. Her heart pounded. A steady hum in her ears turned out to be his endless growl of pleasure and control.
Ty.
She needed—desperately—to be kissed the way only he could. That greedy desire to surrender to his ravenous assault on her mouth made her mind fuzzy.
She needed …
She needed …
And then his lips were on her neck. Oh fuck. Charlie shook with an emotion that went so far beyond need she couldn’t define it. Not now, while her mind was clouded with lust.
But her neck. Holy mother. If he bit her, then shit would get real. And fast.
His nose rolled against her skin. She felt his breaths in short, rapid huffs of warm air. Welcoming the grip he had on her face, she melted into his strength and simply held on.
Unsure how long he feasted on her skin, Charlie doubted her ability to stop what they were doing when he licked the length of her neck with the flat of his tongue. The sensation was spine tingling and erotic as hell.
Oh God. Please, she mentally begged. More.
He did it again, only this time along her collarbone until his nose was deep into her nape. Slow, steady and wet, his tongue did wicked things to her flesh that made Charlie quiver. A fire bolt of red-hot lava exploded at the juncture of her inner thighs, flooding her undies with proof of her shocking arousal.
None of the boys she’d made out with ever gave her this aching feeling.
All was lost when he bit her in that spot. His teeth sank into her skin. She gasped. He grunted. Her hands went limp and she hung there held up only by the strength of his hold on her head.
She felt him pull her closer. Charlie didn’t stop him. Couldn’t. Then he licked her from ear to shoulder and she surrendered completely. The primitive creature deep in her soul
that was so much a part of who she was began to growl. The sound was feral and sensual at the same time.
And then holy mother. He bit her again—like an animal claiming its prey—and she went someplace she’d never been. A place where being taken by this man became more crucial to living than taking her next breath.
Seeing her weakened from the drugging effect of his hungry offensive on her neck made it hard for Cal to keep his shit together. She was perfect. Her surrender before he’d properly kissed her triggered an appetite for his ‘tessa that revealed a craving and lustiness he thought was romantic bullshit before now.
Could he have her naked and spread out under him—here on the sofa? In a mother fucking heartbeat. But screwing her in the living room had no appeal to Cal. He wanted the whole deal. The entire enchilada. With her, there just couldn’t be any other way.
So he stood up, bringing her body with him as he easily scooped her into his arms and crushed her against his chest. If they were going to do this, he was going to make damn sure they got it right. No goddamn way was he okay with a crude sofa fuck.
This situation, a god-send from his point of view, called for the antique four poster bed and a couple of flickering candles in his downstairs bedroom. There, he could crack open a window to let in the soft breeze of a beautiful fall evening that would make it easier to catch their breath when the air around them became thick and passion-soaked.
As he headed to the stairs, ‘tessa wrapped her hand around his neck and started kissing the top of his chest at the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. He was on the third or fourth step when she licked his Adam’s apple. He very nearly dropped her as an uncontrollable convulsion of pure lust shook his body.
“Kiss me, Ty.” The gentleness of her plea unnerved him.
“Is that what you want, little girl?” His eyes locked on hers. Thank God he could make it to his bedroom blindfolded or they’d be bouncing off the walls like a pinball in motion. “Is that all you want?”
Her answering stare was clear-eyed and very much present. Cal was relieved. She wasn’t drunk off her ass ‘cause that would suck balls and put a quick end to the evening. She knew what she was doing. Thank God because he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to muster the control he’d need to stop if things went south.
Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) Page 14