by Mia Kayla
"Thanks," I said, turning around to face him. "I was afraid I wasn't going to do that this year."
His hands dropped to my upper arms. "I wasn't about to let that happen." His thumbs grazed my bare skin, and my whole body warmed, my pulse quickening and my mouth drying up from his touch. The air shifted with tension like a thin string wired with electricity. His stare flickered to my lips, which caused a hunger deep in my belly to overpower all of my senses. My knees felt weak as I angled toward him and tilted my head.
He leaned in, and I gave in just an inch. I should’ve wished for a kiss. A kiss that could never have been forgotten because, once I kissed this man, I doubted I'd ever forget it.
His eyes fell to half-mast, and when he inched closer, my pulse pounded loudly in my ears. He was about to close the gap between us ... so close. Closer ... closer.
Too close. Too soon. Too much.
I straightened as the thoughts awakened me from my trance, which forced him to still.
He was only going to kiss me, nothing else. But the last guy I’d kissed had been Roland. And our first kiss led to many kisses. Many kisses that led to me falling deep in love with him. And that love had led to heartbreak. I could see how things could escalate between Cade and me, and I couldn’t get emotionally attached and have my heart broken again. A slew of emotions bubbled in my chest, causing me to clam up.
"I think ..." I lost any ability to think or speak or function as I gazed back up at him. "I think we should eat cake." It took me a second to recollect myself. I backed up, away from him and turned to said cake.
He stood there for a second, silent. I wondered what he was thinking as I took the knife on the counter and busied myself by cutting the cake into pieces. I separated two plates and set a piece on each one. I was afraid to see his reaction, to see the longing on his face that was mirrored in mine. Because even though I was crazy nervous, and my thoughts were a jumbled mess, I couldn’t deny what I felt. I longed for this man.
He approached the counter. "Chocolate cake. My favorite." There was no huskiness in his voice, so I turned around and was awarded with his sexy crooked smile. My nerves relaxed at the sight of him.
"My favorite, too."
He dipped his fingertips into the chocolate and smeared my cheek with it.
My mouth dropped open, my lips curling into an 'O'. "I can't believe you just did that."
He chuckled and smeared chocolate on my other cheek.
I blinked. "Oh, you want to get dirty, huh?" I said, chin out, body ready to rumble.
His smile was blinding. Not the crooked, half semi smile I was used to, but a full-on grin. "Dirty is my middle name."
I wiped the chocolate from my face and licked my fingertips. His eyes flashed.
Good.
"You're going to get it." I stepped out of my heels. My fingers swiped at my other cheek, and I brought the chocolate to my lips.
With stealthy quickness, he rushed toward me, spread chocolate on my forehead, then hopped away.
My feet shuffled a step back. I didn't think it was possible to be shocked twice in such a short time frame, but I was. "You did not just do that." My smile widened, and my feet drummed on the floor, ready for my next move.
Full teeth were on display. God, it was the hottest thing on this man—a full-on smile, all teeth. I laughed, and just as fast as he approached me, I dipped my hands into a big chunk of the cake, feeling the squishy, sticky cake and frosting fill most of my hand, then I slammed him in the face.
My actions surprised me, or maybe the fact that he was too slow to dodge them. I stilled in my spot, wide-eyed and blinking. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry." The cake covered his eye, some falling on his cheek. I grabbed the white cloth napkin behind me and stepped toward him to help him clear off some chocolate, but in the next second, he reached behind me, and, with a handful of cake, coated my face.
"I'm sorry, too." He belly laughed, looking like a little boy, and I wondered what kind of silly antics he did as a child.
I narrowed my eyes, meaning war now. “Okay, I see how it is." I swiped at my face and pieces of chocolate fell from my cheek to the ground.
He bounced from side to side, like a boxer in a ring, knowing I'd get him next. And I would.
When my hands picked up the whole cake, he jerked back. "I don't think that's playing fair."
"Mmhmm." I advanced toward him, the cold of the tile floor against my bare feet. A sneaky smile creased my mouth, the kind that Tene used to throw me when we fought.
He maneuvered behind the center stainless steel table separating the room, separating us, separating himself from the cake shower I was about to give him.
"You think you can catch me?” he dared me. “I think you might be too slow."
My mouth dropped open, and I barked out a laugh. "That's what you think."
He flexed his muscles, causing the intricate tattoo that went up his forearm to tighten. I ran to catch him, but he flitted to the other side, the table still between us.
"You,” I laughed. “I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your face." I whipped a handful of cake across the room, hitting him in the chest.
He peered down at his shirt with a glob of glowing frosting on it. "I happen to like this shirt. My mama gave me this shirt."
"It's an ugly shirt," I goaded him.
His eyes narrowed playfully. "Are you telling me my mom has bad taste in shirts?"
I lifted my chin in defiance. "Yes. Or maybe it's the person, not the shirt."
He took off his shirt, and I swore; I almost dropped the cake. Seeing him shirtless was glorious, and gosh darn it, I forgot we were even in a cake match.
"You all right over there?" he asked too innocently.
"Ahh," I stammered. No words. A mural of black ink etched half of his chest, trailing to both shoulders and up his neck.
"Ahem." His smile told me he knew I was ogling him.
Right. Carrying on.
I hurled more cake in his direction, this time hitting him straight in the face, and his look was epic. His eyebrows shot to his hairline.
"I'm sorry?" My voice didn't sound apologetic one bit. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
His smirk tightened, his face amused but oddly filled with purpose as he charged toward me.
"Ahh ... no!" I rushed to the other side of the table. Where he moved, I countered, as far away from him as possible.
Then he planted his feet apart in a wide stance, determination set in his shoulders and my pulse quickened. "One way or the other, I'm going to get revenge, Angel."
Well, crap, then.
His voice was playful, but I wouldn't want to get on this man's bad side.
I didn't know what came over me, but I fisted more cake and chucked it at him, hitting his neck.
He growled, but in the next second he darted toward me, grabbed the cake from my hands and slathered it all over my face as though he was giving me a cake facial.
I squealed under all the frosting.
"You said you loved cake," he laughed. He had me backed up against the wall, but that didn't stop my determination.
I coated his bare chest with chocolate. "My birthday is over." Slapped it against his back. "Thank you for everything."
We were inches apart as I pushed the whole cake that he was holding into his face.
He could barely see, and I couldn't stop laughing. My fingertips lathered it through his hair like shampoo while tiny giggles escaped me.
He wiped his face clean, and then it was a full-on cake fight. Cake was everywhere. He stuffed it down my top and in my hair. "Happy birthday, Angel." He slathered cake on my neck as he pushed me up against the wall, anchored me, supporting all my weight.
"I'm dirty." My voice was hoarse, and my pulse beat erratically against my wrist.
"I like you dirty," he growled.
Suddenly, the air shifted, all amusement gone. His lips parted, and his eyes filled with lust.
My sticky hands slipped around his bare ba
ck, right by his backside. "Now you're dirty," I whispered. The sensation of warmth flooded my body.
He pushed against me, and I could feel his hardness against my stomach, which caused a dizzying current to run through me. My legs parted to cradle him, my skirt hitching up. His hands moved down to my bare thighs, and his fingertips made a sensual path up my legs until he was holding me up against the wall by my ass.
He rocked into me and his hard length pressed against the wetness of my panties. "You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" He rocked into me again, and a small moan escaped my mouth. He skimmed his nose down my cheek to the crook of my neck, where he licked the span of skin. "And because it's your birthday, I'm going to lick you clean." The warmth of his tongue set my skin ablaze.
All self-restraint disappeared as I tugged at the top of his hair and slammed my lips against his. Pure ravenous fire ignited between us, an inferno heating my body, all from the touch of his lips and the swirl of his tongue. He licked and flicked and bit my tongue in a long, lulling tempo that made me heavy with want and dripping in desire. I moved against him, loving the friction of our bodies. And it wasn't nearly enough.
One hand moved to the apple of my ass, and when he pushed me against him, my lips lost contact with his, and I trembled with pleasure.
"You like that?" He rocked into me farther, and an explosive current ripped through my body. My aching breasts rubbed against his bare chest, and my whole body sizzled against his.
He moved against me, creating this sensual friction that made my insides want to combust. "Angel ... I want you so bad." He rested his forehead against mine, his breathing labored and hot against my skin.
My pulse beat in every part of my body and my nerves were raw in the best possible way. "Well, take what you want," I whispered.
A hunger so strong, a thirst in the deepest part of me that I thought was gone, abruptly emerged as he lifted me and led us down the hall and to the freight elevator to take us to his apartment.
Chapter 13
Our lips never lost contact. Not when he walked out of the elevator. Not when he pushed his key into the lock. Not even when he walked us into the apartment and into the bathroom. The sound of the water running in the shower echoed through the room as his hands molded to my ass, but we didn't stop to even catch a breath.
I welcomed the way his hands, his lips, his words were making my body react. When my clumsy fingers could not undo his belt, my feet touched the ground, and he stepped back and worked to finish what I couldn't. After he undid his belt, he slipped out of his jeans ... no underwear.
For all that was holy!
His cock stood at full attention, saluting me, and I blinked, unbelieving at his width.
A throaty chuckle left his lips, and all I could do was stare. Simply stare and blink.
"See something you like?" he asked, his crooked smile widening.
My cheeks flushed as I just ogled it—stared at it pointing at me. I knew you shouldn't compare, and since I'd only really seen one dick in my whole life, I didn't have anything to compare it to, but yeah, Roland was no comparison to Cade.
"No words? Did I numb your mouth from kissing you?"
When he approached, I jumped back, and he laughed again.
He made his cock twitch, and I shuffled back another step.
"It doesn't bite," he promised.
"Uh." Once again, this man had me stupid speechless.
"Scared?"
"Of course not. I'm not a virgin." But when my hands reached for him, his dick jumped again, and I jerked back.
He shook his head, amused, and came toward me. "Angel, let me teach you a thing or two." He reached for my fingers and brought it to his hardness. "This is a cock. Touch it. Feel it. Kiss it if you want to." He guided my hand to lightly stroke his length.
"Shut up," I muttered.
He angled closer, and my head lifted toward the ceiling as his warm tongue licked the tender spot on my neck. Instinctively, my body arched toward him.
Not once did he stop me from stroking his satin-like skin, up and down, my fingertips light but firm.
His hands dropped from mine, letting me take the lead. Hot, horny, heavy breaths escaped him.
When I increased my speed, his lips lost contact with my neck. "Shit," he growled. His eyes were closed, skin flushed, and his eyebrows knitted together like he was on the verge of combustion.
"Do you want me to stop?" I whispered.
Now he was the one at a loss for words.
My insides soared with victory because, for once, he was the one unable to function, let alone speak. Our roles in this crazy relationship were reversed, and I reveled in having the control, wielding this man with the power of my touch.
His eyes flipped open. "You're going to make me come. It's been a while."
His words surprised me. I had assumed—I didn't know why—that he had women falling at his feet.
"Move." He ushered me back, toward the shower, his cock against my stomach.
I smirked, still feeling powerful. "I own this building, sir. You don't get to tell me what to do."
His face told me he loved it when I fought back with some sass. He pointed his dick toward my stomach, urging me backward. "Move." With each thrust of his cock, he pushed me toward the shower. "Get going." His tone, his stance, his overpowering demeanor made my body hot and ready with want.
I enjoyed this tug-of-war between us, and I backed up a step. "You're not the boss of me."
"I can't boss you around, but I can control what he does." His cock jumped again, and my heart pounded an erratic rhythm in my chest.
After I shed my clothes, I grabbed his dick and pulled him into the shower. My boldness surprised me, but my body lusted for this man so deeply that any restraint I had was gone.
Warm water hit my skin, cascading to the floor. He towered over me as I watched the beads of water trickle down his chest against his tattoos, like a waterfall against a work of art.
Beautiful and breathtaking.
He reached for the soap above me and lathered up his strong hands, bringing his hands up my thighs and over my taut stomach. "You need a little cleaning up, dirty girl." His voice was rough, ragged, raging heat that matched my insides.
"I am a dirty girl. Dirty, dirty girl." I'd never played a part before, never role-played during or before sex. But damn, the way he talked, his foreplay with words, was electrifying and erotic, and I didn't want him to stop.
He continued lathering me up with soap, starting with my breasts and making his way down. Lower. All the way down. Farther down. To the apex of my legs, where he slipped a finger inside me. One. Two. Then three.
My head fell back against the glass when he began to pump his fingers in me, slow and seductive and with purpose, all the while watching me.
When he dropped to his knees and spread my legs farther, I didn't have time to formulate my next thought before he grabbed my ass and flicked his tongue between my folds. Kissing, licking, sucking my clit with a deep-rooted ravenous hunger that made me buck forward.
I gripped his hair to steady myself. "Cade," I whispered. He needed to slow down, or else I'd combust. But he didn't stop. If anything, he feasted on me like I was his first meal of the day and the last meal of his life.
It didn't take long before I peaked and erupted, pushing his face farther into me. The magic of his tongue worked me over and over, making the orgasm last forever until I saw a burst of light behind my eyes and my whole body shook with sensation, and my legs gave out beneath me from utter and wonderful ecstasy.
Cade turned off the shower, and he carried me to his bed. He peered down at me through hooded, hungry eyes. All I could hear was the sound of the condom wrapper ripping and the beating of my raging heart. All I could see was him over me, the lust in his gaze, the hunger that made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, and all I could feel was his hard, wet body above me.
My body was still quivering from the aftershocks of the everlasting or
gasm mere seconds before, but it didn't stop me from grabbing his cock and positioning it above my center, needing him, wanting him inside me. He entered me in one swift movement and stilled.
"Fuck," he cried out in one low, husky moan. "You feel too good."
I shifted to adjust myself to the width of him, to the feel of him inside of me.
At first, his movements were slow and sensual, and I felt each thrust of his body everywhere, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine to my toes and then back. But I wanted more, needed more. I didn't want him holding back.
"Harder." I lifted my hips to get him to drive deeper.
He gripped my chin with force, watching me with a heavy, hungered passion. "You want harder." He rammed into me, his movements animalistic, raw, and full of passion. "This hard enough for you?"
"Yes," I screamed, digging my nails in his ass.
"You feel so good. So fucking good." His lips connected with mine again. Tongue against tongue. Thrust after thrust. Skin slapping against skin.
There was a thin line between pleasure and pain, but it felt so achingly amazing. Too good, and that's when the first spark deep in my belly initiated, building in the base of my spine, spreading to my toes, then overtaking my whole body and turning all my thoughts to mush.
I moaned loudly as the best orgasm I’d ever experienced shook my world and everything in it. I gripped Cade tighter against me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he took me higher and higher and higher, where every sliver of sensual sensation rocked through me while Cade's body pumped into mine.
Our loud moans of ecstasy echoed through the room as I tasted the sweetness of lips, smelled the scent of our passion, and every single part of me quivered with pleasure.
I should’ve felt guilty, or any type of remorse, but I didn't because, for once in my life, I'd never felt more alive.
When the bed shifted the next morning, I awoke to Cade's firm ass walking toward the bathroom. When he shut the door behind him, my mind wandered, turning over and over, while all my muscles felt like liquid mush. It was as though I had received a massage from the inside out. Well, I had—an orgasmic massage.