by Laura Carter
I also need this mid-afternoon traffic to disperse because my willpower is waning fast. I want nothing more than to reach over and pull her onto my lap. I want to tear off those jeans, maybe find some sexy lace panties underneath. I want her to straddle me, right here in this car, and...
“So”—the word leaves my mouth louder than I intended, making Becky jump and dart her attention from passersby to me—“what’s next for Becky Does New York?”
“What? Oh, the list? Right.” She’s flustered. So much so, I’d be willing to bet her mind had just been in the gutter, right there with mine. “Ah, some eateries. I can’t remember which ones. My vacation is over though. I’m back to work tomorrow so the list will have to be parked. For now.”
I wonder whether that was a complete brush off, or whether she’s on my wavelength and also thinks that if we are going to make this friend thing work, we need some space.
We pull up outside her block, and I grab her bag from the trunk. I hand it to her on the sidewalk, and we’re left facing one another. I try to focus on saying something sensible. Closing the weekend. But my gaze drops to her pink lips, and all I can think about is how much I want to taste her again. There. Everywhere.
“I really enjoyed meeting your family. It wasn’t so scary after all. And you made the boardwalk…special.”
“Are we…” I move my hand back and forth between us. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah. We’re good.”
“Good.”
“Well, I’ll see you when I see you.”
I push my hands into the pockets of my jeans for something to do with them that isn’t grabbing her by the nape and pulling her to me. “Guess so.”
I watch her pert ass until she’s beyond the glass doors. I’m still ogling as she waits for the elevator to reach the lobby. She never looks back, and I’m left standing on the sidewalk, pining after her like an obsessed idiot.
The sound of my cell phone ringing in the back pocket of my jeans saves me from beating myself up. I take out the phone as I climb back into the cab. As I do, the battery dies.
“For fuck’s sake.”
Dropping my head back on the seat, I will the thought of Becky naked and straddling me to leave my mind.
“Trouble in paradise?” the cab driver asks, eyeing me through his rearview mirror.
“Never even made it to fucking paradise.” And damn, do I want to bite that apple.
After paying the driver, I take the elevator to my penthouse apartment. It seems bare, with no kids running around, without the smell of cakes baking, without Becky.
I dump my bag and find a charger for my cell, then flop back onto the sofa with my hands tucked behind my head. I even surprise myself when I begin to wonder, would a relationship be all that bad? I managed to have a weekend away. That’s unheard of. What’s more, the world didn’t fall apart.
But it’s not just me. She doesn’t want a relationship. Does she? She wants me. She wants me as much as I want her. I see it in her eyes. I felt it in that kiss. Jesus, that kiss. If a kiss was that hot, I can only imagine how incredible sex would be between us.
I remember her response to my innocent touch when I lifted her chin. She was afraid to be controlled. Is that what she’s been running from? Did she have her wings clipped by the asshole she used to be with?
I can’t imagine her being that woman. She’s no wilting flower. She’s feisty. Sassy. She’s got confidence. Her attitude is sexier than everything else about her, believe it or not. And she’s funny. No one makes me laugh like her. She’s sweet and kind.
I moan in frustration. That woman has no idea just what she can do to a man. This man. She has me contemplating things I’ve never wanted. She actually has me wondering whether I could fight for named partner and have her in my life. She ties my stomach in knots at just the thought that I could lose her. I’ve known her a matter of weeks, and the mere idea of it already kills me.
There’s not a thing about Becky that I don’t want to call mine. I run my fingers over my lips, remembering how they had ignited against hers. Remembering how urgent my need to have her was. How she took me out of my head, made me forget everything except how much I wanted to be inside her and make her mine.
She doesn’t want a relationship. And I thought I would hurt her with one night. But we’re currently sitting in separate apartments after a great weekend together. We’ve already fucked up.
My cock aches at just the thought of what I’m contemplating. I move my hand over my crotch and find exactly how much I’m entertaining the idea of going over to her place right now and stripping her down. Forgetting about all the what-ifs and fucking her hard.
“Screw it.”
I kick up from the sofa, pull my jacket over my T-shirt, grab my keys and leave. I hail a cab with only one thing on my mind. Her.
* * * *
After working a little charm on another resident who was entering the building, I’m standing outside Becky’s apartment door, with no idea what I’m going to say to her. I knock hard and try to find the words that will help her understand what I’m thinking. The thing is, I don’t understand what I’m thinking.
She opens the door and I imagine I look just as startled as she does.
“Drew.”
I brace my hands on either side of the door. “Tell me again that that kiss shouldn’t have happened, and I’ll walk away.” My heart is pounding so hard I can feel my pulse in my head. This may be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
She just stares at me, blankly, and I wish I was a mind reader.
“Becky, I don’t understand this, but I do know that I fucking want you. I want you so much it’s driving me crazy.”
She continues to stare, her lips parted slightly.
I have to do something.
“The sensible thing would be to walk away, for both of us. I know that. But…what do you say to thinking about sensible in the morning?”
She finally drops her hands from the door. Her pupils dilate, and her eyelids seem to become heavy. Her chest rises and falls faster than just seconds ago. It’s now I notice she’s wearing an oversized check shirt. Only an oversized check shirt. And my breaths match hers in an instant.
I move into the apartment, and she takes a step back, not exactly inviting me in but doing nothing to stop it either. I kick the door shut behind me.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
Nodding my agreement, I step closer to her. “I know.”
I’m not sure who moves first but our mouths crash together. Her hands fist in my hair as our bodies collide. It’s messy. Hurried and frantic. But I swear nothing ever felt or tasted so good. She’s a mix of the taste I remember, some kind of unique sweetness that’s just her, and wine. A deep, smooth red. I wrap my fingers in her hair and force my lips to break from hers. “You’re drinking wine.”
I rest my forehead against hers and feel her push back, like she’s frustrated. Like she wants more of what I stopped. “Yes. I thought wine would help. There was something I didn’t want to think about.” She bites my bottom lip. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
I fight against her to take her lip in my teeth, a low, rumbling growl leaving my chest. “I want to fuck you so hard. I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Then I’m going to take you to your bed and explore every magnificent inch of this body.”
I rub the pad of my thumb across her lips. “Here.” I bring one hand to her breast, feeling that it is free beneath her shirt, and squeeze the mound that fits perfectly in my palm. “Here.” I slip my hand inside her shirt and tweak the nipple between my finger and thumb, completely turned on by watching her squirm. Her hips roll against mine in response. I dip my tongue into her mouth and tease her top lip as I take her hand from my neck and guide it down, under the bottom of her shirt. I stroke the lace of her
panties as I force her to cup herself. “And here.”
She groans and drops her head back, exposing her neck to me. I waste no time tasting her skin. She grinds her pelvis against mine and pushes my jacket over my shoulders to the floor. I kick off my shoes and cup her ass in my hands, lifting her until her legs are wrapped around my waist.
Everything I’ve been trying to resist since the first time I saw her takes me over. Like a beast, I ram her back against the wall, rolling my crotch against her. Letting her feel just how much I want her. Her mouth is back on mine. Warm and wet. Fucking me the way I want to fuck her. Hard. Fast. Fierce.
She forces her hand between us, gripping me over my jeans. “It’s all yours,” I tell her.
She draws her tongue along her lip, her eyes dark with desire. “Take me, Drew. Please.”
“You’ll never have to beg me, Becky. Not for this.”
She rolls her head back against the wall as I lower one of her legs to the floor and cup her over her lace. Her hands move to my belt, unbuckling and unfastening me as quickly as her shaking fingers allow.
Lowering her other leg, I pull my T-shirt over my head. She drinks me in, unashamedly, and lets her hands roam across my chest. “It drove me insane seeing this and not being able to touch you.”
“I knew you looked,” I say, unable to hide my smirk.
She smiles back at me, but it isn’t a sweet, innocent grin; it’s wicked, lustful. She begins to unbutton her shirt, torturously, button by button. She lets it fall to the floor, leaving her in only a black lace thong. She has never looked more beautiful. “As did you.” Her tone is teasing, encouraging.
“I did. But what you kept hidden under that towel was worth waiting for.”
Her cheeks flush and she looks down. The self-assurance she had a split second ago fades. I hold her cheek and lift her gaze back to me. “Don’t look down, Becky. You’re stunning. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I take her hand and guide her into my jeans. “This is what you do to me.”
Her breath catches as she cups my balls, making me harder still. I take every ounce of pleasure I’m feeling and put it into my kiss, ravishing her mouth. The combination of her hands on me and her tongue against mine threatens to end this much sooner than I’d like, so I take her hands and pin them to the wall above her head. “Stay like this.”
She licks her lips but closes her eyes and nods.
I press my mouth to her neck. Lick a line along her collarbone. Kiss her sternum.
She writhes against the wall when I bite down on her tight nipple—small, peach, inviting. I work her breasts as I bend to my knees, blowing air in a line down her stomach, then her navel, as I move. I take my hands away to hook my thumbs in her panties and slide them down her thighs. Desperate to taste her, I give her no time to adjust. I part her lips and find her clit, swirling my tongue around the sweet spot. “Fuck, Becky, you taste so good.”
Her response is a heavy pant and an arching back. When I push my fingers inside her, that pant becomes a whimper. She lifts her hips toward me as I move my fingers in and out of her, working her clit with my tongue. I can’t resist looking up to see her head pressed hard into the wall, her hands teasing her own nipples.
“Christ, you’re so hot. I could watch you like this all day.”
“Drew. Don’t stop.” Her words are breathless.
Watching her break for me is almost enough to make me come with her.
Her body tenses. Her muscles tighten around my fingers. Her hips buck.
I thrust my fingers harder and suck on her clit. “Drew, I’m there.”
“Let me see you come for me.”
She fists her hands in my hair; then I feel her pleasure running into my palm right before she screams my name. God, I’ve wanted to hear her scream my name since the first time she bent over in front of me. I ride her climax with her, rubbing her G-spot as her orgasm takes over her body.
I swallow hard, my throat dry, as I watch her fall apart and will myself not to come with her.
When I stand, she peels her head from the wall and opens her eyes. “Oh my God.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I got that.”
She doesn’t laugh back. Her face is serious. Intensely passionate. She reaches out for my neck, pulling my mouth to hers. I scoop her up and carry her to the first thing I reach, the dining table. I set her down on the wooden surface. She watches me as I take down my jeans and boxer briefs, a relief to be free of the constraint.
My dick springs up, rock solid and ready for her. Her hungry eyes are fixed on it. “Maybe I wouldn’t have fought this if I’d known.” Her lips curl but it’s fleeting. As if her words have reminded her why we shouldn’t be doing this.
I’ll be damned if I can think of one good reason right now.
I reach out to her cheek. “Hey. Stay with me.”
“Kiss me. Kiss me.”
I do. Taking her mouth roughly as I lift her legs, I press a hand to her chest, forcing her back to the table, and breaking our contact. She plants her bare feet on the table edge and I force her legs wider apart. Exposing her to me. I press my fingers into her, making sure she’s ready to take me. Her groan is all the confirmation I need.
I find my jeans quickly and tear open a condom from my wallet, making quick work of rolling it down my length. I hold her knees and drive my cock into her on one sweet thrust. “Jesus, Becky, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
I push in as far as I can go and hold still. Seeing her hooded lids, plus two weeks of wanting to be in this very spot, has me pulsing already. I wait until we both adjust, then draw out slowly, reveling in the agonizing pleasure. I drive back into her on a bark. “Fuck, Becky, this is going to be quick.”
“I want it, Drew. I want you.”
I pull out again and slide back into her. With each thrust my thoughts become more blurred, my thrusts become wilder, until she’s gripping the edges of the table. My fingers are digging into her thighs as ecstasy crashes in waves through my body.
“Drew, I’m there. God, I’m there.”
I want to be with her. I want to feel her come around me as I finish inside her. The thought takes me to the very edge. My cock thickens. My balls tighten and lift. As she screams my name, I pound into her again and again. Every muscle in my body locks as she squeezes my dick. I drain everything I have into her as my orgasm rips through me and keeps coming.
It’s the most violent and mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever known. My body is weightless. Drained but completely sated.
I open my eyes, still inside her, and find her looking at me. What I feel in this moment terrifies me and charges the blood in my veins all at once. I just stand, dumbfounded, wondering what the hell has my chest tightened; it’s more than just erratic breaths.
Becky brings herself to sit, nudging me out of her as she does. She scoots to the edge of the table and drops her legs on either side of my hips.
She runs her hands down the sides of my torso, soothingly, calmingly, leaving a tingling in the wake of her touch. “You said tomorrow. Let’s figure it out tomorrow.”
I tuck her hair behind her ear and pull her against my chest because I’m incapable of forming words.
When I’m back in my jeans and she in her shirt, Becky pours me a glass of the red wine she has open. I stand by her in the kitchen and finally take in the open-plan apartment. The white walls would be cold, but Becky has filled the place with candles and colored cushions. Not so many that it’s stifling but enough to be warm, cozy even. I subtly search for photographs but all I see are pictures from New York, and few at that.
“You don’t have pictures of your family and friends.”
She hands me a glass of wine. “I’m not really a sentimental person.”
She shrugs and sips her drink. The conversation is over, but I get the feeling that’s not true at all. I want to know what sh
e keeps tucked away in her mind, but tonight, I just want to enjoy being with her.
We take our wine to the sofa. Before it becomes awkward, I wrap an arm around her and pull her into my side, giving her no option about where to sit. She takes my hand in hers and entwines our fingers. “I’m pleased you came over.”
“Me too.”
She puts her glass on the coffee table and slides over to where she can trace shapes with her fingers on my chest and across my abs. “How come you look like this? What do you do?”
“I box with one of my friends, Brooks. And run. I rock climb but not as often as I should. I like most sports, so if the guys get a game going and I can make it, I do.”
“It’s good,” she says with a chuckle.
“So, tell me, how did you come to train with Edmond?”
“Well, it’s kind of a bizarre story.” She stops drawing shapes and rests her head against my chest, her hand on my stomach. “I was working in a café, making coffee and cakes. My nanna taught me how to bake. Her cakes were the best. And, like I’ve said, my family didn’t really have big aspirations for me. So, I ended up working in a local café. It was a chain, and one day I got a call saying they needed help in one of the London branches because the manager was on long-term sick leave. Some people thought it was a ridiculous idea for me to go… I mean, the commute. It didn’t sit easily at home. I thought it was a chance to get…into the city. And, you know, management experience.” I feel her body tense as she speaks and stumbles over her words, as if this story isn’t as easy to say as it ought to be. “I spent half my wages in train fare commuting to the city, but it was…I don’t know, nice to be out of the town I lived in.”
She reaches for her wine and takes a sip, avoiding my gaze. I tug her free hand, encouraging her back to my hold.
“You were working in the café….”
“Well, one day this man came in for coffee. It was Edmond. I recognized him from the TV show he did, you know, Sweet Tooth? I served him coffee, and he ate one of my cakes. He chatted to me about baking. I quizzed him on everything I could ever think to ask about techniques.” She looks up at me and smiles. “It probably sounds crazy to you, but it was one of the best moments of my life. He asked me questions. I learned something new. Anyway, a week later, he came back into the café and asked if I would be interested in training in his London restaurant. I practically snapped his hand off.” Her mood shifts from excited to somber in an instant. She looks down and runs her fingers across the line of hair down my navel. “It caused a few arguments at home, but ultimately I started working for him. I mean, he was based in New York, but I would see him occasionally, and the other chefs in the restaurant are amazing too.”