As I waited to see what the next words out of his mouth would be, he did the one thing that I had not anticipated or prepared myself for. He leaned forward and grabbed me up in his arms, crushing me to him and kissed me. Hard.
Well, that’s better than a you-don’t-mean-anything-to-me speech any day of the week, a little voice said, and then my mind was spinning too furiously to listen to any of my own thoughts.
The only thing in my universe, the only thing that existed at all, were Sawyer’s lips, and his arms, and the way that his tongue was exploring my mouth with a delicious mix of gentleness and power. That was all there was room for in there, and all there would ever be room for.
I threw my arms around him and my fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him even closer to me. I needed to get closer to him, as close as I possibly could get. That hunger, that desire, that craving filled me like nothing else ever had.
It seemed like there was no amount of closeness that would be enough, no amount of touching that would be enough, no amount of kissing that would be enough. It would all just never be enough. Not when it came to Sawyer. I had an insatiable appetite for him, and that was just one more thing that I was beginning to accept as an immutable law of nature. The sky was blue. The earth was round. And I would never be able to get enough of Sawyer.
He must’ve sensed my desperation, or felt some of his own because the next thing I knew he’d shifted his seat back and pulled me onto his lap. With his help, my legs straddled him, and since I was wearing a dress that was now bunched up around my waist, the only barrier between my heated core and his was a scrap of cotton and denim.
His hands framed my face, and he took control of our kiss, taming it from its frenzied pace to a slower, more intentional and sensual connection. He kissed me like he needed me to breathe, like I was his oxygen and he couldn’t survive without me.
I lost myself in the sensation. My hands roamed his shoulders as my hips rolled into his erection that I could feel straining behind his jeans. The night that we’d spent together was out-of-this-world-incredible, but there was something that I’d wanted to do and hadn’t. I’d regretted not tasting him, not taking him in my mouth. And now, I could remedy that.
Seizing the moment, I slid my hand between our bodies, I kept kissing him as I fumbled with his fly. After several failed attempts, I managed to get his pants undone, and then I freed him from the confines of his boxers.
Now, I did break our kiss so I could see what I was holding. My fingers wrapped around him and I stared down in awe. I began shimmying off his lap, but he tightened his hands on my waist.
I looked up at him and saw that his jaw was set in that stubborn way that I used to find intimidating, but now I found adorable. Adorable. That wasn’t a word I ever would’ve guessed I’d be using for Sawyer Briggs.
“I want to taste you. I want to feel you in my mouth.” At my detailed explanation, his head fell back, and he moaned.
I shifted so that I was sitting beside him, lowered my head, and wrapped my lips around his swollen tip. As I sucked him into my mouth, going slowly so as to savor the feeling and taste of each new inch, I ran my tongue all around its surface as I went. I kept my jaw relaxed to try and take as much of him as I could. When he hit the back of my throat, I pulled back up. When I started going down again, one of Sawyers’ hands fisted in my hair and the incredible, rough sound of a groan tore from deep in his throat.
Hearing the pleasure I was bringing the man I loved was a lot more emotional than I’d ever felt during any blow job. I knew that I was raw and vulnerable from my confession. I knew that this was most likely still just sex to Sawyer. And I knew that I was going to have to deal with the repercussions of both of those things. But not right now. I didn’t let myself think about that. Instead, I lived in the moment, because this was a moment that I could live in forever.
Chapter 23
Sawyer
“When life takes turns you don’t expect, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery.”
~ Grant Turner
Fuck!
As incredible as Delilah’s mouth felt on me, and as amazing as she had felt in my arms with her lips pressed against mine, I couldn’t stop the replay of her words from swirling around in my head.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
They were on a loop that I couldn’t shut off. Hearing those words triggered me in ways I wasn’t even sure I understood. It made me want to get as far away from her as I could to protect her and at the same time keep her as close as possible to protect her.
It also revealed the truth that I’d been trying to deny for longer than I cared to admit. I was in love with her. I’d always known that I cared about her, that I was attracted to her, but this was different. It wasn’t just lust or affection; it was the real deal. That bombshell had caused me to swerve off the road.
When we parked, I’d almost told her that I loved her, too. I wanted to so badly. Those three words felt like a prison that I was locked in and my speaking them out loud would set me free. But one look in her eyes and I’d known I’d never be able to live with myself if I caused her more pain than she was in now.
So, I didn’t. I couldn’t. No matter how good it might feel to me in the moment, I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I’d done the thing that I knew would also feel good, if not ultimately as satisfying: I kissed her.
I didn’t stop to think what she might read into it. Hell, I didn’t stop to think at all. I just followed my instinct, leaned forward, and crushed my lips to hers. And now, here we were, with her beautiful lips wrapped around my dick, her amazing tongue swirling around it as she bobbed her head up and down, and me doing everything I could not to tell her that I loved her.
Knowing that I couldn’t express myself verbally, I did the next best thing. I showed her. I kept one hand tangled in her hair while with the other reached down and slid up her leg, slipping it beneath her dress. My fingers grazed the smooth, soft skin of her inner thighs. She opened her legs without me asking and it gave me a clear path to her sex, currently covered by her arousal-soaked panties.
I inhaled sharply as my fingers ran up and down the wet fabric. She whimpered, and rocked her hips against my touch. Taking her silent invitation, I shoved aside the wispy fabric of her panties so that I could touch the delicate folds of her sex and take her to the next level in heights of ecstasy.
She was turned on and I loved it. But it also inspired a possessive, caveman compulsion in me. I wanted her trembling, coming apart with pleasure on my hand. I wanted her to forget that any other man in the world had ever touched her. For the rest of her life, I wanted her to only think of me touching her every time she felt this way. I wanted to be stamped into her psyche. I wanted my name to be on her lips when she came for the rest of her life.
Maybe that made me a selfish asshole. But at this moment, I didn’t give a damn about that. All I wanted to do was mark my territory like she’d done when she branded me with her kiss.
I started slow, trailing just the tips of my fingers over her outer lips. Her breathing sped up, and her mouth clamped against me harder. Her increased suction almost stole my attention away from my mission, but I managed to stay on task.
Concentrating on her pleasure, I ran my fingers gently up and down her slit, creating a rhythm that matched what she was doing with her head, bobbing up and down on my dick. Soon, we were in perfect sync. Every time she had me completely buried in her mouth down to the base, I was hitting the top of her sex and rubbing little circles on her pleasure button. Every time she pulled her mouth up and applied gentle suction to my head, I had moved my fingers down and thrust them inside of her.
It was perfect symbiosis. And not just the physical act of her mouth on me as I played between her legs. It was spiritual. A soul-deep connection. One that I wanted to protect and continue exploring for the rest of my life.
No. I pushed down those thoughts. I reminded myself that now wasn’t the time to be thinking about the future. Th
at could only lead to heartache. Now was the time to give Delilah every ounce of pleasure her body was capable of handling.
With a renewed resolve I thrust my fingers into her one last time and left them there. I worked her inner walls with them, hitting her G-spot over and over as I rubbed small circles on her sensitive pleasure spot with my thumb.
As her body contracted around me, she lifted her head and let it fall back, so her cheek was resting against my rock hard shaft. I watched as pleasure twisted on her euphoric expression. Her moans and whimpers made me even harder than when her mouth had been on me.
Her hands flew to my forearm, and she grasped it firmly, her fingernails digging into the skin, keeping it in place. She sunk lower in the seat, pressing her hips upward to press even tighter into my hand. I watched, mesmerized at the most erotic sight I’d ever seen.
The flush on her beautiful face, the way her chest expanded as she panted, causing her cleavage to spill over, the way her eyes crinkled as they squeezed shut in release. Her dress bunched at her waist and my hand between her creamy thighs that were spread wide open for me.
A raw cry tore from her throat as her back arched up and her release coated my hand. I kept up my rhythm until the last spasm seized her. When she collapsed back onto the seat, spent and panting, I took a moment just to appreciate her beautiful face and figure in that position. The damp tendrils of curls falling down her cheek. The single drops of sweat rolling down her chest and into her cleavage, burying themselves between those magnificent breasts. The way that her soft belly rose and fell in utter contentment.
Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me. Surprise colored her face. “You’re smiling,” she said, and that surprise was there in her voice as well.
“I smile.” My voice was gravelly and low. “When I have something to smile about.”
Her lips turned up into a wide grin. “I love being the something that makes you smile.”
Before my mouth betrayed me by telling her what I loved, I pulled a condom from my pocket. When she bit her lip, the visceral hunger I saw flare up in her eyes was almost enough to make me come before I even got the protection on. I made quick work of rolling the rubber down my shaft.
Without saying a word, she sat up, straddled my legs, unbuttoned the top of her dress, and pushed the two sides apart. Then she hooked her fingers in the top of her bra and pulled it down underneath her breasts so that the fabric nestled up underneath them and her gorgeous tits were on display, only about half an inch from my face.
She leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I also love when you suck on my nipples. I love when you bite them and lick them.”
“Fuck…” I groaned.
“Yes.” She kissed the outer rim of my ear as she rose up and lowered herself down on me. “I love that, too.”
She held herself there for a few moments. Completely still, not moving at all. I throbbed as her body hugged me snuggly.
Using the finger that was still covered in her release, I traced the outline of her nipples, coating her in her own juices before leaning forward and tasting her sweet goodness. She gasped as her inner walls contracted tightly and I exploded in sensation. It was almost more than I could handle.
Before I’d been able to get myself under control, she lifted up, then lowered herself onto me again. She repeated this movement over and over, increasing the speed every time she bounced on me and I continued showering attention on her breasts as they moved up and down. My mind slipped further and further towards oblivion. I tried to keep it at bay, to prolong this encounter as long as humanly possible.
When her body began shaking, I just couldn’t hold on for one more second.
I slapped my hands onto her generous hips and held her down, burying myself deep inside her as I finally gave over to my earth-shattering release.
My head kept spinning even after the orgasm was over. When I finally came back into myself, I took in my surroundings. Delilah was collapsed against me, her head on my shoulder as she caught her breath. I was still embedded entirely in her soft, welcoming body. My arms were wrapped tightly around her, and there was just one problem.
I wasn’t sure how I was ever supposed to let her go.
Chapter 24
Delilah
“Broken crayons still color.”
~ Grant Turner
My phone vibrated on my nightstand and my heart—that had no common sense whatsoever—leaped at the possibility that it could be the one that shall remain nameless. I picked it up, and confirmed what my head already knew, it wasn’t him. It never was.
It’d been a week since we’d been down at the river in his truck, and that had ended so abruptly it had given me emotional whiplash. While he was still holding me in his arms, he’d gotten a call that his dad’s blood pressure had dropped and he needed to get back to the hospital. I’d told him that I was fine walking home from the river, but he’d insisted on driving me. The ride back to my house was understandably silent. He dropped me off, and that’s the last I’d seen him or talked to him.
The shop van though had magically appeared at the shop with all the repairs that they’d quoted me—and some that they hadn’t—done two days after it broke down. I’d asked Manny, the owner of Wishing Well Automotive, who’d authorized and paid for the work. It wasn’t me, I’d been trying to talk my dad into purchasing a new vehicle. He’d told me who it was before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to. Then he’d told me to forget what he’d said.
Sawyer Briggs. He’d taken care of all of it while he was dealing with everything that was going on with his dad. I’d tried to call and thank him, several times, but it would ring once or twice and then get sent to voicemail. Which meant he’d seen it was me that was calling and purposefully ignored it.
At first I thought his inability to pick up or call me back must be because he was busy with his dad. But then, when my dad found out about his generosity, he called and Sawyer answered on the first ring. When my dad had insisted on paying him back, Sawyer explained that Manny had owed him for some work he’d done on his house so it really was all taken care of.
It was time I faced reality.
He hadn’t returned my call. He hadn’t texted me. He hadn’t stopped by to see me.
There was an indisputable pattern there.
So why was my first instinct to think that every knock, every phone buzz was him? When it inevitably wasn’t him, I’d be crushed. Every single time my heart would break just a little bit more.
In an attempt at breaking the destructive cycle of anticipation and disappointment, I came up with a new rule for myself that I was implementing today. I wasn’t allowed to think or say his name. I was going to try and Jedi mind trick myself into thinking that he didn’t exist in the hope that my expectation to hear from or see him would disappear.
So far…it wasn’t working.
I stared down at the message on my phone from Jade O’Sullivan. She was checking to make sure I was bringing the wine for Movies in the Park. Tonight they were showing The Princess Bride, one of my favorites. I was meeting her there early to ensure we claimed prime real estate on the grass. We were going to enjoy some wine, some food, and of course, some gossip. All signs pointed to it being a lovely evening, and I had zero desire to go.
Fighting the urge to bail on the night out, I sent back a reply telling Jade that yes, I was bringing the Moscato and I would be there soon. I was forcing myself to go even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
I lifted the blankets that I’d been hibernating under this past week and forced myself to get out of bed. I refused to wallow any longer. Since our last encounter, I’d been living a Groundhog Day existence where I slept until the very last second I possibly could, hit my snooze button a dozen times, threw on some clothes and arrived at the shop with seconds to spare before opening. Then, the second operating hours were over, I closed up, rushed home, and crawled right into bed where I stayed until the entire process started again the next d
ay.
Enough was enough. I’d gone into this with my eyes wide open. I couldn’t even use the fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, defense. He hadn’t fooled anyone. If there was any foolery, it was self-inflicted. I’d convinced myself that I could handle the aftermath of the emotional, natural disaster that I’d created. But, I’d overestimated my ability to walk away, unharmed, from the damage the storm that my intimacy experiment and declaration of love had caused.
The pain I felt from missing him was nothing short of crippling, but I was done allowing it to dictate my life. I had so much to be grateful for. My life was good. It was better than good, it was great. And, I had to believe that I would have everything I’d always wanted, it just wouldn’t be with him. This was a detour. It was not my final destination.
Pushing off my mattress, I marched to my closet, pulled out my cutest cutoff shorts and tank top, and even grabbed my cowboy boots. I rarely wore them because I was more of a flip-flop and tennis shoe gal, but when I needed an extra boost, these babies came off the bench.
After laying my outfit on my bed, I got in the shower and turned the water as hot as I could stand it. I stood beneath the spray and did my best not to let my mind wander to forbidden territory. In addition to not allowing myself to say or think his name, I’d also placed a ban on memories of our time together. Maybe someday—after time had passed—I’d be able to look back fondly on the past three weeks and smile when I thought about the way his lips felt against mine, the way he intuitively knew my body and its needs, the way he looked at me like I was the sexiest woman alive.
Today was not that day.
Today, those thoughts, those memories, those recollections caused emotional pain so severe it morphed into physical pain. Today, I wanted to burst out into tears thinking about the way the crook of his neck smelled like wood chips and soap. Today, I wanted to wash the phantom sensations of his hands on my body off so that I wouldn’t feel his touch.
Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7) Page 15