Drunk on Love

by S. L. Scott

  The elevator dings and the doors open. We both release a breath as the tension escapes the elevator and we walk off hand in hand. She says, “Hold that thought.”

  “I’ll do more than hold it, babe.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on, professor.”

  “Professor? I like that.” She leads me down a corridor and around a turn. Her apartment is at the end. The key unlocks it and I hold the door while she enters first.

  “My Professor of Romance.”

  My eyebrows waggle and I run the palm of my hand over the round of her ass. “I had no intentions of romancing you tonight.”

  “Want to come inside?”

  “Do I ever?”

  This time she breaks character and laughs. “You really do have a talent for the sexual innuendoes.”

  “I’ve listed it as a skill on my résumé.” The view is great. The city is lit up just outside the large living room windows, reminding me so much of my past.

  “I bet you did. Drink? I have a great pinot noir.”

  Running my hands through my hair, I can feel my veins twisting to find some of my old self inside. I’m not sure if I should give in or block the feelings from resurfacing. Gentle. I want to be gentle with her and if I let the past seep back in I might not be. “Do you have whiskey?”

  She hangs her coat and bag on some hooks by the door. “I bought a bottle of Jack Daniels. I wanted you to feel at home.”

  I do. Too much in this environment. “Thanks.”

  “You’re the cocktail expert, but can I make it for you?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” I reply, looking over at her in the kitchen. “I like mine neat.”

  “Is that without ice?”

  “Yes.” I walk to the large window. It’s not floor to ceiling like mine, and her apartment is a lot warmer. It has a very Virginia feel throughout. Music starts to play, Frank Sinatra singing Christmas carols. I always preferred Dean Martin, myself. He never kowtowed to the establishment. Ol’ Blue Eyes was good, and damn talented, but Dean held his own while holding a martini in the other hand.

  Virginia stands next to me, keeping her eyes forward. “I rented it for the view.” She turns to me. When I look at her, she hands me my drink. “And it’s close to work.”

  “Do you like what you do?” I take a heavy sip and watch her over my glass. Her smile is one I’ve seen a million times when patrons at the bar are asked the same question. It’s what they do, not who they are. It’s another reason the bar does so well. They can shed their responsibility and just have a good time.

  “I like numbers. I’m that geek who can get lost in the combinatorics of Euler’s equation all afternoon.”

  “Yet you picked The Met Fifth Avenue instead of Breuer.”

  “I love the geometry of contemporary art, but I find beauty in the ages of art and how it was depicted through the different cultures. Anyway, it’s good to see things outside of your comfort zone.”

  “Have you ever been pressed against a window, exposed in ways that leave your soul bare like your body and kissed with so much passion that you can’t and won’t constrain it to only your lips?”

  Her mouth is open, her breath deepening. “Good God. Warn a girl.” She’s fanning herself with her hand and turns to look back out the window.

  “Answer me.”

  From my tone, my expression, she understands the gravity of my question. “No, Hardy. I haven’t. Have you?”

  “No, but I want to. I want to take you to that place where you forget that others might see and begin to crave that they do. And if they have never experienced the edge of that blissful abyss, they get a glimpse into what true ecstasy can be.”

  Her body is closer, her chest heaving. I can hear her breath. I witness the way she licks her lips. Resting my hand over her heart, I feel the pounding—begging for more. She whispers, “I want that.”

  “How badly?”

  “Enough to know I’m ready for lesson four.”

  Moving my hand to her cheek, I say, “No, you’re not, but you’re ready for me and lesson three.”

  I take her drink and mine and set them down on the windowsill. “Do you remember what we did in the office?”

  “Everything. I think about it all the time.”

  Smiling, I take her left hand in mine and put my other on the curve of her waist. “Dance with me again.”

  Her silent permission is enough for us to start moving, our bodies pressed together, and her head leans on my chest. I wrap my arms around her and we sway. Rubbing her back, I close my eyes and appreciate that I’ve been given a chance to hold her.

  And to kiss her like this. Leaning back, I find her chin and turn it up to mine. “I want you,” I whisper, and then kiss her, her lips taking to mine as if they should never be apart.

  They shouldn’t. That’s a conversation for another day. Lesson three awaits . . .

  Letting my hands roam as if she was mine, I grab her ass and squeeze her against me, enough so she can feel how she affects me. Her body starts moving of its own accord. “You want this. I can feel it. I can tell. Your body gives you away. Where’s your mind?”

  “On you.”

  “Good, baby. So good.” I take a step back. “Sit on the sill.”

  “There?” She points to the windowsill behind her. It looks to be wide, like eight inches or so.

  “Yes, Virginia. There.”

  She holds my gaze for a hard moment before she backs up and sits next to our drinks.

  Keeping my voice steady, I use my experience to show her a new side of sex, one where she doesn’t have to feel unsteady about the next step. She can just sit back and enjoy. The pleasure will truly be mine. “I’m thirsty.”

  Lifting the glass of whiskey next to her, she starts to raise it but detours and with the little vixen’s eyes on me, she takes a long pull of the amber liquid. No scrunched face in reaction from the strength of alcohol. No, not her. She takes it like she loves it, keeping her eyes on me the whole time in challenge. Then her tongue dips out to lick her lips as she hands the glass to me.

  My tongue dips in response, wishing I were licking her lips instead of mine. I take the glass from her and drink, finishing it. Reaching forward I set the glass back down on the sill and hold her head, angling it up to me. I kiss her lips, too tempted to stay away. Our lips part and our tongues pick up dancing where our bodies left off. When a little moan is given from her to me, my right hand moves down over her soft skin and I run a fingertip under the top of her dress. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “You always say that,” she whispers. With a shaky smile, she touches my neck, her fingers curving around holding me close to her. “You know I’m a sure thing, right? It’s part of the whole plan.”

  Plan . . . the damn plan. “I say it because I think it and because you deserve to hear it.” I’m going to make her forget all about that fucking plan. Kneeling before her, I slide my palms over her knees, her sexy little knees, and part them. They don’t go far until I start to slide the skirt of her dress higher on her outer thighs.

  Breathy with stiff arms holding her in place, she tugs that bottom lip under with her teeth. “I’m going to make you feel so good, V.”

  With my eyes latched on hers, I slide my hand up her inner thigh until I reach her paradise, a private haven where she greets me with my name sounding closer to a sin than the moniker my family intended. “Hardy.”

  My smirk is fast and quick, opposite of how I plan on touching her. “What is it? What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

  Her eyes leave mine when she turns her head to the side, dipping it down in a gesture that comes in the form of an unhealthy helping of disgrace.

  I’m just not going to have that. “Look at me.” My hand stops, although still warm against her softness. “Now.” When she does look at me, I say, “Clear your head. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about between us. Don’t let demons in that have no place here.” I rub her temple. “Or here.” Moving my hand to her chest
over her heart, I tap. “Or even here.” I move my other hand, lovingly, gently, caressing her soft folds with the back of my fingers. “All of you—mind, body, and heart—have to want this, need to feel pleasure instead of shame.”

  “This is why I’m still a virgin. If one thing was out of sync and I let any negativity or fear in, it grew.”

  “You’re not going to do that with me. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you know I’m here for you. You can slow this down. You can tell me to stop, and I will. Anything you want, I want.”“I’ve been called a tease.”

  “This is about you overcoming the girl you were in the past and embracing the woman you are now. The woman who lives without regret or fear, who owns her sexuality and who takes what she wants just for the pleasure in it.” I find her clit, her body responding, I ask, “So tell me, Virginia, what do you want?”

  “That.” Her answer is pointed. Her eyes full of the lust I feel for her.

  “Do you want my hand or do you want my mouth on you?” Her body responds, my hand wet with her desire, and I glide my tongue over my bottom lip waiting for her answer.

  Fighting her shyness, her reserved nature when it comes to sex, she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and leans her head against the glass, letting her body relax under my touch. “I want your mouth on me, Hardy.”

  “Where? Tell me where you want me.”

  “I want your mouth on my pussy.”

  Green eyes look into mine and she finds that moxie that usually only comes out when she’s feeling sassy. “Take off my panties, Hardy.” My smile is wide and I’m more than happy to assist in getting her naked. Taking them by the lace I slip them down her thighs and over her calves.

  Black patent. Red soles. High as the fucking sky heels. Fucking shoes. Literally. Even if I get her completely naked, these shoes are going to stay on. She leans back against the glass of the window and I make my move. Lowering my body, I take her legs one at a time and put them over my shoulders until she’s straddling me. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look with your legs wrapped around my neck like this?”

  “So are you. So very handsome and sexy kneeling between my legs.”

  Holy Jack Fucking Daniels! Hearing her call me sexy is hot as Hades. Her fingers slide into my hair and now I pass the power and let her take control.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My tongue dips first, the first taste savored. My breath pushed from my lungs, as she becomes the only air I need. Her body is open for me, radiant with want, with her desire for me. I flatten my tongue and cover her solidly. Her nails scrape lightly over my scalp as I build her tension, my cock stirring and hardening in the process.

  Her little moans grow louder while I eat her. When I add two fingers to fuck her, I suck on her clit until she can’t sit still. Minutes. It only takes her a few minutes before her pussy clenches and her clit is pulsing.

  My dick is straining, the ache growing impossibly hard. Needing to find something to help relieve the pressure, I lick my fingers and stand before her. My desire is evident on more than just my face. Her eyes focus as her orgasm subsides. She reaches for my belt, and says, “Come here.”

  Taking two steps closer, I watch as she undoes my belt and then the button and finally the zipper. She reaches into my pants. “Underwear, Mr. Richard? I thought you were the commando type.”

  “I needed to wear something since I’d be around you. If not, I might be tenting so much wood that I’d get arrested for public indecency.”

  Her palm is warm, her grip too light. I cover her hand, making her grasp it more firmly. She smiles. “Public indecency sounds so hot. You’re such a bad boy.”

  “Maybe you should punish me, with your mouth.”

  “Maybe I will.” Big Richard is left alone, but then he’s freed and his weeping tear licked right off. Her tongue tastes, and when her gaze reaches mine, he twitches. “Do you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me what you want me to do, Hardy? Do you want me to take your big, smooth cock into my mouth? Do you want to see my lips wrapped around you, sucking you so hard you forget your name until I call it out when you’re fucking me with your fingers again? Or do you want to fuck my mouth? Tell me. Tell me what you want and you can have it. You can have me however you want me.”

  “Fucking hell, Virginia. Open that dirty mouth of yours. I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around me so badly.”

  “How badly?”

  “I’ve gotten off to that image more times than I can say five finger Freddy while sober.”

  A smile returns to her face. “Then we shouldn’t waste any time.”

  Fingers take hold of me and she leans down, taking me between her lips with purpose. My head drops back, the sensation overwhelming me. “Oh fuck, Virginia.” Heaven. This is fucking heaven on earth. But I don’t want to miss a second of this visual. I’ll use the material another day when the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes doesn’t have my dick in her mouth. She moans and I just about blow. Fuck. I’m not going to last long.

  Then she does this magical swirling thing with a suck and a pop at the end and slides back down my cock, sending me to the back of her throat. Like the queen of the unicorns she is. I grab the back of her head, needing to hold onto something while she swallows around me. “God damn.” She stays in place until I say, “Hey.”

  She looks up, her lipstick smeared like I had fantasies about the first time I ever saw her. Bending down, I kiss her cheek. “You’re amazing. You know that?” A little shake of her head shows me she doesn’t know and that’s just unacceptable. “You are.”

  “I appreciate that, Hardy, but I know you’re just saying that.”

  “I’m saying it because I mean it. Like I said before, it’s not just a physical thing. Chemistry and seduction take heart, soul, your thoughts in the right head space. All of those factors matter. Sex is science and math—all the key components play a part or it falls apart.”

  I kiss her on the lips. “So your beautiful brain works great but you need that sweet heart of yours to catch up with your body. Follow your instincts. They won’t lead you wrong.”

  Putting her arms around my neck, she smiles and it feels so good to see. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”

  “You’re right. You deserve better than me, but I’m the bastard you propositioned, so I’m here by default.”

  I stand up and help her to her feet. Bending down again, I slide her dress back down over her hips. When I stand up, a pretty blush colors her cheeks. “We just gave the neighbors quite a show.”

  “Good. If they’re too busy watching us, then they probably need the free show.” Holding her by the arms, I can tell her legs are still a little unsteady from bending like she was. “Hold onto my shoulder.”I seriously fucking love how much she trusts me. She doesn’t ask a million questions. She just rests her hand on my shoulder. I bend and take one of her legs by the ankle and lift. I take that shoe off and she lands with her foot flat on the floor when I reach for the other. I repeat the same thing before standing up.

  With hearts in her eyes, she says, “That has to be one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced.” A giggle follows.

  “That’s saying a lot after what we just did.”

  “It’s saying everything. Thank you, Hardy.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She takes a deep breath and releases it revealing a smile. “I’m going to change clothes. Help yourself to more whiskey if you want it.”

  I watch as she walks away, never tiring of the view of that great ass. When she disappears into her bedroom, I go into the kitchen and refill my glass.

  Calling from the other room, she says, “Hardy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you help me with this zipper?”

  I have the glass to my lips, but when she calls, I go. She tastes better than whiskey ever will. When I reach the doorway, I look in. Her bedroom is so her—stylish a
nd welcoming. She has what has to be the fluffiest comforter I’ve ever seen draped over the bed. I want to dive in, but she’s standing next to it and wow, my breath is lost to the vision of her in red again.

  Yeah. Yeah. I know I just had her in ways that are intimate and special, but it’s like the reminder is there, making me want to skip ahead to lesson four right now. I walk to her and move her hair over one shoulder. Taking the zipper pull in hand, I slowly unzip it, appreciating every inch of skin exposed, and letting my fingers run the length of her spine. “You look incredible in this dress.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I bought it for the holiday party. It’s Herve Leger. I splurged.”

  My hand stops as my gaze rises to the back of her exposed neck, the same neck I like to kiss, lick, and suck. She keeps talking, not noticing that I’m frozen to the spot trying to control this pain in my chest . . . these feelings. Fuck. “Between the shoes and the dress, I spent a month’s worth of rent, but you seem to like them so I’m hoping it’s money well spent. I’m really hoping to make an impression on New Year’s.”

  “You bought this for him?”

  She glances back at me over her shoulder. “I bought it for the party.”

  “You bought this dress for that asshole, but wore it for me for what reason?” I spin her around to face me, holding her by the upper arms. “To see if it would get the reaction you’re hoping to get from him?” Her gaze falls from mine as shame takes over. “Look at me, V. Look at me and tell me the truth.”

  “Well yes,” she says, hesitantly. “I knew if you liked it on me, Lowry would like it.”

  My hands fall away and I raise my head, my gaze searching her ceiling as I try to calm the turmoil that’s spinning inside of me. When I look back at her, I see the anxiety return to her eyes, the same I saw the first time she apologized to me. And as much as I want to calm it, I don’t. I won’t. She needs to feel it. She needs to feel what it’s like to hurt someone who cares about her, so she doesn’t do it again. I bite my tongue and move around to unzip the dress the rest of the way. Then I walk out of the bedroom and straight for the kitchen. I’m staring down at the glass of whiskey when, from a distance behind me, she says, “Hardy, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”