by Ember Cole
Still teasing her clit with my tongue, I ease a finger between her folds and sink an inch into the heat between her legs. Immediately, her pussy clamps down and holds on like a vise.
The rein on my control snaps a little more when I think about how she’s going to feel wrapped around my cock.
I slide back and add another finger, pulsing both in and out, shallow enough to graze that spot just inside, the one that I know is going to make her come so hard she’ll see stars.
She squeezes down every time I glide over that bundle of nerves, and it’s driving me crazy. My fingers are coated in wetness, and the sweet scent of her desire fills my lungs. Her thighs shake against my shoulders.
I take my time, prolonging her tortuous ascent into release as long as I can. She shudders as I draw my fingers back out, but then I slide them in, farther than before, until I’m stopped by…
No fucking way.
She cries out and her body tenses, clenching around my fingers so tight it almost hurts. She’s panting, and her face is scrunched up. I don’t move my hand but keep licking at her clit.
When I feel her ease up, I go back to the spot that makes her whimper.
“You ever had a man inside you, babygirl?”
She forces her eyes open and looks down at me. I can see her struggle to focus. I should tease her a little more, but I don’t. This is too damned important. She’s been so responsive all night, reacting perfectly to every touch. I can’t believe she’s never done this before.
“No,” she whispers.
Her eyes lock with mine. There’s more clarity now, but I can’t see past the blood pounding in my ears. Every instinct in my body demands that I claim her like some fucking caveman. Knowing she’s never been with another man hits hot buttons I didn’t even know I had.
Mine.
I keep pumping my fingers but move higher over her body. She’s sprawled under me, wide open and willing, and she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She wants me, and fuck knows I want her. I can make sure that her first time is something she never forgets.
We’re both adults.
Barely, a voice whispers.
Am I bastard enough to take what she’s offering knowing how many years are between us? She should be with someone Adam’s age, not someone old enough to be her… I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t think about that.
“Daniel.”
Her breathy voice urges my eyes open. She arches her back, her arms still over her head, and I feel her milking my fingers. She’s so slick, so fucking ready.
I watch as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and a blush crawls up her neck. Her gaze drops to where my hand is still between her legs, fingers still buried inside her. She could move, could rock against my hand and bring herself closer, but she waits. For me.
“What do you need, babygirl?” I have the unfamiliar urge to give her anything she wants.
Her wide, beautiful blue eyes stare up at me. “Please make me come, Daniel.”
Fire licks through my veins. I’ve never been this fucking turned on in my life.
I lean down and kiss her clit before running my tongue down to where my fingers are moving in and out again. I hear a gasp, and more wetness spills out onto my hand. She’s been ready since she walked out of my office, and I’ve been driving her higher ever since, but now it’s time to see just how much she can take before she breaks.
I keep a slow pace with my fingers and my lips, grazing her G-spot with each stroke. “I’m going to bring you right to the edge,” I say between licks, “very, very slowly. And when you think you can’t take a second more, I’m going to push you even further.”
She whimpers, and already I can feel her pussy pulsing around my fingers. She’s not very far away from that edge. A gasp escapes her lips, and her eyes slam shut, eyebrows drawn down. Her thighs tremble even harder.
I flick her clit with the end of my tongue, and she clamps down on my fingers. I know she’s close now.
“You are not going to come. Do you hear me? You are not allowed to come, not until I let you.”
She clenches around my fingers, so tight that all I can think about is what it would feel like to have my dick buried in that heat. But I’m not going to do that. This is all I’m allowing myself, so I’m going to make it good for her.
I ease back on the pressure inside her, slow my tongue until it’s barely whispering over that tight little bud. Her whimpers turn to “please,” but she doesn’t move. She lies there, spread out, just waiting for me to do whatever the fuck I want. My dick’s been hard so long it hurts, but I’m not stopping until I make her scream.
“I can’t take much more,” she sobs, and it’s a fucking beautiful sound.
“Babygirl, you can take so much more.” I pump my fingers faster, suck her clit into my mouth, and graze it with my teeth. Her keening gets louder, and I know behind the groans, she’s waiting for me to stop again. I keep pushing her higher.
“Daniel!”
That’s what I was waiting for. The beginning of her panic, when she’s not sure if she can fight it any longer. When she’s trying so hard not to disobey. I love this moment, the one right before she breaks.
Her entire body goes rigid.
She is right there.
She’s fighting for me so good.
“Daniel?” Her voice is high-pitched, and I can hear the edge of her orgasm in my name. I grin against her wet heat. A few more seconds. She starts begging, and my dick swells.
“Oh God, Daniel. I can’t. It hurts so bad. Please…please…please…”
She’s strung as tight as a fucking bow. I pull her back just one more inch, add a third finger, and drive my fingers through her barrier, claiming her in the only way I’ll allow myself.
“Come, babygirl.”
Her entire body goes rigid, and she screams. Her pussy milks my fingers, her juices flooding my hand. I suck her clit between my teeth, and that gorgeous scream shifts into a deep guttural wail. Her hips jerk up and down, chasing the aftershocks that roll through her. I can see every one of them as her stomach tenses and squeezes around my fingers, and I draw them all out with my tongue. My teeth. All the while, I lose myself imaging that she’s wrapped around my cock, screaming like a fucking banshee.
As much as I’d like to bury myself in her, she’s a virgin and she’s fucking twenty-one and I’m forty and nothing more than what we’re doing now will ever happen.
I tap into every ounce of control I have and slowly run my tongue up and down her clit, softer this time as I ease my fingers out. Not wanting to let all the juices leaking from her body go to waste, I drink her down. That sets off another low moan that goes straight to my dick.
After a long minute, she finally stops shaking.
When she finally opens her eyes, she smiles at me. It’s a goofy smile. A come-drunk smile. I rock back onto my heels and stand. Seeing her limp and satisfied is feeding my fucking ego like nothing else. She tries to reach for me, but when her arms flop back down she giggles.
I chuckle. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m flying,” she says with a grin. “This is better than drugs. God, they should be telling kids in school not to do sex. ‘This is your brain,’ then crack an egg in a frying pan and stir it around, then the narrator, ‘This is your brain on sex.’”
She giggles again, and it’s so fucking cute that I laugh.
It’s an unfamiliar sensation. I shut it down immediately.
“I can’t move,” she says. “And I don’t even care.” Her eyes drift closed before they pop back open. “Oh, we should probably do something about that, huh?”
She’s pointing at where my dick bulges, testing the limits of my jeans since I walked in the door. I won’t lie, it’s tempting as hell, but I shake my head.
“You’ve had more than you can handle for tonight. Let’s get you to bed.”
I grab the blanket that’s hanging over the back of the couch and drape it over her, then lean down and
slip my arms under her knees and shoulders. She wraps her arms around me and snuggles into my neck. I damned near trip when I feel her lips brushing just under my ear.
“Which one is yours?” I ask, a little rougher than I mean to. She feels too good in my arms. Warm and soft and… I grit my teeth.
“The right.”
I push open the door and step into a room that smells just like her. I gulp in lungfuls of her scent, greedy for this small part of her. I’ve got her tucked into bed when she reaches out and takes my hand.
“Will you stay for a bit? I like how your arms feel around me.”
She’s already half asleep, but I climb into the bed next to her, and she immediately curls into my side. I slip my arm around her and brush my hand up and down her shoulder.
Soft, contented sounds come from her throat as I stare up at the ceiling.
Her room is shrouded in darkness, but I can make out the soft pink color of the walls near a small lamp that’s on. The covers on her bed are white. Everything about this room screams innocent and the more I lie there, the heavier the dread in my gut becomes.
I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I gave in, and already this girl is under my skin. It’s no good. She’s half my age. Fuck, the things I’ve done and seen make me feel a hundred years old. She doesn’t need to be a part of all that.
No matter how badly I want to fuck her, it can’t happen. Tonight was it; there can’t be a repeat. I need to forget about her altogether.
And yet it still takes much longer than it should for me to leave her alone in the bed after she falls asleep.
3
KYMBER
I wake up with a smile on my face and a dull ache between my legs.
I had no idea an orgasm could feel that good. Beks has been saying for years that there is no substitute for a tongue between the legs, especially when the person knows what they’re doing, but I honestly thought it was just Bekka talk.
I will never doubt her again.
The only dark spot on last night was the fact that he pulled away before we had sex. This time I know he wanted me, but something stopped him. I need to see him again so I can ask why. In the light of day, when I’m able to look into his eyes.
I’m not nearly brave enough to barge into the office and demand an explanation. But if I were to, say, take him breakfast, that would be a legitimate excuse to see him. Right?
“Diabolical,” I murmur to myself, then laugh.
Beks would say I’m being a wimp, but hey, this works for me. I throw on a T-shirt and shorts and pull my hair back into ponytail. It’s time to get serious. I’m not much of a cook, but my blueberry muffins are amazing. If my body can’t tempt Daniel into bed, maybe my muffins can.
I shake my ass as I mix the batter, humming under my breath.
My muffins bring all the boys to the yard…
By the time I slide the pan into the oven I’m full on singing and dancing around the apartment. I’m happy to be back in the States, happy to be living with my best friend, and very happy that I met Daniel.
The apartment fills with the aroma of blueberries as I wash my face and smooth on a little tinted moisturizer. I’m not a full-face-of-makeup-at-eight-a.m. kind of girl, but some liner and mascara to make my eyes pop feels reasonable.
While looking for my sandals, I spot my sweatpants on the floor by the couch. Heat curls in my stomach. I’m never going to be able to wear them—or, hell, sit on the couch at all—without remembering what Daniel did to me.
It makes me want to do so much more with him.
As if in on the plan, the oven timer dings. By the time I’ve found my sandals and collected my clothes from the floor, the muffins are cooled enough that I can pop them out of the pan and put them on a plate. I set two aside for Beks—she’d kill me if she came home and smelled them and there weren’t any for her—and leave the apartment.
The elevator is empty on the ride down to the first floor, which is good because I need the time to get a handle on the butterflies in my stomach. Things always feel more intense after the sun goes down, but now in the light of a new day, I have no idea what to expect.
Standing in front of the office door for the second time is much more nerve-racking.
I suck it up and march inside.
An unfamiliar man looks up from where he sits at the desk, surrounded by a pile of papers. I must’ve startled him, because the wrench he’d been twirling between his fingers goes off-kilter and clatters to the desk.
“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. I was looking for Daniel. I’ll just go now.”
I start to back out of the door, but the man holds up his hand. “No, wait. Is there something I can do for you? I’m Daniel’s son. Adam.”
Of course he is. As soon as he says it, I see the resemblance. They both have the same eyes, the same jawline, and the same short, dark hair. Bekka was right—Adam is drop-dead gorgeous.
He picks up the wrench and comes around the desk, an easy smile on his lips. His gaze drops to the plate. “Did you bring those for the colonel?”
“Um…” I have no idea who he means.
“Colonel Black. Daniel. My dad?” he offers.
“Oh, then yes.” I glance at the muffins, not sure what to say. I had only prepared myself to see Daniel and hadn’t considered that he might not be here.
Adam leans toward the plate. “They smell amazing. Are they all for my dad, or can I talk you out of one?”
“Oh, um, sure.”
I hold the plate out to him, and he takes one. It’s gone in two bites. “I don’t know what he did to deserve these, but I definitely need another one.”
He grabs a second muffin before I can stop him and stuffs it into his mouth. The way he closes his eyes and grips the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing holding him upright is adorable.
“Holy shit, these are good. Way better than the crap they sell at the bakery across the street.”
High praise. I grin. “I’m glad you approve.”
“I more than approve.” He dusts a few crumbs of the front of his T-shirt, and I can’t help but notice the way the material hugs his chest. He’s not quite as broad-shouldered as Daniel, but no woman in her right mind would pass him by without a second glance.
He catches me looking and taps the wrench against his palm, giving me one of the sexiest grins I’ve ever seen. “So. What do I have to do to earn a plate of my own?”
“Oh. Um…” Heat climbs into my cheeks. Jesus. These Black men are potent. Adam has an easygoing vibe that’s hard to resist, and he’s so damn good-looking that I’m tongue-tied.
But I can’t help but compare the feeling to the last time I was in this room.
Daniel owned the space, taking command without trying, even from across the room. I felt him everywhere, and his presence only got stronger the closer he came. Adam’s standing right in front of me, but there’s no fluttery feeling in my blood. And while I can appreciate how easy he is on the eyes, my girlie parts aren’t begging for Adam’s attention.
They want to see someone else.
He goes back to twirling the wrench between his fingers. “I probably should have asked who you were before I grabbed your muffins.”
I choke out a laugh. Nice. “Kymber. 4C. We spoke on the phone before I moved in?”
“Right, 4C. With the little redhead, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, Bekka.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. And the offer to earn your muffins stands. Seriously, the next time something breaks or you need something plumbed, call me. I’m really good with my hands and I can come anytime, day or night.”
Why does everything he says sound so…sexual? I blink at him, see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then burst into laughter. “You are terrible.”
He grins. “No, I just really like your muffins.”
That sets us off again, but then he looks over my shoulder and his grin slips from his face. He stands a little straighter, the playfulness gone.
“Morning, Colonel,” Adam says in a clipped tone.
Daniel. I’d have known he was behind me even without Adam’s greeting, because I can feel the shift in the air. I gulp and take a deep breath, then slowly turn around.
I’m not prepared for how quickly my body comes alive, the hum of lust that starts buzzing under my skin. But now that he’s standing in front of me, I’m not sure what to do. I can’t read the look on his face, which is somewhere between a scowl and indifference.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. Aren’t one-night stands just that? One night?
I hold the plate out. “So…I brought you muffins?”
Daniel just stares at me.
“Should I just leave them, or…?”
Adam looks between the two of us, his gaze way too perceptive. Another trait he inherited from his father. “Well, if you don’t want them, I do,” he finally says. “Kymber and I were just talking about what I could do to earn a plate of my own.”
Daniel’s eyes flare at that. With a grunt, he take the plate and sets it on the desk, then grabs my arm and leads me back out of the room.
“Nice to meet you, Kymber,” Adam calls out.
“You, too,” I say over my shoulder.
I’m not sure what just happened, but there was most definitely a smile in Adam’s voice.
Daniel leads me to the elevator. He still hasn’t said a word, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or just completely uninterested in me. And he left the muffins in the office, so I’m sure half are gone by now. I’m a little disappointed that he won’t get any.
The elevator pings and opens. Empty.
As soon as we’re inside, he stands with his arms folded over his chest, not looking at me. If I thought he dominated the office, in this small space he owns every square inch.
“Daniel?”
His gaze snaps to me, and I swear I see frustration brewing in his eyes.
We stop on the fourth floor, and he leads me out. It’s not until we’re standing in front of 4C that I realize he just walked me home. My heart sinks. I guess that’s my answer.