Lover (Court University 4)

Oh my hell.

I gasped as he completely grabbed my face and shot into my condo, me in tow. His leather-gloved hands warmed my cheeks, his body hard and solid even through his wool coat. His face chilled from the cold, his lips hot as he tasted mine and I drew from his. He came back. Came after me.

And I flooded in my panties, my leg wrapped around him. He tugged it up, his hand up my thigh as he pressed my body to my ivory walls. He grasped and bit my lips, and I moaned, scratching at his back.

“That invitation still open?” he asked, his grin lazy before kissing me hard again. I growled, a shaking and quivering mess in his hands before he finally let go.

He placed a hand on the side of my face, then the other, standing there like a god in a three-piece suit. His coat open, he displayed all the goods, the entire expanse of his long body donned to the nines in harsh grays and handsome black. He oozed swagger like a seeping wound and was the very reason I never questioned how someone of his age had managed to pick me up. I didn’t consider myself a particularly hard lay, but I’d been hard on him. I pushed him.

He obviously pushed me back.

He tugged a glove off his hand with his teeth, his mouth stained in red from my lipstick. He didn’t have a lot, but he had some, and regardless, I had a feeling his lips tingled with natural red just as much as mine beneath the paint. Using that naked thumb, he brushed a rough pad along my lower lip.

“Well?” he asked, basically rasping, groaning. He panted like he’d run up here and maybe he had, or he hadn’t. The back of his knuckles ghosted my cheek. “Tell me you want me.”

Oh my God.

The quiver down to my knees, my swallow hard. Technically, I just mourned the loss of him. Well, not mourned per se but basically. I was forcing myself to get over the fact that a guy I probably neared a decade on turned me down, and I’d been trying to handle said denial with a strong bottle of wine—again. Apparently, I was a borderline alcoholic, wine my default when I was feeling shitty in any situation.

My lips parted. “You came back.”

“You let me.” A smile that tipped his lips up, made him boyish. Guiding my mouth up to his, he fused our lips together again before ensnaring my hips and pressing a knee between them. He’d had to deal with the gathering of my dress, but I easily rubbed hard friction against his muscular thigh. He groaned. “Fuck, I need you naked.”

I needed to be naked. I needed to be out of this dress.

And the door was still open.

I wasn’t quite at the point of voyeurism yet, even post-divorce, and wanting the freedom of whatever this was. I gripped the lapels of his coat, a stark black that hugged every inch of his big body. “Give me a minute?”

He let go, but I didn’t think by choice. He wavered a bit before his forehead dropped to my bare shoulder. I’d taken off my coat and shoes but nothing else. He warmed my neck with his mouth, borderline tonguing me. “How long?”

Good God.

My throat constricted as he peppered kisses dangerously close to the swell of my breasts. But with the strength of a thousand readied females, I forced distance between us when I grappled his shoulders. I held up two fingers. “Just two seconds.”

I needed to get my shit together, my first legitimate one night stand.

And with a younger man.

Something about that excited me, that he desired me. I wasn’t what one would be considered busted, but I was more modest and didn’t do things like this. When I’d met my ex-husband, we’d been in college and he’d done all the work. I hadn’t been easy, made him prove himself to me. In fact, looking back, I think I focused on all the wrong things, how good he’d been on paper and how motivated he’d been. He’d been hungry for his goals as much as I had to become a professor and hit every one of them.

Yes, yes, he’d done that.

That was the past, behind me. That wasn’t now. That wasn’t Ramses.

Ramses.

He kissed my fingers midair, looking like a hungry tiger when he licked, then sucked a polished digit completely into his mouth.

Holy shit.

The vision of him between my legs charged my bud (also between said thighs) on overdrive. I could probably charge a light bulb with it at the present, fuck.

“Two just,” I laughed, giggled like a little girl. Oh God. I forced him back. “Just two. That’s all I need.”

This made him smile, laugh with the timber that hummed deep from within his chest. He pressed his hands to the wall again, staring down at me. “I think I’ve only two within me, Bri.”

I had even less, my hair flicked when he slid a digit down it. He followed all the way down to the tip of the follicles, and my panties were basically drenched, but I managed to ease from beneath him.