Just as the glass reaches her lips, I sink the tip of my finger into her opening. Her eyes fly wide as her shoulders drop in relief.
Eric’s voice is on the periphery of my senses. It’ll have to wait. With every push of my finger into her body, her muscles tense around my pointer. My stomach twists into a knot I’m sure I’m not going to be able to unthread.
“I’m going to check on Betsy.” Chrissy’s voice is barely audible over the rush of blood pounding in my ears. I follow Mariah’s eyes which are trained on the couple leaving the room.
“God,” she moans as I slip in a second finger. “I want to hit you for doing this right here.”
I still. “Want me to stop?”
She gulps a breath before turning to me. “Yes.”
My fingers withdraw immediately, the knot in my stomach straining.
She looks around in desperation, her eyes darting in a circle around her. Shoving away from the table, she yanks the hem of her dress back down. Her eyes hood as she looms over me.
Mariah has turned me on so many times. But not a single one of them, neither as Mariah or when she was promising me filthy things under the alias of Nerdy Nurse, has made me harder than I am right now.
“I’m losing my mind,” she breathes, a roughness to her tone that is the final fray of my self-restraint. “Follow me.”
She takes my hand, guiding me to my feet. Our footsteps tap across the tile. We go through an arched doorway and take a right.
Rounding a set of stairs, there’s a room tucked in the back. She twists the knob and we enter a butler’s pantry. It’s painted light grey with a set of cabinets lining the smallish, rectangular space. Shelves hang on the top starting a few inches off the cabinets and extending to the ceiling.
The door shuts behind me, a lock clicking into place. I look over my shoulder.
She’s standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes are almost feral as her chest bounces with each hefty breath.
A series of thoughts sweep through my mind as I look at her. I have no problem with one-night stands. I prefer them. I own them. But a rustle of uncertainty surges through me when I take her in and she doesn’t look like a one-night stand and I don’t know what that means.
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
“Shut up, Lance.”
My hands are on her face, my lips crashing against hers before either of us see it coming. Her back slams against the door. A box of cereal rattles off a shelf and falls to the floor.
Her mouth works effortlessly against mine, her hand tangles in my hair. She tastes of cherries as her mouth opens for me. My tongue parts her lips, lapping against hers. She moans, but my kiss swallows it.
Each second together feels like it took a second too long to arrive. Each moment bleeds into the next creating a dizzying high that rivals any I’ve ever had. I break contact with her mouth only to dot kisses across her chin and down the gentle slope of her neck.
Her body bends to mine, continuously moving to scratch the itch that is only going to be soothed with an orgasm.
“This,” she gasps, as I pull her dress over her head and toss it onto a nearby shelf, “is so inappropriate.” She leans forward, dragging our mouths together again.
“Like you care,” I say between kisses, fumbling with the latch on her bra.
She opens her eyes. Narrowing them as she bites down on my bottom lip, she shimmies her shoulders out of her straps. Her breasts are held up only by the cups of the soft pink bra that barely contains the gorgeous mounds.
“Fuck,” I hiss, kissing down her neck, yanking down the satin cups. Her breasts spring free. With one in each hand, I pull her taught nipple into my mouth. Mariah’s hips roll into me as she moans, her fingernails scraping against my scalp.
Hooking my fingers through the delicate bands of her panties, I give them a pull. They break free as easily as my willpower.
I take her in like a teenager seeing a woman naked for the first time. She’s so fucking beautiful with curves around her hips, her breasts, and a softness to her legs and stomach. I wish I had more time to appreciate this, to revel in how lucky I am to be the one with her right now, but I don’t. That’ll have to come later.
“Why do you still have clothes on?” she pants.
“Because you’re naked,” I say, kissing a line across her from hip-to-hip. “It’s kind of hard to stop licking you.”
“If it’s only kind of hard, then we better stop.”
I stop. It’s actually painful to break contact, get to my feet, and face her without touching her again. But I manage. Somehow.