“You will, or I’ll tell Jaxon it was you who scratched his new Range Rover.”
I waited for a moment, turning my head so my ear is pointed in Heaven’s direction.
“Damn,” Heaven speaks low in a hushed voice. Yeah, he forgot I had that little bit of dirt on him. He tried to get in the driver’s seat when Jaxon was with Quinn in the house and his casted leg thwacked the door, then dragged along the pearly blue paint leaving white lines across it. “Fine,” he relents.
“Good man,” I say, dashing into the house, slipping and sliding everywhere. I slam against the wall, and Gabriella laughs as she holds on for the ride. Her spurs of laughter have me purposefully acting like a pinball, banging left and right.
When we get to our destination, the cold is nothing because my body lights up like I’ve hit the jackpot. In a way, I have.
Our laughter slows as I stand outside the bedroom door. I press her back against the wood and kiss the cold from her lips. The smacking of our mouths is loud, and I know if I don’t get inside the room, I’ll be taking her right here, for all to fucking see, and if that is the case, we should have stayed in the pool and let Heaven have a show.
No, never. I couldn’t ever risk anyone seeing her. She is mine. This body is mine. Only I can see this gorgeous toned flesh.
She sucks my tongue into her mouth, and it is a straight shot to my dick. I groan, and with every sucking motion, my cock jerks in my wet jeans. I reach for the door handle, missing it as I fumble. I turn the knob and slam it open, and it cracks against the wall. I don’t give a fuck. I hope there is a dent left behind so I can look at it and know I was on the edge.
Her arms leave my shoulders and reach for the door and slam it shut. “Lock it.” The words sear my skin with the underlying tone of sex. I stretch an arm back, and my fingers find the lock, flipping it to the right.
No one can bother us now.
The room is dark, but light enough to where I can make out the outline of her body. We kiss for what feels like hours, drunk off the chance to finally feel one another. We have a lot of time to make up for.
I ease her to the floor, then break the kiss and slid to my knees. The carpet is soft, giving, but her jeans aren’t as kind. Since they are wet, the material is suctioned against her. I can’t get them past her thighs. With a frustrated growl, I take the lapels in my hands and yank them apart, and the jeans rip right down the middle.
“Sebastian,” she moans, pressing her pussy against my nose.
“I think you like having your clothes ripped off, baby.”
“Mmhmm,” she drowses, only giving me an answer to appease me. She is someone else in her head right now, and by how she is trying to get me between her legs, I’d say wherever she is, is a damn good place.
Once she is naked, I strip too, and then I flip on the light. I have to see her like this. Naked. Wanting. Yearning. Hot. Fucking bothered. Horny. Lustful.
She is fucking everything I need in this moment.
Our eyes catch, and we check each other out at the same time. I am painfully hard, my cock jutted out ten inches, and the head is vermilion, a color I’ve never seen on myself before. It looks like I’m about to blow.
We wait for the other to make the first move, and I feel like a virgin all over again, not knowing what to do.
I know what to do.
I step forward and connect our mouths again, letting that heat build and take over her bodies. My hand slides down her back and cups her ass, yanking a whimper from her, and I swallowed it, trapping it like a prized possession inside me.
Side stepping her, I push her back, and she falls on the bed, spreading her legs to give me the view I’ve imagined since the moment I saw her walked through my door with Kendrick. She is a bright shade of pink, slick, and I wrap my hand around my cock, giving it a good pump before I settle between her thighs.
I have no idea where to look.
I can’t get my fill, but I know one thing. I want to take my time. I’m not going to rush this with her. I lay on my stomach, the comforter bunching under me and causing a vise for my cock. I grab her foot and kiss down her ankle, marveling at the delicate curve of her calf muscle, so fragile, so feminine and soft. I press a kiss behind her knee and then lick the skin there. It is softer, unused, and untouched by most of everything, and she arches her back, quivering from the unexpected hot spot.
“Is that so?” I murmur against her flesh, giving the back of her knee another lick.
“Oh, God,” she cries out, and her entire body spasms again.
“I bet I could make you
come like this.” I give the patch of skin a kiss, watching her face as her lips purse. She cups her tits, massaging the pert nipples between her fingers.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know what makes me come.”
I pause, my lips hovering above her knee. I’m … confused. Didn’t she and Kendrick have sex? Another thought enters my mind, and it has me laying her leg gently on the bed and counting to ten like I usually do when I get angry. What if Kendrick didn’t care about her pleasure? What if he didn’t care about making her orgasm? I hate that she spent so much time with someone who didn’t even want to get to know her or explore her body the way she deserves.