I moan when he withdraws them, grabbing the back of my dress and the zipper with each hand. I lift up my hair with both hands to give him access and find myself throbbing with anticipation.
The zipper lowers with a small ripping sound, and then his hot mouth is on the bare skin in the middle of my back. One hand finds its way under my dress again, and he presses his fingers against my clit.
“You’re wet,” he says.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper.
“Don’t try.”
I slip one strap of my dress over my shoulder and look back at him. His hands are eager now, one tugging my panties aside and his fingers finding their way into my wet folds.
“Watch me,” I say, looking down at him. “I want you to watch me.”
“Fuck.”
I take that as a good sign, and slip the other strap down my shoulder. He gives the dress a little tug, and it falls away from my breasts, landing at my hips.
I turn back around to get a better look at his face. His eyes immediately find my cream-colored lace bra. He cups both breasts in his hands, squeezing hard.
I moan from that. God, I want him. I probably want him more than he wants me right now. I want all that hard stuff he did up on the roof.
Patience, that little voice in my head says. Give him a show. This is all about anticipation. So my fingertips find the bunched-up fabric stuck on the curve of my hips, and I shimmy a little. Until it works its way over the hourglass shape and then falls to the floor with a soft whoosh.
I swallow then. Hard. I’m not naked yet. But I am standing here in his room, exposed and vulnerable. His gaze takes me in. Every inch of me. And then his hands are exploring. He cups my breasts again, and that hard squeeze comes with it. He pulls one bra cup down and exposes my nipple so he can take it in his mouth.
He sucks and bites. Not softly, but not enough to make it too painful to endure. Just enough. Just. Enough. To make me crave his cock inside me.
I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra and let it hang there, the way he did this afternoon on the rock.
But this time he waits for me to take it off. His hands slide down and rest on my hips, caressing the bones that protrude slightly underneath my panties.
“Don’t stop now,” he growls.
I have no intention of stopping. But I can’t say that out loud. So I lean forward enough to allow gravity to let the bra slip down my arms and fall to the floor.
He stares at me.
I shift my feet in my heels, making them click on the tile floor, and let him look.
His mouth presses into my belly, his hands pressing into my thighs, and then he is kissing me in a tender way that takes me by surprise. Almost everything about Fletcher is hard. His muscles. His cock. His attitude. His gaze.
But his mouth is soft in all the ways I’ve ever dreamed of.
“Should I…” I swallow. “Should I take my panties off?”
He looks up at me, still kissing my stomach, still rubbing his hands up and down my legs. “Only if you want me to fuck you.”
I stand there silently for a moment. We watch each other. I’m filling up with questions, but the only things I see in him are answers.
Fletcher Novak is my answer to every mystery there is.
So I thread my fingertips under the slim elastic lace and work the panties down the curve of my body the same way I did the dress. He watches my face as I do this. And my heart skips a beat.
Never have I felt so naked.
But then he moves his gaze down to the action and leans back once more. So he can take in the view. So he doesn’t miss the show. So he can enjoy himself.
My final piece of clothing falls to the floor and once again I step away from them. And in the process, I move closer to him.
I’m begging inside. Begging.
“Fuck me,” I say. “I want you to fuck me right now like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
There is always a moment when you realize things have changed. You see a girl from across the room and something grabs you. Her legs, maybe. Or her hair. Or the look in her eyes. You can’t explain it, that feeling is just there. You watch her walk, you listen to her talk, and it’s never enough. You just want to stare at her. Take her all in. Memorize her. It doesn’t make sense, but that feeling is there.
I get this feeling now. Tiffy standing here in front of me. Naked. Exposed. Wanting me.
And I have two choices. Yes or no.
It feels like everything hinges on this moment. Like life will flip upside down either way.
Say no and it will hurt her. I know that. If I tell her no, she’s never coming back. She’s never going to make this offer again. She’s never going to let down her guard for another man, period.
Whatever little piece inside her that’s damaged can be cured with one nod of my head. But shake it the other way and that damaged piece grows a scar. A scar that might never go away.
And maybe I’m full of myself. Maybe I’m delusional to think that I have this kind of power. But I saw the look on those girls’ faces the other day when they came to confront me for the scars I gave them.
I can’t do that to Tiffy. I can’t. I know it’s wrong. She wants someone who can take care of her and I’m not capable of doing that. So if I was an honest guy I’d give her that scar and hope for the best. Because saying yes to this tonight means I will just crush her later. When she finds out who I am, what I’m doing, and how many lies I’ve told. All for money.
If I was a good guy, this wouldn’t even be an issue. I’d put her clothes back on and tell her we can meet up tomorrow to get the guy she really wants. Cole. Cole, the man who can provide for her. Cole, the man she’s been fantasizing about for years.
But he’s not what she thinks he is either.
So even though I’m breaking all my rules, even though I’m going against all my instincts, and even though I’m gonna regret this in the morning, I say…
“Sit on my lap.”
She spreads her legs to straddle mine and eases herself down onto my legs. I can feel the heat of her desire through my shorts and when I look down at her pussy, her lips are spread open, just slightly, giving me a peek at her clit.
I look up at her face. Her long brown hair is draped down her shoulders, the tips reaching for her perky nipples.
I reach behind her, cup her ass, and hike her closer to me so that her opening is pressing against the hard bulge in my pants.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
“Where?” she asks back in a scared, quiet voice.
“Anywhere you want.”
She reaches for my face and strokes her fingertip up and down my cheek. It’s tender and sweet. And it takes me back for a second. I expected her to touch the hard muscles of my chest. Or the hills and valleys of my abs. Or grab hold of my shoulders like she never wants to let go.
Not the face.
“You’re beautiful,” she says, letting the word out with a long, slow breath of air. I laugh, but the pad of her thumb touches my lips to make it stop. “No, really. People look at you, Fletcher, and they ask themselves, ‘Why don’t I look like that?’”
“No one wants to be me, Tiffy. I promise you.”
“You’re wrong,” she says. “Everyone wants to be you. You have everything at your fingertips. You’re smart, and gorgeous, and happy, and outgoing, and confident, and sexy.”
I feel even worse for taking advantage of her right now. Because I’m so far from all those things, she has no idea. “Sexy is on the inside, Tiffy. The inside is the only thing that matters.”
“You can say that because you’re one of them. One of those beautiful people who don’t realize how lucky they are.”
I huff out some air. “I could say the same thing about you, ya know. You’re all those words you just used to describe me. Only you’re the real deal.”
Her lips tugs down to make a frown and she shakes her head. “Fuck me. I just want to feel you against me tonight. And I promise, I won’t overreact tomorrow when everything goes back to the way it’s supposed to be.”