by A. L. Woods
I inhaled a breath that barely met my lungs, my nostrils flaring. “Say it again,” I whispered, my arms caging either side of her.
“I won’t let them.” Her arms circled around my waist, her hands drawing me closer. My hip bone lined up with her rib cage. Our respective hearts beat in sync with each other like the crescendo of a song that I never wanted to stop playing.
“Not that part.” I lifted her chin with one hand, so her eyes met mine dead on. “What you called me.”
I liked the ruddy blister of her cheeks as her bashfulness settled in and my hardened Southie girl hightailed it back to her stomping grounds. I liked this version of her, the shyness that filtered in her eyes, the timidity in her posture, the dichotomy of her dueling egos as she tried to figure out if the two identities could coexist.
They could. I knew they could. It was only a matter of time before she stepped into her own and realized she could still be who she always was while still being open to the other latent ideas that had been dormant for so long.
“Boyfriend,” she drawled shyly.
I was grinning at her like a fucking idiot, all teeth and soft chuckles. “That sounds nice, girlfriend.” I dipped my chin, leveling my mouth with hers as it made its descent. Raquel pressed herself onto the tips of her toes, breaking the small distance between us. This kiss felt different. Different from the way I had kissed her outside when we were making up. Different from our date last weekend. This different held the promise of a future that had once seemed unfathomable to us…impossible, even.
Raquel nipped gently at my bottom lip, demanding access into my mouth, and that was all it took for my dick to go from a semi to a full-blown hard on. My tongue found hers, gliding against it in a languorous dance of wills. Her fingers moved to play in my hair, frenetic urgency practically pulsating out of her.
Out of instinct, my hands skimmed her sides, settling under the flesh of her ass cheeks. I hoisted her from her feet, her slender legs wrapping themselves around my waist, her core lining up with the straining bulge in my pants that throbbed against my chinos. Her moan was a muted, breathy little thing that I swallowed, wanting nothing more than to get her out of this house, out of these clothes, and into my bed.
And I would. Tonight. I was all but ready to march into the living room and toss fistfuls of tinsel at the tree, call it art, argue with Maria that was the way Martha Stewart did it and if she didn’t like it she could fix it herself—all to get Raquel and I the fuck out of here.
I pulled back from her, loving the flushed look in her face, the swollen plump of her lips, the hard breaths that raked out of her…the imbibed daze in her eyes that told me she was drunk on what I was serving.
My fingers smoothed her hair from out of her face, looping the shoulder length locks behind her small ears, loving the parting in her lips and each pull of breath she took.
“I want you to know something,” I whispered.
“What?”
“I’m going to fuck you later,” I murmured, grinding myself against her.
She moaned in response at the declaration, her hips bucking against me, clearly desperate for the skin-on-skin contact that I was almost crazy enough to give her right now. “So, let’s go decorate the tree so I can get you outta here and we can finally finish what we started.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I watched with wide-eyed wonderment from my spot on the couch that reminded me of something closer to a daybed, thanks to its oversized cushions and multitude of throw pillows, as the Tavares children and their matriarch gathered around a nine-foot spruce that was full at the bottom and tapered to a point at the top. They had engaged me three times to join them, but I preferred to quietly observe their tradition. I hadn’t done that with my own family, so the idea of participating now wasn’t something I was quite ready for so early on in our relationship.
Relationship. Sean and I were in a relationship.
Every so often, his eyes would float over to mine. Something unusual burned in them, like he couldn’t reconcile that I was there with them any more than I could. Six weeks ago, I wouldn’t have fathomed this. Now, despite my hesitation to engage in their family tradition, I couldn’t imagine anywhere else I would want to be. An unexplainable sense of calm washed over me when I was in Sean’s presence. He hadn’t judged me for my past, or my family. He wasn’t trying to change me to be what he wanted me to be. He just wanted me for me. There was the issue with Cash, but I could see it from his perspective, too—and realistically, what had Cash provided me with other than his dick over the last decade? Nothing. He’d been a reliable fuck and a periodic taxi. He was my past, but Sean was my future, and I’d be damned if I allowed anything to threaten that.
My eyes had grown heavy over the sound of Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song,” their playful squabbling and the pitch of Maria’s voice as she moderated the debate over who got to put the star topper on the tree this year. At one point, Sean had gotten Livy in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles into her well-coiffed bun, which had elicited a murderous scream of surrender from her and an audience track’s worth of laughter from his other two sisters.
They were happy and normal, and being in their presence made me feel calm, and safe enough to fully allow myself the opportunity to relax while ensconced on the heavily stuffed, wide couch that ate up much of the space of the room. I was dog tired and my body ached from the tussle with my mother, but my heart felt strangely full—and that made giving into the sleep I had been trying to dodge a losing battle. One minute I was chuckling right alongside them, and the next, I was out cold.
I awoke several hours later sleeping on my side in a darkened room, save for the dim glow of fairy lights that twinkled on that tree. Ornaments caught the moonlight that shone against the tree like a fixed spotlight from the window. The heady scent of pine forged itself into my memory as I leaned back and stilled. As I came to total consciousness, I noted the solid frame that warmed my back, the heavy arm draped over my waist, and the splayed fingers across my abdomen as though keeping me still.
I rolled over, my heart skipping a beat at the sight. My gaze drifted across Sean’s relaxed face—his lips smooth, sleep enveloping his handsome features in a way that made him appear closer to an ethereal being rather than human.
An unfamiliar emotion simmered inside of me, a sensation I didn’t know how to place. A recurring thought that I didn’t want to move, a realization confronting me that if I could stay in this moment forever, I would. That thought scared me a month ago; now, I wanted nothing more than to give him all of me.
I shifted against him, freeing my trapped arm that I had fallen asleep on, pins and needles running along the course of my limb as blood rushed to the surface.
Instinctually, my hand found the one that held my stomach, my fingers gentle as they twined with his.
He licked his lips, his throat working away the inevitable cottonmouth that accompanied sleep. “You’re awake.”
“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” I confessed.
“You had a shit day; you were exhausted.”
“Not all of it was shit,” I whispered, settling my hand on his stubbled cheek, appreciating the scruff that scraped against my palm.
He nuzzled into my hold, placing a kiss on the center of my palm. “I’m glad.” His lidded eyes opened lazily; I could tell he was still combating the throes of sleep. “What time is it?”
Glancing at the antique clock that sat on the mantle, I squinted to make out the placement of the hands. “Ten after twelve,”
I’d been out for almost seven hours, shit.
“I didn’t mean to sleep through that, I’m sorry.” It was a good thing Maria and I had wiped our slate clean. I couldn’t imagine what she would have thought of me sleeping otherwise. I couldn’t even recall lying down; I was that spent. It didn’t help that this couch was larger than average and thus more conducive to sleep.
“We’re all glad that you did.” He wrapped an arm arou
nd my waist, pulling me closer. “You look relaxed when you sleep, and I like seeing you that way. Believe me, my family didn’t mind.”
Silence hung between us, save for the rhythm of our heartbeats. “We should go, though,” he said, pulling us up into a sitting position. He tucked my wayward hair behind my ear. “I want you waking up in my bed, not on this couch.”
“I’m not sure how much sleeping we’ll be doing when we get back to your place.”
“A lot,” he edged. “You’re tired, and I want you to rest.” As if to emphasize his point, he swept his thumb over my bottom lip. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
Except I didn’t want to wait, and if leaving now meant that wasn’t going to happen, I didn’t want to go anywhere. Not without a preview.
“No, I don’t want to go.” I looked up at him under the length of my lashes, taking in the surprise that bloomed on his handsome face.
“All right.” He paused, obviously thinking, before saying, “I can set you up in my old room. My ma won’t mind. I’ll come get you in the morning.”
My head shook so hard in denouncement that my headache from earlier threatened to return. “That’s not what I meant.” I sat up, watching him over my shoulder.
Sean mirrored my movement, straightening on the couch, feet planted firm to the floor. The expanse of his chest rose and fell like a bumbling stream, his eyes transfixed on my face, as if he was trying to figure out what I was trying to say. “What is it you want?” he asked, giving up.
It was hard to say what came over me in that moment. Maybe it was the peaceful stillness that carried through his mother’s house. The lack of arguing. The absence of the boisterous neighbors in my building. His kindness and patience, and his willingness to put my needs first. Or maybe it was my feeling the walls I had erected around myself to keep me safe crumbling in his presence.
I stretched one leg over his lap, my body hovering over his. Drunk heat hit his eyes; his chin tilted up.
My weight sank down on him slowly and steadily, until my core crushed into his hardening cock. His breathing audibly hitched in his throat as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, popping it free when my hips rocked into his.
His hands slid to my sides, rounding to cup my ass. “Raquel.” His groan was meant to be a warning, but the sound lit a match in my gut as he squeezed the flesh there, fingers sinking as tightly as the stretch of my jeans would permit.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“They went to bed hours ago.” His voice was gravelly and thick, fingers still kneading me.
“Can you do something for me?” I asked, my head bending toward him.
He drew in a tight breath, a curse leaving him, his fingers releasing my ass cheeks only to move higher and sink into my waist. His nod was slow, apprehension filling his face, as if he didn’t trust himself to refuse whatever my request was.
“Will you touch me?”
He swallowed; the sound painful as the lump worked against his throat. “Where?” he rasped.
My hands moved for his, dislodging them from my ass. I brought his fingertips to my mouth, brushing the callused tips of his fingers against my mouth, my tongue darting out. I dragged the tip from the base of his palm, my lips wrapping themselves around his thick middle finger.
Sean watched me through hooded eyes, his lips parted, a small sound leaving him at the connection as he lost himself in the sight.
A heat of possession flared off of him, something dark and heady molting his eyes before he spoke. “Tell me where you want me to touch you.”
I released his finger with an audible pop, looking up at him through my lashes. “You know where.”
“C’mon, Hemingway.” He caught the wrist I’d used to hold his own, a shiver rushing through me as he pulled me closer, his teeth grazing against the tendon that ran along the length of my neck, a pulse forming there that drummed as loud as a snare. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, I want to hear you say it.”
My skin heated at the suggestion, but before I could protest, he held my chin between his fingers, drawing my face closer. His mouth was inches from mine, his warm breath fanning over my face. “Say. It.”
My voice shook when I spoke, warmth coursing through me, pooling beneath my belly button. “I want your fingers in my pussy.”
“Well,” he said, his breaths hitching in his chest as his smile bloomed into something sexy and smug…a slanted line that tilted my equilibrium with it. “I can’t keep your pussy waiting, now, can I?”
Sean’s fingers went for the zipper and button of my pants before he laid me flat on my back. I lifted my ass to help him drag my pants over the stretch of my legs. He left my black lace panties intact, leaning over to press a kiss against the panel that shielded my core, making my spine curve and an eager squeal escape my lips.
“Hemingway, you have to be quiet.” His breath warmed my thighs, the sensation of his scruff against the skin there making liquid pool between my legs. “For every sound you make, I’m going to prevent you from coming, do you understand me?”
The delicious threat curled tightly inside of me, setting every single hair on my body at half-mast.
“Yes.” I would do whatever he said.
I felt the crotch of my panties shift, tucking against one side of the lips of my pussy, followed by the warm drag of his tongue against my seam. I clapped a hand unexpectedly over my mouth, my molars coming together painfully to keep myself from crying out.
“You’re so unbelievably sweet,” he murmured against me, dipping his head again, his lips coming around my clit. “I just can’t get enough.” He sucked gently at first, the sensation sparking pleasure through me, but it was the added element of surprise of his teeth grazing my most sensitive spot that had me seeing fucking stars. They were like hot, brilliant streaks of light against the blackened depths of my mind, and I wanted more.
He worked his finger at my entrance, and I slid my body forward, accepting his thick finger with ease. His groan came out as a suffocated sigh, my inner muscles clenching down on that extended digit before he began to move it inside me.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” He pumped his finger, and my body hummed at the connection. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“Fuck me now.” It was a whispered plea, a cry for mercy as he tested my opening with another finger. I swiveled my hips desperately, needing more from him. Sean delivered, that second finger joining the first, curling as my walls adjusted to accept the width of his thick fingers. Then his mouth was back on my clit, sucking and nibbling while his fingers pumped in and out of me.
It was too much for me. My senses were heightened in the darkness, my nerve endings burning, my ears craning for the threat of interruption. The thought of getting caught pebbled my nipples and sent frissons of pleasure straight into my throbbing pussy.
“I’m going to come,” I panted, my hips jerking forward in time with his adept fingers and expert tongue as I chased after the promise of my rapidly mounting release.
“No, you’re not,” he murmured, slowing down, his fingers sliding out of me, his mouth pulling away from my pussy. A cold chill blasted through me, frustration tingling my scalp, goosebumps littering my body. He blew soft breaths that fanned the pulse between my legs, but I wasn’t having any of that.
“Please.” My fingers latched themselves in his hair, pulling his head up to face me. He was devastatingly handsome with his dark features and mischievous grin, his lips glistening with my arousal. I pulled him toward me, tasting myself on his lips, and to my surprise…he was right.
I was sweet.
He bent inward as I loosened my hold on him, his warm breath winnowing over the pulsation in my core. My hips jerked forward, desperate for more contact.
“Patience, baby.” He dragged the pad of his thumb over my clit. I swallowed the cry of desperation that clawed at my throat, knowing it would get me further away from my release. “Trust me.”
He teased my en
trance again with the same two fingers as before. My hips involuntarily jerked up to meet his hand, producing a dark chuckle from him that reverberated in his chest.
“My needy girl.”
Needy? I was desperate.
“So impatient,” he murmured, his fingers a laconic and torturous burn as they swept against me, his thumb brushing against my most sensitive spot. I ground my teeth together to keep from gasping, but it was almost all too much for me. My pussy pounded with need, my heartbeat filling my ears. I watched him explore me with rapt concentration, as if he was seeing me for the first time.
“Sean, please…please.”
His eyes snapped to mine, the ends of his mouth curling into a smile. “Am I too much for you, Hemingway?”
“No,” I wheezed, “I want more.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” He all but dived back between my legs, draping my legs over his shoulders so he could feast. He slid one hand under my ass, pinning me against his hungry mouth. His taut tongue laved at me as he slid his free hand up my shirt, shoving my bra up and out of the way so he could palm my breast. He rolled the beaded nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while his lips sucked around my clit and he tongued me at the same time.
It was too much for my unraveling self-control, so I let go.
I clapped one hand over my mouth as the kaleidoscope inside of me erupted into a brightly lit explosion that left speckles of color behind my eyelids, my body writhing as my control snapped, the pleasure slamming into me in drunken waves that eroded all cognizant thought from my mind. I felt as though someone had Ctrl+Alt+Del’d my brain synapses and left my body as collateral damage.
My body went limp, my breaths coming out of me hard and heavy, muted under my palm. He slithered on top of me, grinding the rigid outline of his cock against my core, my arousal lingering there. I slid a hand between us, grabbing the hardened length trapped behind his chinos and rubbing my palm against it. His hips rotated at the touch, his pelvis crushing against me. I sensed an equal need inside him, saw the unadulterated burn that gripped him.
