by Iris Trovao
And oh, how ready she was for a different kind of playtime to begin.
“You’re right,” she rasped, finding her voice somewhere deep within her.
Carson kept her hand in his, gathering up their garbage with the other, and tossed it in the trash can next to the bench. He stood, gently tugging on her, and she practically floated up to meet him.
Of course, we’re sitting on a bench in public. He’s not just gonna bend you over the damn thing and have at it. In her haze of lust she’d completely forgotten where they were—covered in sausage grease, sitting in the courtyard near a street meat stand.
They walked back to his car in silence, electricity sparking in the air between them. When they reached the SUV, he turned to her, and she didn’t want to let go of his hand, not even for the ten seconds it would take for him to walk around to the driver’s side.
She grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him down, their lips crashing together, each drawing in a deep gasp through their noses at the contact. He met her passion with equal fervour, and she swallowed his tongue, massaging it with her own.
This is it, she thought, this is how I die.
And what a glorious death.
When they parted, chests heaving, their fingers were still laced together and he gave her hand a squeeze. He reached past her, opening the passenger door.
Stomach fluttering, heart pounding, she stepped across the slush, sat down, and reluctantly let go of his hand. His gorgeous aged-like-fine-wine face split apart into a boyish grin, and he gently closed the door, jogging around the front of the SUV to the driver’s side.
As soon as he pulled his door shut, she practically launched herself across the car, the vinyl of her coat making a scrippppp against the steering wheel as she landed in his lap, her legs left behind over the center console. He laughed in surprise, but then their lips met again, hands squirming through layers of fabric, fingers curling against whatever skin contact they could find.
Jolie hissed as a chunk of her hair jerked painfully from her scalp, and not in the fun way.
“Are you okay?” Carson asked, brow furrowing with concern.
“Yeah, I think my hair is caught.” She tried to sit back, but she was held fast. She snaked a hand out from under his scarf to follow the taut strands.
He shifted and she hissed again.
“Sorry, sorry!” He froze. “I think it’s my zipper, here…” They both fumbled until their fingers met at the zippered breast pocket of his coat.
“Can you see it?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a giggle tore its way out of her throat and she couldn’t hold it back.
He pressed his swollen lips together, as if holding back his own mirth, and gently tried to untangle her hair.
“Ow.” She giggled the word, and wound a hand up against her scalp to try to quell the tension.
He finally got it free, and brushed her hair tenderly back over her shoulder. “As much as I am enjoying this, perhaps we should move to a location where zippers can’t get in the way.”
His cheeks pinked and she cupped the side of his face. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed about being hot for me.” She shifted a little and stifled a gasp as his coat slipped and a considerable bulge pressed against her ass. “Is your place closer than mine?” she rasped.
He nodded, and she scrambled to get back into her seat. The loss of contact was a fucking tragedy, but the anticipation was delicious on her tongue. She watched him as he drove, so focused on the road, tension so evident in the way he sat, shoulders stiff. He gripped the shifter tightly, and she reached over to rest her hand over his.
He curled her fingers through his while still holding the knob, smiling as he pulled up to a stop light.
Her heart skipped a beat and she pressed her thighs together.
The light turned green, and he didn’t let go of her hand as he shifted into first. The vibrations of the clutch reverberated up her arm, thrumming through her. Was there anything this man could do that wasn’t sexy?
When he finally pulled into a driveway, he reached up to push the button for the garage, taking her hand with his. After, he brought her knuckles to his lips as they waited for the door to open. She shivered, remembering the first time she’d felt that mouth on her, just the night before when they’d seen each other for the first time.
How has it only been one day? She knew that realistically, they’d known each other for a year, but somehow after seeing him in person just twice it felt like this was something they’d had forever.
He pulled into the garage, and she fought the urge to launch herself at him again as soon as the SUV was in park. She wanted to get inside, get their damn clothes off, not get her hair caught on anything but his fingers.
He reluctantly let go of her hand, and they got out of the car. Jolie followed him to the door, wringing her fingers in front of her in nervous anticipation. They entered a spacious kitchen, and in her arousal-addled brain everything was a surface to fuck on. She ran her hand along the cold marble countertop of the island, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.
Carson shrugged out of his coat, moving behind her to gently help remove hers. She slid off her boots, waiting impatiently as he padded to the front door to hang their coats.
She felt like a million things should spring to her tongue, some kind of witty snark or joke or something, anything, but when he turned around her mind went completely blank. All she could do was stare at him. Memorize every line on his face, the stark slope of his jaw, the defined edges of strength down his arms, the way the soft fabric of his pants hung from his hips and plunged down to the floor for what felt like miles because he was so. Damn. Tall.
His gaze smoldered as he walked towards her, slow steps, as if he were drawn there instead of moving of any kind of conscious volition. Her body trembled, that electricity back in the air, raising goosebumps along her skin as if he were caressing her with his mind.
He slid a hand around her back, the other cupping the side of her neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of her jaw to tilt her face up to his. She ran her palms up his chest, her lips parting as he lowered his face for a kiss.
The passion still sparked, but this kiss was languid, slow. They had the time and they made the most of it, tasting each other, touching each other. Jolie melted against him, the heat radiating from their bodies mingling and creating a storm of need.
The hand on her back travelled lower, and Carson took a handful of her ass, groaning into her mouth before hooking his arm underneath her and lifting her from the ground.
She squeaked at the sudden loss of gravity, wrapping her legs instinctively around his hips. She gripped his shoulders, revelling in the feel of his muscles shifting beneath her palms.
He moved through the kitchen and she nuzzled into his throat, suckling at the skin below his ear. When he reached the stairs, the movement of his thighs shifted something else against her, that delightful bulge she’d discovered in the car, and she mewled against him.
His breath hitched as he reached the top of the stairs, and he practically flung them into his bedroom. She landed on a heavenly cloud of plush satin, and he followed her down, his length pressing against her in just the right spot. She hissed and clawed at his back, pulling up the fabric of his shirt to try to get it up over his head.
Carson backed up, tugging his shirt out of her hands, gently moving her wrists in front of him. A pang of disappointment spiked in her belly, but he gave her a reassuring smile in the dim evening light peeking through the window.
“I want to unwrap you first.” His voice was low, husky, that near-growl that set her body aflame. He kissed each of her hands in turn before laying them down at her sides.
She took in a sharp breath through her teeth as he bent to kiss her, an almost chaste kiss to the lips before moving down her jaw. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as he traced his tongue down her throat, nipping gently at her tender flesh before kissing across
her collarbone.
He tucked a finger under one strap of her tank top, running up and down beneath the thin fabric. She’d opted for a workout shirt with a built-in bra, and she thanked past Jolie for the foresight. Less to take off.
But apparently Carson was going to take his time, anyway. He hadn’t been joking when he said he wanted to unwrap her.
The teasing strokes of his finger beneath the strap made her squirm. So much of her body longed for him, for more contact, more pressure, more, more, more…
He curled his finger and drew the strap down ever-so-slowly, following the movement with his mouth. The feather-light trail of his knuckle down her shoulder, chased by the heat of his lips, an occasional suckle.
As he moved across the top of her breasts, she arched, gripping his hair tightly. He’d pulled the neckline just down the swell, not quite revealing her nipples, his breath tantalizingly close to the stiff peaks that were desperate for his attention. He repeated the same treatment on the other strap, taking his time to taste her flesh, and Jolie thought she might die of arousal.
Where is he going to go next? She wanted to jerk his head to where she wanted him, or flip him over and tear his clothes off, but if she were being honest with herself, the torture and anticipation were delicious. Her legs writhed, attempting to close for some kind of friction, but he knelt between them. Her thighs pressed against his, and he was up on his knees, so she couldn’t grind the place where she so desperately wanted contact.
As if on cue, Carson slid down, still keeping her legs open, but at least his torso pressed into her. However any concentration she had on her aching core evaporated as he took the neckline of her tank top between his teeth, dragging it down, tantalizingly slow, until her breasts bounced free.
The air was freezing on her nipples despite the warmth of the room, the hard nubs tightening almost painfully as he exposed them.
Pleasure sparked through her like an electric shock as he lowered his mouth to her. He alternated sucking and swirling his tongue and gentle bites and she was a mess, squirming and panting and moaning and clawing the back of his neck.
“Ohmygod,” she groaned as he moved to the other side.
One of his hands snaked beneath her back, arching her spine further as if to present her on a platter. His other hand moved to the lonely nipple, rolling it between his fingers.
Jolie whimpered. It felt so good, it all felt so good, but she wanted so much more, she needed him, craved him, her cunt grasping at nothing, desperate to be filled.
“Carson,” she breathed, and her voice was no longer her own, but that of a gyrating puddle of arousal, “please. You’re killing me.”
He hummed around her nipple and sucked, pulling back until he released it with a wet pop. He rolled his torso so that his abs lapped against her greedy pussy, teasing, torturing.
“Relax,” he cooed, that husk, that gruff dark voice that dripped with sensuality. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Jolie was a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and Carson had never felt so powerful. Her body reacted to his touch like a live wire, and he couldn't get enough of drawing mewls and sighs and moans of need from between her perfect lips.
It was an exercise in self control, to be sure. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself into her, but the anticipation and arousal were a heady combination and he wanted to draw it out, make it last.
He spent time on her luscious breasts, teasing and licking her soft flesh, tugging the tank top lower and unwrapping her torso. Her breaths were erratic, frantic as he kissed down her ribs, lips caressing every part of the soft pudge of her middle. He looked up at her face then, her arms splayed across his bed, her lower lip firmly between her teeth.
She was beautiful. And she was all his.
When he reached the waistband of her second-skin leggings, he backed up, bracing his knees on the floor. She propped herself up on her elbows, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes.
He curled his fingers into the waistband of her pants, shimmying them down with her bunched-up tank. Slowly, his efforts revealed shiny red fabric, and he swallowed hard at the sight of such a bright, passionate colour beneath so much black clothing.
“Do you like them?” Jolie rasped, voice thick with need.
Carson nodded, leaning down and kissing the little red bow at the waistband, then down, to the side, purposely avoiding the place he really wanted to taste.
She still had far too many clothes on.
He worshipped her upper thigh as he continued to pull her shirt and pants down her luscious legs.
She huffed and flopped back on the mattress, throwing an arm over her eyes.
He chuckled against the taut skin of the inside of her knee. “You doing okay up there?”
“No,” she whined, but cut off with a gasp as he sucked the flesh of her inner thigh, biting lightly.
“You said I was killing you.” He revealed her calves, the traitorous muscles that had seized on her, massaging them all the way down to her ankles. “But you seem very capable of breathing.” He curled his fingers beneath the bunched up fabric and pulled it all free of her—pants, shirt, socks. “I should know,” he said as he ran his hands back up her legs, pulling her—and those cute red panties—closer to the edge of the mattress. “I’m a doctor.”
A soft moan escaped Jolie’s lips as he ran his tongue along the lacy waistband. He could smell her honeyed musk soaking through the satin, mingling with the hint of jasmine she emanated. He kissed down, down the silky fabric, until he reached the wet covering of her delicious folds.
She twitched, and he wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding them apart as he lavished her with attention, kissing her through her panties, burying his nose as he looked up at her arched back.
“Please, please,” she breathed, like a prayer.
He knew what she was begging for, however… “Please, what?” he asked, running his tongue up her needy clit, which quivered as if it could burst through the fabric all by itself.
She whimpered. “I need to feel you,” she moaned, the words grinding out as if she had to force them.
He leaned forward, taking a hold of that little bow with his teeth, gently pulling more of the panties into his mouth with care not to pinch her skin. She looked down at him with heady surprise in her eyes, meeting his gaze as he dragged the garment from her with his mouth. He maneuvered her legs to one side so he could bring the panties all the way down, tugging them free of one ankle and leaving them dangling from the other.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jolie whined, face flushed, chest heaving, skin shining with sweat.
Carson parted her thighs once again, licking his lips. “You are.” Before she could say anything more, he went back in, parting her smattering of dark curls, flattening his tongue against her clit.
She flopped back, throwing her head to the side, a deep, guttural moan exploding from her throat.
He wanted to tell her how sexy she was, how responsive her body was to his touch, how gorgeous that she lost herself in this way…but he didn’t want to stop tasting her.
He dipped his tongue inside, ambrosia coating him, and drew it back up her folds in a languid stroke. Her thighs quivered, ankles lacing behind his back, and he rested his elbows on the bed, holding her legs as he lapped at her.
She twisted, panting, and he tightened his hands, keeping her in place as he sped up his movements, suckling her clit, the silken bundle pulsing in his mouth. His cock twitched almost in time with it, near painful with how hard he was. He wanted to get rid of his pants, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause even for a second, the only thing in the world right now was Jolie’s pleasure, the mewls escaping her lips, her writhing body responding to each stroke, each suck, each dip and dive of his mouth, devouring like he’d starve to death without her.
She came with a shriek, her entire body going rigid, fisting the blankets so hard she popped the fitted sheet from the c
orners of the mattress. Her clit went hard as a rock between his lips, and he swirled his tongue around it, drawing out every last wave, every last shudder, every last cry and moan and hiss.
When she fell limp, he gently let go of her thighs, slowly crawling up her body, leaving kisses in his wake, revelling in the salty tang of her sweat as he travelled the length of her. When he reached her neck, she giggled, an exhausted, breathy sound that sent a thrill up his spine. Her head lolled to meet him as he kissed up her jaw, and she flopped one of her arms up around the back of his neck to draw his mouth to hers.
It was a lazy, sloppy kiss, and he could feel the curve of a smile beneath his lips, unable to keep his own from doing the same.
When she finally fell away from him, her body sinking into the mattress like a rag doll, he smirked at the satisfied grin across her face.
“I’m dead,” she declared, voice sounding near drunk. “That orgasm killed me, and now you’re talking to my ghost.”
He chuckled, unable to stop the swell of pride in his chest. “I could think of worse ways to die.”
“Good thing there’s a doctor here,” she said, running her hand down his chest to play with the hem of his shirt, “to bring me back to life.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
The doctor with the magic tongue. Jolie had never come so hard in her life. She wasn’t sure if it was the buildup or the act itself or both, but she’d seen heaven at the precipice of her fall and aftershocks still rippled through her core.
She tugged at the hem of Carson’s shirt, and this time, he let her push it up, running her hands along his torso. When she met his gaze, she saw it, a flicker of insecurity, a flash of fear.
“Hey,” she said, voice stern. “None of that. You just made me feel like a worshipped goddess.” She kissed his mouth gently, savouring the taste of her own musk lingering on his tongue. “And this goddess says you’re beautiful.” She whispered the words against his lips and he let out a soft, breathy moan as she raked her nails up his chest.
