by Susan Ward
I wiggle my index along her inner leg. “Can’t. Not now that I know we’re going back to your place. Can’t contain it, love.”
“Try,” she whispers, her eyes enormous. “Isaac is the worst gossip on our block. I don’t want him spreading stories about me getting nasty in an Uber with some strange guy.”
“Strange guy?” I repeat as if offended, but I’m just messing with her. “You’ll be lucky if I go to bed with you after calling me that.”
“Strange to Capitol Hill,” she corrects heatedly.
“London’s a big city. What part are you from?” inquires our companion in the front, and I move my hand to rest on Willow’s knee.
I meet Isaac’s gaze in the mirror. “You’ve been there?”
“Several times. My wife’s a Brit.”
“Really.” I light up as if that info dump means something to me. “My family’s home is in Cottesmore Gardens.”
He’s noticeably impressed. “Kensington?” His gaze shifts to me in the mirror and it’s like he’s testing me, which annoys the fuck out of me, but I nod.
“I thought you said your parents’ house is in London?” Willow asks, perplexed.
I squeeze her hand. “Kensington is London. A neighborhood like Capitol Hill.”
Isaac howls with laughter. “It’s not like Capitol Hill, mate.”
“Is it nice?” Willow asks, alert and curious.
Isaac laughs harder. “Nice isn’t the word for it. I’m pretty sure you have to be a billionaire or royalty to even be allowed to live there. I didn’t know I’d be hauling home a billionaire in my Uber today, Willow. That’s a first for me.”
“Not funny, Eric.” She swats my arm, slouches back against her seat, scoots to put space between us, and crosses her arms. “You don’t have to tell stories to make yourself likeable. I already like you.”
“I didn’t.”
She juts her chin and stares out the window. “I can’t stand it when guys spew lies. It doesn’t matter if it’s to have fun or as a goof. Lying isn’t something I want in my world. Not ever.”
“Willow, I didn’t lie. The man asked me where my family’s house is, and I told him.”
She crosses her arms tighter and her lips turn into a hard line. Oh fuck, she really is mad. We’re finally heading back to the apartment, and Jesus Christ, I blew it with the truth.
“Willow?”
She won’t look at me.
Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair and focus out the window. I wrecked everything having a meaningless conversation with an Uber driver.
Unbelievable.
But it’s what I deserve.
I should never have started with the fake accent. It was also a bonehead move at the park, when she asked to see my profile, to show her my phony Eric James Facebook page, the one I give to girls not from my hood that I casually sleep with. As for telling her I don’t have a name for our band yet, I don’t even know why that rolled off my tongue. Stupid. Lie once and you start lying without a reason.
Maybe I should tell her the truth: that I’m Eric Manzone from Pacific Palisades. I feel bad that I haven’t yet, and Willow’s such a cool girl that if I explain everything she’ll get it. She might even laugh.
It would clear up Ivy and Jade’s opinion that I’m a broke loser. They’ll think it’s a story, cackle in my face, but one Google search would shred that the instant my face pops up in photos side by side with my dad.
The internet could fix everything. Get me out of the frozen zone with Willow as fast as I could type Eric Manzone into the browser.
I take in Willow with a sideways glance. No, telling her the truth isn’t going to help me. Being lied to must be a hot button for her with how frigid her posture is, and trying to fix a truth she doesn’t believe by confessing two lies is going to put me deeper in the shit pit.
Fuck.
“Willow?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps. “Not in front of Isaac.”
Talk about what? I only said her name to test her mood. By how she’s radiating, the prospects for my night aren’t good.
The minutes tick by without her either looking at me or talking. As the car slows down near the bar, she leans forward in her seat and says, “Can you drop us in back, Isaac?”
“No problem, Willow.”
The car continues around the corner and into a dark alley. It’s narrow and empty with only enough room for a single car at a time. Most likely for deliveries.
More private than the street in front of the bar, no people passing by, and no one from inside Mel’s seeing us on the sidewalk. Why does she want that? Am I about to be dumped in an alley? One thing for sure, by her expression, once we’re outside the car it’s not going to be good.
Hell’s bells, it was the truth, and even if it wasn’t, it’s not show-a-guy-the-door worthy.
I feel a tug on my arm. “Are you coming, Eric?” We’ve stopped and Willow’s standing outside the car.
“Have a good night, you two,” Isaac says in a way that betrays he knows I’m in the doghouse. I refrain from giving him the finger before I close the door behind me and prepare for whatever tirade I inspired to ensue.
There’s no mistaking she’s in pounce-on-a-guy mode. Silent treatment in the car. No eye contact. Stiff posture and emoting.
She watches Isaac’s car disappear down the asphalt, then without looking at me heads for a heavy reinforced security entrance. She punches in a code, the door beeps, and she enters the building without checking if I’m following.
She opts for the stairs instead of the elevator, and as she hurries two steps ahead of me she gives me a ball-clenching view of her tight ass straining against her snug shorts with flashes of the crease at the top of her thighs.
Her body is amazing. All sides of her are perfect curves, luscious slopes, and toned. I love watching her from all angles, like a uniform prism no matter what side hits the light.
I love watching her walk. Only I’m also disappointed we’re not in the elevator. I had fantasies all day about us in there, but I probably shouldn’t have any hopes for anything along those lines by how she’s almost sprinting up the steps to the second floor.
When she reaches the upper landing, I lose sight of her for a moment, and as I turn into the hallway I find the apartment door left open.
There’s no light on when I enter, only the glow of the moon streaming through the windows. At least the living room’s empty and the apartment quiet. No Jade, Ivy, or Dean to witness Eric’s ass whipping. That’s something to be glad about.
I pause in the center of the living room, between the two hallways running in opposite directions. Kitchen? Girls like to fight in kitchens. No, it’s dark in that direction.
Where the hell did Willow go?
My breath catches in my throat.
There’s light shining from her bedroom. Better choice. Maybe after she’s done yelling at me I can get her to have some makeup sex.
That could be hot.
Not how I envisioned our first time together.
But heated makeup sex is not a bad consolation prize.
How much I want her makes my head spin, but I caution myself not to take it as a good sign that she wants to have it out with me where there’s a bed.
She’s probably just afraid someone will walk in on us before she’s through telling me off. I have to admire her composure. She’s pulsing with whatever it is she wants to say to me, and most of the girls I know couldn’t have held it back until we were somewhere alone.
Tara has no fucking restraint, ever. I don’t want to think about her, but it’s useful. It keeps my dick from getting hard as I follow Willow to the bedroom.
“I know you’re pissed at me,” I say as I round the doorframe, “but in my defense…” I stop because my mind can’t keep up with what I’m seeing.
Willow’s sitting on the bed, shoulders square, hands folded in he
r lap, naked except for her lacy bra and panties.
“I want to say something to you,” she says quietly, “before we, you know, we take this to the next level.”
Next level?
My cock jumps in my jeans.
“OK,” I reply cautiously, not wanting to derail whatever miracle is happening here. Leaning back against the wall, I shove my hands deep in my pockets and drink her in with my gaze.
She lifts her nose. “I’ve already figured out everything you haven’t told me. And I get it.”
She has?
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” she says with a small hitch of her shoulders, her fingers tightening around her knees.
Not sure where she’s going, I prod, “It isn’t?”
She shakes her head and flashes her killer smile at me. “No. I saw your face all day as you checked on my phone to see if your parents had responded to your texts. You looked so sad and worried. But I didn’t realize why until the car when you said such a braggadocious thing to Isaac.”
“Braggadocious?” I repeat, not following her.
She arches a brow. “All guys tell lies to build themselves up for the same reason. They think it makes them hot to girls, like we’re all dumb or something. You like to talk big and act big. I’m sure lots of girls find that exciting and hot, but it’s malarkey and it doesn’t do anything for me. So if we’re going to continue whatever this is, you need to knock it off.”
She exhales a deep breath and tilts her head to the side as though it’s my turn to speak. What is she waiting for? An apology? Fuck, I have nothing to apologize for.
A fast assessment of her face tells me Willow thinks I do. And fuck it, does it matter? She’s beautiful and sweet—Jesus Christ, that was her tirade—and I wonder how the hell I ever found her.
I stare into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
She presses her lips together to hide a smile. “Good. That’s a deal breaker for me. And I really don’t give a crap that you’re a guy who can’t even get his parents to Venmo you enough to get you home. They don’t have any money, do they?”
How’d she come up with that one? I don’t want to lie, not again, so I make a slow roll of my shoulders.
She nods, as if thinking, then says, “Raising five kids, how could they have enough money for everyone? That’s why you’re worried and don’t know what to do. Worse, you don’t want anyone to find out that your family is as broke-ass and struggling as everyone’s is. But you don’t have to hide that from me by trying to be something other than you are. You’re a great guy and I’m glad I met you, broke-ass or not. Haven’t you figured out everyone in Capitol Hill doesn’t have money? Here we judge people by who they are. And I really like you, so don’t spew nonsense about your great life anymore, Eric James. You don’t need to do that. Not with me.”
A heavy silence follows her last word.
“Are you done? Can I say something?”
She makes an almost imperceptible nod.
“I really like you, too, love.”
“I know.” Her voice—excited and sweet—I feel through my body. “You’re not very good at playing it cool or hiding what you’re thinking.” To ratchet up the angst in my dick caused by her flirty tone of voice, she bites her lower lip as she runs her hands down the tops of her naked thighs, and I go rock hard.
“Then I guess you know what I’m thinking now, don’t you?”
The color of her eyes darkens. “Right now you’re wondering if we’re still going to go to bed together. If you’ve ruined your shot with me. But, Eric, I’m not wearing my tank top or shorts anymore.”
That’s it. I can’t hold back any longer. I push off the wall and hustle to the bed, yanking my shirt over my head before I scoop her up into my body and cover her mouth. Her arms cross behind my neck, her fingers working in my hair as she meets the moves of my mouth and tongue. She grinds her pelvis against me with a lift of her hips, and I set her on the bed to get my jeans off.
She scoots up toward the pillows and watches as I push my pants down. My cock jumps out and she quickly bites her lower lip before releasing it again.
I take off my shoes and socks then kick my jeans aside.
I stand beside the bed, my heart hammering out of control. The way she looks lying there, waiting for me, makes me desperate to devour her hard and dirty.
I feel a bead of precum coat my slit in anticipation of spreading her wide and peeling her apart finally getting to sink myself deep inside her. For a split second my brain wakes up, yapping loud enough I can hear it over the roaring in my body.
Damn it.
I should have stopped at a drug store on the way here.
Oh, fuck me. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck me.
I pause with one knee on the edge of the bed, body in agony, and breathing heavily. “I don’t have my wallet, Willow. I don’t have a condom.”
Her flushed face snaps up and she makes a breathy laugh. “There’s a rubber in the top drawer.” She stops unhooking her bra and points at the nightstand.
Thank fuck.
I rummage through the clutter of junk to find a half-empty box of skins. Half empty. That kills the fantasy that she’s a virgin.
As I take one out and set it on the table, my peripheral vision spots her lying on her back slightly turned to me, bra gone, and something on her face throws me for a loop.
Does she think I’m just going to suit up and jump right into fucking her? What kind of assholes has she been with?
The sight of her body fuels every kind of want in a man to taste, touch, and explore her completely.
I run my gaze across her creamy large breasts, her round pink nipples, her smooth flat belly, and those wonderful legs that go forever.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” she asks when I don’t move, looking uncertain and even irked.
“You’re so beautiful, Willow.” I smile, realizing since I’m not going to get to claim her V-card, I want this to be the best sex she’s ever had. “I’m momentarily stunned by how beautiful you are.”
“Hmm. I’d believe that more if you were on the bed.”
Sparks fill her eyes as she gives me a quick once-over before adjusting her posture to leave me room to lie down beside her.
No, Willow. I’m not starting by fucking you.
I go to the foot of the bed and settle on my arms between her legs. I blow against her calf then run my tongue along her smooth skin.
Her eyes flash, surprised and uncertain, but when my mouth and tongue close over her panties she lets out a soft moan and her fingers curl in the blankets.
I glide a finger inside along her slit before I yank off the black lace thong. I settle back on my knees, and for a moment I stare at how perfect her cunt is, then I breathe in the essence of her from my finger.
A shudder runs my body and my balls clench.
I want to taste her in the worst way.
But not yet.
I won’t be able to hold back as long as I want to if I start there, and it’s time she figures out I’m not like any of the guys she’s been with. Instead, I ease back down and start kissing my way from her toes.
Chapter Seventeen
Willow
MY BACK ARCHES UP off the bed and my fingers are clawed in the sheets like I’m holding on for dear life.
Maybe I am.
This has been the longest fuck I’ve ever had, and he hasn’t even put his dick in me yet. I really wasn’t expecting being with him to go this way.
Eric didn’t ask; he just went there. Well, technically not there yet, but as close as you can get without being there, and I’m on fire.
Not that I would have said no if he’d asked to eat me out. Okay, maybe I would have. It’s our first time. And a guy’s not supposed to just haul off and start there, now are they?
Well, that’s been my experience.
Not usual first hookup territory.
&
nbsp; A fast fuck to break the ice of being naked the first time together. Takes the awkwardness out of the getting-to-know-how-to-fuck-each-other stage. After that, if there’s an after that, a little more nasty. Then semi-good sex that fades to so-so sex before he stops answering your texts.
Eric’s tongue runs my slit from bottom to top as he inserts a finger into my pussy, and now I’m shaking. My clit is pulsing, and nothing’s touched it thus far except air.
My fingers clench tighter and I moan. I’m in agony and he hasn’t even put his tongue in me. Somehow he got me slick and my bud swollen, brought to the jagged edge of orgasm over and over again, without his mouth being properly acquainted with my clit.
Maybe he’s waiting for me to make the introduction. It could be international miscommunication. One thing for sure, if I’d known sex could feel this way I’d have found me a Brit a long time ago.
Time to clarify where I want him to go in case there is a language barrier. If he doesn’t get there soon I’m going to start grinding against his face. I won’t be able to stop myself.
I plant one foot on the bed while I loop my other leg around his body, pressing my heel into his back, and my hips tilt up.
His face lifts, his potent blue eyes smiling, then whatever he sees in my expression causes his chin to tuck as his hair tumbles forward, blocking him from view.
His shoulders shake with poorly hidden humor.
“Is something funny, love?” I ask, and rich waves of laughter answer me.
He laughs and looks up at me again. “She’s very pretty. I could see her just fine without your help.”
“I thought maybe you’d lost your way.”
It’s the best I could think of with how he’s staring at me. His fingertips go to my pelvis then stroke downward to my thighs. Only a light touch, and now my legs are quaking.
He cocks a brow. “Even if I were blind, I’d find her. She smells as good as she tastes.”
“How would you know?” I sound frustrated and impatient.
He brings one of his fingers to my mouth and teases my lower lip. “I’ve been licking them clean each time after going in. I love the taste of you.”
