The empathy his eyes held has now been replaced with a look of awe. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s their loss for not seeing how brilliant their daughter and grandson are. Fuck those assholes.”
I burst out laughing. “You stole the words right out of my mouth.”
Once my laughter dies down, we eat in silence for several minutes. My eyes roam around the terrace, and I find it odd that Rachel didn’t get involved with the store.
“Tell me if this is none of my business, but how come your sister never got involved with the store? It just seems like you sacrificed a lot to be here.”
He looks up, and the irritation I was sure I’d see is thankfully nonexistent.
“My sister had a three-year-old, a job, and a college degree to contend with—one she had to put on hold when she got pregnant with Mason. It was tough. She was a year from graduating when she had to drop out. To add the bakery on top of that would have been a strain on her that I knew she couldn’t cope with. So, when I asked her to sign over her share of the bakery, she willingly did it.”
“That makes sense. I get how hard it is to juggle being a mom and taking on a job. But, wow, a college degree, too? That’s pretty hard core,” I say before taking another bite of my appetizer.
“She made it work, but I know, if I’d asked her to get involved, it would have meant her quitting college for a second time, and I didn’t want her losing her lifelong dream.”
“But what about your dream?” I place my knife and fork down on either side of the plate and grab my wine, taking a small sip.
“I walked away from it, and that was my decision, one I don’t regret. If anything, I dodged a bullet.”
“How so?” I ask, placing my wine glass on the table. I take ahold of the cutlery and cut back into my food.
“Reckless Romance might be the world’s best-selling band, but I happen to know that each member of that band is dealing with drinking and drug addictions. It seems to be the lifestyle of a rock star, and there is no doubt that I would have gotten sucked into that, so I’m thankful I made the decision to walk when I did. Nothing is worth losing yourself, not even fame.”
I nod in agreement as I take another bite of my food. Then, as I go to swallow, his next words almost cause me to choke with laughter.
“And there is no doubt that I’d have developed a Kanye West ego if I hadn’t walked away, so at least there’s another thing to be thankful for.”
I successfully manage to swallow my food before I pipe up with, “There would have been no danger of that since you’re already a cocky prick.”
His fork pauses midair, and I have to stifle a giggle at the stern glare he throws my way.
“You’ll be paying for that later, sugar.” The tone of his threat is masked with an underlying sexual promise that sends an unexpected thrill of erotic sparks to tremble through me.
“I look forward to it, especially if it involves your bike.” I wink, and his raspy chuckle sounds through the acoustics of the night sky.
“When you say things like that, it makes it hard for me to be a gentleman. If it weren’t for the fact that the waitress will be back up here soon, I’d spread you across this table and have my head buried between your legs before you could even take another bite of your stuffed celery.”
My eyes take in the length of the table, and I know, without a doubt, that if we were completely alone, his words would be put into action, and I’d be screaming his name right about now. My pussy becomes heavy as I grow unbearably wet at the very image he just conjured in my mind, and I press my thighs together to suppress the sensation that rockets directly against me.
“Who said I wanted you to be a gentleman?”
His eyes flare, and the fire I see inside shows me how much my words affect him. A dangerous idea runs through my mind, one that has me removing my panties under the table until they’re hanging around my ankles. Drew watches with a shit-eating grin, his arrogant demeanor showing through his heady stare, knowing I’ve just taken my underwear off.
“You’re treading on dangerous territory,” he warns.
I add fuel to the quickly transpiring fire when I step out of my panties and hold them up in the air for him to see. I fling them at him and inwardly give myself a high five when they zero in for his face. The lace falls to his lap, and he picks them up, nostrils flaring. My chest rises and falls at the pure, unadulterated glare he points my way, and I know I’ve hit a weak spot, especially with the way he scrunches the delicate material between his fingers and holds them up to his nose, deeply inhaling.
A moan slips from my lips, and I have to cross my legs to ease the ache between my thighs.
Emerging footsteps are suddenly heard, and he quickly places the panties in his pocket as the waitress returns with a polite smile on her face.
“How was your appetizer?” she asks as she takes our plates away.
Drew’s face stays trained on mine, never once answering the waitress. An awkward silence follows, and I find myself wanting to appease the waitress, so I force a smile on my face even though every nerve ending in my body is on fire at the sexual tension spiking the aura between Drew and me, clouding over us like thick black smoke.
“It was great, thank you,” I say.
“Are you ready for your main course?”
“Bring it out in twenty minutes. We’re a little full right now,” Drew speaks up.
His eyes unblinking, he continues to stare me down. My breathing comes out in spurts of unanticipated exhales, my heartbeat continuing to pick up speed, as excitement courses through me.
“Okay,” the waitress mutters before she scurries away.
Once the door shuts behind her, Drew is off his chair and charges over to me. When he towers over me, his shoulders squared, his breathing faltered, he pushes the chair back about four feet before dropping down to his knees. He pries my legs apart, and my dress rides up around my hips at the sudden impact.
“I’ll show you how non-gentlemanlike I can be, sugar,” he all but growls.
The next thing I know, his lips are on my pussy. My head falls back on a shriek at the sensation of his teeth grazing my clit. My fingers instantaneously find their place in his hair, harshly pulling the strands at the immense shock waves that shudder through me from having his mouth on me.
Sucking me.
Licking me.
Claiming me.
His moans hum against my wetness, and the vibrations send me skyrocketing to the moon and back—or at least that’s what it feels like. As pure ecstasy flows through me, instinctively, my legs find themselves hanging over his shoulders, my body sinking further down the chair until my ass is practically hanging over the edge. In order to keep myself upright in the seat, my hands grab the back of the chair legs from beneath me, and I squeeze my thighs together, locking his face in place.
A solid minute passes, and all I can hear is the slurping of Drew going down on me, the occasional grunts and groans, and my high-pitched moans sounding through the night. The anticipated climax approaches, but when it finally hits me, I can’t contain my screams, and I let go, crying out Drew’s name over and over. As I ride out my orgasm, Drew never eases his hold or slows his pace.
“Drew!”
My world turns black for a split second, and I struggle to catch my breath.
Holy fuck.
I reopen my eyes, seeing the eyes that capture every one of my senses. They lock on to me, and my clit throbs at the visual of my glistening cum against his mouth and face.
“I fucking love your pussy,” he expresses. With the gravelly way he pronounces each word, he is showing me exactly how non-gentlemanly he can be with his crude mouth.
“Up,” he demands.
I suck in my bottom lip as my heart thuds against my chest, anticipation spiking through me as I stand from my seat. He eagerly drags me over to the balcony and spins me around, so I’m facing the world that surrounds us.
I grasp the railing as his strong body p
resses up against mine.
My eyes flutter closed as he slowly lifts the skirt of my dress higher, his hands caressing over my hips before moving over the globes of my naked ass, kneading and squeezing.
“You still don’t want me to be a gentleman?” he speaks softly down my ear.
His warm breath along my skin makes me shiver.
I turn my head to look at him, heat dancing in my eyes. “No. I want the bad boy,” I whimper.
A light moan escapes my mouth as his fingers squeeze against my ass even tighter, most likely leaving bruise marks.
I barely blink as he glides his hands over my hips and toward my waist. Pulling me further toward him, he bends me over until my face is level with the railing, my hands still holding tight around it.
“Bad boy it is then,” he growls.
Pleasure surges through me at the sound of his zipper being lowered and the crinkling of a condom wrapper. I turn my head to the side to look at him, and my pussy throbs at the sight of him holding himself bare, rolling the latex over his length. He catches me staring at him, and with hooded eyes that scream out sex, he steps forward. He holds my gaze for just a second before he grips ahold of my hips and sinks deep inside me, so hard and ruthless that my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Oh God.
Each thrust after then becomes more brutal as he slams into me with a force that, I’m positive, could have broken me into half a week ago. Through my moans, I look down at the street below and see people walking, couples hand in hand, and here I am, having dirty sex with my own personal bad boy.
My Drew.
They would only have to lift their heads, and they would be able to see us. That’s what makes it even hotter, knowing anyone could catch us at any minute. It feels forbidden, wrong, yet I can’t find it in me to care. The pleasure is too much for words to describe.
“Fuck, Drew!” The curse uncontrollably escapes me as heat and fire burn through my blood, sweat trickling down the center of my spine, as he destroys every inch of me.
My inner thighs drip with my cum as Drew continues to sink in and out of my tight pussy, faster and deeper until there isn’t a single second that goes by when he’s not buried inside me.
He pushes himself to the brink, like a goddamn machine, grunting with every slam of his hips—a clear indication that he’s close and ready to blow a fuse at the speed he’s going.
Then, a bunch of words tumble from his mouth between his animalistic grunts, and everything within me tightens and recoils, my body igniting at the power his words hold.
“Jo. Fuck. Yes. I. Love. Your. Cunt. Squeeze that pussy. Fucking squeeze it, baby.”
And, like that, I explode around him, my pussy contracting around his pounding cock. Every inch of my body trembles uncontrollably as my orgasm becomes its own living, breathing thing.
Through the detonation of fireworks, I can vaguely hear a roar rip from Drew’s chest as he plows into me three more times, allowing his climax to claim him in the same way it owned me. He stills inside me, and the only sound I can hear—aside from the sounds of the traffic in the background—is our heavy breaths, the aftermath of our intense sex.
I blink through my hazy eyes as I stare down at the street below. He leans over me and presses a single kiss against my cheek, his hands still latched on to my hips.
“I’d do that again in a heartbeat, but we have approximately two minutes until the waitress arrives with our food, and I’m thinking we need to resume our date before she gets an eyeful.”
I giggle as he pulls me into an upright position and turns me around to look at him. He takes my panties from his pocket, crouches down, and proceeds to wipe the trickling mess between my thighs with the fine lace material, his eyes never leaving mine.
It’s the hottest thing ever.
He stands and shoves the panties back in his pocket. While he pulls my dress back down to its original place, he presses a longing kiss against my lips, and I can taste the essence of myself still lingering on him. He quickly disposes of his condom and zips his jeans back up while I comb my fingers through my matted hair to try and make it look like we didn’t just have hot sex against the balcony.
Our butts land in our chairs when the sound of the door opening can be heard, and the waitress’s footsteps approach. As she sets down our food, I take a long gulp of wine as Drew guzzles down his glass of water.
“It’s sure hot out here tonight, don’t you think?” he addresses the waitress.
I almost spit out my wine.
“Yeah, it is a little,” she says. “Can I get you some more water?”
“Yes, please. I’m dehydrated for some reason.”
He winks at me, and I stifle a giggle as the waitress wanders off.
“You’re so bad,” I say through laughter.
“Well, you did say you wanted a bad boy.”
The arrogance shines from him, and it’s a trait I find myself hopelessly drawn to.
He picks up his knife and fork and glances down at the tortellini in front of him. “Eat. We still have dessert to get through, and I promise, you’ll want the dessert.”
I place my glass down, smiling with humor, a glint of lust sparkling in my eyes. “I thought we already had dessert.”
His eyes flash to mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “Five weeks in, and I’m already corrupting your mind. Dirty girl.”
“I’m not sure corrupting is the terminology I would use.”
“What would you call it then?” he asks with intrigue laced in his voice.
My flirtatious stare turns serious, and the heart I wear on my sleeve becomes a little more visible. “Under the influence.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
“It’s definitely a good thing.”
I’m completely affected by everything he does, and the power in his very soul is the reason I’m starting to believe forever could exist with him.
I’ve fallen in love, and I don’t have an ounce of regret. He’s giving me a life after Christopher, a life I deserve to live.
A life I shall live.
He gazes into me, his piercing blue eyes blindingly potent, almost like he can read my mind. He reaches over for my hand, and his tender touch with his masculine fingers against mine confirms he’s just as affected as I am.
We eat the rest of our meal, talking about anything and everything, and when the waitress brings out our desserts that consist of red velvet cupcakes with heart sprinkles on top, I know my heart won’t ever be the same again.
Every single piece now belongs to him.
Every.
Single.
Piece.
And Drew is right. I do want the dessert.
My heart melts at the sight of Junior and Mason waving their red foam fingers in the air, cheering with the crowd, as we watch the batter of the Texas Rangers hit the baseball with an almighty crack that sounds across the stadium. He drops the bat and proceeds to run like the wind toward first base while the opposing team tries to catch the ball.
I can’t believe my boy is seven years old and has been for three weeks now. He’s just growing up so fast. I’ll be attending his high school graduation before I know it, especially since it only feels like yesterday since he was born.
I catch sight of Drew. Like a big man-child, he is also waving a foam finger in the air, shouting at the top of his lungs with enthusiasm, and I find myself shaking my head with amusement, laughing under my breath. Through my own delight, I take a moment to appreciate his form in his Texas Rangers T-shirt that fits to his body like a second skin, and his insanely defined muscles show the intricate and beautiful tattoos that, only last night, I was tracing with my fingers after he’d traced every inch of my body with his tongue.
I ignore the game and concentrate on Drew as the sun catches him in just the right light, leaving me utterly breathless. He’s so incredibly sexy and so incredibly mine. It’s a concept I’m struggling to come to terms with. Drew—the sexy, charming, funny ma
n who plays the guitar like the instrument was specifically made for him and who undoubtedly captured my heart—is, in fact, mine.
Almost like he can sense my eyes on him, he turns his head, and his mouth twitches with delight at finding me ogling him. His arrogance speaks volumes, and I roll my eyes at his raised brow that says, You like what you see? He sends me a wink, chuckling under his breath before returning his attention to the game in front of him.
Today is the last hurrah for Junior’s birthday. To make up for the imaginary gift I had to lie about to avoid the embarrassment of the lingerie gift Drew gave me, he got Junior tickets to watch his first baseball game along with a giant-sized Spider-Man cupcake—yes, Spider-Man and not Captain America—that he made at the bakery especially for Junior. I was choked up at how much thought was put into his gift, and when Junior ran over to Drew and threw his arms around his waist, I swear, if Drew didn’t already own my heart, there would have been no doubt that it would have fallen straight into his hands. A part of me was sad that they weren’t his father’s arms he was running into, but as soon as the thought entered my mind, I forced it straight out. I couldn’t make those comparisons; it wasn’t fair for Drew.
Every day gets easier, and the emptiness that I let myself become consumed with for so many years—the painful hollow center of my heart, the darkness that was buried within the deepest part of me, inside every crevice of my soul—is no longer there. Instead of waking every morning to hovering clouds in the midst of darkness, I now awake to the beautiful promise of a sunrise. And, instead of drifting off into a restless slumber of heart-wrenching dreams and unrealistic wishes, I now fall asleep with the promise of sweet dreams. It’s been two months since I last reached out in the middle of the night, yearning the warmth and touch of Christopher.
I haven’t needed to immerse myself in the land of make-believe, into a world where Christopher still exists, because every single day for the past two months, Drew has been giving me a little piece of himself. All the while, I’ve been handing over my heart until there’s nothing left to offer because he has my everything.
Our Forever Page 22
