Chapter 4
Brittany
Oh my…
We’re kissing.
Connor Jackson’s lips are on mine. It’s not much of a kiss—yet—and it’s already the best kiss I’ve ever had. If that isn’t a scary fucking thought, then I don’t know what is.
My hands slide up his shirt and I splay my fingers across his broad chest. But instead of pushing him away—which I had every intention of doing—I curl my fingers into the soft flannel and hold on for dear life.
The kiss is soft, sweet, and unlike anything I expected from this tatted-up man. A rush of emotions pulse through my veins, and the need to be closer to Connor, to feel his body against mine, is all-consuming. Winding my hands around his neck, I tangle my fingers in his hair. A low groan rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest.
That sound…holy shit that sound. I want to hear it again.
My tongue swipes along the seam of his lips and he opens up. Tilting my head to the side, I give him full control and he doesn’t hesitate to take the reins. The fact that we’re making out on a dance floor in the middle of a crowded bar should bother me. It doesn’t. I don’t care who sees us. In fact, if his tongue keeps doing that swirly thing it’s doing, I’ll likely let him have his way with me right here and now.
Connor pulls back far too soon. I groan in frustration and the bastard has the nerve to chuckle. Fisting my hand in his hair, I try to yank his mouth back to mine but he resists. Instead, his hot mouth finds its way to my neck. Trailing his lips along my jaw, he finds my ear. “I changed my mind,” he whispers.
His words slam into me. There’s no need for Connor to explain or elaborate. I know what he’s referring to, and it’s exactly what I wanted.
Right?
So why does it feel so wrong? Why do I have this strong urge to get to know him, and why in the world do I have this strange feeling that one night with him won’t be enough?
I shouldn’t, but I want to know what makes him tick. I want to know what makes him smile, what makes him angry. I want to know what his favorite color is and what Christmas traditions he treasures most. I want to know every little thing that will cause him to make that sexy rumble I love so much.
Hope sparks deep in my chest, and it’s that hope that should have me running for the hills. It serves as a reminder of why I made my rule to begin with, which in turn leads me to grabbing Connor’s hand. He glances at our joined hands and then back at me.
“My place or yours?” I ask. Without waiting for an answer, I all but drag him toward the door. I need to get this over with in the slowest possible way. Meaning, I need to cherish every second with Connor because I can’t allow myself to have him after tonight. I’m in too deep…and I don’t even know his middle name. That alone spells disaster. But I’m weak and can’t walk away. This thirst I have for him has been growing since we met in his shop three weeks ago, and tonight I’m going to quench it.
As we approach the door, I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see hesitation on Connor’s face. There is none. Squaring his shoulders, he smiles confidently, and when I cock a brow, urging him to answer, he says just one word: “Mine.”
Hell yes, I’m yours…for tonight.
I don’t bother to tell him I only live a couple of miles away, because his place is probably a better choice. At least this way I can make a clean break when it’s over.
Connor leads me to his car, and in a matter of seconds we’re speeding away. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I check the compartment on the back of my case, ensuring my ID and credit card are still firmly in place. Then I shoot Casey a quick text.
Me: Left with Connor. We’re going back to his place. Leave your phone on; you’ll have to come get me later.
Her reply is almost immediate.
Casey: Good for you. It’s about time your vagina gets a workout.
Me: My vagina gets regular workouts, thank you very much.
Casey: BOB doesn’t count.
I shake my head, smiling. How does she know I have a battery-operated boyfriend? I choose not to reply to that comment though, because you get Casey started on something and she won’t stop.
Casey: Where does Connor, the tattoo artist, live?
Good question. I look up at the same time Connor makes a left-hand turn. Squinting, I focus on the street sign to see where exactly we are.
Davenport Way.
Hold up.
Davenport Way?
“You live out here?” I ask as we pass a familiar line of duplexes.
“I do,” he says, turning onto Baylor Hills Drive.
“Nice neighborhood.” Connor drives by yet another familiar street and I shoot off one more text to Casey.
Me: Not sure I’ll need you to pick me up. I’ll explain in the morning. Be good tonight. Love you.
“Thanks,” he says. I tuck my phone in my pocket and look up as he pulls into a driveway.
No fucking way.
Stepping out of the car, I shut the door and stare at Connor’s duplex. I don’t hear him walk toward me, but I know he’s there. I can feel him. The hair on my neck stands up any time he gets close, and my heart starts bouncing around inside my chest as though it’s trying to get his attention.
I take a deep breath. “Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask, giving him an out and secretly hoping he’ll take it. As much as I want to spend one night—this night—with Connor, I know that one of us is going to end up getting hurt, and it won’t be me. I won’t let it be me.
Connor’s warm hand wraps around mine. My knees go weak at the soft, unexpected touch. “I won’t lie. I want nothing more than for you to throw your rules out the window.” I try to remove my hand from his, but Connor only tightens his grip. “But,” he says, laughing at my weak attempt to get away, “I understand you have your rules for a reason. I wish I knew what that reason was so I could find a way to push past it, but I realize that isn’t what you want and I respect that.”
The wind picks up, blowing a strand of hair in front of my face. Connor drops my hand and brushes the hair from my eyes. “Ready?” His voice is strained, and a part of me wonders if it’s because he wants this just as badly as I do or if it’s because he knows he’s making a mistake.
I pause, giving myself the opportunity to walk away, but apparently my feet have a different agenda. Because when Connor grabs my hand and leads me toward his door, I follow.
With one hand still connected to mine, Connor unlocks his door and pushes it open. We step inside, and when he walks to the left to flick on the lights, I step further into the open space and toss my phone on the entryway table.
His home is gorgeous, and not at all like the bachelor pad I expected. The walls are a deep blue accented with dark wood trim, and the room is filled with oversized, chocolate-colored furniture. It fits Connor perfectly, but it’s almost too perfect.
I look closer to find that the mantel is adorned with framed pictures and knickknacks. A vase filled with fresh flowers sits on a hutch tucked in the corner. Intricately decorated throw pillows adorn the couch and a fluffy blue afghan is draped over the arm of the recliner. All of the details indicate a woman’s touch, but what woman? A sister, a mother, an old girlfriend…a best friend, maybe?
That last thought is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head, and I’m reminded why it doesn’t matter who decorated this place. This is the last time I’ll be here.
Squaring my shoulders, I turn to find Connor standing off to the side, his eyes igniting a fire as they roam over my body. I stalk toward him until his back is pressed against the wall. His gaze drops to my mouth, but I don’t give him a chance to think, let alone react. I seal my lips over his and our tongues collide, instantly dueling for power. Sliding, pushing, and sucking, neither of us is willing to give up control.
Connor tastes like pure fucking heaven.
Connor shouldn’t taste like pure fucking heaven.
Tearing my lips away from his, I slide them across his jaw. Dragging my mouth to his ear, I nip at it playfully before sucking the soft flesh into my mouth. “Bedroom. Now,” I whisper.
Strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground. As he takes off down the hall, I lock my ankles behind his back then claim his mouth in a heated kiss. He growls in response, and before I know it I’m wedged between the wall and a rock hard body with Connor’s erection cradled between my thighs. Tilting my hips, I grind against him.
He pulls his lips from mine. “You’re killing me,” he says, trailing his mouth down the side of my neck. The sound of his gravelly voice shoots straight to my clit, and I push against him harder, trying to ease the ache.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “We’ve got all night.”
The scruff on his face scrapes against the sensitive skin of my neck when he talks, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. More. I want more.
I open my mouth to tell him I can’t wait—that I want him right here, right now. But then he pulls the front of my shirt down, exposing my white lace bra, and all thoughts flee from my brain.
“That’s sexy as hell, but I want what’s underneath,” he says, tugging the bra down as well. My breasts pop out and he places open-mouthed kisses around one of my nipples, then blows lightly. My nipple tightens and Connor grins before bringing his lips back to my breast and devouring it. The sight proves to be too much and I drop my head back against the wall, thrusting my chest into his face. He laves one breast and then moves on to the next, all the while torturing me with slow circular motions and tiny nips.
Against my belly his erection grows, along with my desire to touch him. Dipping my hand between our bodies, I flick the button of his jeans open and lower the zipper. Connor releases my nipple with a wet pop, and keeping me anchored against the wall, he pulls his hips back enough for me to shove his pants down. Rock solid and throbbing, his erection bobs heavily between us and I wrap my fingers around his length and stroke several times. Pushing his body flush against mine, Connor drops his face to the crook of my neck. He pumps his hips, thrusting himself into my hand. We’re both panting as our bodies fight to get closer, desperate for some sort of release.
“Fuck,” he growls, sinking his teeth into the side of my neck.
I had no idea that giving a guy a hand job could be so erotic. Then again, I guess it isn’t what I’m doing…it’s who I’m doing it to. Connor’s warm breath against my neck and the grunts that keep rumbling from his chest tell me he’s close, but I don’t want him to get off in my hand.
I release my grip on his cock. Looking up, he furrows his brows, then reluctantly lets go of my legs and I lower them to the ground. Warm hands wrap around my upper arms, steadying me until I find my balance. When I’ve regained some control, I nudge Connor across the hall until his back meets the opposite wall. My fingers trail up his shirt and I slowly work my way back down, undoing each button as I go. The soft flannel falls open and I can’t help it—I have to get a better look at this crazy beautiful man.
Smoothing my hands over the hard plane of his abdomen, I sweep them up his chest, pushing his shirt off in the process. My eyes are drawn to an intricate tattoo etched across the left side of his ribs. Bending at the knees, I take a closer look. It’s a detailed tribal cross with a set of angel wings coming out from behind it. My fingers skate across his skin, following the black lines. Connor shivers, goose bumps breaking out across his body under the touch of my hand. His eyes follow my every movement as he allows me to explore his body.
Pressing my lips against his skin, I place a kiss to the center of the cross and then slowly drag my mouth across his chest, stopping to tease each of his nipples before kissing a path down his stomach. My tongue flicks out, outlining the chiseled lines of his abs before tracing along that sexy V that leads straight to the good. Then I slowly drop to my knees.
“Brittany.” His voice sounds tortured when my name falls from his lips. Connor sinks his fingers into my hair, and the closer my mouth gets to his cock, the tighter his grip gets. The muscles of his stomach tighten beneath my touch, and I revel in the knowledge that I’m affecting him this way.
The weight of Connor’s stare is heavy against my head, and I want nothing more than to look up. But I can’t—at least not yet. Instead, I finally give in to what we both want. Wrapping my fingers around his hard length, I pump him several times, giving a slight twist of my wrist as I do.
A jumbled mess of words emanates from Connor, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. My heart is thumping loudly in my ears and pure, hot desire is pulsing through my veins.
Running my thumb along the head of his cock, I rub at the bead of cum that has formed on the tip before I flick out my tongue to taste it.
“Shit,” Connor grinds out. He’s losing control—I can hear it in his voice. And if that isn’t the best damn feeling, then I don’t know what is.
Slipping the head of his cock inside my mouth, I push my tongue against the underside of his shaft and take him deep into my mouth.
“Ah, fuck,” he groans. The words are followed by a loud thud, and I finally allow myself to look up.
Connor’s head is against the wall and he looks sexy as hell. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and I watch for several seconds as his chest heaves with each breath he takes. Sucking hard, I work him faster and deeper. He grows impossibly large inside my mouth, and his abs flex with each pump of my hand. The sight of him losing control is almost too much, causing a strangled moan to rip from my throat.
His eyelids flutter open and Connor looks down under a hooded gaze. “Deeper,” he demands. “Take more of me.”
What woman in her right mind could ever say no to that? Sure as hell not this woman.
Curling my lips around my teeth, I push deeper. His cock bottoms out at the back of my throat and Connor grunts. “Fuck yeah. Just like that.” His words send a surge of heat straight to my pussy and I close my thighs as best I can.
A few strands of my hair fall forward, blocking my view of his gorgeous face, and he reaches out to sweep the strands to the side. With one hand buried in my hair and the other cupping my cheek, he watches me take him over and over into my mouth.
“Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasps. “Watching your sweet little mouth take my cock like that…” His eyes close as his words trail off and I silently beg him to continue. I’ve never been one for dirty talk, but from him I love it.
The silence is filled with soft moans, and then Connor’s entire body jerks and his eyes pop open. Dropping his hand from my cheek, he links his fingers at the back of my head, urging me to pick up the pace as his hips thrust forward.
“I’m not gonna last,” he says, gritting his teeth.
I can’t remember the last time I actually watched a man lose himself to the pleasure of a woman. Honestly, it’s not something I ever gave much thought to, but I want to watch this man. I want to watch as Connor surrenders himself to my mouth—to me.
His body goes rigid beneath the weight of my hands and his grip on my head loosens, presumably giving me the opportunity to pull back.
No way in hell.
My cheeks hollow, my tongue pushing his cock against the roof of my mouth as I suck long and hard. With a string of incoherent words, Connor finally lets go and I suck him dry, savoring every last drop he has to offer.