Chapter Eight
Propped on her elbows, half-naked, perched on his kitchen table, she was a live wire.
So ready.
His eyes raked over her. Her shirt and bra were still on, but he didn’t seem to care because he was fixated between her legs now, staring at her, his eyes hooded with lust. He pressed his palms on the edge of the table and dipped his head closer, closer, closer. Oh God. She dropped her head back on her shoulders as his breath ghosted over her. His mouth was so deliriously near to where she ached madly for him.
She shuddered before he even touched her. She’d fly to the moon any second. One touch and she’d launch into orbit.
His tongue flicked softly on the inside of a thigh, and she cried out. He groaned appreciatively. “Love those sounds you make. I don’t want you to ever be quiet with me,” he said as he kissed her, making his way to the V of her legs.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, then moaned again as he traveled up her flesh.
He took his time, his stubbled jaw brushing against her skin, his face inching near, until he was so close she was sure that was the moment he’d put her out of her misery and kiss her. Just kiss, and lick, and eat, and fucking claim her with his mouth.
Please.
But instead, he darted to her other leg, bestowing the same lingering, soft kisses there. Killing her with desire. Red-hot, ratcheting-up-the-scale-to-the-sky want. Then, he pressed his hands against her inner thighs and parted her legs wide. “This is how I want you,” he whispered.
“Please. You can have me any way you want.” She arched her hips, willing him to kiss her, begging with her body for him to touch her.
He licked.
Once.
That was all. One long, slow, agonizingly intense stroke up her wet center, then a hard flick against her throbbing bundle of nerves.
And her body shook with that first stroke.
It was like a promise and a countdown all at once. This was not going to take long. Oh hell no. This was going to be a rocket ride into white-hot bliss.
She gasped and moaned as he licked again, another hot, sweet line that lit her up like a neon sign against the night sky. Then that swirl against her clit that made her cry out again, his name like a song’s chorus on her lips. He drew her into his mouth, sucking hard then flicking his tongue up and down, up and down.
She bowed her back, her palms jammed against the wood of the table, her knees up, her body open to him. He stopped for a second to clasp his hands on her ankles. “Let me see more of you,” he whispered, briefly breaking contact with the center of her world as he spread her all the way, making her even more vulnerable to him.
He groaned. “Such a beautiful sight. You here for me, wanting to get me out of your system by letting me eat your beautiful pussy,” he said, and heat pooled between her legs with his filthy words.
“Travis,” she moaned. Every atom in her buzzed as she waited, poised on the edge of a cliff for him to return. He dropped his mouth to the inside of her knee, but she couldn’t take any more teasing.
“Does that sweet, sexy way you say my name mean you’re about ready to come on my tongue?” he asked, giving her the dirtiest of dirty looks.
“Yes. God yes,” she said, then took matters into her own hands as she grabbed his head. Her fingers curled tightly into his hair, her nails cutting into his scalp as she drew him back to her.
His mouth was sinful, his tongue some kind of wondrous, wicked thing as he kissed and licked and sucked. She rocked into him, keeping pace with each tantalizing stroke, each insanely delicious kiss. He scooped his hands under her ass, bringing her closer, and she thrust against him as her vision blurred and her cells blazed. The tension inside her tightened, coiling higher, twisting as she neared that edge, and then he kissed her with his whole mouth, consuming her. She snapped and screamed his name, a tornado of pleasure whipping through her, chasing down all the far corners of her body.
She lived there briefly, residing in that land of pure pleasure, in the druggy delicious afterglow of an orgasm that still rippled through her.
Soon she blinked, coming up for air, as the world shone silvery and bright. She smiled, a woozy, dopey smile, as he rose, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and tugging it over his head. Her breath caught as she gazed at his chest. She’d seen him naked before. Hell, she’d copped a peek at him shirtless just last summer, when she’d been lucky enough to drive by the twisty county road where his sister had shot his photo for the local fireman’s calendar. His body was living art, all carved and strong, each muscle outlined like he’d been drawn in a master class.
“Still think I’m sweet?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“How do you see me now?”
“Dirty. And I like it that way,” she said. She reached for the belt loops on his jeans, trying to sit up even though her head was light, and full of a constellation of scattered, dancing stars.
He shook his head. “Can’t right now.”
“What?” Shock reverberated in her body. She was ready to stomp her foot and demand he suit up and slide inside her this very second. Who cared that she already came so damn powerfully her body was still vibrating? She wanted more. She wanted him.
“I have to go back to Calistoga to meet some clients who are prepping for a tournament, to watch them play and figure out what they need to do better in their game.”
She tipped her chin at his bare chest. “Why’d you take your shirt off, then?” As if she could catch him in a loophole. Keep him. Take him. Ride him.
“I need to change. Put on a button-down. Class it up.”
“You are such a tease,” she said, frustration thick in her voice. Even though she was the one who was leaving sated, she couldn’t help but want more. “And I want to make you come. I feel terribly selfish leaving you like this.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about me, you sweet, dirty girl.” He bent down, dropped a kiss on her forehead, then her eyelids, then her lips. She could taste herself on him.
“You taste like me,” she whispered.
“Then I must taste delicious,” he said with a wink. “Oh, and by the way, I fully expect you to get yourself off again tonight after you finish watching Bobby Flay. But don’t think of him. Think of me.”
Her jaw nearly dropped. “One, I’m not into Bobby Flay. And two, why would you say that?”
He lifted her off the table and handed her the panties. “Because you love your cooking shows. They’re like your happy zone, and always have been. You watch them before you get in bed.”
Her lips rose in a faint smile. He was spot on, even though she didn’t entirely want to admit he knew so many of her little quirks and habits, including her bedtime rituals. “Fine. I might watch Food Network. But how can you be so certain I’ll be masturbating?”
He brushed his fingers down her bare arm. “Because you want it again. Because you want me to fuck you right now, and I’m not going to. Therefore, my powers of deduction tell me that you’ll go home, maybe have another glass of wine, watch a cooking show ’til you’re tired, then put on some sexy, lacy camisole thing, get into bed, and still be wet for me. You’ll figure you’ll sleep better if you take the edge off. So you’ll spread your legs. Ride your hand. Call out my name. Then, when I see you in a day, you’re going to tell me what you pictured as you were getting off. And I’m going to do that to you.”
Her skin sizzled as she dressed. This man could have his way with her. He had her number. He rattled her. He sent her soaring. He made her wild.
“You’ll do it? No matter what I fantasize about? Anything?”
He nodded as she pulled on her shorts. “Anything that gets you off will turn me on,” he said. “Guaranteed.”
Five minutes later, he walked her out. “Give me your keys,” he said, holding open his palm.
She furrowed her brow. “Why? Are you coming over later?” Hope sprang in her chest.
“I’m going to be pretty late, so no. But I’m giving you a ride home now, since I want you to get there safely. I’ve seen too many times the damage that even two glasses of wine can do.”
Her heart beat faster from his offer. She teetered just on the edge of tipsy. She hadn’t drunk much, but it was better to be safe.
“Thank you.”
“And when I get home, I’ll drive your car to your house so you’ll have it in the morning.”
“How will you get home, then?”
“Don’t you worry about me,” he said, then opened the door to his truck and whisked her off to her house…
Where later that evening she did just as he’d asked.