5. Esme

5

ESME

O ur steps feel heavy yet not terrifying.

In fact, dare I say exciting?

Why? It's just a nightcap. He seems like a man with a good whiskey collection. It's probably on a tray in his living room with those crystal tumblers.

"Whiskey? Your flask must be out, or rather I noticed you threw it in your purse when we left."

The corners of my mouth lift up as it seems my theory about his drink of choice is correct. "Yeah, sounds good."

We step up to his porch as if this is a normal occurrence. Then again, nothing about tonight has been usual. I'm off balance from the enjoyment of being stuck at a murder mystery with him.

I watch as he unlocks the door then turns off the alarm. I shiver which causes me to cross my arms over my body and my dress that I can confidently say looks sexy and perfect on me.

I hate to think it, but seeing Keats dressed like a character from the Gatsby era is distressing… it's sexy. His hair slicked back and the way his eyes narrow in on his fictitious mistress ha ve been melting my insides all evening. Only made worse by his fingers digging into my thigh and cross-wiring my body. He's bold.

The door clicks closed behind us, and I follow him. When he flicks the lights on, I quickly observe my surroundings. This may be an old house, but inside, it's anything but. Completely refurbished and updated. However, screw the house, because the vision of Keats tossing his bow tie to the side, not a care where it lands, and his fingers popping open the top buttons of his shirt is by far a better view.

A strong knot in the center of my body is weighing me down but screaming for this heightened moment to end.

We haven't said anything, and the moment Keats turns around, we both know why.

There is no intention for a drink.

For two people who can't stand one another, we move in unison damn well.

Lunging for one another, our mouths meet for a harsh kiss. His arm encircles my body, and in one jolt, glues my body to his. I'm not protesting. Not when our lips angle for more and not when our tongues meet for a thrashing. My hands come up to curl around his shirt next to the freed buttons. I'm not sure I can stand otherwise.

We're an inferno of two people who are desperate not to question this and just keep moving our hands, continuing our punishing kisses.

Even in the brief pause as we gasp for air with our panting breaths and our eyes meet for a second, we still both silently agree that this isn't going to stop. We confirm it with our hands wandering and my fingers eagerly working down his shirt to get the damn buttons undone.

His palms on my ass are firm and frustrating because I want them there, and up, and down, everywhere .

Our mouths can't part, and our movements are fierce. We're so out of control that we begin to circle and stumble to a direction unknown. Without breaking our hungry kiss, he slides his open shirt down his arms, littering the floor. We continue to spin until the sound of a thud and furniture hitting behind my knees causes us to stop.

Suddenly, I feel a cool surface against my back after I'm hoisted up in one move and set on the side table by the front door. Did we really not make it further into his house before we combusted?

We paw at one another, and my lips feel swollen, but I don't stop. I can't. A hand yanks my necklace, and the beads scatter across the floor, the sound of pearls bouncing not deterring us. I don't even know whose fault it is because every part of us is exploring in haste.

Keats murmurs a sound against my skin, and his teeth scrape along my neck as his lips draw a line down. A sizzling tingle spreads through me in a tidal wave causing my nipples to turn to hard nubs. My dress is bunched at my middle, and I purr when I feel the flick of a garter strap against my thigh due to Keats's finger, and the growl in my ear admits his crime.

We're in luck that my underwear isn't attached to the garter belt, otherwise we would have to slow down to pop every latch. Instead, I can instantly drag my legs up his thighs until they wrap around his waist to press our bodies tightly.

His hot breath does something to me. My skin prickles and an unknown realm that's exciting in a different way than I was expecting hits me, tightening in my core but blossoming everywhere else. It's making me impatient.

Our heavy breathing fills my ears, and I like Keats this way. Quiet because his mouth is trailing a circle around my cleavage due to the straps of my dress and bra hanging halfway down my arm. There are only a few inches between us, but I close the space by yanking on his belt, bringing him closer.

My breasts are not abandoned as he kisses over the lace, grazing one nipple with his lips while he slides the bottom of my dress up and caresses my thighs.

Then it happens.

At last, our eyes connect with acknowledgment that we're crossing lines, and the only answer we give is silence. Instead, we don't blink as the back of his fingertips tease me as they feather up my thighs.

I whimper, and his cunning smirk begins to form. Swallowing, I feel my clit pulsing and my hips buck up, wanting his touch. Keats has no qualms about walking his fingers up slowly, causing agony for me, keeping my eyes a prisoner in the process. The moment his finger hooks under the waistband of my thong, he smirks because he's the devil.

And I want him everywhere and inside of me.

"I knew it." He begins to pull the fabric down roughly, stepping back to slide the fabric off my legs, the heels and stockings still on my feet. But the other item is tossed to the side.

"I don't care about your theories, just don't stop."

His hand snakes around to the back of my head to bring my forehead to his. It's gruff and not delicate, and I love it. "Open your legs wide, Esme." His tone is sharp and demanding.

Obeying, I wait with zero patience for him to give me the slightest relief.

Keats swipes his finger along my pussy and instantly I moan, and he hisses. "You're a naughty girl. For someone who hates me, you seem eager for my cock."

"Shut the fuck up, Keats," I rasp .

I tug at his pants, and when they lower enough, I shove my hand between us to cup his hard boxer-brief-covered cock. My head falls back because I discover that he's just as big as his ego, and I can't complain about that.

"I'm going to enjoy making you speechless with my cock inside you."

He quickly searches for something and then spots his suit coat on a nearby hook, with one hand he dips into the pocket to pull out his wallet and grabs a condom, ripping it open with his teeth. I need him to hurry up.

It happens so fast, but I feel Keats inching inside of me, deeper, then some more.

We moan in sync, adjusting to the new sensation. Our bodies are connected, and our lips dance before they slam together for a kiss. His thrusts begin to pick up, and I rest my hands on his shoulders, clawing my nails into him. I'm holding on for dear life because he hits me deep on every pump, exactly where I like it.

The table is shaking, and my ankles cross behind his thighs to keep us snug. Both bra straps falling to my elbows without any of our effort brings new opportunity for sensations to overload inside of me. Keats wastes no time and dips his mouth down and harshly bites the bottom of my throat near my collarbone. A long moan escapes me because the tip of his pointed tongue swirls down to my covered nipple causing an overbearing sensation.

He's making me wild. Uninhibited and frantic. Keats grunts when I tighten my pussy around his length, and my slick heat keeps him tightly enveloped inside of me.

"I found a redeemable quality about you," he breathes out as he fucks me mercilessly.

The only way I can answer is with a pleasured whine because he moves to my other nipple and his teeth nibble, then he opens his mouth to speak. "Your pussy feels fantastic around my cock."

"Don't stop. Just…" I writhe again, unable to form words.

That's fine too because I prefer biting into his neck as our speed increases.

"Keats." It spills out of my mouth because his finger slipped between us to rub my clit. I'm so damn close, and I'm getting dizzy.

I can't help it and look between us to see where we're connected. The condom is glistening from my desire for him.

"You like the view?" he whispers into my hair.

"Your cock seems to be your best quality."

He laughs under his breath and circles with a new pace around my clit. My body wants it too much.

"I'm going to…" I begin to convulse all over his cock, and my body shudders and a slur of curses comes out of my mouth.

"Fuck, that feels good." His labored breath hints that he is close, and when my shaking begins to subside, he changes his rhythm, and not long after, he too comes undone.

Damn it.

This was better than I wanted it to be.

I just needed to work out some issues. I wasn't expecting Keats to take me hard and for me to enjoy every second. Or wanting his mouth in other places or having the image of me riding him seared into my brain.

Keats stays inside me as we both slowly fall back to earth, with what we did now disappearing into the clouds that circle around us.

We nuzzle our noses for a brief second, one last touch that's a slither of tender understanding, because we don't need words to express that we maybe chipped away at our hostilities. Only maybe .

But the moment is brief. Keats pulls out of me and adjusts his shoulders as he takes a moment to gather himself. He studies me, and I'm completely destroyed, my hair a mess and my dress disheveled. The smirk that crawls on his mouth doesn't feel vicious, it's admiration, and I'm not sure it's for his ability to deliver either. Instead, he is soaking me in, and it doesn't calm the thunder roaring through my chest.

It's only for a second or two because his eyes then abandon me, because like me, he realizes the predicament we just found ourselves in.

My lips quirk out, contemplating what the next move is.

But my mouth stretches to one side because he's spent and recovering after he came as hard as I did.

"I need to get rid of this," he says, his eyes squeezing shut as he takes an audible breath, then his eyes pop open to glare at me with uncertainty.

Hopping off the table, I slip a bra strap up my arm. "And I won't be here when you return."

I debate finding my thong, but I would rather escape at the speed of light. Literally, we just went at it like wild animals, and it didn't even take a debate.

"Yeah, sure." He sounds drowsy.

When he walks away, I sigh and quickly make my escape.

Outside, the cool air shocks me into reality.

That did not just happen.

But it did.

And the scary part is that we may aggravate one another to no end, but that doesn't seem to be the case once our clothes come off.