TWENTY-FIVE ARABELLA

TWENTY-FIVE

Arabella

IF HE KEEPS SAYING things like that, I’ll never want to leave his side. Fuck Paris and my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment, being with Rowan.

“Are you ever going to kiss me again?” I ask, because sometimes a girl has to ask for what she wants.

His head dips and his mouth settles on mine, soft and sweet. A simple press of his lips, mine parting, eager for more, but he takes his time, kissing me over and over again. One of his large hands rests on my hip while the other is still tucked beneath my chin, keeping me in place, his thumb rubbing along my jaw. He touches his tongue to the corner of my mouth, streaking it across my lower lip and I dart my tongue out to touch his, earning a groan from him before he kisses me with more force.

Our tongues tangle and glide, teasingly soft and then with more pressure. He slips his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him and I can feel his erection, hard against my belly. I wind my arms around his neck, diving my fingers into his soft hair and the movement causes my towel to fall to the floor in a heap. Leaving me completely naked.

We don’t even pause in our kissing. No, it becomes even more intense between us, his hand cupping my face, his other hand sliding over one butt cheek. I moan into his mouth, wishing those magical fingers were stroking me between my legs but talk about moving fast.

Okay, what am I protesting? I want to move fast. I want all of it. I’m like a greedy little whore who’s been shown what being with a boy you actually care about really feels like. And the greedy little whore buried deep inside me wants it all. Everything Rowan could possibly give me.

A squeal escapes me when I feel his hands slip under my ass and haul me up. I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his hips, our mouths still fused as he leads me over to the bed. He stumbles over the pile of shoes I left practically in the middle of the room, and I break the kiss first, my eyes cracking open to find he’s already watching me.

“I could’ve killed us,” he murmurs, his lips curved in a smirk.

“I’ll direct you.” I point. “The bed is right there.”

He doesn’t move.

“That’s where you were taking me, right?” Deciding to incentivize the moment, I bury my face in his neck and start kissing and licking him there, his skin rough with stubble. Ugh, I love it. He’s so manly, so big and strong as he hauls me around the bedroom. His hands are gripping my butt, his fingers close to where I want them the most and my God, I’m so wet, I can feel it. Am practically dripping, I’m so aroused.

“Rowan.” I lift my face away from his neck and frown at him. “You’re wasting time.”

“I uh—I don’t have any condoms.” His cheeks turn the faintest red and oh, he’s so cute. I wish I had my phone so I could take a photo and capture this moment forever. Instead, I’ll have to store it in my memory bank and pull it out later when I’m feeling sad and alone in Paris, missing my Rowan.

“We can do plenty of things without condoms,” I remind him, shifting in his arms and rubbing against him. Can he feel how wet I am? How hard my nipples are? I know he’s reacting since I can feel his stiff dick beneath his jeans so yes. I’m affecting him.

He grins, and the sight of it takes my breath away. “You’re right. Lots of things.”

Without warning he deposits me on the bed and I almost scream when my body bounces on the mattress, I’m so surprised. My loose bun flops in front of my face and I push my hair out of my eyes just in time to catch him about to pull his hoodie off, but something stops him.

The giant wet spot on the front of his sweatshirt. Considering he dried me off most thoroughly, I know how that spot got there, and it isn’t from water.

“Did you do this?” He points at the spot.

“No, you did. That’s how hot you’ve made me.” Oh, listen to me! Who am I right now?

Rowan makes an obvious statement. “You’re wet.”

Duh.

Lord, save me from my dirty thoughts, but he just yanked his sweatshirt off, revealing he was wearing nothing underneath it, and if I was wet before, I am positively drenched now because the man—not a boy, he is a man—has broad shoulders and developed pecs with the tiniest bit of dark hair in between them and a washboard stomach. Six-pack abs that I want to lick.

“Want to see?” I ask, my voice hoarse as I scramble across the bed so I can rest my elbows on the pillows behind me, my knees bent and feet firmly planted on the mattress. Slowly, like I’ve been practicing for this moment my entire life, I spread my legs, offering him a glimpse of my pussy.

His gaze is fixed on the very wet spot between my thighs, and without thought I drift my fingers down my front. Along the valley of my stomach and lower, past the little bit of pubic hair I have—I’m a girl who waxes but I don’t like to be stripped completely bare—until I’m touching wet, hot flesh. I brush my index finger across my swollen clit and suck in a breath because oh my God, that felt good, and what makes it even better?

The hungry way Rowan is watching me. How his fingers flex into a fist before straightening out. His control is slipping, and I love it because I’m the one who makes him feel like that. I’m the one he wants.

I slide my fingers through all that sticky wetness before I hold my hand out toward him in an offering. “Want to taste?”

Rowan doesn’t hesitate. Next thing I know, he’s on me, his fingers curled around my wrist, holding my hand in place as he pulls my index finger into his mouth. He sucks it clean, his tongue swirling, his gaze never leaving mine and I’ve lost all ability to think, to speak, to function at the heated gleam I see in his eyes.

“Delicious,” he murmurs before he licks all of my fingers, the flash of his tongue twisting up my insides and making me want to toss all worry aside and beg him to fuck me. We don’t need condoms. He could pull out. Come all over my stomach and make a mess of me. I’d love every second of it.

But that’s me being irresponsible.

He drops my hand and his mouth lands on mine in the greediest kiss I’ve ever experienced. It’s messy and it’s raw and we’re completely out of control. Our teeth collide and it hurts but I don’t even care. His tongue is everywhere and when he licks a hot path down my neck, moving so his big body is lying on top of me, his hips in between my spread legs, I just lie there and take it.

His hands wander as he shifts down my body, kissing a path down my center, between my breasts, along my stomach before coming back up, his mouth burning a path on the underside of one breast, then the other. I rest my hands on top of his head, tugging on his hair in a silent message and he takes the hint, his mouth finding my nipple, his tongue slowly circling around again and again, teasing me, making me twist beneath him. The cool air hits my wet flesh and I suck in a breath when I feel his fingers pinch and twist the other nipple, making it hurt.

Making it feel good.

He lavishes his attention on my breasts for what feels like forever. To the point that I can barely take it. Sucking my nipples into his mouth, then nibbling lightly on the tender flesh. He plays with me but won’t let me play in return, and so I continue to remain still, reveling in the attention that he’s feasting upon me. He’s like a man who broke free from prison, tossing off the chains of his control and letting himself do whatever he wants, and I’m the willing participant, savoring every single second of his undivided attention.

When he slides his hand down until he’s cupping me between my legs, I open my eyes to find he’s already watching me with that intense green gaze. With careful precision he presses against me with a single finger until it’s nestled between my folds. Testing me. Not really touching me but branding me all the same.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his finger pressing deeper. “You’re soaked.”

It’s almost embarrassing, how wet I am for him. But he seems pleased. He begins to stroke me, his movements a little jerky as if he’s trying to find the right rhythm and when he flicks my clit by accident, I lift my hips, urging him to do it again. And he does.

Over and over and over again.

With Rowan, I’m not afraid to let him know what feels good. I was a fumbling fool with my previous sexual experience, and my partner was even worse, but with Rowan, I feel confident. Bold.

“Do that again,” I whisper when he presses his thumb against my clit, and he does, flicking it. Rubbing it. “Just like that.”

My clit is throbbing. Swollen. I’m desperate to come. I feel like I’ve been involved in some sort of foreplay with Rowan for years and finally, finally he’s going to give me some relief.

He shifts downward, his mouth on my breast, lips enveloping my nipple and pulling it into his mouth. He tugs and sucks, his tongue swirling, his fingers busy between my thighs. The sound of my slippery flesh grows louder and louder as he strokes faster and faster, and I grip his head to my chest, arching my hips, moving with him, all worry about looking awkward flying out the window.

I just want to come. All over Rowan’s fingers.

He increases his speed, tight little circles on my clit, and I’m crying out, thrashing my head back and forth on the pillow, my eyes tightly closed as I focus on the sensations that he’s bringing out of me. What he’s doing feels amazing. Overwhelming. I spread my legs as wide as I can, my thigh muscles aching, my feet braced on the bed as I smash my pussy against his hand, shifting up and down, desperate for more friction.

“Oh God, don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.” I am chanting, incoherent, riding his fingers like a shameless hussy and then it happens. I’m tipped right over the edge, straight into freefall, the orgasm sweeping through my body so fast, so hard, my mind goes blank.

Black.

I’m screaming his name and he slaps his hand over my mouth, silencing me. I’m still screaming, my voice muffled by his palm as I come all over his fingers just as I imagined. It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life because while it’s great that we can give ourselves so much pleasure, it definitely feels better when someone else is doing it to you.

Especially when that someone else is the crush of my life, Rowan Lancaster.

Once the trembling subsides and I’m quiet, Rowan finally removes his hand from my mouth. I crack open my eyes to find him watching me, slowly shaking his head.

“What?” I croak, clearing my throat, a shiver jolting through me, remnants from my delicious, fabulous, absolutely amazing orgasm.

“I should’ve known you were a screamer,” he murmurs, and while it might sound like an insult, I know it’s not. More like it’s an example of Rowan being Rowan toward me, and I’m just being Arabella.

His Bells.

“I think I blacked out,” I tell him, and he chuckles. Lifts his glistening fingers to his mouth and again, licks them clean.

Oh my God. It’s so freaking hot when he does that. I clench my wet thighs together, can feel myself leaking everywhere, and I immediately want to feel those skilled fingers between my legs again.

Shifting into a sitting position, I throw myself at him and he catches me, his arms coming around my waist while I twist mine around his neck. We’re face to face, his mouth smells like me and I lean in, licking at his lower lip and then the upper one with long, thorough strokes of my tongue. He groans, his hand coming up to catch the side of my head and keep me in place so he can kiss me but I shift away, smiling.

“I want your dick in my mouth, Rowan,” I declare.

He chokes on his laughter, making me smile. “Jesus, Bells.”

“I want it. I want you to come in my mouth. No! Wait, I want you to come on my face. My chest.” I draw my fingers across my collarbone, letting them drift downward until I’m circling my nipple with just my index finger.

His laughter dies, his expression wondrous as he watches me. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to say that, but that’s my favorite thing to do. Shock him. “Are you sure …”

“Stop.” It’s my turn to clamp my hand over his mouth. “I am so sure. I’ve been fantasizing about it for months. Years, Row.”

I drop my hand and his brows shoot straight up. “It’s Row now, is it?”

“Yes, Row.” I lean in and kiss him, my swollen lips resting on his before I pull away. “You’ve given me an orgasm so I’m calling you Row.”

He’s shaking his head. “You make zero sense, Bells.”

“I think that’s my best quality. That and I’m going to let you come down my throat.” My smile is easy-breezy as I settle my hand over the front of his jeans, my fingers curling around the length of him. “Let’s take these off.”