Chapter Twenty-Seven

“ I ’ LL FIND SOMEWHERE else to be,” Tyler muses, turning to stalk out as Cecelia sets into motion, passing him without so much as a glance. The slam of the bay door behind him leaves us cloaked in dim light as we collide. The impact is like a much-needed shot that rapidly seeps into my bloodstream—Sweet. Fucking. Relief.

Her moan vibrates my tongue as she surrounds me entirely—her scent, her skin, and her noises. My entire body is alight with need—my cock, already fully hard, strains to get to her through my zipper. Kissing her back just as feverishly, I lift her to straddle me, and she molds around me as if it’s natural. It feels that way and has since our first kiss on that float. When we finally part, she looks up at me, pupils blown with desire. “Please don’t stop, Dom. I need you.”

Stunned by her easy admission, I prop her on the hood to relieve my screaming wrist and run my hands over her soaked arms as her eyes search mine. “Cold?”

“No,” she murmurs, grinding her center along my cock.

It’s been one too many fucking days without rain, without her.

“Dom,” she pleas for relief, as if I’m the only one capable of giving it to her. Right now, in her eyes and her touch, she makes me feel like I am. God knows she’s quickly becoming the only thing I want more than vengeance.

I can’t have that yet...but I can have her.

My blissful ignorance.

So, for now, I’ll get lost in the oblivion she offers because I need her too—if only for the peace she brings with her. I might be horrible at this, but she’s got a way of making me feel like an expert.

She stares up at me expectantly as scenarios race through my mind of how the next few minutes might play out if I get greedy and take my salvation here and now. The thought of interruption likely, I reluctantly set her to her feet. Her hands continue to roam, plucking at my clothes, running along my abs as she lifts to press hot kisses to my neck. Unable to help my chuckle, I pull away, and she glowers at me. “Give me a minute.”

She stares back at me, exasperated. “Seriously?”

“Be right back.”

Stalking into the lobby, I pull my cell from the safe and dial the number, thankful when it’s answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Cindy, need a favor,” I glance over at Cecelia, who’s running her hands up and down her arms, and narrow my eyes. Little liar. She is cold. “Twenty minutes? Leave me a little something? Thanks, Cindy, I owe you.”

Walking back into the garage, I drink her in, hair-soaked, tan skin glistening even with the lack of light. She stares back at me, just as greedily but seemingly lost. After securing the bay, I take her hand and lead her out of the garage as I lock up before tucking her into my passenger seat. Firing up my Camaro, I crank up the heat and turn onto the main road as rain floods the windshield.

Flicking up my blades to clear it, I shift gears, leaving my hand on the gearshift. Instinctively, Cecelia covers my idle hand, and I pull it out of reach.

Glancing over, I see the sting of rejection as my cock dismisses it and speaks on my behalf, snapping out my first order. “Lift your dress.”

She does, and I freeze when I see a thin strip of cobalt blue.

Fuck me.

“Show me what I’ve been missing, Cecelia.”

She goes to pull her panties down, and I jerk my chin and bark. “ No , leave them on.” Retribution is in order for the number of fucking scenarios I’ve drummed up starring those panties. “Pull them to the side and spread your pussy with your fingers,” I snap as I give the car a little gas, “show me.”

Head tilted back, she stares over at me, eyes hooding as she gives me a glimpse of heaven.

“Wider,” I bite out, on the verge of parking any-fucking-where close to get inside her. She does my bidding, and I don’t get my fill when forced to snap my focus back to the road. “Dip your fingers in and give me a taste.”

When she starts to lift glistening fingers in my peripheral, I snatch them into my mouth, sucking and savoring her taste, determined to drown in it. Her answering moan echoes through the cabin, whispering straight to my cock, which jerks in response. Doing everything I can not to drive recklessly, I release her fingers with a pop while mentally clearing my calendar, replacing everything on my to-do list with eating her until my lips and tongue are saturated by her.

Heartbeat thundering, I ease up on the gas—forced to slow around every curve as we head up the mountain, every stretch of mile agonizing. Allowing myself one more glance over, I witness a drop of water land and run down her exposed thigh and decide to replace it with the cum leaking from the tip of my dick.

When we finally reach the open gate, I race into the right turn, and she misses the sign, prompting me with her question.

“Where are we?” she asks, glancing around.

“Alone.” Which is all that fucking matters. I don’t want an audience anywhere near us. Whether it be a wall or a fucking bay door. As much as it turns Sean on at times, voyeurism isn’t really my thing. She made it clear the night of the Meetup—it’s not for her, either. On that, we’re straight. Privacy is a necessity because I want her to be as vocal as she was our first day alone together.

Wipers sliding the rain from view, I hear the mud and gravel collect on my tires as they grip enough road to get us past endless rows of ripe green vines to the left and right of us. Stopping just outside of the wine cellar carved into the mountain cliff, I exit and round the car. Pulling her out of the passenger seat and straight into me, I crush her lips in a bruising kiss. Trailing my fingers between her thighs, I nudge her panties to the side. Thrusting two fingers up to the knuckles, I squeeze her pussy lips between my thumb, ring, and pinky. Using the grip, I cradle them around my swirling digits to ready her. She breaks our kiss with her pleasured cry, parted lips against mine. Recapturing her mouth, I swallow her noise down in an attempt to partially satiate the beast.

Rain batters us both outside my passenger door as lightning cracks, the storm feeling like more of a result of us , than nature’s permission.

Every drop of rain that falls unleashes me. Feral with hunger, I walk her into the open cellar, clicking on the light.

Just feet inside the open door sits the edge of a twenty-foot table littered with scattered flowers, jars, and floral supplies, no doubt abandoned after I called. Uninterested in our surroundings, Cecelia’s hands snake beneath my T-shirt, fingers tracing my abs as she sucks the rain from my neck, using her free hand to grip my cock.

“Dom,” she breathes as she drags her teeth along my skin, raking her nails down my chest. Inhaling a breath of patience, I swipe one of Cindy’s offerings from the top of a nearby barrel and unscrew the top with my teeth while palming Cecelia toward the edge of the table.

“Pull your dress around your hips.”

She complies, the material cinched at her waist before I press her flat to the surface. Eyes shimmering with anticipation, she gapes up at me as I blaze my own trail down her body. Flattening my hand on the table next to her head, I hover a beat before doling out my next order. “Open.”

Taking a swig of the wine as she parts her perfect lips, I dip and funnel the wine from my mouth into hers, the “hmm” in her throat fueling me.

Pulling down the soft material at her shoulder to free her nipple, I flick my tongue against it as she clutches my head. Armed with another mouthful of red, I draw her nipple into the mix, and she arches against me. Pulling it in deeper, I suck hard, a reminder of our last time together. I’m satisfied she needs none as her beg drifts into my ear. “Dom, please, please .”

Ensuring her thirst remains—as do her cravings—I splash some wine over her nipple before sucking it in. The spillage runs along her flawless skin, ruining the collar of her dress. Pouring more, I make my way down her torso, laving every trail I can catch with my tongue before stopping to lap at the shallow pool gathered in her belly button. Her eyes follow when I hit my knees, drag her to the edge and push her thighs apart.

Tipping the bottle, I free-pour over the thin cobalt strip covering her pussy, before sucking the whole of it into my mouth. Through the silky material, I tease her clit with fast flicks of my tongue. She begins to buck, needing more focused attention for release, but I deny her, opting to feel that explosion on my cock. Taking my time, I watch her writhe. I bring her to the edge as she does my bidding, my name tumbling from her lips half a dozen times—the sound of it pulls me further into our present cocoon. The only goddamn place I want to be. Ensnared by her melodic moans, she sweeps me up into a blue undertow as I set the bottle on the nearby barrel, freeing both hands to touch her.

“Dom!” she pants, “I need you now .”

Feeling is mutual.

The hard concrete is unforgiving at my knees, and I know the table can’t be comfortable—but I can’t spare a fuck to give. Hooking her panties with my fingers, I tug them down her legs before snapping to stand, bringing her with me, and lifting the ruined dress over her head. When I toss my shirt aside, she grabs my injured wrist and gazes up at me while placing reverent kisses along it. Her expression and the act convey just how much she cares as the crack she formed in my chest widens a little further.

Words fail me as she continues to gaze up at me, completely bare, trust in her stare. In that moment, I want to warn her not to so freely give things I haven’t earned and don’t deserve. My heartbeat shifts, pounding in a remorseful rhythm as everything stops in those few seconds, and she stares up at me with faith in her eyes.

I’m deceiving her.

Brows drawing, she palms my jaw, trying her best to read the reason for my hesitation, but lust and hunger win.

Turning her to face the table, I rip my wallet from my pants and press her flat to the surface. Tearing the package with my teeth, I lift her knee to rest on the edge. After plucking the condom free, I press my fingers inside her, twisting them along her G-spot in beckoning.

“Fuck, please,” she rasps out in a prayer for me to speed up as I keep at my task, feeling the tell-tale swell at the pads of my fingers before I’m satisfied. Withdrawing them, it’s the vision of her glistening pussy that fucking undoes me.

Unfastening my jeans, I pull out my dick and secure the condom on the tip as her back rises and falls. The vision of her spread and ready forces the words out.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, Cecelia,” I confess before bending to bite down on her shoulder, cheek flat against the table, I feed her my fingers and she sucks them eagerly.

Though I could ready her all day, the lust overrides me to the point that I’m still rolling on the condom when I thrust into her.

The surge of pleasure as I press into her has me roaring, “fuck!”

Covering her back with my chest, and pinning her crooked knee with my own, I flatten her hands to the table with mine and start furiously pumping into her. Pleasure sieges me as mewls leave her with every thrust. The table rattles as I piston into her, flowers falling off the sides as a few jars crash onto the concrete. After a few rough strokes, I pull back to my feet, watching my cock and her stretch around it as she desperately tries to hold on. Feeling her start to succumb, I snake an arm around her waist to lock her to me. She starts to shudder as I pick up even more speed. “Give it up.”

Within a few targeted thrusts, she’s shuddering beneath me, ragged intakes of breath interrupting her moan as her leg buckles. Gripping her hips as she crumbles, I secure her waist with my other arm and use both to lift her from the ground as I thrust her through the orgasm. She goes limp as it subsides, and my wrist starts to fail as I set her down. I gently turn her on her back and soak in the look of her. Her hair is tangled, lips swollen, perfect tits beaded, chest heaving, and her eyes are clouded with release. The roar intensifies as I lift her heels to rest at the edge of the table. Gripping her hips, I slowly drag her down the surface and onto my waiting dick, watching as, inch by inch, it disappears into her wet heat. Her breath hitches at the invasion, and I pause a beat, allowing her time to acclimate.

“Don’t, d-don’t you dare f-fucking stop.”

It’s all I need as I thrust into her like it’ll be the last time—and chances are it will be. Pleasure coils up my spine as she gapes up at me, her eyes rolling up before they close.

“Open.” Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. “Them.”

They pop open as I bat away every bit of reasoning that threatens to break through the sensations bouncing between us, pressing past deep, past her limits and mine. Palming her thigh up to go deeper, I feel the same inevitable click I felt on that float—which goes past physical. Just as I start to drown in the sensation, she reaches up and palms my jaw, demanding acknowledgment.

That I do give her, slowing for long, tense seconds.

I don’t hide it from her, but I don’t voice it either. A beat later, I’m released. Feeling crazed, I rocket inside her as her hands roam over my chest and arms until she grips the side of the table. Seeming just as lust-driven, she matches my thrusts with the lift of her hips as the feeling bouncing between us intensifies tenfold.

If this is what passion feels like, it’s too fucking good to ignore.

It’s then I’m made aware there’s no difference between fucking and making love—not with a connection this strong. I can make it as filthy as I want, but it won’t lessen the effect. It’s my last thought as she tightens around me, gripping me so hard as she comes, I succumb.

And fall...back into the state where nothing but the feel of us matters. Like last time, I’m not scattered, but present. With her.

Just as high, just as oblivious, just as blissed out.

As lost as I feel—and have felt—she continues to find me and bring me back.

A gift from her, one I won’t ever deserve.

Partially collapsing on her, the exhale of her name sounds like sandpaper as she strokes my slick back, whispering sentiment I can’t return.

“I missed you.”

“But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart.”

— Le Petit Prince , Antoine de Saint-Exupéry