Chapter 17

[Clay]

Dammit .

The word plays on repeat as I watch Mavis leave my office, then realize I should have walked her to her car. It’s dark outside. The crowd rowdy out there. Only, once I right clothing and get a grip on my emotions, she’s gone.

Dammit. The word resounds like a broken record as I shut down the festival around midnight and crawl home, exhausted while exhilarated.

Mavis is amazing. The look in her eyes. The innocence in her voice yet the confidence in her demands. With a little prodding, she told me exactly what she wanted, and I’ve never been so eager to please. What I liked best—she took control. The sheer power of not having to make a decision by letting her lead, was such a turn-on.

And I wanted to feel that way again.

Only when I reach my house, the guest room door is closed, and while I leave my bedroom door open, I’ll be sleeping alone, like I always do.

Dammit .

+ + +

The weekend following the Harvest Festival is Halle and Knox’s Halloween party. Essentially, it’s an open house where neighbors come and go. Halle felt terrible a year ago this summer when she hadn’t known Mavis and all that she’d been through. So, Halle wanted to make certain she knew everyone on her block and then some, including family and the new friends she’d made when she’d returned to Sterling Falls.

I still wasn’t certain I knew everything there was to know about Mavis yet, but I wasn’t giving up on her.

Mavis had to work earlier in the day, but she had plenty of time to prepare for the party. She wanted to bring a dish to share although Halle told her it wasn’t necessary. Mavis insisted but her movements were rushed, her aura edgy as she mixed ingredients in my kitchen. Fifteen minutes before leaving the house, her nerves were getting the better of her.

“Hey, Dutton, I need to see your mama in my room a second. Help with my costume.” I was a terrible liar, but Dutton seemed content on the couch watching a Halloween special involving his beloved Princess Power girls. And I needed a minute with Mavis.

From her position at the counter, she glances up at me, startled by the request. “I need to put the cheese on this function dip.”

The term is a fancy name for taco dip, I think.

“It can wait,” I suggest, holding out my hand which she eventually takes and allows me to lead her to my bedroom. Once inside, I close the door until there is just a sliver of a crack.

“What do you need?” I ask.

Her eyes widen, shoulders stiff. “I don’t know what you—”

Holding up my hand, I stop her. “I know what I need.” I run my gaze up and down her body in that damn formfitting, black body suit, outlining every curve and dip. Her hair is pinned up again in those two tight buns. She doesn’t have the butterfly shawl on yet, but I’ve had visions all week of her riding me again wearing nothing but that gauzy material.

“Clay,” she whispers, glancing toward the door.

“Ask me. Command me.” Maybe if I give her permission, she’ll take away this damn pressure between us. Between her job and mine, plus Dutton, it’s been a week of circling each other. I’m desperate to reclaim the connection we had on my desk a week ago.

Clasping my hand, she tugs me toward my bathroom, shuts the door behind us and locks it. Turning to face the mirror over the sink, she meets my eyes through the reflection.

“Get me off.” Her expression remains tight. “Don’t remove my costume.”

Her demand is like a starting gun. The stopwatch clicking as my heart races from zero to sixty in less than a minute. My dick is on board just as fast. Her sultry voice, her fierce command. She has no idea what it does for me. How it surprisingly calms me while the rest of my body is jacked up.

With her dressed like Catwoman, the material skintight over her body, touching her will be easy enough, and I take my time to coast my hands over the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. Standing behind her, I cup her breasts and tug her back to my chest.

“Want me to get you off,” I repeat her demand, nuzzling into her neck. “Want to get wet on this suit. Feel the dampness all night. Know my fingers have touched you there.”

My hand rushes down her body and between her legs. Her hips jolt backward, crashing her ass into my cock, already stiff and standing erect with need.

“I’ve missed you, butterfly.” Can I say that to her? She’s in control but I still want her to know how much she’s made me crave her.

“Tell me what to do,” I whisper against her neck.

“Touch me. Make me come.” Her boldness is like an electric current straight to my dick and I nudge my hips forward, letting her feel what she does to me. She presses back, taunting with that ass, with every inch of her body outlined in this costume.

With my hand between her legs, I easily find her clit and rub hard in tight circles. She spreads her thighs and purrs. Arching her back, she leans forward, grinding her backside harder against me.

“Fuck, Mavis,” I hiss. “I want to be inside you again.”

“Yes.”

“I want to lick your pretty pussy.”

“Oh God.”

“I want to feel your heat and—”

Mavis clutches my wrist on the hand working her clit and uses her other hand to cover her mouth. She arches her back deeper and cries into her own palm.

“Fuck yeah,” I whisper, nipping at her neck as she comes apart in record time.

Her head lolls forward as she drops her hand from her mouth to the edge of the sink. With my hand still on her chest, I can feel her sporadic breaths. In the reflection of the mirror, I watch her blink. Stunned by how quickly she came.

She spins and slithers downward before me.

“Butterfly,” I choke, watching her descend to the floor and pop open my jeans. “We don’t have—”

I’m cut off when her hand slides over my boxer briefs and cups my balls. Then she has my underwear and jeans tugged down to my knees.

“I need to taste you,” she groans.

And my lungs stop working as she sucks me to the back of her throat. Leaning forward, I place one hand on the edge of the sink to steady myself as I watch her head bob. Her mouth circles my cock, and she sucks up and down my shaft, tugging, teasing before twirling her tongue around the crown and dipping along the slit of my tip. Then she draws me deep within her warm mouth and cups my balls again.

I stroke my hand over the back of her head. Then I palm the nape of her neck and squeeze.

Mavis drops her hand from my balls, spreads her thighs, and I watch as her hand disappears between them. She slurps and sucks at me while touching herself.

“Is it getting you off that you’re getting me off?”

She hums around me.

Fuck . This woman is going to be the death of me. My hips begin to rock until I’m fucking her sweet mouth, and she’s stroking herself like she can’t get there fast enough. The frantic rhythm of her own movements increases the intense way she devours me until I’m giving her a singular warning. “Butterfly.”

I thrust forward and Mavis rises up on her knees, swallowing me down as I go off inside her. Her shoulders collapse as she reaches a release herself.

Clutching at the sink behind her head, I raggedly breathe as she slips up my shaft and presses a final kiss to the tip. Then she looks up at me from her knees, all innocent dark eyes, sweet and trusting from her position below me. She swipes over her lips with a fingertip, not missing a drop.

“You little minx,” I tease her, reaching underneath her armpits and hoisting her upward. She lets out a squeak as I set her on the sink.

“Let me see the stain.” I glance toward her legs, and she spreads them the slightest bit. “No need to be shy now.”

I force her knees apart and then lower my face between her thighs, inhaling her intoxicating scent. Her hand swipes over my hair before she tugs at the short strands.

Lifting my head, I meet her gaze.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I chuckle, deep and rough. “Thank you .” I don’t know where any of that came from, but I feel refreshed, relieved. The week without touching her has been torture. And I’m not going to last another week without more of her.

“We should probably go.” Her voice is quiet. Her lids lowered.

“Are you okay?” I tip up her chin. “Are we okay?”

She nods but doesn’t answer me with words. Then she kisses my nose and hops off the counter, forcing me to move back.

I right my jeans while she checks her hair in my mirror, like it’s natural for us to share this tight space. Doing our own things but still being close to one another.

“I need a minute,” I tell her. Time to settle my heart and cool my thoughts. Because there are things I want to say to Mavis that she might not want to hear.

She opens the door and I smack her ass, liking how the sound resonates in the confined space.

Mavis turns only her head, chewing her lip and fighting a smile before walking away.

And I’m overcome with fear that one day she’ll walk out of my house and out of my life when she might be the one person I need more than she needs me.