47. REEMA

It was meant to be a light, testing kiss. A simple I could want this message, because I'm too tongue-tied to put the fire, lust, desire, doubt, and nerves he's making me feel into words. And because, if this is a game, I don't want to lose by saying things I can't take back. But a friendly kiss? Europeans do it all the time.

We're easy, breezy, casual?—

He grips the back of my head, one-fisted. Both my hands dive into his hair, squeezing hard. There might've been a millisecond of lips brushing tenderly against each other, but that is long buried by an avalanche of hunger. Our mouths fight. It feels as if we're dueling with our tongues, too impatient to take turns. He forces his between my lips first, sweeping it everywhere, claiming the premises. I push back and do the same, swallowing the coarse sound reverberating low in his throat. When he changes the angle, my head swims into a state of euphoria that is sweet, addicting, and somehow—overdue, like a return home after wandering lost for so long. It feels so right.

All I want to do is live inside Coleman. I don't even care that it's impossible. The taste of him shoots straight through me, and I want more. Like I'm starved, and he has all I need.

When I whimper, he pulls me closer, as if anything short of being plastered against him is too far. I help by hooking a leg around his waist. That's not enough for him. He slides his hand under my other thigh and lifts it, so I wrap both legs around him. Then I'm turned and pushed against a wall.

He continues to be bossy, using the palm of his hand to move my head to the side. With no patience at all, he starts running kisses along the side of my neck. I feel my toes curl as he nibbles my skin. It's punishing and very erotic. If I had any wit left in my head, I'd ask him if he's ever fucked professionally because this is insane.

While nerve-endings by my neck are having a party, the space between my thighs is begging to join in. It craves friction. I try rolling my hips forward, but Coleman is strong. He's got me pinned. Of course, realizing that only makes my pussy throb harder.

Finally, I free my hand, and half-blindly attempt to touch myself, but I'm blocked. Something big has risen against my stomach. A quick peek down confirms—yes—against the enormity of his bulge, my hand looks smaller. I try to test the girth, but the lightest touch has Coleman pulling away from my neck.

"Bed," he snarls. His green eyes are swallowed by pupils. Changing his hold on me, I'm once again, bridal-style, carried in his arms. He doesn't even struggle with the change. I'm walked over and lowered slowly onto soft sheets. After, Coleman goes and stands at the foot of the mattress. He's breathing heavily. So am I, and my heart is racing, and I'm also pulling off my socks because they aren't the sexiest.

Without looking, he reaches and unbuttons the top of his shirt. Then another. Pretty soon his dress shirt is open, barely holding on to the edges of his wide shoulders. My fingers twitch. So many muscles. I need to map each and every one out using my fingers first. Then tongue. Repeat forever.

Trembling, I move to put my hair into a bun because this is Important Work. But I've forgotten I have short hair, and I'm so disoriented that I try twice before properly remembering.

He notices, his expression softening. "Do you miss your pins?"

I point to the bathroom. "They haven't died yet. They're waiting for their funeral there."

"Do you… want me to go get a few? We could put them in?"

His genuine offer risks unravelling me. Some wall inside me quakes.

"No," I stammer. "I'm getting used to this style and feeling it out. And I've been told—by some man—that my opinion matters more than what anyone else wants for me, so there's that."

"That man sounds like a genius."

"He smelled—"Amazing."—and his character was dodgy." It sneaks under your defenses and then all you think about is him.

"All I'm hearing is how impressed you were by the size of his intelligence."

I'm so depraved that the word size makes my eyes lower to his crotch. It takes effort to pull my gaze back up. Expecting a smug smirk, I'm surprised by the faint color in his cheeks. He's blushing?

A quiet tension pulls long, taunt, and delicately between us. If no one moves, we might stay frozen like this for the rest of the night. Nothing has to move forward or backward. It can remain on this beautiful precipice because the fall around us otherwise is so steep. He feels it, too. He is gulping along with me.

Suddenly his hand is in his hair. "We don't have to do this—we can slow down—or wait?—"

"I know."

A muscle in his jaw flexes. "It's going to change it all."

Yes.

My mouth opens and out spills a terrible Old English accent. "Ye scoundrel, thy maiden isn't a virgin, so thou'st cock ain't going to change me whole self."

His shoulder shakes. "Don't make me laugh. I'm in pain." His chuckle turns into a gasp. "I want you so much, it's killing me. I'm barely keeping myself together and trying to be a fucking gentleman here."

It's his fault I don't want that. If he sucked at kissing me, or, really, if the softest friction of our bodies barely touching didn't grow this need inside me, making it more and more unbearable every time, I'd be content. But I'm not content. I want Coleman to do ungentlemanly acts with me. I want us to drown in it.

"And if you weren't being so noble?" I whisper.

"Then I'd order you to take that little tease of an outfit off." There's a harsh edge to his voice.

A shiver runs through me. It's like we're back in that fitting room, purple lingerie plumping my curves for his eyes to rake over. He's watching me with that same dark, dripping intensity. My nipples pebble, and when his eyes draw down to those stiff points, his throat bobbles.

"Obviously, you don't have to do it," he says huskily.

"Don't dare me."

His eyebrow quirks up. "Is that what I'm doing?"

The swell of stubborn pride within me is absolute relief. This I can work with. It can push me forward. With it, I don't have to pay any mind to why else we would do this. But a dare? Game on. Before I lose my nerve, I go on my knees, shuffle over to him, and give him my back. "Unzip me."

When I feel the tremor in his hands against my back, it helps me. We are in this together. I'm not alone.

The bridesmaid outfit is snug, so the zipper covers the length of my back. It's the only way I fit myself into the top in the first place. Coleman pulls it all the way down. I don't turn around, but draw the whole thing over my head and throw it off to the side somewhere. Pants next. I have to stand on the bed for those. There's a clasp in the corner of my hip. With it undone, I slip my legs out, toeing the fabric so it falls off the bed. Now I'm in my underwear. Compared to the frilly, see-through lace of the lingerie Coleman has seen me in, this is boring and basic. Deciding I don't want that comparison in his head, I rip those off, too.

Now I'm naked. And shivering.

Deciding it's finally time to check on him, I go on my knees again and slowly face him. A cheeky ta-da is ready on my lips, but dies as soon as I see him.

This expression is one I've never seen on him before. I can't be sure what it means, but the closest I come to is devastation. His eyebrows have savagely come together. Mouth is parted. Eyes are so dark they can't be green anymore. Despite me wearing nothing in front of him, he doesn't move. I wonder if he's stuck. If he thinks a key is turned that can't be unturned. Does he know it's too late to walk away?

As for me, my heart is pounding fiercely and falling because of it. Not because I know it's going to splatter on the ground somewhere—although it might—but because I've thrown myself off a cliff, not knowing whether I could fly or not. And I realize how, despite that, I'd do it all over again.

I want this that much.

"So?" I croak.

"You are not just beautiful," he says with complete sincerity. "You are the most beautiful."

And there is the danger. In this very moment, I believe him and his words make me glow. If we shut the lights off, my whole body will radiate.

"Fuck me," he says lowly, looking me over.

"Only if you say please," I sputter out.

He shakes his head, reaching for me, but doesn't make contact. At the last second, he draws back as if still dazed. Coleman has gone and shut his eyes now, breathing deeply for a while before opening them again.

"I'm cold," I say.

"Get under the covers."

I simply stare at him, waiting for him to figure out I don't want the covers.

Just as I'm about to complain, he ghosts his hand up my leg. Then he bends his head and gives my kneecap a slow kiss.

I wriggle. The feel of his mouth— "More."

He huffs a small, tortured laugh. "I need to ask. What am I allowed to do? Because I've got—there are endless—you don't know—the detailed lengths and—depths I've thought?—"

"Like w-what?"

"My mouth on you, for one." His fingers tighten around my calf.

I'm lightheaded at the thought. "That all?"

"Such a greedy girl. No, that's not all, Patel. It's the start. First, I'd fuck your sweet pussy with my mouth so thoroughly that you'd forget your own name."

"And… you? What about what you want? Your turn."

"That is my turn." He smirks. "But if you're asking about my cock, only when you're begging for more than the width of my fingers, will I gift you that."

I must keep up the charade. That his words aren't making me drip onto the sheets. "Gift?" I scoff. "Let's not get cocky, Coleman."

Leaning closer, his hand covers my mouth. "Shh, I'm not finished."

And that's not helping. My pussy is weeping now.

His eyes shine as he lowers himself further to whisper in my ear. "I'd pull you onto my lap and make you sit on it. Trust me, it would be for your benefit. So you can get used to the size of me. Then when I feel you've gotten a handle on my cock or when I'm tired of you playing it safe, I'll put you on your back and take over. Going deeper and harder to overload that big brain of yours with so much pleasure that you can't think any more. I'll brand you with how far I push inside, Patel."

He sucks in a breath, drops his hand and steps back. As if wondering if he's taken it too far.

"All of that then," I squeak. "We—" I clear my throat. "—might as well go all in, right? We are getting each other out of our systems, after all."

He goes rigid. "Is that—what we're doing?"

"Is it not?" I force a laugh. "We want each other. We're past denying that, I think. There's your obvious tell—" My hand gestures at it. "And I keep soaking my panties around you. It's annoying because I've not packed enough at the rate I'm going. Not to mention how much of a virus you are to the thoughts. I'm supposed to be focused on my sister's wedding, but you've taken up all this room." I shake my head, my nose scrunching up. "This can't go on. I can't go back to work with you sitting across from me, and—" I release a garble of frustration. "No!We need to exorcise this thing between us. Let's ghostbuster it now!"

Smugness, amusement, fondness. I think all three settle in different ratios on his face. Either way, something I've said satisfies him enough to touch me again. He nudges my knee with his hand. "Open your legs."

Yes! The despotic ruler is back.

With a lazy twitch of his shoulders, his shirt drops to the ground. All half of him is bared. It's enough to make any woman dizzy. Before I can ogle properly, he curves his hand underneath my thighs and tugs me to the edge of the mattress. Then he goes on his knees and arranges my legs over his shoulders.

Coleman is grinning between my legs. "Mouth first then. We'll have to give my dick a fair chance at lasting. You, in particular, seem to be a problem when it comes to that."

"Proceed," I gasp out.

"Proceed? I'm not one of your clients." He blows on my clit. "I'll do what I like."

"You can't tease me like this," I groan. "Not when I'm already losing my mind."

"Good." He sucks in a breath. "Join me."

I brace for another frustrating blow of air, but the flat of his tongue dives in, licking deeply from bottom to top. Electricity jolts through me and I cry out. Making a feral sound, he tastes me again, satisfaction rumbling deep from his chest. "Fuck! You're delicious."

My hips buck, but he doesn't let them move, easily using his weight to keep me down in place. His face nuzzles my pussy. "Who are you so drenched for?"

I can't answer since he's gone back to lapping me, as if he can't miss any of my wetness. He doesn't eat pussy like it's a chore. He's tasting me like it's the only thing that matters, as if he might not get it again. As if it's the best meal of his life.

"Who are you wet for, Patel?" he asks again, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my clit. "Tell me."

I'm unintelligible. There are noises pushing out of me, but they aren't words.

"Say my name," he orders, using the tip of his tongue to push into my entrance.

"I—"

His palm comes down and presses down on my navel. A coil in my belly pulls tighter and tighter. When he drags his hand down my mound and strokes around my clit, his two fingers form an-upside down V?—

I see stars.

"Coleman," I whine.

"My first name," he growls. "Who is this slick pussy crying out for? Give me that."

I can't say it, but he can't stop. "Please!"

"Please what?" His other hand pushes my knee wider. Half of his face is wet. A finger teases the line of my entrance. "Do you need more? Who do you need more from?"

The way he is touching me is sinful and heavenly, wrapped in one. It can't end, even as I'm barreling so close to my finish. He's got me trembling everywhere, my breathing hitching so loudly. I want his mouth on my clit again. I grasp his hair, trying to pull his lips there.

He looks up at me from between my legs, tongue hovering above the spot. One lick. Two. More. Each one is punctuated by a word. "Who. Is. Going. To. Make. You. Cum?"

What's in a name? It's only syllables. It shouldn't mean anything between us, but it does. It opens the vault to a place I'm heavily ignoring inside me. And yet, the cord holding my orgasm needs more to snap, and he's still teasing my entrance with his finger, not pressing inside me. I scream out a name, deliriously grasping at anything but Jake.

His head comes off me, nostrils flaring. "Who the fuck is Igor?"

Fuck me, I was so, so close. Also—fuck me, I can't believe I said IGOR!

"Who is Igor?" he repeats roughly, a dangerous glint darkening his green eyes.

My hand covers my face.

"Don't hide. Tell me who Igor is."

My orgasm becomes a phantom, sliding off into the horizon. I must grip it with both hands and pull it back. "You are not Igor."

The muscle in his jaw leaps. He's grinding his teeth. "I'm aware."

He's about to pull back, but I stop him. "My… pussy is Igor."

Coleman looks dumbfounded. "You named your pussy, Igor?

I don't care, I'm covering my face with both hands now. "Yes! Because it's been sad! And that's the saddest name I could think of."

There's a thud. I peek between my fingers. He has gone back to his knees, his head buried against my inner thigh. I see enough of his mouth to clock the grin.

"Don't," I warn.

"I can tell now–" he suppresses a laugh. "That you're bad with names. It makes me feel better that you've forgotten mine, apparently."

Guilt ties a rope around my chest. I haven't forgotten. As if I could. Maybe I should say it. But why does it feel like I'm giving something over? As if I'm handing him something I won't be able to take back?

He widens my knees again. "On principle, I should refuse to suck the clit of Igor, but you've turned me into a very desperate man. For you, I'll push on."

He gathers my wetness with his thumb and brings it to his mouth. "Why do you taste so fucking good, Igor?"

"You can't call her that!"

"Why?"

"She's… not Igor anymore."

"Oh?"

"Not quite as sad."

"She does appear to be weeping."

I roll my eyes, then try to hook him closer with my foot. "Can we keep going?"

He bends his head and nuzzles my pussy, rather affectionately. "Don't worry, darling. I'll think of a better name for you."

The touch of his cheek against me there zings fresh desire up my spine. The coals of my orgasm come to life again.

"How about the property of Jake Coleman?" he murmurs, gently taking my folds into his mouth.

What?"Not in his wildest dreams on any planet in any universe!"

"That's way too wordy of a name." His finger pushes into me, going knuckle-deep. Coleman hisses something about tightness.

My spine curves. Finally.

He's panting now, testing my walls. "She's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Her name needs to fit that."

Did he just—admit I'm sexy? I don't know. I can't think any longer, because he's curled his finger. It's never felt like this with anyone before. Heat is pooling out of me, and despite it not being his cock, I feel branded by even this. It's so intimate. He's inside me.

He slowly adds another finger and then pumps them harder. It's the thickness I've been missing. The sensation makes my eyes roll back, and I almost scream when he licks my clit again. He sucks on it so hungrily.

"I should punish you," he groans.

"Why?" I stammer.

"For making me so desperate for your crumbs."

His answer doesn't have time to register, because I'm hurtling off a cliff. I've been edged for so long that pleasure bursts like an explosion. My whole body seizes, and my long, broken, keening cry spills out into the room.

It takes time for my body to settle. And when all the trembles and shakes and moans have been wrung out of me, I'm glad I didn't say his name. Because it's the combination lock protecting the other, much more terrifying words from coming out.

I like this. You. A lot. Don't let it end. I love?—