27. Wicked

27

Wicked

Not Finished With You Yet

Please. Please. Please. Can you pick up Lou from Mom's?

At five o'clock. PLEASE.

You're desperate.

Unashamedly so. Please, Leo.

Fine, but you owe me.

The minutes tick by painfully slowly as I wait until it's time to close the shop. Leo comes down the stairs just before five o'clock and lets me know he informed Dahlia he'd go pick up Lou. Then, just after five, I see Scarlett and Jeremiah leave together.

Jeremiah doesn't speak to me anymore. I don't give a shit.

Because I know Dahlia's up in that office by herself, waiting for me, not for him.

It's five-thirty-three when I lock the doors and close up Heathen's. We're supposed to be open until six, but I haven't had a customer in over an hour, and I know if Darby was sitting in that office upstairs wearing a tight ass skirt and waiting for my brother, he'd do the same fucking thing.

I quickly close the till and balance the books before shutting off the lights and bounding up the staircase two at a time. The office is dark when I slip inside, only the dim glow of Dahlia's office light glowing behind her closed door.

I enter without knocking, and she looks up at me from behind her desk. The blue light of her laptop reflects on her face as she cocks her head. "Leo asked me to stay late, that he'd pick up Lou, but I don't kno—"

"I'm not finished with you yet." My steps are purposeful and quick as I round her desk and spin her chair to face me. She watches with me with wide, shocked eyes as I slowly lower to my knees in front of her. "I told you I was going to devour every inch of your body, show you all the things I can do with my mouth." I press my lips against her outer knee, keeping my eyes on her. "Are you going to let me finish what I started, Wildflower?"

"Everett." She tosses her head back, her delicate throat moving as a moan crawls its way out. "This…" Her body tenses as I brush my lips up her leg. "Is supposed to be…." Her fingers knot in my hair. "Fake."

This woman must be doing something to me, the way she causes me to have a visceral fucking reaction to a single word. I swear to God, I'm going to obliterate fake from her vocabulary.

I pull away, letting my mouth hover just above her skin, far enough away that it denies her the satisfaction of my touch, but close enough that she can feel my breath as I whisper, "That's not what I asked. Tell me: do you want this?"

Her back arches, legs clenching around me. "Yes," she whimpers. "But—"

I stand swiftly, cutting off the rest of her sentence. She looks up at me, blue eyes bright like stars in the dim lighting. Her pretty pink lips part slightly as I grasp her arm and tug her up. She follows my lead, standing before allowing me to grab her shoulder and spin her around, pressing her between my body and the desk.

She gasps as I bend her over, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades while the other runs the length of her back, fingers dipping into her waistband. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers." I grab her skirt with my other hand. "After that, you're going to come all over my face." I pull the fabric down her thighs, letting it tangle at her ankles while I stare after her perfect, round ass, now covered only by the thin, good-for-nothing strip of her black lace thong. Catching my breath, I finally add, "Then, I'm going to ask you again if you think this is fake."

Sliding back up her body at a torturously slow pace, I snag the hem of her blouse. Dahlia doesn't hesitate when she lifts her arms and lets me pull it over her head, tossing it to the floor behind me. I reach around and take her full breasts in each of my hands, rolling her pert nipples between my fingers over the fabric of her bra. "Does that sound good to you, baby?" I nip at her ear, peppering kisses down her neck to her back.

As if words are beyond her, she only responds with a terse hum and the nod of her head. I continue moving down her back, kissing, nipping, and suckling her sweet skin, eliciting tremors and moans from her mouth as I go. As I reach the band of her underwear, I take it between my teeth and squat to the floor, dragging it with me until it's bunched at her ankles along with her skirt. My cock is painfully hard as I take in the sight of her above me. She's still in her heels, her legs slightly spread but restrained, hands braced on her desk as she leans over and puts herself on display for me. Her pussy is already wet— dripping just for me.

"Fucking masterpiece." The words leave my mouth before I even realize I'm speaking them aloud, and when Dahlia turns her head slightly, looking down at me with those bright eyes and that playful twitch of her lips, all my resolve shatters.

I run my hands up her legs until I reach her ass. Standing behind her, I take her flesh in my palms, running my hands over her soft skin. "You have such a pretty ass, Dahlia." I grab her roughly, spreading her open. "Has it ever been played with?"

"Yes," she moans.

"Do you like that?" I ask, gathering saliva at the tip of my tongue.

"Yes."

I groan at her answer. I think she's fucking made for me . I part my lips just slightly, letting my spit slowly drip out of my mouth and land between her cheeks. She gasps at the sensation, crying out as I circle my thumb around her tight bud, pressing in lightly.

"Do you like it when I play with your ass, Wildflower?"

"Please," she breathes, bucking backward, as if to force me deeper.

"Fuck." My cock jumps at her begging, and I'm so fucking desperate for her, I may lose myself without even being touched. "You're so good for me. You're gonna listen to me, right, baby? Gonna do what I say like a good girl?"

"Yes." She bucks back against me again.

"Promise?" I ask, pressing my thumb inside her.

"I promise!" she cries as I slip past the tight ring of muscle. Her breathing picks up, chest heaving as I pump my thumb in and out of her.

"Is your pussy wet for me, too?"

She only nods, and I stretch my hand down between her legs, teasing her entrance with my middle finger. Fucking soaked.

" Potrei annegare in questa figa. Muori qui. è mio. Tutto mio . "

Shit. Am I speaking Italian? She drives me insane. My mother would weep to know I'm utilizing all those years of lessons to talk like this right now.

I slowly push my middle finger inside her, pumping twice before adding another. I set a rhythm between my two fingers in her pussy and my thumb in her ass, picking up my pace as I feel her begin to tighten and tremble around me.

"Everett," she moans. Body trembling, I steady her with a hand on her hip. I feather my lips along her back, feeling her shudder and tense beneath my mouth as she clenches on my fingers, reaching her peak. "Yes. Please. Faster." She chants as I fuck her with my hand and brush my lips along her skin.

"Look at you." My voice comes out gruff and strained. "Both holes filled, and you're begging for more. You're perfect, aren't you?" I nip at her neck, fighting the urge to buck against her with my hips, desperate for my own release. "So needy for me."

I continue my pace with one hand, using my free one to tangle in the back of her hair and lift her so she's flush against my chest. She lays her head against my shoulder, looking up at me with lust-laced eyes. "I'll bet you like it rough, don't you, baby?"

Her lips are parted slightly, small whimpers escaping them with each thrust of my fingers into her body. She nods, and I move my hand around her throat, gripping just tight enough to make her catch her breath. "You take my fingers so well, Dahlia. I can't wait to watch you take my cock again."

Her eyes flutter closed, and I feel her throat work against my palm as she moans at my words. I begin moving faster, curling my fingers and pressing hard against the spot I know will make her come undone. Her entire body begins to tense as a garbled, "Everett!" escapes her mouth.

I lean into her, my lips hovering right over hers. "Come for me, Dahlia," I command. "Squirt all over my hand the way you did my dick. I want to feel you, baby."

Her mouth falls open, eyes shut as her pussy tightens around my fingers and I feel her begin to lose herself. I press my mouth to hers, swallowing her moan before taking her lip between my teeth and biting down, dragging as I pull away. A tremble rushes up her body, and I feel her getting close. I wrap my arm around her middle, feeling her legs weaken. "That's it. Let go, Wildflower. I've got you."

I curl my fingers again, pumping hard and fast a few more times until I feel her become impossibly tight, gripping my fingers hard enough that they can no longer move. I feel the pressure building inside her, the way her body wracks with quivers, and a cry tears from her throat as that pressure bursts.

She goes slack, falling forward, supported only by my knee between her legs and my arm around her waist. I feel her release rush past my fingers, flooding my hand. I hold her tightly as she rides it out, muttering unintelligible words like fuck and God and my name.

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

Once she's entirely spent, I slowly pull my fingers from her body. Stepping back from her, she turns around and leans against the desk. Eyes at half-mast, a faint glow of sweat accenting her face, she looks up at me with a heaving chest, watching with rapt attention as I stick my middle finger in my mouth and suck her off my skin.

The taste of her is heady and addicting. She's intoxicating.

She tastes like she fucking belongs to me.

Her eyes are fixated on my mouth, breathing increasing as she watches me. The straps of her bra hang limply off her shoulders, her breasts spilling out of the cups with each rapid movement of her chest. A flush runs up her neck, blooming on her cheeks and making her eyes appear even brighter in the dim light of her office. Lips swollen, she takes one between her teeth, biting down as we study each other.

"You're so beautiful," I find myself saying.

"So are you," she responds breathlessly.

I'm smiling when I surge forward, grabbing her hips and setting her on the desk as my mouth falls on hers. She laces her arms around my neck, pressing us together as I kiss and kiss and kiss her. I move my lips along her jaw and down her neck, reaching around her back to unclasp her bra. She slides it off her arms and lets it fall to the floor as I take one of her hardened nipples into my mouth, sucking and nipping and gently biting.

"Everett," she breathes as I move across her chest to service the other one.

"You are so beautiful," I say again with her breast between my teeth. "I've been dreaming about doing this to you," I suck her into my mouth roughly, pulling away with force, "worshiping your body like this. You deserve to be worshiped, Dahlia."

I brush my lips along her skin, falling to the floor in front of her. I look up at her, knowing there's pleading desperation on my face, and she meets my gaze with a mirrored expression. "Your body is my new religion, baby." I wrap both arms around her legs, gripping her inner knees. "Now, spread those thighs and baptize me."

Her breath hitches, but she opens for me immediately, baring her perfect, wet pussy. She's glistening with arousal and the aftermath of her first orgasm. My cock rages at the sight of her —the need to be inside her. I press my hand to my groin in an attempt at relieving the pressure.

"Yes," she whispers. "Do that."

I look up, meeting her hooded eyes as she watches me. "What, baby?"

"Touch yourself." She's so quiet, I almost can't hear her. She's so timid in moments like this, and it drives me wild.

I palm my cock again, and she bites down on her lip, a flush coming to her cheeks. I understand why she made the request. She seems under the impression that she can only take pleasure if it's also being returned. I noticed it the night she touched herself on video for me. She wanted me to go there with her. She needs the level of vulnerability to be matched, and I think it's because she needs to know I want to give this to her as much as she wants to take it. She's so afraid of being a burden, of not being desired.

That drives me mad. It's infuriating, and I want to obliterate every person who has ever made her feel that way about herself.

"Dahlia," I rasp. "Do you need to see what you do to me? What the taste of you does to me? Do you need proof of how desperate I am to hear you cry my name again?"

With hooded eyes, flushed cheeks, and parted lips, she nods.

I reach down, unbuckling my belt, slipping it through the loops and tossing it aside before unzipping my pants. I watch her breath stop as I pull out my cock. It's painfully fucking hard—aching for her, just like the rest of me. I swipe the moisture gathered at my tip and swirl my thumb around the head. Gripping my base, I pump myself once, twice.

"I need all those doubts to leave your pretty head. I've been thirsting for this pussy, and now, I'm going to fuck myself while I devour it. Can you let me do that?"

Her head falls back on a moan. "God, please."

Pushing her legs open with one hand, I move between her thighs. I start at her center, dipping my tongue inside and feeling her sweet arousal coat my senses. My cock jumps at the taste of her. The smell of her. The sight. I squeeze my tip, willing myself not to come already.

I drag my tongue up the length of her, settling over her clit as I flick once. "And that's the last time I hear you say the word ‘God' tonight, understood? You need to call out for someone, Wildflower? You say my fucking name."

Her legs tighten around my head, and a soft whimper leaves her mouth.

"Say it for me, Dahlia," I growl, mouth hovering over her clit, denying her the sensation I know she desperately needs.

"Everett," she breathes. "Please."

It's all I need to descend on her. I circle her clit with my tongue in the same tempo I fist my cock. She continues chanting my name as I pick up my pace, working her faster. "That's it. Keep going."

Her moans grow louder, body tensing and tightening as I wrap my lips around her bundle and suck hard. I gently nip her with my teeth, causing her body to bow off the desk, hand flying to the back of my head and holding me there.

"Fuck yes, Dal. Use me, baby. Fuck my face. Take what you need." My words vibrate against her center as she bucks against my face, using it to fuel the friction that makes her come undone. I stick my tongue out, letting her grind over it to find her pleasure.

"Everett," she pants. "Everett…I'm going…I'm going…"

Knowing she's close, I begin pumping my cock faster, hoping I can hold out and go with her. I drag my free hand up her thigh, holding her open with my shoulder. Splaying my palm against her upper abdomen, I press down lightly, adding just enough pressure to make her explode.

I take her clit between my teeth again as she continues to move against my mouth. As I bite down gently, her entire body tenses. She cries out louder than she has all night, legs wrapping around my neck and tightening almost painfully. Pleasure zips down my back and gathers in my spine, red hot and blazing. I fuck myself faster, feeling Dahlia tremble above me.

The moment she falls back against the desk, her body quivering as she cries out, I move my mouth to her core, slipping my tongue inside her. Her fingers knot in my hair, heels digging into my back, her entire body clinging to my face as if it's her center of gravity.

That red hot heat explodes into white hot pleasure, my mind going fuzzy and blank as my climax barrels through me. I feel my release coating my hand just as Dahlia's floods my mouth. I keep my tongue inside her, letting her ride out her orgasm on my face. She's still calling out my name, tightening around my tongue, drowning me in her pleasure, and I think it's the closest I've ever been to heaven. I'm still spilling into my hand, pumping myself, lost inside her.

" Quiero vivir, ahogarme y morir entre tus piernas, cari?o. "

I don't even know what the fuck I'm saying, what language I'm speaking. All I know is I can't get enough of her, of the feel and taste and sound of her. I'm addicted, and I don't know how I'll ever recover from this. I didn't even get inside her, and I know with certainty that I'd die for this, to do this to her—with her—every day for the rest of my goddamn life.

"Everett…Everett…" she continues moaning as she falls down from the clouds. Body still shaking, she finally begins to loosen her grip around my head.

I kiss along her thighs as I pull back from between her legs. I pull a box of tissues from Dahlia's desk and clean myself up, tucking my cock back into my pants and standing. Dahlia slowly pushes herself up to sit. Her eyes are bright and sated, full lips offering me a soft smile.

I grip her chin and drop my mouth to hers. Her wetness is dripping off my lips as I grasp her jaw and her mouth drops open. I gather up a mixture of my saliva and her release, and she sticks out her tongue, as if she already knows what's coming.

I spit into her mouth.

I swipe my thumb along her bottom lip, smearing the remnants of my cum. "Tell me, Dahlia—does this taste fucking fake to you?"

Her eyes flutter shut, her delicate throat working as she swallows. "No," she murmurs.

I close the distance between us, taking her lips gently. She whimpers, clinging to my chest as my mouth moves against hers, so soft in contrast to everything we've just done.

"Everett," she whispers, pulling away. Her gaze meets mine briefly before dropping to the floor. "I don't know if I can offer more than this. I don't know if I'm capable of it…" She sighs, eyes fluttering upward. "I'm just… I'm really fucked up."

Everything inside my being shatters at those words, but I force a smile anyway. Taking her face between my hands, I kiss her nose, her cheeks. I run my lips along her jaw.

She told me she'd ruin me. I told myself she'd destroy me. I should've fucking listened, because that one sentence wrecked me.

I move my mouth to her forehead, pressing my lips there too. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give, as long as whatever you are giving me is real."

She nods against me, and I feel her hand tangle in the fabric of my shirt, right over my goddamn heart. I've known what I was getting into with Dahlia since the day I learned her name. Even if she can't give me all of her, I can give her all of me. I don't think anyone ever has.

But I will.

I'll be patient, until she knows she's safe. Her body, her heart and soul; all of her is safe with me. I can't break down her walls with a wrecking ball, I need to pull them apart brick by brick. Each one she gives me is a gift I know she has never given anyone else. So I can be patient, no matter how bad it hurts me, because the only thing that would hurt more is losing her.

Dahlia doesn't give her love or her trust freely, because it has always been taken for granted. All I have to do is show her I won't. I'll earn it, and once I have it, I'll cherish it, starting with her trust, because she needs to know she has someone on her side.

"And if you get another note on your car—or anywhere else—you tell me immediately, okay?" I whisper against her forehead. "You don't deal with it alone."

She nods. "I know. I'm sorry. I'll tell you if it happens again."

That's my girl.

But I don't say it. Because she's not mine yet. Not truly.

I am, however, irrevocably hers.