One Last Rainy Day: The Legacy of a Prince(53)
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.