“I know. But I feel good. I feel great even, and I’d rather fuck my girl than talk about the gold-digging woman who gave birth to me.”
Stevie drapes her arms over my shoulders, a single brow lifting. “Your girl, huh?”
I hide away in her neck. “You’re so lucky.”
Stevie’s body shakes in a laugh. “You’re the lucky one.”
Wearing far too big of a proud smile, I pull away from the crook of her neck. She never talks about herself this way, but confidence sure sounds good coming from her.
“Hell yeah, I am.” Leaning into her, I find her mouth once more, tasting, sweeping, my tongue exploring.
A large part of me can’t believe I get to do this. That she’s willing to give me a chance regardless of my shitty reputation, but I’m not trying to question it. I just want to appreciate her and the moment.
Cupping her face with one hand, my other palm anchors on the kitchen island as I urge Stevie back to lie down. I climb right on top of her, my sweatpants doing absolutely nothing to hide how eagerly ready I am to change the fact that I haven’t had sex in over two months.
My phone interrupts me by dinging with a text, but I ignore it. Instead, I continue to feverishly make out with the pretty girl on my counter until it dings once again.
Growling in frustration, I lift my body from Stevie’s and lean over her, grabbing my phone.
Maddison: Close your fucking curtains.
Maddison: Don’t ignore me, asshole. Close your fucking curtains.
Laughing, I kiss Stevie’s lips once more before peeling myself off her.
Standing in front of my window, I spot Maddison across the street in his living room, hands on either side of his black-out drapes. He shakes his head at me in disapproval before violently shutting the curtains. But before he goes, he slips his hand between the material and the glass, shooting me a thumbs-up.
My giddy ass can’t help but smile as I close my own drapes.
“Oh God.” Stevie leans up on her elbows. “My brother can see in here, huh?”
“Probably.”
“Thank God he’s out of town, but we are never opening those drapes again.”
I find my way to stand between her legs. “Fine.” I unbutton the top of her jeans. “Then you’re never wearing clothes again.”
Placing her hands on mine, she stops me from undressing her. “Can you turn off the lights?” Her blue-green eyes are pleading.
Releasing the zipper, I run both palms down her jean-covered thighs. “Do you trust me?”
“Zee—”
“Stevie, do you trust me? Because I trust you to know everything about me, so do you trust me to see your body? I’ve seen in the dark, I’ve felt it in my hands, and I want nothing more than to worship it with the lights on.”
She releases a deep, resigned sigh, the stress from her face dissipating. “Of course, I trust you.”
“Good.” I unzip her jeans. “Because I’m about to eat you out like you’re the last goddamn meal on the planet.”
She takes a breath, lying back, and from the stiffness in her body, I can sense her nerves.
Pausing my movements, I lean over her. “But only if you want me to. We aren’t going to do anything you don’t like or feel comfortable with, but if you’re worried about it being something I don’t like, that’s not the case.”
“I just…” she stumbles. “I think it feels good, but I…I’m just kind of self-conscious about it.”
Brows furrowed, I ask, “Someone made you feel that way?”
She shrugs her shoulders, looking away.
Hatred fills me for every man who has ever been before me, and not just because they’ve had a taste of what’s mine, but because they made her feel anything less than the stunning woman she is.
“Well, Vee, I’ve been dreaming about burying my head between your legs since around the time we met, so I want to. But if you don’t, then we won’t.”
She hesitates, contemplating her decision. “I want you to,” she quietly admits.
A sneaky smile lifts on my lips as I slip my sweatshirt off over my head. My palms engulf her thighs, thumbs exploring. “If you want me to stop, say something. Otherwise, I don’t plan on coming up for air until my lips are covered in your cum.”
“Jesus.” She falls back onto the kitchen island behind her. “You have no filter.”
I pull her hips to me, off the edge, rolling my pelvis against the spot between her legs. A soft needy whimper escapes her throat as she arches her back, repeating the motion.