I pressed a kiss to his neck, right under his hair. Surely he’d feelthat. “I’m grand,” I said.
Twenty-Nine
The sudden storm made theshort trip back to Eamonn’s garage feel like we were on the run from something, driving through rain that was so loud in the car we barely talked, coming down somehow even harder by the time we’d parked again.
“Give me a head start to get the key in the door,” Eamonn said. “I can have it open by the time you get there.”
But I didn’t care. It wasn’t like we weren’t both soaked already. We left everything in the car—the clock, the painting wrapped in his jacket, the remaining trash from some of the snacks we’d had on the road—as we made a mad dash for his front door.
It was to the side of the reception area for the shop, the glass where I’d peered in to see the chairs and the books. This door opened to a small corridor that almost immediately gave way to a flight of stairs leading to what I assumed was Eamonn’s apartment.
“So this is where—” I started to say, but he was spinning me back toward him, his hands on my face as he pulled me in for a kiss.
His mouth was hot and urgent on mine, and I could do nothing but open up to him, kiss him back with all my own pent-up desire. This was what I’d wanted ever since that fast, dirty hookup in the car, since we’d been dancing in the club, since he’d reached over me to roll down my window.
My cheeks were slick with rain, and he threaded his hands in my hair, as if needing something more to hold on to.
“Just tell me you feel it,” he said against my mouth, so low I almost couldn’t hear him. “Whatever this is…”
Of course Ifeltit. I might not know what to call it, but I knew what it felt like. So expansive I felt like my chest might explode, so desperate I wanted to press myself close enough to practically be inside him, wanted him to be inside me. I fumbled to pull my sweater over my head, not wanting to break too much contact or risk breaking the mood, but I didn’t need to worry about either because he was right there to help me pull it the rest of the way off.
My nipples were hard and wet and cold from the rain, tightened into painful little buds. When Eamonn slid his hand in the front of my dress, the friction of his palm abrading me was almost too much to bear.
“That all right?” he asked, and it was only then that I realized I was actually panting, like he was doing so much more than just covering my breast with his hand.
“Yes,” I said, arching my back to give him more, to beg for more. “God, yes.”
“You can’t be sorry about this,” he said, pulling my dress off one shoulder, his hand gliding over my collarbone, spread out over my sternum. When his fingers found my nipple again, I let out a hiss between my teeth. “Please, you gotta promise me, you won’t be sorry about this.”
“I won’t,” I said. “I’m not.”
He tugged at the bow around my waist, the entire string coming off in his hand before he dropped it to the floor.I would remember untying that bow.
My hands were on his head, fingers half buried in his short, soft hair, and I didn’t even know that I must’ve been subtly pushing him down until he was on his knees in front of me, pushing my dress up around my thighs, reaching up under it to hook his fingers in my underwear. I felt him sliding them down my legs at the same time I pulled my dress and bra over my head in one motion, a split second where I couldn’t see anything and then suddenly there I was, completely naked in the small entryway to his apartment, him kneeling with his nose nuzzled against the sensitive skin of my lower belly.
“Jessica,” he said, half admonishment, half laughter, and it wasn’t until I looked down that I saw that he’d found my tattoo. A small four-leaf clover, right on the side of my pelvic bone, low enough that even most bikinis covered it up.
“Told you,” I said.
“I’m not embarrassed,” he said, pressing a kiss to the tattoo, then whispering my name again, like this time it was more for himself, because he liked the way it sounded.Jessica.
He gripped my hips, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder and pressing me back against the door until it bore some ofmy weight. When I felt his tongue on me for the first time, I was grateful for that support, because my whole body shuddered and went limp for a second. He shifted my knee, opening me up more.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he said, sliding his tongue along my slit. And then he was pushing inside me, fucking me with his tongue, lapping me up like he couldn’t get enough. When he gently,verygently, grazed his teeth against my clit, I couldn’t help but let out a strangled cry.
“You like that?” he asked, looking up at me, his eyes a little glazed, his lips wet from me. “You have to tell me what you like.”
“Keep going,” I said. “Lick me, kiss me, bite me. I just want your mouth.”
He squeezed my calf that was slung over his shoulder, and pressed an openmouthed kiss right to the core of me. I wanted to grip something, but his hair was too short, so my hands settled over his ears, giving them a tug as I tilted my pelvis closer to him. He grunted, and I almost worried I’d hurt him until he left a soft kiss on my inner thigh, almost like he was sayingthank you,almost like he was sayingplease, more.I ran my fingers over the top ridges of his ears, pulling him toward me.
He ran his mouth back and forth right over my clit, the friction building until I couldn’t take it, thought I’d die when I felt the tip of his tongue pressing against my crest, thought I was dying when he gently nibbled at it again, the sudden sensations spasming through me as I came against his mouth.
My legs felt like jelly, and I almost couldn’t hold myself up,slumping back against the door, my leg sliding down from Eamonn’s shoulder. But he’d already stood, grasping me behind the knee as he hitched my leg up again, pressing his body against me. I thought of the fact that I’d met him just on the other side of this door only yesterday, that one of my first thoughts had been that he was taller than me, stronger than me, that maybe I should be afraid of him but I wasn’t.
“Fuck me, Eamonn,” I said into his ear, because I might not know this man’s middle name but I already knew that I could drive him absolutely wild by playing with his ears. “Please.”
He was rubbing my clit with his finger and the pressure building inside me was excruciating, that touch simultaneously too much and not enough. I reached down to rub the heel of my hand against the hard ridge of his erection through his pants, gratified when I heard his intake of breath.
