AllFreeNovel
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On our way home, I post it to my IG feed with the captions. “Call her Jezebel if you’d like, as long as you also call her mine. #Thosearemyfuckinghands.”
Later than night, Regan shares my post in her story, and she captions it, “This is us—Wicked, Wanton, Wild and really fucking happy.”
Mine
Regan
We take our time coming up the stairs. Stopping every few steps to kiss, or nibble, or stroke and when we finally reach the landing, I am in a frenzy of need.
I grab his tie and tug him back until I hit the wall. “Woah,” he chuckles, his breath warm on my lips before I take his mouth with mine. His mouth is hot and slick from our marathon of kissing, and I groan at the slide of his tongue back into mine. I pull at this suit jacket and he lets go of me long enough to shrug it off.
“Yes, take off all these stupid clothes, right now,” I command and turn my attention to the waist of his pants.
He grabs my hands, pulls them away and suddenly the warm weight of his body on mine is gone. My eyes snap open.
“Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” he calls, his hand slipping from mine for the first time since we left the fundraiser.
“Where are you going?” I ask as the top of his head disappears. He doesn’t answer me. Frowning, I peer over the banister frowning when only the sounds of retreating footfalls greet me. And then, my smile makes a miraculous recovery as my gaze sweeps up the staircase. After our make out session on the way up, I’ll never look at a staircase the same way.
I turn to take in the room that takes up the entire top floor of his townhouse. The floor is covered in the gleaming blond hardwood. The windowless walls are white and bare. The ceiling has a huge tray in the center. The walls are completely bare. There’s no art, no bookshelves, in fact there’s only one piece of furniture in the entire space.
Right in the center of the room, directly beneath the tray ceiling, is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Draped in a simple white comforter and dressed with a mountain of plain white pillows it sits right below the center of the opening the ceiling. I rush toward it like a shipwreck survivor would swim toward land and dive on, landing on my back in the middle and all the air leaves my lungs. The tray is a window, opening up to the dazzlingly dark, diamond crusted night sky. The pane of glass set into it so clear, that from here, it’s like having an unobstructed view of the heavens. I can?
??t believe this is what he falls asleep to every night.
I can’t believe I’m going to fall asleep here, tonight.
“What do you think?” Stone asks and I sit up to find him standing at the top of the stairs, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two long stem champagne glasses dangling from the fingers of the other. He’s been kind enough to take off his shirt and unfasten his black tuxedo trousers.
His hair is disheveled from my marauding hands and his full lips are swollen from my avaricious mouth, and his eyes burning with a fire that burns hotter than any obstacle ever could. He looks like a fallen angel. And he’s all mine.
“I think… I’m in love,” I drawl and come up on my knees. I move toward the edge of the bed, my arms outstretched. He puts the glasses down and walks to me, uncorking the champagne as he approaches, the smile on his face that of a man coming to claim his hard-earned bounty.
“Open up, Goddess,” he growls, lifts the bottle to my lips and pours the cold, fizzy liquid into my mouth. I swallow what I can, but his generous pour spills down my chin and trails down my neck, seeping into the bodice of my dress.
“I’m going to take that thing off with my teeth,” he promises, taking a swig of the champagne and then slamming his lips against mine, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me to him until our bodies are flush with each other.
I gasp when a fat drop of champagne lands on my shoulder and spills down my back in icy rivulets. Another lands on my chest and I lurch away from the cold.
“Ah, ah,” Stone’s arm tightens his hold on me, and his other hand, unburdened by the champagne bottle, slides around the back of my neck. He presses his lips to the tender spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Then he opens his mouth to lick and suck.
My body is burning from the inside out, my head falls back as I succumb to the rapture his mouth is unleashing.
“I want this dress off,” I pant, made desperate by the scrape of his teeth against my throat.
“Not as much as I do,” he growls and then the world blurs and when I can see straight again, I’m on my stomach and his big hands are planted on either side of my head and his big body casts a shadow over us as he straddles my hips, his knees pressing into the mattress.
“What are you doing?” Anticipation makes my voice husky and low.
“Making you mine and taking my time,” he says and then his lips are on my skin. He charts a course of soft kisses and small licks down the center of my back, moving his body lower, too. Between each touch, he whispers, “Mine.” I lay completely still, my heart thundering as I freefall into love, moving a million miles an hour toward its final frontier…on a journey that will never end. And there’s no fear, or doubt – just joy and transformation.
“My Jezebel,” he says the name with all the love it was never intended to engender. “I’m so proud of you. And I love you so much.” He skims the tattoo with the lightest of kisses and then, his lips move lower.
And ever a man of his word, Stone pulls my zipper down with his teeth. He spreads the fabric, tugs it off my body, and flings it away. I’m completely naked underneath it. He palms my ass, his fingers gripping hard and spreads my cheeks apart. “Let me see the goddess I’ve claimed,” his voice is deep and dark, I squirm under the heat of his ravenous eyes.
“Fuck me, you make me weak,” he groans before he jerks my hips up and back and puts his mouth between my thighs.
“Oh God,” I moan when his tongue probes my tight pucker over and over, his lips sucking, introducing me to a pleasure I didn’t even know existed.
