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“That’s why I’m here,” he replied, dropping a pair scissors back in their bucket before escorting me out of the classroom and the building. He carried my bicycle to his truck, his annoyance plain. “Isn’t it getting a little cold out to still be riding this?”
“It’s not snowing yet,” I said and ignored his grumbly mumble. When he made a left out of the parking lot, I held up his art project to assess it. “You did a pretty good job.”
“Pretty good job? That’s an awesome mixed-media pumpkin,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows like I should be proud of him for remembering the terminology I had gone over during class. I was.
“Maybe we could sell it at the auction,” I said, sliding his aviators on.
He regarded me with a sinful smirk. “You look so good in those. You know that, right?” When I shrugged one shoulder, he clucked his tongue with a stiff shake of his head as he refocused on the road. “What auction?”
“Every year, the museum has a fundraiser for Artist Point, which is the program that employs me. They auction off stuff by local artists—paintings, sculptures, even some of the projects from the kids. We actually raise quite a bit of money. And since you’re…” I paused, comprehending the importance of what I was about to say out loud, “…my boyfriend, that makes you obligated to go, right?”
“I suppose I could pencil it in. Anything for the kids.”
“Truly magnanimous of you.” I poked his side before taking a look out of the window. “Where’re you going?”
“Home.”
“This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“I know. I’m kidnapping you.”
“Damn it.” I banged my fist on the door. “I didn’t pack my weapons in my purse tonight.”
“Eh, I don’t know that you need much more than your mouth. Cut somebody to the quick with that.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, and he brought my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm. “Don’t tease.”
Inside his kitchen, I stuck the pumpkin on the refrigerator with a magnet then studied the picture of Jason with his parents. He stood behind me, crisscrossing his arms over my chest, tugging me back against him. I angled my head to ask him, “How old were you there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five or six.”
He looked so young and happy in that moment with his parents, my heart broke all over again for him and his family. Of all the time and memories he lost out on. Not knowing what to say, or if I even could say anything, I turned in his arms, and laid my hand over his heart.
He rested his forehead against mine, his voice barely audible. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He didn’t answer for a long time, his breath mingling with mine, his fingers cupping my jaw, but eventually he let out a quiet, “Being you.” Then he lifted his head and slowly quirked his mouth to the side. “Let’s go.”
In one swift motion, he threw me over his shoulder and carried me upstairs to his room. I yelped in laughter when he tossed me on the bed. “I had fantasies about being carried through those double doors,” I said breathlessly, fixing the hair that had fallen over my face. “But not like that.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer. I owe you from yesterday.” Wasting no time, he tugged off my pants and made himself at home between my legs, humming like a man hungry. He nibbled on the tender skin of my upper thigh before moving to my pubic bone, scraping his teeth over me. In our short time together, I’d learned he liked to mark me.
But I didn’t mind. For once, I wanted to be claimed. I was his.
“I love that you don’t wear underwear,” he murmured against my skin before dragging the flat of his tongue up my slit.
I gasped his name, digging my fingers into his hair, and he held my hips down so I couldn’t wiggle away under his onslaught. All of my muscles clenched as he alternated fluttering the tip of his tongue and sucking at my clit, and I could hardly fill my lungs with a breath before he was robbing me of it with another lush kiss or bite to my tender flesh.
Digging my heels into the mattress, I canted my hips, circling and seeking more, and he groaned, his mouth open on me like he couldn’t get enough. He pushed his hand down on my lower stomach, keeping me in place, even though he whispered words about loving how wild I was, and slipped his thumb over my clit until I was muttering incomprehensible words. Tension coiled through me, but as I felt the first spark of an orgasm, he lifted his head.
“Wh-what…what are you doing?”
“Enjoying myself.”
I whined as his thumb and index finger held me open so the cool air of the room washed over my soaked skin.
It was lewd, how hot and wet I was.
Yet with Jason’s filthy grin, I couldn’t help but let out a delirious laugh.
