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“How can he have a flash in his eyes when he’s always looking at you?”
“Oh come on, he’s not always looking at me.”
“No, sometimes he’s staring at your boobs.”
“Well, to be fair to him they are my best feature.”
Connie shook her head and laughed.
“Your best feature is that smile, and he clearly knows it,” she said as Mabel’s heart simultaneously sank and started to believe too much.Maybe it is, maybe he does feel this way, she thought.
And honestly, she could almost believe it when she saw him next. After Connie had zipped off to her next calamity, and she’d gotten the car over to his, she just walked in the door, and saw him, and all kinds of feelings swallowed her whole. And when she tried to fight back with the usual thoughts—likeMaybe he isn’t that interested, maybe it’s already all out of his system like you supposedly wanted—her brain actually scoffed. It scoffed at her.Look at him, it said.He’s completely gone.
And it was right. He was.
He looked simply ravenous.
Like a wolf that hadn’t eaten for a week.
In fact, she honestly thought she heard him growl low in his throat when she slipped out of her coat and revealed the flimsy, flowery dress she had on underneath. And when she suggested they do something ordinary, like make cups of tea, he listened. He followed her into the kitchen. But he didn’t act like a normal person, watching a friend put the kettle on.
He stood too close, for starters.
Really close.
As in, she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. And the air stirring between their bodies. Not to mention the hands she could sense, almost but not quite touching her. Like he wanted to, he wanted to grab her by the hips and haul her into the curve of his body, but couldn’t quite bring himself to just go for it.Because he’s still trying to be a gentleman, she thought. And it was this that made her do what she did, in the end. Just the idea of him still holding back, still waiting for her to give the okay.
It sent her over the edge. It made her rub back against himbefore she could even think about it. And as soon as she did, he responded in kind. More than in kind, really—he made another sound, low in his throat. Only this one was louder, and more obvious, and it ended with a string of guttural words. “Can’t even wait five minutes for it, huh,” he said, and though she flushed red when he did she couldn’t deny it.
Or even say anything at all, really.
Because now he did have his hands on her hips.
And he wasn’t using them to keep her still, or make things go at some leisurely, normal sort of pace. No, he was fully pulling her back against him, over and over, until she couldn’t fail to understand what he was doing. He was working her over his cock. He was getting himself off, in a way that made her even more mindless than she’d felt before. She went to say his name, and only sounds came out; after a second of it she could hardly stay on her feet. Suddenly, her legs were liquid.
And not even holding on to the countertop truly helped.
She spread her hands over it, and still felt as if she were about to collapse.
But it was fine, it was good, because he apparently knew. He saw, or felt it, and just put an arm across her body. Like a seat belt, keeping her in this ride—which sounded ridiculous. But was definitely needed when she realized the other thing he was doing. He had started pushing up her dress, somewhere in the middle of saving her from sinking to the ground. And now he was pulling at her underwear, desperately enough that it made her gasp and squirm against him.
Though even that didn’t make him pause.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he gruffed out against the side of her face.
As if she were ever going to do that. Honestly it was all she could do not to actively hurry him on. To yank her own underwear down, and spread her legs, and bend the exact way he needed her. But she was glad she managed to be patient, to wait, to let him. Because god, the feel of him doing it all. He actually put a hand on her inner thigh, to get them apart. And when hepushed her over the counter, he put his free hand between her legs. To check if she was wet enough, she thought.
Then moaned when he proved her right.
He slid two fingers into her cunt and groaned over what he found there. “Fucking hell, I can’t believe how much you want it,” he said. “Getting this wet over me doing nothing but rut up against you.”
And she didn’t want to say anything in response, she really didn’t. But the trouble with being this turned on wasn’t just what it did tohismouth. It was what it did tohers. It seemed to disconnect said mouth from any safety rails she’d set up.
So suddenly she was nothing but a truth machine, willing to let out all kinds of things she usually wouldn’t. “I got this wet just looking at you at the door,” she said without even really thinking about it. Though thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind. Quite the contrary—the second she said it she felt him press his mouth against the nape of her neck, in this maddeningly hungry sort of way.
And as he did, she heard the sound of his zipper.
Loud, even over the sounds of their harsh breathing.
