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Confused, I called after him, “I didn’t deliver an actual order today…”
The screen snapped shut once more, but I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t, but then again, maybe I could stare at a few of his pictures while he was off looking for his checkbook.
Carefully entering his home, I toed off my flip-flops and pressed my toes into the warmed hardwood. I took in his light walls, and the well-made couch and matching armchairs that faced a large flat-screen TV. His house was charming, warm, and inviting. It felt as if I were seeing it for the first time, which made sense because the first time, I’d practically been concussed.
His steps echoed down the stairs.
“Here, found it.”
He took a second to lay the checkbook down on the surface of the kitchen counter, filled in what he needed to, then ripped out the singular check.
“Why are you giving this to me?” I repeated.
“For the care box, and gas…” he said with a small secretive smile, walking my way. He was being sweet, and it was difficult not to feel swayed by his kindness, especially after seeing my mother’s tears earlier.
I smiled, gently taking the check from him. “Thank you, this means a lot.”
“This time things went a little smoother. That’s a good sign, right?” He laughed, standing too close to me.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I guess, if you—”
Suddenly his lips were on mine, his hand cupping the back of my neck while his other went to my hip, nudging me in the direction of the kitchen.
All the emotions from the lunch and having him hold me erupted from my chest, compelling me to kiss him back. I was hungry, desperate for his touch and the feel of his lips against mine. My hands went up his bare chest, feeling the taut muscles under my fingers.
“Rae,” he groaned, tugging my ponytail until my head tilted back, his lips slamming against mine once more. The tension from my hair being pulled, and him devouring me, had me practically grinding against him. His free hand moved down my front, hovering over the apex of my thighs. We were against a wall, I think, as the palm of his hand landed against my pussy, still covered by leggings, but he didn’t seem to care as his fingers found a way to settle right where my thighs connected. My eyes were shut, the sensations of having him touch me and fuck my mouth with his tongue almost more than I could handle.
He rubbed me through the fabric, kissing me, tugging my hair until suddenly my hips were lifted, my ass slammed on the counter, and Davis stepped in between my legs, spreading them wide.
Gripping the hair at the base of his neck, I brought him closer, kissing deeper, all while hating myself for how weak I’d become. I’d spent the last several days erasing my crush, only to have it all come rushing right back.
He kissed me so hard that I started to tip, and his hand came around my back, bracing me as he laid me on the counter. Within seconds he was hovering above me, his lips detached from mine.
“Tell me you’re not seeing that guy from the other night.”
My chest rose in heavy thuds as I processed his question. Puckering my brow, I shook my head. “No…that wasn’t anything. We never set up a second date or even kissed at the end of the night.” With a bit of a rumble, he suddenly disappeared from view, and then there was suddenly a sharp tug on my leggings and the sound of fabric ripping.
“Hey!” I gasped, trying to close my legs, but his hands braced them, keeping them open.
I sat up on my elbows, peering down at him. “What are you—?”
The mischief in his gaze cut me off, and before I could utter another sound, his mouth was descending through the slit he’d just ripped in the center of my leggings.
“I need to taste you.”
My hands were back in his hair as his fingers forced my panties to the side and his tongue delved deep into my center. His groan was so fucking hot that it made my hips jut forward into the friction of his ministrations.
“God…yes,” I whimpered as he consumed me like a fucking meal.
The panties he had pushed aside were soaked as he flattened his tongue, swiping along my center and teasing the edges.
His eyes tipped up, meeting mine, and I wasn’t sure when or how we’d crossed this line, but I was too far gone to care.
Right as I was about to beg him to keep going, he stopped and pulled away, staying kneeled in front of me, his eyes right at the mess he’d made.
“Want me to stop?”
I hated him, and the smirk on his face and that small twinkle in his eye. But I also craved him.
