Following my instructions beautifully, he tilted my head back and licked my throat. My entire body shuddered as I moved back and forth on his lap.
“Fuck, do that again,” he told me. “You want it there so bad, don’t you?”
“Do you always say exactly what you’re thinking?” I sighed as his teeth sunk into my neck, followed by a kiss.
“Only when I know you’re thinking it too.”
Fuck it. If we were going to go all in on this, we might as well be vocal. “I want it here,” I said, guiding his hands to my chest.
His eyes gleamed at my forwardness. Leaning in, Frankie closed his teeth around my breast and bit into it, leaving wet circles over the thin material of my shirt. He wasn’t even touching skin and my body reacted as though I was completely naked. His hands kneaded my tits together, putting my cleavage on display, and he ran his tongue right through the middle.
“You want me to fuck you there?”
I wanted him to fuck me everywhere. “Yes.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ophelia,” he groaned. “Pull these down.”
He tugged at the button on my shorts and freed the zipper, then lifted me with no effort whatsoever so I could shimmy the tight denim to my knees. Instead of taking them all the way off, he flipped me around, so my back was against his chest and my bare ass was in his lap with nothing but a black thong between us.
“Tell me where else you want me to touch you,” he murmured against my ear. “Right here?” His fingers slid between my legs briefly, teasing the damp material. “Fucking hell, O. I wouldn’t even have to lick my fingers, would I? They would just slip right in.”
My chest heaved as my hips found a slow, circling rhythm. His hands moved to my lower back and I recognized the telltale sound of his zipper being unleashed. Then his ass lifted and his shorts came down just enough.
“I want to feel skin,” he said. “Keep riding me like that, Trouble. I’m about to fucking blow in my pants like a rookie.”
Instinctually I reached back to touch, curling my fingers around his shaft and pumping it. His briefs were sticky with precum where the tip tented and I pinched and played with it. A tortured noise slipped through Frankie’s teeth.
“Look at that,” he whispered. “You made me a mess.”
Everything felt hazy and hot. The room was darker, the flickering candle barely touching us. We were too attuned to one another to care about anything going on outside our little dry-humping bubble. Frankie kissed my neck until my back arched and my entire spine tingled.
“I want to taste it,” I said. “Put it on my tongue.” He stilled for a second, understanding what I was asking for. The way we were sitting, I turned my head and our foreheads touched. “Do it.”
Frankie’s attention remained on my parted lips as he reached a hand down into his boxers and tugged at himself. Our harsh breaths mingled in anticipation and I let out a soft, involuntary whimper.
I don’t know what in the world possessed me to ask that of him. I’d never done it before, but every part of my body was screaming with need and my senses begged for something more.
A moment later his hand returned, where we could both see the tips of his fingers coated and glistening with exactly what I wanted evidence of. My mouth watered, and my thighs clenched together so hard I could hear the friction.
“Open your mouth,” Frankie said. I did as I was told and stuck my tongue out for good measure. Those two fingers pressed down on the muscle and my eyes did nothing short of roll back in my head.
Who did I think I was? Rubbing my ass on a man on his living room floor with my pants around my knees, begging to taste his fucking precum. Was this the kind of thing I would be into if I could actually find a guy I wanted to screw as much as the one I was sitting on? Foreplay with Frankie felt better than all the sex I’d ever had.
“Show me how good you can suck,” he instructed me. My lips clamped down around his fingers and I took them all the way to the back of my throat. “That’s fucking right, so perfect, O.”
Before I could blink he had me off his lap and on my stomach, my hips lifted, and my entire ass on full display. He tugged at the G-string and snapped it against my pussy. “Oh my god,” I whined.
“That piece of scrap isn’t hiding anything from me. You should see how juicy this cunt looks.” He spread me open and hummed. “Can I have a taste, too?”
If he didn’t, I was going to lose my mind. We were both too far gone to rationalize anything. So when the room started to fill with a sheen of thin black smoke, and a simmering sound became more violent in the kitchen, it didn’t distract us in the slightest.
A second later, with Frankie’s mouth inches from that happy place between my legs, the fire alarm started shrieking above us.
“What the fuck?” He jumped up off the floor holding his ears.
“The cookies!” My eyes rounded. “Frankie, the fucking cookies are burning!”
We sprung up in a whirl of half-naked limbs. I hobbled across the living room and into the kitchen, pulling my shorts back up my legs just as Frankie swung open the oven door, waving a towel at it. A barrage of smoke came first, followed shortly by a dozen hockey pucks as he reached in and snatched the burning tray from its fiery confines, ditching it all in the sink and pulling the faucet.
“Fuck!” He winced, sucking his burnt fingers into his mouth.
I climbed the barstool and stood inches away from the ceiling, fanning another towel at the screeching fire alarm as Frankie dashed around flinging all the windows open.
By the time the noise stopped, we were surrounded by an oily fog and the mood of minutes prior was as burnt as the fucking snickerdoodles. Frankie’s zipper still hung wide open on his shorts as he stood across from me with a crease in his brow and his hands on his hips.
Our entire relationship thus far had been a series of unbelievable events: the plane, the club, the beach, these fucking cookies. Maybe it was the universe trying to ward us off one another, but instead of heeding that advice, I just started to laugh.
A maniacal, uninhibited, holding-my-gut laugh.
“Is something funny about this, Ophelia?” Frankie attempted not to smirk. “You almost burned my house down.”
I laughed harder, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
“You keep this up, you won’t make it back to Colorado in one piece.” He finally chuckled and kicked the dish towel at his feet across the floor. “Who was in charge of the timer?”
“Natalia has it on her phone,” I said. “Where did they go?”
We made our way down the hallway toward the bedrooms where the hum of music seeped through the walls.
“I don’t hear a summoning.” Frankie shrugged.
I glanced at him hesitantly. “Maybe they fell asleep.”
“Playing throwback jams?”
“It’s like…nineties ASMR.”
Frankie rolled his eyes. “Come on, the cookies are already burnt anyway. We don’t need them.”
A pesky intrusive thought hammered me in the head. “What if they’re dead?” I asked. “What if they’re dead and we’re standing out here making jokes about them?”