“W-what?” Her voice is small and her insecurity screams back at me so I squeeze her neck, gently urging her to look back up at me.
“Where you second-guess yourself, second-guess this… whatever this is between us.”
“And what is this between us?” Her gaze turns heated and I take a second to really look at her.
Her hair is pulled back from her face in some kind of sexy teacher twist thing, and her face free of makeup, showing the gorgeous-as-hell freckles I seem to have an affliction to.
She’s fucking beautiful.
Sexy.
Addictive.
“I don’t know, sweetheart, but this”—I take her hand and place it over my hard cock—“has been hard since you walked up those stairs. That little smart mouth of yours, the way your lips purse when you're angry, when you're throwing your sass my way… no one’s managed to make me feel the way you do in a long fucking time.” It might not be the answer she’s looking for, but it’s all I can give. Her fingers wrap around my shaft, and the confidence I’ve come to admire starts to come back.
“There she is.” My hand moves back to her neck as I take her lips in another rough, hungry kiss.
I’m still pissed she pulled that little stunt out there, but the feel of her fingers stroking me and the trace of her taste on my tongue is enough to make me forget how pissed I am.
“Take your panties off and bend over the sofa.” I step back, waiting for her to comply.
“Hetch—” I cut her off with a sharp hand signal, urging her to follow my orders.
She only takes a second to work through her emotions before she steps over to the sofa and does as she's told. With expert grace, she shimmies out of the tiny piece of lace, hikes her dress up over her hips and presents her ass to me.
Jesus, fuck me sideways.
“I’m done talking, Liberty. Put your hands between your legs and get yourself there.” I take a step back to rest my shoulders against the wall. She holds my eyes for a few beats, before finally following my orders and sliding her fingers between her legs.
“Are you wet, Liberty?" I ask, already knowing the answer. There is no fucking way she isn’t as turned-on as I am.
“Yes,” she sighs, her fingers working herself to the brink.
“How wet, sweetheart?”
“Dripping.”
Fuck me.
“Is it for me?” I reach down and adjust myself in my jeans. I could easily take the few steps toward her and take over, but something about delayed gratification has me holding back.
“Yes.” She whimpers and her hips start to move in rhythm. Even though I can’t see her finger gliding between her pretty pink folds, I can picture her glistening for me.
“Show me your fingers.” She groans in frustration but still complies, presenting me with a *-juice-coated index finger.
Fuck me, I need it in my mouth.
Done with delayed gratification, I step forward, spin her around, and wrap my lips around her finger. She tastes sweet with a hint of spice. It’s all it takes for me to drop to my knees, spread her bare lips wide, and lick from her opening up to her clit.
Fuck, how could I miss her taste? It’s only been hours.
She cries out in pleasure, the sound echoing around the room. Again, I repeat the action, this time ending with a light nip on her clit. Needing to make something clear, I pull back and look up at her.
“Liberty?” She looks down, her face flushed with want, her body laced in need. “Did you really think I'd have a woman in my bed the same day I was in yours? The same day I had you coming on my cock?” I know I said we were fooling around this morning, but even if she didn’t feel the same connection as I did, surely she doesn’t think I would fuck another woman.
She comes back to herself to answer. “Honestly?"
“Yes, honestly. Always be honest with me, babe.”
“Then yeah.”
Her answer guts me more than it should.
“Jesus, sweetheart.”
“What do you expect, Hetch? Ever since I’ve moved in, you’ve had a bevy of women in your bed. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious. I come home and see you standing there hugging a woman, all rational thinking left.”
“I’m not gonna lie, Liberty. This morning scared me. I’ve been through my share of women. That's my baggage, but believe me this, if I’m with someone, I’m only with them.
“But you said—” Her confusion matches my own as I take a minute to think about my next words.
“I know what I said, Liberty, and maybe at the time I meant it, but now, now I’m not so sure.”
“You’re saying you want more?” Her hand reaches out and cups my jaw.
“I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t even know what’s happening here, except I want you. Clearly more than once. You’ve gotten to me. More than I care to admit.”
“I know the feeling,” she whispers, placing us both on the same page.
“So we take things slow. No labels, no decisions, and no one else.”