I use it to tug her a little closer to me, playfully, carefully, and then I say, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” And I press my lips to hers.
I feel her hand trembling in mine, feel her lips yield to my kiss, and for one perfect, suspended moment, we are kissing the chaste kind of kiss you see on PBS historical shows, the Disney Channel kind of kiss, where it’s just our lips touching, just our hands joined together. It’s pure romance, and I feel very genteel and distinguished as I pull away and she blinks up at me with a dazed smile.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you,” she says, a little breathlessly, and I rejoin with a really articulate, “Yeah,” and then she squeezes my hand and walks back to her door.
And then I’m standing there by the trunk of my car like an idiot, because my lips are still hungry for hers, my body is still clamoring for her touch, and my mind is this churning loop of our date and her amber eyes and our scene from three years ago. And that kiss wasn’t enough, it couldn’t possibly be enough. And then I’m eating up the distance to her front door in long, quick strides; she’s facing the door trying to sort through her jangling mass of keys; I grab her shoulder and spin her around, slamming her back into the door and bringing my mouth down on hers with the kind of ferocity that would terrify most women.
Devi Dare gasps into my mouth, and I step into her, my hands roaming aggressively from her neck to her tits and then finally down to her ass, where I scoop her up effortlessly. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I push her hard against the door, both of us groaning the moment my erection finally presses against the spot where she wants me the most. And then I part her lips with mine and finally, finally taste her; her kiss the same sweet flavor I remember from three years ago, with just a dash of champagne added in.
Her hands are in my hair, pulling hard, and the next thing I know, she’s yanking my head to the side and biting my neck like a vampire, leaving a trail of deep fire from my collarbone to my jaw. If I was hard before, I’m like granite now, my cock trying to bore a hole through my jeans.
I return the favor and move to her neck, biting and sucking until she’s grinding on my cock so hard I know I’ll have friction burns later, although I would pay that price and so much more to have her pinned up against a door again. She’s saying my name over and over, Logan, Logan, Logan, and for the briefest second, I wish she knew my real name (and then I’m glad she doesn’t because it’s a stupid, terrible name.)
I find her mouth again, and I take my time with this kiss, etching every detail and sensation into my memory. The softness of her lips, the wet satin of her tongue, the way she gasps for air when we part. Her fingers in my hair and her heels digging into my back, and everywhere, all around me, is her cinnamon smell and the feeling of her hair brushing my skin. I’ve fucked hundreds of women, literally hundreds, and never, ever have I shared a kiss like this, never have I felt like a woman was pulling my soul out of my body through my mouth, like a woman could know my entire mind just by pressing her lips to mine.
But that’s what I feel now, like Devi has magnetized something inside of me, and now every atom in my body is pulling itself to her, an ionized attraction that can’t be fought, can’t be helped, can only be witnessed.
And so I witness myself right now, my hand palming one perfect breast, my shirt rucked up to my chest while her fingertips run eager, desperate trails up my abs. And that’s when I realize that she’s just as caught up as I am in this. That’s when I realize that she’s as hungry, as needy, as turned on, and the thought drags the caveman out from hiding. I rock my hips against her again and her thighs tighten and she cries out, her eyes fluttering shut.
I could make her come like this. Hell, I could come like this, like a teenage boy, rutting into her fully clothed, grunting and panting. And I’m so far gone that I almost give in, my balls throbbing for release, my mind aching to see her face when she comes.
I don’t know where I summon the control to stop, to gently lower her to her feet and to plant one last, lingering kiss on her mouth, but I know it comes first and foremost from my reluctance to use her, to push her. This kiss was already so outside the bounds of what’s okay, professionally and emotionally, and even though I finally feel like I can touch her without Raven’s vengeful ghost haunting my thoughts, I don’t want to go from zero to sixty in one night. That’s the problem with my job sometimes. I’m so used to quotidian, workaday sex that I’ve forgotten how to take it slow. Yes, in a scene I may take my time...for a couple of hours. But I haven’t taken days or weeks to build up to sex since—well, since high school.
I want to make sure Devi is comfortable with this—with us—before we go any further. And I want to make sure that, if she is okay with it, I make every second of this thing as mind-blowing and delicious as possible.