“Would it be the worst thing to happen to you this summer?” His minty breath grazes my lips. “To let me take you to bed?”
“Take me to bed? What, are you an aristocrat all of a sudden?”
“Okay, fine. Would fucking me be the worst thing to happen to you this summer?”
“Possibly.”
“That’s too bad.” His head cocks to one side. “Because I think it’d be pretty fucking incredible.”
My lips are parted, almost silently pleading for him to kiss me despite my stubborn resistance. Both of his hands grip my waist now, and my body is flush against his in the center of Great Aunt Rue’s foyer.
“It’s a summer I’d remember as long as I lived. That’s for damn sure,” he adds.
She would have a heart attack right now if she could see us standing here, his filthy paws in the early stages of heading into places they probably don’t belong.
When we stand here like this, it makes me forget all the things I can’t stand about Zane. My logic is dizzied, signals and wires getting lost in the crosshairs of the hormonal frenzy happening within.
I want him in me.
On me.
I want that animalistic exchange of sexual energy – the kind I’ve only ever read about in textbooks and seen in movies.
Looking into his dark gaze, I feel all the things all at once. I want to be the center of his universe. I want to be the only thing he sees. I don’t want to share him. I’m literally sick with lust and endorphins, and my heart feels like it’s wrapped in lace and ruffles – all because this ridiculously handsome jock is putting the moves on me.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog so I can see straight.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea . . .” I begin to say, “. . . for us to do it at Rue’s house.”
Zane’s mouth curls into a victorious smile, and I accept the fact that I’ve sealed my fate. I’ve signed the permission slip. I’m doing this. I may or may not live to regret it, but I couldn’t take another moment of being caught in a tug of war between my body and my mind, because it was clear which one was going to win the battle.
It was only a matter of time.
I open my mouth to speak and find myself pressed up against a wall, his soft lips dancing with mine and his fingers threading up the nape of my neck.
I’m weightless.
Pure light.
Alive.
Standing here, I don’t recognize my thoughts or feelings. I’m someone else entirely.
I touch him, really touch him, for the first time. His skin is cashmere-on-steel beneath my fingertips. Hard and soft, the muscles rippling beneath as he bends and scoops me up in his arms. He lifts me like I’m nothing, and it’s not until we’re this close that I fully appreciate Zane’s size.
“You won’t regret this,” he whispers against the flesh of my neck as his lips trail to my collarbone.
I hope he’s right.
Chapter 8
Zane
We make a mad dash out Rue’s back door, over hedges, and through the gate to my backyard. I can barely get her inside without resisting the urge to rip her clothes off right here, right now.
And I’d do it too. I’d fuck her senseless under the waterfall lanai if it weren’t for all the goddamn nosy neighbors and their binoculars for “bird watching.” We all know they don’t really bird watch.
Luckily the sun has gone down and we’re shielded by a dusky glow that happens to paint Delilah’s skin in warm shades of pink and tangerine that mix with the flush of her soft cheeks.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful.
“Get in here.” I pull her toward me as soon as we’re inside, my fingers tugging at her shirt and flicking the clasps of her bra next. Her hands are at my waist, unsnapping and unzipping at a feverish pace.
When our clothes are in rumpled heaps at our feet, I place my hand on the small of her back and bring her in, my free hand sliding between her thighs where she’s already wet for me. I slide a finger inside her tight pussy, followed by another, and her hips buck in response.
Lowering myself, I take a taut nipple in my mouth, circling her pointed buds with my tongue as my fingers slide in and out.
“Mmm,” she moans.
My cock throbs, growing, expanding as her scent fills my lungs. I want to taste that sweet, musky scent on my tongue. Moving to my knees, I cup her perfect ass in my palms and force her to widen her stance.
Her pussy accepts my tongue, and her fingers thread through my hair. Her moans grow louder, faster, and her wetness covers my tongue as I swirl her clit and drag my tongue up and down the length of her seam.
Her legs quiver after several minutes, and I know she’s getting close, but I’ll be damned if I worked this hard and got this far without the pleasure of watching her face as she comes all over my cock.
“Come on,” I say, rising and taking her hand. Without thinking, I lead her to my bedroom.
But it’s too late to turn back.
All the other girls I’ve fucked since Mirabelle have only seen the inside of my guestroom – never my master. It never felt right.
Then again, Delilah’s nothing like all those other girls.
Bringing her to the center of my bed, she lies down, and I occupy the space between her spread thighs, plunging two fingers between her swollen folds then making her taste what I’ve done to her. Her tongue glides across my fingers before I pull them out, and she licks her lips slowly as they inch into a smile. Who knew Delilah “Stick-In-Her-Ass” Rosewood had a kinky side?