I try to look around at his place, but I’m kind of dizzy from being Jameson-and-dick-drunk.
I guess that’s his living room? Sure, there’s a couch and a large TV, but where the hell is the other stuff? Then he’s kicking open a door and setting me down on a giant bed. Yet another blank canvas.
Maybe he’s a minimalist. That’s our first difference—I’m such a maximalist.
“Clothes offnow,” he orders and walks over to a dresser to set down his phone.
When he pulls off his T-shirt, for a moment, I simply stare and admire his gorgeous back, the way his muscles ripple as he moves…
“Belle, clothes,” he demands, his voice bringing me back to the now.
In a scramble, I crawl to the edge of the bed and try not to fall over when I simultaneously drag my skirt down and step out of my wet panties.
“Everything, Belle. I want you naked on my bed,” he states, his voice fading...
I twist around and find myself standing in an empty room. As I kick off my pumps then toss my shirt to the floor, I drift over to the doorway and watch him return with the suitcases.
He shucked his pants off, but his boxer briefs remain on and, sweet Lord, he belongs either in porn or a painting that I can hang on a wall, one that I’ll forever jill off to.
“Cade?” My voice sounds breathy because where the hell did all the oxygen go?
Knowing what it’ll do to him, I unsnap my bra, not even trying to hide that I’m staring at his thick cock, then hold out my arms for him.
“I love your tits so goddamn much.” He stops in front of me, the suitcases forgotten, one hand reaching out so he can rub my hard, aching nipple with his thumb. “They’re fucking beautiful.”
“I used to hate them,” I mumble.
He picks me up again and holds me under my thighs. My pussy rests against his lean abs, and I’m more than aware that I’m getting my slick all over him.
When he falls back on the bed, I squeal with laughter as we bounce.
“How could you ever hate these? Christ, if I were you, I’d never leave my room, just lock myself in and play with them all day,” he teases, gracing me with a wicked smirk.
“If you were in my room with me, I never would,” I retort, sliding my nails over his scalp then releasing a sharp cry as he scrapes his teeth over my nipple. “Anyway, my dad was embarrassed by them. He wanted my mom to get them reduced when I was eleven, but she refused.” I groan as he sucks harder, and my hands tangle into his silky hair.
That’s when I realize he’s frozen on top of me. “What did you just say?”
I blink at him and force my brain to keep up.
Shit, now I know I’ve had too much to drink. That never should have slipped out. He looks like he’s ready to murder someone and because I’m fucked up, I like that expression too much for my own good.
“It… Cade, it’s nothing.” Tenderly, I touch the frown line between his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s in the past—”
“It’snotnothing. What kind of sick fuck is he? You were eleven.” His voice becomes louder, but I put my finger on his lips.
“Stop. I don’t want to…” I sigh. “I want you. I need you. Please?”
As I stroke my finger over his mouth, he seems to calm down. I can still feel his anger but my touch brings him back to me. In turn, my heart speeds up.
God, I’m falling for this guy.
Hard.
“You’re right. Not tonight. I’ll deal with this later.”
“Let’s not talk about it again,” I whisper.
When his mouth latches onto my nipple, I arch up, hissing when he bites down. “Oh, God, that feels too good.”