Alcohol You Later (57)

I trail a finger along her collarbone, my cock thickening at the sound of her breathy inhale.

“Nick.” She whimpers my name, throwing her head back, inviting me to feast on the column of smooth skin along her throat.

It’s an invitation I’m eager to accept. Gripping her braids in a fist, I dive forward, scraping my teeth along the delicate flesh, planting open-mouthed kisses along the way. Her racing pulse thrums against my lips as her legs tangle around my waist. The scent of strawberry shampoo and her fragrant perfume drives me wild. I’m hot. Burning with a need to take her. To bury myself in this woman. To soothe the myriad of dark feelings and doubts that have plagued me since our fight.

I almost lost her.

Emotion builds in my throat.

I’ve given up all my vices. The booze. The drugs. Casual sex; all my go-to ways for numbing pain for as long as I can remember. I gave them up for her. And I have felt every second we’ve been apart, the threat of her walking away for good like a chokehold around my heart.

And I think I needed to feel it to realize the depth of my love for this woman.

I’ve been numb for so long. But I don’t want to be anymore.

I want to live and love and feel every moment with her.

That’s why, difficult as it is, I pull away. To prove to myself and to her that this is more than sex. I didn’t bring her here to get into her pants. This is a date. And I’m about to wine and dine the hell out of this woman. You know, minus the wine part.

“You’ve just made me so happy.” I release her hair, planting my hands back on the counter on either side of her to catch my breath.

She grins. “Yeah, well…you’ve just made me so horny.”

A laugh bubbles up from my chest. “Hold that thought, pretty girl.” I touch the tip of my pointer finger to her nose before returning to prepping the steaks.

“Hey, drummer boy?” she calls to the tune of that Dirty Dancing song.

The saltshaker halts mid shake. I lift my head, quirking a brow in her direction. “Yes?”

“I was just thinking…”

“Oh, God.” I bite the corner of my lip. “Should I be worried?”

“We’re exclusive now, right?” she asks, as if there’s any fucking doubt.

I draw back. “We damn well better be.”

Her green eyes roll heavenward. “Well, someday has arrived.” The emphasis she places on the word someday and the gleam in her eye tells me that should mean something.

“I give,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “I have not the slightest clue what you’re alluding to.”

Her cheeks turn fire engine red with her next words. I fucking love it when she tries to be sexy and embarrasses herself. “I’m trying to tell you,” she mutters, “that tonight, I want to feel the ripple of your balls in my court.”

Speechless. I am absolutely one hundred percent at a loss for words as I stare at her in amazement. Realization hits. I know exactly what she’s so eloquently trying to say, but this is just too much fun to pass up.

Her head jerks and her eyes widen. She throws her hands out. “Nothing?”

“You want to fondle my nuts?”

“No!” She chucks a potholder at my face. “Your metal balls.” She shimmies on the countertop. “Sliding down my court.” Her hand glides through the air in my direction.

“Are we talking about basketball or fucking?”

She blows out a long sigh. “Slam dunk, Nicholas.” She makes a basket with the thumb and pointer of one hand and demonstrates by bringing the pointer of the other hand through the hole. “Nothin’ but net, if you catch my drift.”

I stare at her, deadpan. “I don’t.”

“Oh, my God, Nicholas.” She white knuckles the counter, ready to throttle me. “I want you to fuck me bare, dumbass.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” I tease, setting the shaker down. Her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when I unbutton and unzip my jeans, ripping them open to give her a peek at my very erect cock. “Ain’t no time like the present.”

It’s a joke. I expect her to screech and tell me to put it away or say something suggestive. But ever full of surprises, she slides off the counter and drops to her knees at my feet.

My body jerks when she wraps a hand around my hard length, softly stroking, fondling the barbells with the pad of her thumb.

“Ray,” I groan, gripping the counter with one hand and fisting the other into her hair.

Her tongue darts out and she runs it along the underside of my cock, and I swear to all that is holy, I nearly come on the spot.

“Mmm,” she moans, lapping at the ball protruding from the tip.

“Maybe we’ll just start with dessert,” I say, dismissing my earlier thoughts as she draws me into the warmth of her mouth. She is the one initiating, after all.

Raven hollows her cheeks, sucking with the sexual prowess of a temptress. Her moan vibrates along my shaft as she pops off, swirls her tongue around the head, then works her way back down.

Heat and pressure build at the base, my erection growing impossibly harder. She meets me thrust for thrust, and I lose sight of all coherent thought, chasing my imminent release.

It’s there, so close I can fucking taste it, when she eases off, stuffing the steel rod back into my jeans and rising to her feet. She brushes the back of a hand over her mouth. Her eyes lock on mine as she zips me up and fastens the button on my jeans.