Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale Page 17

  He downs the entire container and tosses it in the trash can. Daniel comes to my side of the counter, lacing his fingers with mine. “Come on, pretty lady.”

  We cross to the couch, and I take the corner seat because why wouldn’t I? It’s strategic placement if you think about it. At least two-thirds of my body surrounded by fabric and cushions and whatever else furniture is comprised of.

  Daniel takes up the space next to the one-third of me left exposed, and slouches into the cushions, arms stretched across the back. Jet-black ponytail splayed against his neck.

  Stunning. I’ve never thought to use that word to describe a man but in this circumstance it feels right. Daniel isn’t only funny, he’s vibrant. Even in stillness I can literally see life pulsing under his skin.

  “So, what’s your poison? Netflix? Call of Duty? The Secret of NIMH?” He picks up a piece of my hair that must have escaped my bun and twirls it between his fingers.

  Do I play the game of coy maiden and pick a random show? Or do I give voice to the thing I’m thinking—that we’re both thinking?

  “I don’t really do TV too much. What else you got?” Good start. Not a streetwalker level proposition but enough to cast my lure in the water to see if he’ll bite.

  “Is that right?” Daniel volleys back with a knowing smirk. “Depending on your mood? We can have lots of good fun that’s funny.”

  I let out an unladylike snort. So not cute but the man is throwing out Dr. Seuss innuendos. Who would ever? “The Cat in the Hat? Really?”

  “And she knows her literature too. Good on you, Li’l J.” I would have questioned his use of the term ‘literature,’ but stall at the fingers once again moving around the perfectly situated bun at the back of my head.

  “You have great hair. Why keep it tied back and tucked away?” Daniel asks, fishing pins out of the bun, dropping them to the floor behind the sofa.

  “It’s too thick,” I reply, licking my suddenly dry lips.

  His eyes track the movement of my tongue before bouncing back to mine. “Is that right?”

  My head springs back and forth on my neck like a bobblehead because I have no words. No words and no self-control. That thing that happens every time we’re in the same vicinity is happening right now, this minute.

  I’ve never felt anything like it—like him. That’s why I’m here. Why at the restaurant, I didn’t walk to my own car or call my own Uber. In the simplest terms, this man does it for me. On like every level. And it’s more than his pretty face and body. It’s him. The older brother trying to be there for his family. The smart-ass who quotes children’s books. The man who sets my body on fire like no one else. We don’t have tomorrow, we can’t, but ask me if I care. I assure you I do not.

  I scoot forward until my knees touch his thigh. “And too curly.”

  “Not…too curly,” he says with feigned shock, leaning forward, and that spark that reignited over guava margaritas and tacos bursts into a full flame. Circulating through my body rapidly with hunger and an almost defining fervor.

  Daniel moves even closer. Reaching behind my head to pull the first pin from the mostly deconstructed form. And I gasp—mouth open, goose bumps peppering the skin on my arms, my whole body coiling in anticipation of his touch—loud. The only indication that he heard it’s the slight twitch of his lip as another pin is dragged past the coiled strands.

  On instinct, I reach up to contain the unraveling strands. My hand collides with Daniel’s and just kind of rests over his. “I jumped on the natural hair train before I realized all the work it required.”

  “Mm, I get that.” His hand slips from beneath mine to remove another pin. “But the most beautiful things in the world—people, animals, places—are the wild ones, the uncultivated ones. The ones that simply are.” With all the pins finally gone, my hair expands in a tumble of curls, down my neck and over my shoulders. The horror of what I look like sends my hands to the front of my head in a makeshift headband.

  “I wish you wouldn’t have…” I start, but Daniel interrupts.

  “When I think of you…” His fingers slide through my hair and curl around the back of my neck. “It’s always like this. Hair wild. Eyes wide, taking everything in. Wanting what you want but afraid to take it.”

  “I don’t…” A shake of his head stops the flow of words and it’s kind of sexy in an alpha, know-it-all kind of way. Normally that attitude would hit every feminist nerve and ignite the righteous indignation that comes with being the daughter of a tigress who demanded I learn to roar and hunt before I walked into my kindergarten class, but sitting in this penthouse, on a cushy sofa with city lights twinkling and a warm man smiling, I’m far from indignant.

  In fact, my clothes are too restrictive, and I have too many of them, and more than anything I want them off, but when it comes to Daniel, “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “You do.” He laughs, deep and melodic. “The indecision is cute. A tad inconvenient, but cute, nonetheless.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

  “I’m not. Just calling it like I see it, lady. You and me…” His eyes run down my neck and over the pronounced bones of my clavicle. Stopping briefly at my breasts before taking a leisurely journey back up. It’s a lascivious gesture that sends arousal pooling in my panties. “Know each other in the most biblical sense of the word.”

  Fair question when evaluated from the ‘have already seen you naked and bumped uglies’ perspective, but tonight can’t be chalked up to wedding pheromones or weed. If we do this—I take a fortifying breath—“I don’t want to be the person you chose because I’m conveniently here.”

  I don’t get a quick denial of the other women he’s been with. Instead, the fingers around my neck tighten and pull me forward until our foreheads almost touch. This close all I see is Daniel backlit by casino neon and effervescent brown eyes that excitedly study me. His thumb swipes across my lips and lingers there, sending heat through my body.

  He’s close. So close that I can almost taste the pending kiss.

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever seen even when you weren’t there. Even when you ghosted me, and I wasn’t sure if I’d have another shot. Nothing about me pursuing you has been random, Jessica Johnson.”

  My gaze flicks to the skyline over his shoulder, overwhelmed by his words, or maybe it’s the intent behind the words. I’m not in this alone. Not by a long shot. He’s motionless. Waiting. I drop my eyes back down to his; intent and longing burn there.

  Slowly, I trace the cleft in his chin, squeezing the dip in the center.

  “Jessie J. What are you doing to me?” It’s an earnest whisper.

  Without breaking his gaze, I bite the tip of his thumb. “I wish I knew. Want me to stop?”

  “Nah…” he says and leans forward that last inch.

  Soft lips press against mine and big hands bracket my face, and God, I love the way he kisses, a filthy, sexy mouth-fuck. That’s everything. All the things I’ve been thinking about since he stepped foot in the restaurant, and I feel it—him—from the tips of my fingers all the way down to my toes.

  We both groan. His fingers tangle in my hair, fisting the curls as he kisses me deeper. It’s frenetic and uncontrolled, much like the man himself, and I’m swept up, adrift on sensations that wash down my body in a heated rush.

  The world tilts on its axis. The questions erode into nothingness, replaced by Daniel—the texture of his skin beneath my fingertips, the clean masculine scent, the greedy passion that spills over me as once again he kisses me into oblivion.

  I recline back into the pillows and let out a frustrated whimper when he doesn’t follow. I tremble as slow hands run up my shins to rest on my knees, squeezing.

  “We’re not fucking on my couch, Li’l J.”

  My heart plummets. I mean drops down to the first level of t
his high-rise. What was the whole sexy eyes and steamy innuendos all night about if not that? “Oh.” I sit up as gracefully as one can when sprawled on your back with a full-grown human resting between your thighs. “I thought…I just…wow, this is…” awkwardly embarrassing.

  “I said not on my couch.” He stands and extends a hand. “Especially when I have a perfectly respectable bed less that ten feet away.”

  I stare up at him from my prone position for a long time before clasping his hand. Daniel hauls me into his chest. His hands roam down my back and over my behind where he cups both cheeks and lifts.

  My legs automatically split open to clasp his waist.

  “Daniel.” I gasp as the swollen head of his erection pokes at my entrance. His name is both a question and the answer.

  “I’ve got you, Jessie. Trust me,” he whispers before he claims my mouth in the sweetest way, meltingly slow and overwhelmingly thorough. We don’t stop kissing as he carries me down the darkened hallway or when he lays me down on the mattress.

  His hands are everywhere, under my shirt, unbuckling my pants, tossing my belt across the room. I can barely keep track of time and space or random clothing articles like panties. And then he stops.

  Chapter 23

  Daniel

  I bury my face in the curve of her neck and take deep, cleansing, please-don’t-embarrass-yourself-by-blowing-your-load-before-you-even-give-her-the-tip breaths.

  “Just…need…a sec.” The muffled words sound coarse even to my own ears because this was not the plan. When I finally got Jessie back in my bed, I was supposed to be on my rock god shit. I planned to blow her mind with experience and technique.

  The only thing in danger of blowing right now is my load and that’s damn uncomfortable. Somehow, I’ve wandered into the land of no stroke Dan annnndd yeah, it’s not really my thing.

  “Is everything okay?” My head snaps up at the quietly asked question and my eyes slam into a passionately bright gaze quickly cooling with something I can’t quite identify. Worry, maybe? A little trepidation?

  “Don’t,” I say in a whisper. I dip down and trace the trembling line between her lips. She gasps against my mouth. Her body relaxes in increments, opening for me as I take her mouth with measured strokes. Giving my heart time to find a slower pace and my dick enough space to keep its last shreds of dignity.

  After seemingly endless moments I break the kiss and glance down to find Jessie undone. Her chest moving up and down with shallow breaths, brown skin flushed a perfect shade of rose gold, pink lips wet and swollen from our kisses.

  This, right here, is exactly what I want from her.

  The fantasy doesn’t begin to touch the real thing because she’s, “Better than I remember.” Better than any imaginary world I could conjure. Jessie J in the flesh is goddamn candy to my psyche, achingly sweet, and I plan to gorge myself.

  She leans up. Her hands caressing the straining muscles of my arms, mapping my shoulders and pecs. Nimble fingers trail down to twist at my nipples, and I lose it. Diving into the next kiss like a man possessed, raw and uncontrolled. Completely consumed. The need to own this pussy, to brand my name on the silky flesh, spurring me to action.

  I spring off the bed and strip, bending quickly to retrieve a condom from the discarded pants. Jessie eyes me between the V of toned thighs and I can barely get the condom on because my hands are shaking so bad, but I complete the fucking mission and move to stand between her legs.

  “Feet to shoulders, baby,” I say and pull her to the edge of the bed. Her legs raise, slender ankles hook in the space between the ball of my shoulder and neck. With the movement I smell her. How wet she is. How ready. My eyes roll closed as the scent blasts my senses and my balls draw up. I grip the root of my shaft, sliding the tip through her slick folds. She gasps when I tap her clit with the fat crown, once, twice, three times. Jessie’s heels dig into my shoulder blades as her hips lift high off the bed, seeking.

  “Please, Daniel.” My name, said in that soft, wanton tone, just might be the best thing that I’ve heard, like ever.

  Without further preamble, I push inside her body. Inch, by inch, by agonizing inch, taking giddy damn pleasure in the heat and stretch of her body around mine. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about this moment. Wondered if she was as good as I remembered.

  Now, I have my answer.

  “More,” she moans, her hips gyrating with need.

  I pull out and thrust back inside with increased force. “Like this?”

  Restraint tightens her features, echoing my own death grip on control. “Exactly like that,” she says on a ragged breath, hands twisting in the sheets.

  She works herself up and down my shaft, angling her hips to take me deeper.

  “Jessie, I don’t know how long I’ll—” I bite off the end of the sentence and grip the tops of her thighs, grinding forward until hot liquid coats my balls and the silky flesh of her walls flutters around my length.

  “Ah, God, Daniel,” she whispers, urgency spurring her to move.

  I finger our connection, gathering her juices on my thumb, and flick her clit. Her response is immediate. I feel a strong pulse start under my fingers. A perfect wave matching my rhythm that travels up her legs and makes the breath catch at the back of her throat. Brightly painted toes curl around the back of my neck as Jessie’s movements become sloppy with eagerness and it’s all I can do not to be on some Ludacris-type shit and move just like that.

  Her legs fall from their perch, ripping my cock from her body. From this vantage point she’s a woman interrupted. Mouth open, gasping for breath. Head tossing back and forth. Tears clinging to the bottom rim of her eyelashes. Feet digging into the mattress. And when she eyes me down the length of her body, I’m lost. I don’t just want this woman for a weekend or a night. I want her—this—permanently.

  I nudge her knees wider, my chest sliding over the hot skin of hers, and in one hard thrust I’m back inside, balls-deep. Our moans mingle as her pussy clamps down on my length, squeezing. “Every time with the goddamn Kegels. You’re really trying to kill me. Huh?”

  A wicked smile curves her lips but my hips cant and that smile melts away, pooling into a needy stare. Teeth sink into the corner of her mouth as she fights to hold back a groan.

  Jessie always seems so self-contained, but as the man in her fucking bed—well, my bed, but you get my gist—I want her out, and wild, and carefree. I want uncontrolled sounds and the sting of nails down my back. I want teeth sinking into my flesh and hair clouding my vision.

  My hands clasp the narrow span of her slender hips, pulling her up as I drive inside.

  Give me the moans, Jessie.

  Give. I mentally coax. Them. I snap my hips forward. To. I grind my chest into peaked nipples and my pelvis into her clit engorged and ready, so fucking ready. Me. Sweat dots my brow with effort as I go straight to pound town.

  Yell my motherfucking name.

  Every time I thrust, she makes these helpless whimpers at the back of her throat silently spurring me to go faster, and harder, and deep, so much deeper with each stroke. And it’s still not enough. I run a hand down her calf, bring it up around my waist, and damn if the tip of my dick doesn’t kiss her womb.

  “Dan-iel,” she yells up to the ceiling. There she is.

  Hands clutch at the muscles in my arms and back, and scratch down my ass even as she draws her legs back to take me deeper. “I’m close, D. So close.”

  That’s what’s up.

  Jessie licks the sensitive skin over my Adam’s apple, and my thrusts become disjointed with a stilted urge. I slip a hand between our bodies, delving between dilapidated pussy lips to thrum the sensitive bud hidden there. Immediately, her eyes slam into mine and I watch rapt as the tension of her orgasm builds and crests, spilling across her features and down her limbs, pooling in the violent clenc
hing of her core.

  The fervent pulse of her orgasm pushes me headfirst into release and I erupt with shallow strokes that purge every drop.

  “Fuck,” I pant and drop my sweaty forehead to hers.

  “My thoughts exactly.” She sighs under the kisses that I drop on the bridge of her nose, and under her jaw, and salty, passion-swollen lips. Cocooned in postcoital intimacy, our hearts beat in a singular tempo and I try like hell to revel in the now.

  I have Jessica Johnson in my bed, and she admitted, albeit reluctantly, that she likes me. Annnnnd the sex…? Doing that again. Soon. Like somewhere in the next fifteen or twenty minutes because my dick is a randy fucker that can’t wait to fuck her.

  I chuckle at my witty double entendre.

  “What?” she asks with an answering laugh, her fingers sliding idly through my hair.

  “Nothing. I’m just—” falling. This is new, but the truth of it rings in my blood. I’m falling for Jessica Johnson, my best friend’s little sister, once removed, I think. It’s happened super hard and crazy quick and comes with a shit-ton of bullshit. Namely from her brother, but I’d be lax to leave out my friends. Those penis thwarters refuse to let me be successful. Assholes.

  I drag my nose up her cheek and scrape teeth along the shell of her ear. “Happy you’re here.”

  “Me too.” She snuggles into my chest with a loud yawn.

  “None of that, Jessie J.” I breathe into her ear and dot soft kisses down her neck. “I have plans for the rest of the night.”

  “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”

  “I can show you so much better than I can tell you.”

  We start slow and languid with seemingly endless kisses. Tired hands wander. We explore each other with the increasing enthusiasm of newly acquainted, or maybe that should be reacquainted, lovers.