What the hell.
My only asshole thought before I did exactly what she wanted, testing that lipstick when I tugged her head back and devoured her.
Fuck.
Her tongue eased past her matte red lips, dueling with mine as I sought to bruise that very mouth beneath her lip stain. She’d probably look like she was stung by bees after this with the job I was doing on her, but I didn’t fucking care. She grabbed for my cock, and I literally growled in her mouth, basically an over-eager teen as I ground into her hand. She got every inch of me through my pants, reaching for my fly.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she moaned, my mouth probably looking the same after we were done. Especially since I wasn’t quite sure that lipstick would hold up. She was no doubt marking me, and fuck if I didn’t want to be marked. “I’m in 518 B.”
Out of my fogging haze and back to reality, and I was right when I eased her mouth away. I’d smeared her lipstick but only just.
My thumb outlined the job I did, the soft red of her lower lip painting her sun-kissed skin. It was quite possibly the hottest shit I’d ever seen. This woman was incredibly sexy, and in more than one circle, that probably placed her completely out of my league. I mean, she was older, because of that, more experienced when it came to life and decision-making in general. Most certainly if the shoe had been on the other foot, had she’d been me, I was sure the responsible thing would have already been done. She’d be upstairs to 518 B.
I would have let her go.
So much debate in my hands, my chest and maybe even a little in my eyes too. I knew when Bri brushed her thumb across my eyebrow. It felt like fucking heaven, and I wanted to bite her flesh.
I did, goddamn me, teeth sinking into her palm. I sucked her skin, the taste akin to cherries, that juicy, that succulent. We both moaned in my running car and when she probed again, for me to come inside and for me to join her, I forced my mouth to let go of her.
I pulled her hand away, lacing our fingers. “Should we?” Should we do this? Should I jump with her? What a time for a conscience, right? I shook my head. “I mean, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do.”
Weak, I knew. Placing the ball in her court, for her to deny me and not the other way around. I suppose, in a way, it was a bit telling of our age difference. I didn’t want to be the reason to shut this shit down, but it was the only way to clear my conscience from the possibility of a heavy guilt. I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. Take advantage of her.
I wet my lips. “There were a lot of emotions tonight.”
A lot of feelings and I saw each of them play in that moment. They ghosted across her hooded eyes and smoked eyelashes, the soft glow of her highlighted cheeks and flushed skin. This woman was a work of art.
And she was pulling away from me.
She physically tugged free from my hand, grabbing her purse.
“Bri—”
“You know, if you don’t want to do this, just say,” she said, laying my shit bare when she whipped around. Her dark mane fell in a flourish over her rosy chest, the heat of before returning to her dark eyes. I hated to see it. See her like this. She shook her head. “Not whatever the hell this is.”
She waved her hand, but I took it. Definitely not wanting to let her go and most certainly not like this. “Bri, we just... we said a lot tonight.” Honest. It had been a lot. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”
“Well, thanks for looking out for me,” she snapped, once again, forcing her hand away. She got out, heeled pumps to the ground. “I hope you think about that while you’re jerking yourself off tonight. I’m thirty-five years old, Ramses. I can handle myself.”
“That’s not what I—”
Door slammed in my face, cutting off my words. I watched her huff as she made her way to the elevator, her head thrown back as she shot inside it like a bullet.
I touched my head to the steering wheel, my car still running before I growled and peeled off to the closest parking space. I was definitely going to regret this. I definitely shouldn’t give in to this. I’d been impulsive before. I’d been stupid before.
Pocketing my keys, I hit the same elevator punching the five once inside. I was amped the hell up. I didn’t fucking care. I was going to chase this woman.
I just hoped she was ready to be goddamn chased.
Chapter Six
Bri
Man child, my only thought as I gobbled a glass of wine in a swallow. I downed that crap like a frat boy.
I mean, he said no to me.
I was embarrassed, on fire. I’d basically thrown myself at the guy when he had no interest in me.
He’d actually been trying to be nice about it.
I didn’t want nice. I wanted savage and wanted someone to help me get out of my head. I wanted escape, to feel lack of control but on my terms. I wanted to be able to make the calls, the shots. I wanted the power.
For once.
I poured another glass as a fist hit the door, one then two swift knocks. No way in hell should my landlord be knocking at my door at such an hour, even if I had called earlier in the week about a slow-flushing toilet. This condo had been new when I rented it, the first tenant, but they were obviously working out the kinks still. This place was flawless outside of that hiccup, polished marble countertops, sleek hardwood floors, and fresh ivory paint. They’d even added an accent wall in a cool silver, making the place just as masculine as it was feminine, something I hadn’t minded since I didn’t fall into the stereotype of a woman in need to fill her life with pink and flowers. Nothing wrong with pink and flowers, but that was something I’d never been into.
Thump, thump, thump.
What the hell?
I chugged the last bit of my wine, ready to lay into someone’s ass and failed to check the peephole before opening the door. I just opened it, ready to unleash the fiery gates of hell, but before I could the back of my neck was grasped and lips crashed down so hard on mine I drew blood.
I tasted his blood, Ramses’s lips between my teeth and my lower lip clamped tight between his, a fluid exchange.
Oh my hell.
I gasped as he completely grabbed my face and shot into my condo, me in tow. His leather-gloved hands warmed my cheeks, his body hard and solid even through his wool coat. His face chilled from the cold, his lips hot as he tasted mine and I drew from his. He came back. Came after me.
And I flooded in my panties, my leg wrapped around him. He tugged it up, his hand up my thigh as he pressed my body to my ivory walls. He grasped and bit my lips, and I moaned, scratching at his back.
“That invitation still open?” he asked, his grin lazy before kissing me hard again. I growled, a shaking and quivering mess in his hands before he finally let go.
He placed a hand on the side of my face, then the other, standing there like a god in a three-piece suit. His coat open, he displayed all the goods, the entire expanse of his long body donned to the nines in harsh grays and handsome black. He oozed swagger like a seeping wound and was the very reason I never questioned how someone of his age had managed to pick me up. I didn’t consider myself a particularly hard lay, but I’d been hard on him. I pushed him.
He obviously pushed me back.
He tugged a glove off his hand with his teeth, his mouth stained in red from my lipstick. He didn’t have a lot, but he had some, and regardless, I had a feeling his lips tingled with natural red just as much as mine beneath the paint. Using that naked thumb, he brushed a rough pad along my lower lip.