Page 23 of Rumor Has It

“Maybe I’ll let you take me there.” He grabs my ankles, placing one heeled foot onto the mattress, then the next.

“And where are you taking me?”

Isaiah shakes his head. His thumb grazes his chin. I know what he’s about to say before he says it.

“All the way to heaven, sweetheart. All the way to heaven.”

Since we met, a small piece of me has wanted to run and hide from Isaiah. I don’t have emotional scars from my past relationships. I’ve never had my heart broken. Yet, on a primal level, I understand it’s the safer option. My mind has wandered a merry path, trying to lead me to believe that his desire for me isn’t shallow. But Isaiah is who he is and I am who I am.

I didn’t ask him to leave me at my bedroom door with a singular chaste kiss because a bigger part of me wants this. Craves his fleeting attention and the memory it will bring once he’s gone.

This is one dalliance. We have a swiftly approaching expiration date when the sun comes up.

I lift my arms, squeezing my cleavage together into two big mounds. My hands are bound at my waist by the sleeves of my dress. The way he’s positioned me, my legs are splayed. Coolness hits my slit when my fingers rumple up the rest of the fabric, showing him my wet cunt.

Isaiah hadn’t asked me to promise him I was pure. I don’t even think that was an expectation he had. Lying alone in this bed, I learned to get over any lingering shyness I had about my body. I can be whatever fantasy he needs and fulfill my dreams as well.

The man is looking at me like he could eat me and I’m ready to be devoured.

He falls to his knees. His broad shoulders wedge between my leather boots. The scruff of his beard tickles my inner thigh.

Isaiah takes a breath, kissing my sensitive skin, and murmuring almost to himself, “How the hell do you smell like candy every fucking where?”

I giggle. There’s no room for conversation. I enjoy the secrets I keep. Some are trivial and others hold more significance, like tonight with him.

“Oh!”The exclamation is a short huff and my giddy laughter dies with a harsh swipe of his tongue.

A second later, my mouth falls open. Surprised at the heated tingle from the peppermint he ate, my back bows off the bed. He sinks his fingertips into the globes of my ass and drags me back to the edge of the mattress. Clamping his arm over my pelvis to hold me in place, his mouth covers my swollen clit. Sucking. Teasing. The burn of the mint and the cool blowing he does on my sensitive region drives me wild, toward the precipice of something I can’t grasp. I grab fistfuls of his hair instead and grind my hips up for as much as he’ll let me.

“You like that, Cass?” Isaiah asks between licks that leave my legs quivering.

I mewl, having thought I lost the ability to speak, but I haven’t really. Not until those dexterous fingers punish me for the taunt that Isaiah couldn’t play my body better than his guitar. Then I gasp at the invasion and curl as he turns me into an instrument of my own destruction.

I might never let another man go down on me again after this. It would be cruel to make them go on stage after such an amazing performance. I’ll probably have to keep my reasons to myself. Who’d want to play second fiddle to Isaiah Roomer, anyhow?

The licks. The sucks and gentle nibbles. The push and pull of those two nimble fingers fucking my channel. So deep with his tongue, bringing me so close. I’m so damn close.

Every sensation is incredible. He finger fucks the way he sings, with pure talent and a relentless drive that hurdles me forward. I tip over the edge and swear I’m seeing everything as if I’m falling from a cloud.

Isaiah crawls up my body. He pauses to suck on my nipple with the same fervor as he showed my pussy. He tugs it between his teeth and I feel the cool, lingering sting of the mint.

My eyes shut tight. I’m having trouble forming a coherent sentence. “That is… that’s so… good,” I pant.

He gives my other breast its fair share of attention and then my mouth. I taste myself on his lips.

“I swear I could do that all night,” he says.

“I might let you, if I had use of my arms.” They’re pinned between our bodies. “I’d like to touch you, too.” I twist my palm, cupping his hard cock.

Isaiah growls and stands. He drags me to a sitting position by my cuffed wrists and then pulls me to my feet.

I go to push the sleeve over my fists, but he stops me.

“I’ve been a good boy. I’d like a gift to unwrap this Christmas.”

“Be my guest.” My lips press together.

Why do I keep hiding my smiles? Why does he?

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