Page 7 of Untethered Heart
But it’s too late now because Caleb just branded my lips with his. Technicolour fireworks erupt behind my eyes from the contact. It’s soft, slow and deep compared to the way he consumed me on the drive over here. My hands come around to cup his jaw, and I feel myself lean into the kiss, pulling him even further into me as if I know what the hell I’m doing. I guess my body does. It knows what it wants. Caleb.
He pulls my legs tighter around him, locking them behind his back as he pushes me harder against the door, grinding against me, and I can feel the distinct hardness of his cock as it rubs against my clit. I shiver and drop my head back against the door, a deep moan bursting through me. I desperately pull the cold, salty air that dances around us into my lungs, hoping to calm the flames that his touch ignites in my veins.
He groans and a warning bite stings my neck before he growls, “Open the fucking door, Siren.” He licks at the spot where I’m certain his teeth marks rest.
I pull a hand from his neck, and it dives between our bodies to the small bag that’s threaded through my belt loops. He looks down between us, no doubt trying to read my movements.
“The key’s in here,” I whisper with shaky words. Where I was nervous before, I think now it’s the adrenaline rushing through me, and Caleb must hear it.
“Do you still want to do this?” he asks. I slowly drag the zipper open and feel the keys resting at the bottom. I shift, and he lets my legs fall to the ground so I can turn around and unlock the door. I’m turning the key right along with the thoughts that turn over in my head. I’m not nervous about having sex. I am, however, completely untethered by the thought of sex with Caleb.
I take a few deep breaths, sending away nerves brought about by doubt and replacing them with confidence in my body. I do want to do this. In fact, I’ve never wanted someone so badly. I turn to meet his waiting stare, feeling conviction burst through my limbs, and I straighten my back. “Yes.”
That one word catapults him into action. My feet back further into the house, trying to keep up with Caleb’s flying pace. He nips at my bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth and sucking. I follow his lead and say a prayer of thanks that my mind has decided to quiet the clouded thoughts of whether I’m doing this right because, please, God, don’t stop kissing me.
“Not a chance. These lips are a fucking drug.”
Damn it, did I say that out loud? He groans and tugs at the top that’s tucked into the leather skirt I’m wearing. I think I need to thank Claire for letting me borrow from her wardrobe.
A feral growl comes from Caleb. He stops us in our tracks and cups my face, forcing my eyes open, which have been living in darkened bliss since we stepped over the threshold, open.
“Where is your bedroom and how the fuck do I get this off you?” He pulls again at my shirt, and I giggle.
“It’s a normal top. This skirt is just really tight,” I say as I grab his hand with more confidence than I’ve ever felt with a man and lead him down the hallway.
He crowds my back. “You’re telling me. This thing is damn near painted on.” His free hand runs down my leg and back up, seizing the hem of my skirt and hitching it higher, nearly exposing my underwear.
He licks up my neck again, tasting me and forcing my head to drop back onto his chest, allowing him to explore further as we make it to my bedroom.
I push away from him and turn slowly, reaching down to unzip my boots one by one. I throw them aside, then bring my hands to the back of my skirt. The only sounds in the room are my heartbeat pounding in my ears and the zipper as it slowly drags down. The fabric drops, and immediately, my skin prickles with heat as Caleb just stands there, taking me in. His searing gaze assesses me, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. I pull my shirt over my head, leaving me standing in only a white cotton bra and high-cut briefs.
He stalks towards me. “Do you think you’re fooling anyone with that innocent white cotton, Siren?”
With every forward step he makes, I retreat, until the back of my knees hit against the mattress. I fall, landing on my elbows. I crawl back until I reach the headboard and take him in, still fully clothed. He tuts and shakes his head. “If you want to play angel, I’ll happily volunteer as your devil.”
That carefully put-together businessman I met at the bar is falling apart, piece by piece. Unbuttoning his vest with purpose, and tossing it against the wall, he then yanks his tie, rolling his neck to aid the release. As he pulls it over his head, his neat waves become dishevelled.
“My soul burns, demanding to corrupt you.” With every button of his shirt that reveals the firm body I had felt hiding before, my clit pulses. His chest slowly becomes bared to me, and my body desperately craves to be just as undone as the clothing that restrains him.
“But first”—his shirt drops to the ground along with his knees, and his hands shoot out, fastening around my ankles and heaving me to the end of the bed so my arse hovers just over the edge—“I need to taste you.”
He commands my attention, not letting my eyes leave his as his hands glide up my calves and over my thighs. When he clutches the band of my underwear, the last of his composure goes with it as he drags the material down my legs and pushes my knees open, exposing me to him. I can’t help but squirm under his perusal.
His fingers ghost along my inner thighs, tracing a path towards my throbbing pussy. The lamp on my bedside table is the only light in the room, emitting a soft glow, but it seems enough for Caleb.
“Look at this pretty pussy,” he says, his uttered words sparking a full body fever. One hand stays firmly planted on my thigh while the other dives forward, caressing and exploring my pussy, avoiding my clit. He lets his fingers drag along the outside while his palm connects right down the middle.
“You’re already so wet for me, Siren.”
I’m panting, my feet wriggling and writhing against the bed. He blows on my pussy and it’s enough for me to dip my head back into the mattress, arching my heaving breasts up and attempting to close my thighs to grant some form of respite from this delicious torture.
“So responsive. Are you aching, baby?” All I can do is continue to pant and squirm.
“Hmm?” he prompts again before swatting a swift tap against my clit and the move catches me so off guard, my head pops up to look at him.
I don’t think I’ve ever noticed what it’s like to see a man settled between my thighs. Although I’ve only had one boyfriend do it a few times, so my experience is limited.
“I asked you a question.” He blows again on my clit, and I moan in response, dropping my head back between my shoulder blades. “Are you aching?”
