Page 40 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers
Okay, I’ll accept that answer at face value. Especially since it’s reminiscent of the first time I asked about his home. He seems honest, and I didn’t see any indication that there’s anyone else in his life. In fact, there weren’t any pictures of anybody, not a thing seemed out of place. He must be very meticulous with his personal space.
“Okay. I was hoping you weren’t living a double life or like hiding another woman from me.” I’m joking, of course—mostly.
His shoulders roll back. “Of course not. I work from home so it’s nice to get out when I see you. I need a break from the same six hundred square feet I see every damn day.”
When we get to the restaurant, I think back to our first visit here and am very happy at how far we’ve come since then, how comfortable we’ve gotten with each other. These last two months have passed so quickly.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to date an older man,” I tell him.
“Oh yeah? Good thing you’re still in your twenties and I’m officially nearing middle aged.”
“Well luckily for you I’m a firm believer that men just get better with age, and thirty means you still have five more years until you’re in your prime.”
“Oh really? I’m not in my prime yet?” he laughs, and it sounds so genuine.
“I meannnn, you’re pretty hot already, but I think there’s more to come.”
“I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.” He lifts his drink to his lips to hide his smirk. What he doesn’t know is that I would stick around for five years, and then I’d stick around for another fifty. Things between us feel so easy and I won’t let this go, I want this forever.
“You know the night we met was actually my birthday.”
“Oh really? I didn’t realize,” his tone comes off sarcastic.
“How’d you know?” I ask, confused. I don’t think I mentioned it was that night.
“You mentioned your birthday was September seventh in the same conversation when you told me your favorite color was teal. And I can’t ever forget the date of when I first met you,” he reasons.
September seventh. I smile down at my plate with the knowledge that he pays such good attention to detail, though by now I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s thorough, and that shows me how much he truly cares.
The rest of dinner passes uneventfully as we flirt and eat, and by the time we leave I’m a little tipsy on my wine. Xander is practically holding me up as he guides me through the parking lot. I can’t stop laughing at everything, and I certainly can’t keep my hands to myself.
As Xander drives us back to my apartment, I’m practically in his lap, sucking on his neck and palming his erection through his pants. An idea strikes me and I fumble with his zipper, freeing him from his jeans. I pump his hard cock with my hands a few times before I lower myself down across the center console and take him in my mouth.
“Fuck Maeren. Holy fuck,” he groans out, lifting his hips to meet my eager mouth. I moan around him, enjoying the taboo act, feeling risqué, never having done this before. I suck him off and he palms my head, guiding my pace, while the other hand remains on the steering wheel.
I feel the car slowing, and he abruptly parks, gravel flying at the quick stop. I lift off of him to see what’s going on but keep my hand pumping him. “What are you doing?” I’m a little confused on why we had to stop.
“Finishing what you started,” is all the answer I get as he reclines his seat as far as it will go and pulls me over his lap so I’m straddling him. He unzips my jeans and pulls them down to my knees along with my underwear. We fumble for a minute until I’m positioned over him. I line him up to my entrance and take him inside of me, throwing my head back as I sink all the way down.
Rolling my hips, I focus on the friction as our pelvises meet and the pulsing of my clit. Xander thrusts his hips up to meet my movements and peels my sweater up along with my bra, freeing my pebbled nipples and taking one into his mouth. I jut my chest out and arch to the feel of his tongue as he trades off between them. The feeling of him inside of me and the sensation of him sucking my breasts, combined with knowing we are pulled off on the side of the road where anyone could drive by and see us, becomes too much to bear. I can feel my orgasm cresting.
“Fuck baby, that’s it. Ride me just like that,” he growls against my skin.
I cry out as stars explode behind my eyes and lean down to bite the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
“Fuck,”is all Xander utters as I quake around him, feeling his own orgasm filling me with his cum.Oh fuck. Shit.We didn’t use a condom. We’ve always used condoms. And while I’m on birth control, we’ve never discussednotusing one.
I stay seated on him for a minute, catching my breath, before slowly lifting off of him and wiggling my pants back up before plopping down into my seat again. “Um, we didn’t use a condom. Don’t worry, I’m safe, we just didn’t talk about that before. And Igot lost in the heat of the moment and didn’t even think to—” He cuts me off.
“It’s fine, Maeren. I trust you, and I’m clean. Though now that I’ve had you raw, I don’t think I want to go back,” he rasps out, helping me resituate myself before he fixes himself.
“Yeah, okay. I think I’m good with that,” I agree breathlessly. There’s something about not having a single layer between us that’s purely erotic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MAEREN
A small bouquetis at my door when I arrive home from work the following evening. A smile coats my lips as I lean down to pick it up and bring it inside, admiring the pink flowers and their bushy petals. Placing the stems into a vase of water, I shoot Xander a quick message with a photo of me holding them and ask him to come over. We’ve been seeing each other more frequently, and since we outlined our relationship a couple of days ago, I feel nonstop giddy whenever I think about him. Our time apart no longer gives me any sense of relief; his foreboding and intimidating demeanor has warmed on me and I don’t feel any desire to run from him. Just a deep seated need to run to him every chance I can.
