Tattooed Troublemaker - Elise Faber Page 0,31

face, of the blush and chagrin and—

Then he was laughing, too.

“So, maybe I lack game,” he muttered before burying his head in my hair and inhaling deeply. “Maybe I’m not smooth, and maybe I don’t always say the right thing, but—”

“Shh.”

He shh-ed.

My hands were trapped between his chest and mine.

Convenient that.

I slid them down, slipped my fingers under the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe I don’t care about game,” I said, brushing the tip of his erection. “Maybe I don’t give a shit about smooth or saying the right thing.”

He groaned when I pulled my fingers free but held still when I used them to go to work on the button and zipper, opening both.

“Maybe I just want you to take your pants off and fuck me.”

His head lifted, eyes coming to mine, insecurity fading, heat taking its place. “Maybe I can do that.”

Twelve

Garret

God, one second I’d been back in the place I had been in a year before.

Back with Lorna. Back with all my limitations. My inabilities. My screw-ups.

And then just as easily, I was brought back into the present, dropped into my body and this moment.

With Charlie.

She was such a different woman from Lorna.

There was so much depth to her, so much generosity and insight, and she was so fucking beautiful that I couldn’t even begin to believe that I was allowed to touch her at all.

But then she slid her hand into my underwear, the slightly roughened skin of her fingers and palm brushing my cock, and I stopped thinking about the past and present.

I started feeling, moving, acting.

Charlie’s panties down and off, her ass back up on the counter, my wallet out, condom extracted, my jeans on the floor.

Her hands came to my head, dragging our mouths back together, lips meeting in a tangle of tongues and teeth.

“Inside me,” she gasped when I released her mouth, allowing us both to suck in air.

I wanted that, more than anything.

But I also needed to make sure she was there with me, that she got hers because I sure as shit was going to get mine. I was primed, ramped, ready to explode, both because it had been a long time and because I’d never felt more for another woman.

Not with Lorna.

Not ever.

So while I did roll the condom on, I didn’t thrust home.

Instead, I dropped to my knees and gave in to the fantasy I’d conjured the first time I’d seen Charlie bending over the pipes in this very room.

I nudged her thighs apart, leaned forward, and traced my tongue through her damp folds. Then groaned and felt my cock get even harder. She was so fucking sweet and wet enough that the moisture pooled on my tongue, becoming the best damned drink of my life.

She jerked, hands moving to my head, hands lacing into my hair, tugging tightly enough to sting, but I didn’t stop, just kept moving my tongue along her pussy, finding the spots that made her gasp, delving deep inside then pressing the flat of my tongue to her clit, winding her tighter, ignoring my body, my own need ratcheting higher.

It was her, and only her, pleasure I was after.

I slid a finger inside and she cried out, hips bucking against my mouth, so I used my other hand to keep her in place, holding her steady as I sucked and licked and nipped at her clit, gauging my actions by the volume of her moans, the grip in my hair, knowing I was getting her close when she gasped and stiffened.

I slipped in another finger, drove them in and out, in and out, sucked harder on her clit then circled my tongue, over and over, until—

“Garret!” she cried, pussy clenching around my fingers, hands closing into tight fists in my hair, hips jerking as she rode my face through her orgasm.

I kept my tongue and fingers moving until she was limp and slumping against the mirror. We were lucky she hadn’t finished installing the faucet yet, so it wasn’t stabbing her back, but I liked to think that she would have been too hungover from her orgasm to notice. I gently untangled her fingers from my hair then grabbed my shirt from the floor, wiping my mouth and chin.

At the movement, her lids slid open. Or rather, they lifted to half-mast.

“I take back my previous statement,” she said, lazily tracing her fingers down my arms.

I frowned.

Her lips curved.

“You’ve got game, Garret,” she murmured. “In probably the best way possible.”

I stood, grabbed her hips