Flaunt, page 14
She laughs, her defenses crumbling.
“But I don’t know. There’s just something about you,” I say. “It makes absolutely no sense because you clearly don’t want anything more than my cock.”
She giggles, the sound warming my heart.
She searches my face for something to go off, something to hold on to. She’s looking for a chink in my armor that she can use to finagle her way out of this. I’m not giving her the opportunity.
I take a step back again to give her room to think.
“I don’t want this to be it between us. I want this to be a part of it,” I say.
A grin settles on her face. “I’m not sure what to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do anything with it. I’m not pushing you for anything. I mean, I’ll be your fake fiancé, but that’s it.”
She laughs.
“But know that when tomorrow rolls around, I’m going to be very, very interested in you. More than I am now.”
She runs her fingers over the scruff dusting my cheeks.
Why isn’t she answering me? Why is she silent? Is she laughing at me, thinking this is a prank? A joke?
“Don’t get me wrong—I’m so interested in you right now that it hurts.” I press myself against her so she can feel how hard I am. “Like it actually hurts.”
She peers up into my eyes. “It’s a good thing I know how to make it stop hurting.”
My God.
She fumbles with the button on my jeans.
Is this what I want? Wasn’t I trying to avoid this, knowing I’d possibly fall for her?
My skin feels too tight, like I might burst out of it from anticipation. She’s making me weak. Her fingers brushing over my cock is enough to make me almost lose it. It’s been too fucking long. The sight of the tops of her tits rising from the silky fabric of the dress inches me another notch closer to being unable to contain myself. And she’s so fucking hot.
Screw it. I’m only a man.
“I need to lock the doors,” I say, groaning at the impending delay.
Her fingers pause. Her knuckles rest against my groin. “Why?”
“Because I’ve interrupted my brothers so many times that it’s karma that one of them will walk in here. It’s how the world works. Don’t ask me why.”
“Well, can you hurry?”
I smile. “I’ll lock the front; you lock the back.”
She turns and races down the hallway. “Get your ass moving, Sparkles.”
I laugh, a smile planted on my face, and head to the front door.
16
Sara
“But you should just know that when we’re done, I’m going to be very, very interested in you. More than I am now.”
The lock turns with a click.
My insides burn, a chaotic mess of thoughts, possibilities, and feelings crashing together to create a dizzying experience. The only kind of feelings I like.
Banks’s words tumble through my head as I gather the bottom of Damaris’s dress so it doesn’t drag on the ground. I don’t know what he really means by that.
“I don’t want this to be it between us. I want this to be a part of it.”
The intensity in his eyes make me believe that he means it in a non-sexual kind of way—like he wants to start building something that looks very un-friends-with-benefits-like.
The anticipation swells in my stomach, perspiration dotting my skin despite the air-conditioning blowing from the vent in the floor.
Don’t overthink it yet, Sara. Enjoy it first.
Banks comes around the corner. His dimple settles deep in his cheek.
I’m so gonna enjoy this.
He crooks his finger. “Come here.”
I don’t know whether it’s the words, the fire in his eyes, or the coy smile on his lips, but it causes the tangle in my stomach to explode. His grin gets wider as I move quicker and, by the time I’m in front of him, I’m panting.
He grips my hips as soon as I reach him. Like a choreographed dance that we’ve done before, I jump as he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist. The dress bunches at my hips, the thin straps sliding down my arms. The dress wants off me too.
My anticipation melts into excitement, and I giggle as his mouth crashes against mine. My fingers comb through his messy hair before cupping his face. His stubble scratches against my palms as I hold his face to me.
He groans as I nibble his bottom lip moments before he turns toward the living room. His fingers dig into my ass as he holds me, pressing me against him.
“I should’ve grabbed a shower,” Banks says between kisses. He drops to the couch, bringing me with him. “I didn’t plan this very well.”
I straddle his lap, rocking my opening against his crotch. Between the hardness and the scratching of the denim against my swollen flesh, I could come from this alone.
“Do you plan anything very well?” I ask, laughing.
He cinches my waist with his hands as I grind against him. “Yes, I do, actually. I can plan the hell out of avoiding moving furniture.”
“I call bullshit.”
He groans, flexing against me as I slip my arms out of the dress straps. The top stays up and barely covers my chest.
“You were quick to jump when Ashley needed your help,” I say, pulling my hair to the top of my head and securing it with a tie from my wrist.
He rests his head on the cushion and looks up at me with his blue eyes blazing. “That was a special situation.”
I stop moving. “Is that so?”
He guides my hips in a circle. “Someone was already attached to that particular furniture-moving adventure.”
“I thought you hated that particular someone.”
He grins, and it obliterates anything not melted in my core. How can a man be equal parts sexy and adorable?
Banks slides his hands against my clavicle and then up the sides of my neck. His thumbs press just behind my ears and his calloused hands wrap around the back of my head. He grins as I raise onto my knees to kiss him.
I hold his shoulders, feeling the thick muscles under my palms. He kisses me lazily, sweetly—as if each stroke of his tongue or pressing of his lips is intentional. It’s as if he’s trying to tell me that this isn’t about the result as much as it’s about the moment. The experience. The act of whatever it is that we’re doing.
Because this isn’t fucking. This is something else entirely, and the terrifying thing is that I don’t hate it. At all.
He drags his fingertips down my arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. He lifts the dress and slides his hands under the fabric. I hold my breath as his tongue pulls across my bottom lip, and he grabs my ass cheeks again.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my lips. He pulls away, his eyes wild. “Tell me. Did you have anything on under my shirt last night or were you like this?” He squeezes me again.
I look down at him, grinning mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He chuckles. “I’m not sure if not knowing last night was a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Depends on the outcome you wanted, I suppose,” I say, running my hands through his hair. “After listening to you last night, I think you got the one you wanted. So it was a good thing, I think. For you, anyway.”
He rolls his eyes. “Why is everything that’s good for you always kinda painful?”
I giggle, leaning back.
His hands slide around my thighs until his thumbs are on either side of my slit.
The room wobbles, and I hold on tight to his shoulders to keep steady. “Like what?”
“Oh, like when you order pizza and the cheese is really goopy and melty. That’s when it’s the best, but it’ll also burn the hell out of you.”
I laugh as he spreads my thighs farther apart. “You could have patience and wait.”
“Waiting is overrated.”
My heart pounds. “You seem to have tons of patience tonight.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
“An annoying one.”
He smirks. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know how in the hell I have this much patience when your pussy is so close to my face.”
Fuck. Me.
I can barely register that when his finger slides through my wetness.
“Ooh,” I say, hissing a breath and spreading my legs so far apart that they burn. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
His grin is slow and oh-so sexy. “Okay. Tell me. How fast do you want to get there?”
“Now would be great—ah,” I say, as one finger dips into me and another finds my clit. “Yes. Now.”
He chuckles, massaging slow, small circles against my swollen bud. “Do you know what I really like?”
I hum, my eyes falling closed at the pleasure rolling through me in soft waves.
“Watching your face turn pink and wondering if it matches the color of your pussy,” he says.
Dear God. “There’s only one way to find out.”
He withdraws his touch. But before I can protest, he’s pulling the top of my dress down. Seams crack at the quick and harsh movement.
“Don’t break it,” I cry as he pulls a breast into his mouth. “This is your mom’s.”
He holds a nipple between his teeth and looks up at me, grinning. “It’s fine. She never expects anything to come back without it being broken. Trust me. Years of experience.”
I laugh, but it instantly changes to a hiss. “Banks.”
He flicks my nipple with his tongue while rolling the other around in his fingers. I’m dripping wetness down my legs, my thighs sticky.
He’s. Barely. Touched. Me.
How can he do that?
My thoughts are going a mile a minute, but I can’t land on any one of them in particular. This is new territory—unhurried … and sweet. We’ve been at this for however long, and it’s been all about me.
How wonderfully strange.
I tip my head back, pushing my chest toward Banks. He licks, nips, and squeezes harder and faster—his hips raising up as if they, too, are dying for relief.
He pulls back and gathers my dress. The look he gives me is pure heat.
A filthy smile stretches across his face as he scoots around and lies on the couch. My brows pull together, unsure of what’s happening until I’m not unsure anymore.
I gasp a quick breath as he urges me forward—toward his face. I’m still straddling him and it takes little effort to move from his waist to over his head.
He lines his mouth up to my pussy. Oh. My. God.
Banks holds my dress at my hip with one hand, but I do him a favor—me a favor?—and relinquish him of his duties. He smirks.
My heart thunders so hard that I can feel the pulses in my sex. Banks urges me toward him. I comply.
He holds my gaze, dragging a finger slowly through my slit. It’s so wet, so ready for him.
“Whatever you want me to do, all you have to do is ask,” he says, his voice gruff. “You never have to just take what you’re given. Do you know that?”
Everything tightens—my chest, my core, my heart.
The juxtaposition of the moment steals my breath. The sweet, vulnerable look in his eye. The rough, raw timbre to his words. The feel of his fingers strumming slowly in and out of my body. And all of this with his lips inches from my opening.
This man is nothing like I expected. He’s more in every way.
And that’s a little terrifying.
“If a man doesn’t understand how lucky he is to be able to touch you, don’t let him,” he says, twisting his finger as he withdraws it from me. “But I know, so let me.”
I laugh, my chest so constricted that it hurts to breathe.
“But you’re lucky too,” he says, winking.
Don’t I know it—oof.
My body sags against his face as he flicks his tongue against my clit. He circles the pulsing bud before sucking it into his mouth.
“Banks!”
The room blurs as wave after wave of intensity rips me from reality.
“Do you like that?” he asks, flicking it again.
“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.
He adds a finger, then two, stroking me slowly, then quicker—hard, soft, and rough. I grind against his hand and use my free hand to press his face deeper against me. Urging him to keep going. Begging him for more.
Banks understands the assignment.
He works me over without finding a rhythm. It keeps me on the edge and frenzied, ready to fall apart. What never stops is the constant contact of his mouth against my pussy. The noises filling the air as his mouth sucks and kisses could make me come on its own.
I regrip my dress, clenching it in my sweaty palm. My thighs ache. My core pulls so tight that I wince.
I look down to see him staring at me, his eyes filled with so much unadulterated lust that I whimper.
“You,” he says before kissing my clit. “Are.” He kisses it again. “Beautiful.”
My eyes squeeze shut in a futile attempt to hold it together.
His fingers slide in and out smoothly, deeply, twisting and hitting every spot that triggers a physical reaction. My head swims with too many feelings, unable to register everything happening simultaneously.
Finally, he plunges into me and gently presses his teeth against my nub. Oh fuck.
I cry out, my head falling back and my eyes shutting against the searing intensity of the orgasm.
My legs shake, my body trembles. And every time I remember that Banks’s face is between my legs, another surge of pleasure rattles me.
“I can’t,” I say, dropping the fabric. It shrouds him. I place my hands on the armrest and press back, whimpering. “Please. I can’t anymore.”
He removes his fingers and pulls away, knocking the dress away from his head.
His face glistens, coated with my climax. The smile on his swollen lips couldn’t be more satisfied if it were him coming with the force of a thousand suns.
I laugh in full contentment as life pours back into me, scooting back to his hips again.
“The right thing, because you should never assume, is to ask if you liked it.” He smirks. “But I’m pretty sure you did.”
My chest shakes as I chuckle. “It’s a good thing your brothers can’t see you right now.”
He lifts a brow. “Why?”
“Because this gives a whole new definition to Sparkles.”
He laughs, sitting up. I scoot off him, but the lack of contact only lasts a moment. He scoops me up and stands.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my body suddenly heavy and tired.
“I need a shower, and you need cleaned up.”
We start down the hall.
“But I need to repay the favor,” I say, smiling at him.
He stops in the doorway and grins. “Don’t worry. You will.”
It’s not the words that get to me. It’s not even his grin. It’s the way he says it—the way Banks seems to do everything. There’s a playfulness in his tone, but also something else. Confidence. Honesty. A mixture of sexy and fun.
Typical Banks. You get more than you bargain for.
“I can’t wait,” I say, giving in and letting my reservations go.
He winks and carries me to the tub.
17
Banks
“Here you go, my lady,” I say, holding a towel open for Sara.
She laughs as she steps into my extended arms, and I swallow her up in the towel.
The red dress that will forever be burnt into my mind is on a hanger by the door. My work clothes are scattered on the floor, and my boots are mixed up with my jeans. Water puddles dot the tile floor from being splashed out over the past hour.
I take another towel from the linen closet and cover her hair. She giggles as I try to get it right but epically fail.
“Well,” I say, stepping back. “You kind of look like Mother Teresa with that thing over your head, but you won’t drip all over the floor.”
She grins. “Your handiwork is appreciated.”
I narrow my eyes.
“All of your handiwork,” she says, winking. “You’re quite impressive, Sparkles.”
I groan. “Not you too.”
She pushes an elbow into my stomach. I flex at the last moment to ensure I continue making a good impression. “Yeah, but at least mine doesn’t refer to glitter.”
“You can sparkle me anytime.”
She snickers and follows me into the hallway. I start toward my bedroom but notice she doesn’t follow me. When I stop in the doorway and look over my shoulder, my stomach tenses.
Her bottom lip is between her teeth. Her eyes are filled with hesitation.
“What are you doing?” I ask her. Although I know what she’s doing.
“I want sex, but not the other crap that goes along with it. I just don’t have the stomach for it.”
“Come on,” I say, going into my room.
“I’ll see you later.”
I poke my head around the corner. She hasn’t moved, which tells me she wants to come. She’s just nervous.
“Yeah, in like the three seconds it’s going to take you to get in here,” I say.
I rifle through my dresser for a clean pair of shorts.
“My pajamas are in my room,” she says. “I need something to put on.”
I rip a shirt out of a stack—ignoring the ones that I got from Jess the night he and Pippa were apart—and take it to the hallway. I toss it at her.
She catches it, holding it in her hands like it’s a bomb. “What’s this?”
“A shirt.”
“For what?”
I roll my eyes. “For you to sleep in.”
She tries not to smile. Luckily for her, the towel on her head wobbles, and it hides her face long enough for her to wipe the grin off her cheeks.
Be you. I have learned in my life that when you’re unapologetically you, you attract all the things meant to come your way. It works. I promise.
Okay … what would I do normally?
I sigh. Here’s the problem. There is no normal. I haven’t had a girlfriend in … a while. I fool around here and there, have some fun, but worrying about them finding a shirt to hang in? Have I done that before?
