Page 59 of Finding Home
She smiles. “I can do that.”
I lean in and kiss her again, and this time, she kisses me back, her arms wrapping around my neck. I find her hips and pull her closer, and she straddles me. My hands move under her shirt, relishing the feel of her bare skin as I take my time tasting her, my tongue exploring her mouth.
I break the kiss, peppering soft pecks on her lips, and she looks down at me. “Let me take you out. On an actual date.”
She presses her lips together as she fights a smile. “Really?”
I squeeze her hip. “Like I said, you’re not someone who should be hidden away, Chloe.”
“I’d like that.”
I check the time on my phone and look back at her. “You think you can get ready in an hour?”
Surprise fills her face before she’s pushing off me and making her way down the hall towards her bedroom. I can’t help the chuckle that leaves me. I slowly follow her and lean against the wall outside the bathroom. When she comes back out of her room, she does a double take before moving into the bathroom and turning the water on.
I pull my shirt over my head, and she asks, “What are you doing?”
“Showering with you. Did you really think I was going head upstairs and take my own shower when I could be naked with you?”
A blush tinges her cheeks, and I push down my sweats, stepping into the shower. Chloe’s sharp inhale fills the small room. I look at her, and she reaches out, running her fingers over my back. I turn and look in the mirror to see what garnered her attention and smirk when I see the red scratch marks she left all over my back.
“Nice work,” I say, and she rushes out with, “I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head and turn to face her, helping her out of her shirt before she pushes her shorts down and steps in with me.
“Don’t be sorry. I expect you to replace those as soon as they fade. You left your marks on me, and I plan to wear them with pride, same with this—” I point to the hickey starting to form on my collarbone.
I pull her under the stream of water with me, leaning down and trailing my lips down her neck and across her shoulder.
“Just know that I plan to leave my own marks, Chloe. I’ll keep them hidden so only you and I know about them, but every time you take your clothes off, you’re going to have a reminder that you’re mine. You won’t be able to escape it.”
She arches into me as a soft moan escapes her. I drop to my knees in front of her and spread her legs. I kiss up the inside of her thigh, finding the perfect spot for me to leave my mark on her beautiful skin. Her hand finds my hair as I suck at her skin, releasing it when I know she’ll have a nice mark. I move to her hip, not satisfied with only the one.
“Everett,” she moans.
“Yes, Chloe.”
She looks down at me but says nothing.
“Tell me what you want. Don’t go shy on me now.”
“Everett, stop toying with me and eat my pussy.”
The glint in her eye when I smirk up at her is almost as satisfying as the sound that leaves her as my tongue dips through her folds before flicking her clit. She lifts her leg, settling it on the edge of the tub, and I grin. Chloe is needy, and I fucking love it.
My finger teases her entrance, as my tongue circles her clit. She rolls her hips into my face as she says my name in a mixed moan and a whine. I slowly push a finger in, only as far as my first knuckle, before pulling it out and pushing two fingers in. Her grip on my hair tightens, and she pulls, almost to the brink of pain.
I press on the soft spot inside her as I suck on her clit, and she comes, her pussy squeezing my fingers. My free hand grabs her waist, making sure she stays upright as I continue to work every last drop of her orgasm from her. When she’s panting for breath, I pull my fingers out and stand in front of her. I suck herfrom my fingers before I kiss her, my tongue tangling with hers and forcing her to taste herself on me.
When she breaks the kiss, I rotate us until she’s fully under the water. Then I silently turn her so her back faces me and fill my hand with shampoo before working it into her hair. I take my time to massage her scalp the way I know she likes before raking my fingers through her long strands. I help her rinse it out and then massage the conditioner into the ends. I take my time washing her body, taking in every inch of her skin and the way she reacts to small touches.
As soon as I’m done, she takes the soap from me and returns the favour, starting at my shoulders, massaging and washing them. When her thumb works into a particularly sore spot, the groan that leaves me echoes in the bathroom. She presses into it again, and my head falls forward as I breathe through the feeling.
“When was the last time you had someone help you with these knots?” she asks.
She presses into it again, and I grit my teeth.
“I can’t remember,” I hiss.
