Page 19 of Call Out
In the grand scheme of things, I got off lightly. He could have concocted the ultimate challenge, something even worse than being semi-naked during dinner. When I sneak a peek at him, his eyes are burning into my ass. The ends of my hair sway across my spine, so I collect the lengths and sweep them over my shoulder, giving him the full view.
I think I’m ready to trust.
Tonight is the night I take one step forward.
I pick Danny Rocco to be my valiant guide.
Perching on the edge of the couch, I suck in my belly. Then I cross my ankles, straighten my back, retract my shoulders and unlock my ankles again. Still unsettled, I flip a leg over my knee, unfold them, then hunch forward.
“Relax, Viv.” Danny carries two plates with matching pizzas. An ache of desire sizzles in my core. “When you eat pizza, you need to be comfy.”
“Comfy?” I laugh. “What if molten stringy cheese lands on my chest?”
He sets the plates on the coffee table, grabs the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it over his head. “Here.” The soft material lands on my thighs. “Wear that while we eat.”
“Now we’re even,” I say, flipping my hair out from under the fabric. It smells of detergent and that distinct masculine aroma I love so much.
He gathers a gooey triangle slice in his fingers and holds it towards me. “You first, ma’am.” Warm dough rests in my palm.
Ma’am! His manners are to die for.
A grin splits my face. “So, Danny, tell me something no one else knows about you,” I say the words around a mouthful of the most amazing combination of food I’ve ever tasted. “Omigod, this is the best.” My eyes close briefly while I savor the chewy chorizo, tomato smothered cheesy goop. “Heaven.”
“Something no one else knows?” he mutters, shifting before me. “Uh... I...” Tanned cheeks pale a fraction, and he runs short nails across his jawline.
“I’m sure there’s a secret rattling about in there.” I giggle.
There’s a quietness filled only by my oh’s and um’s. He stares at the triangle slices. The mystery swimming in his hush intrigues me. Perhaps he’s picking the best secret from a pot of super secrets.
“It's not really a secret. More like a confession,” he says after the unusually long pause.
I take another bite. “Do tell.”
“Viv.” Danny plonks himself down on the coffee table directly in front of me and nudges my knees apart. Positioning himself between my thighs, he stares into my eyes. “I really like you.”
“Like me? Like,reallylike me?”
He thumbs the corner of my mouth, swiping up sauce, then sucks it into his mouth. “I like you more than pizza.”
A pulpy lump disappears down my throat with a loud gulp. “I like you too. Is that the big secret?”
Placing a hand on my solar plexus, he pushes me into the couch. “When I stumbled upon your stockings that first night—” He teases the broad mid-thigh band, rolling one nylon down to my toes, followed by the next. “I wanted to touch the beautiful woman I’d found, just like this.” The pads of his fingers sail along the curves of my thighs. I flinch when he runs a finger over my cotton panties that chase the nylons to the floor. “Lift your knees,” he commands, and I do it without reservation. “This will be a first for both of us. You’ve tasted pizza, and I’ll taste you before the end of the evening.”
“Here? With this in my hand?” I wave the floppy slice as if it were a grenade.
He scans the couch, and then his eyes flicker back to mine. “Bedroom?” A thick brow quirks.
I’m still nodding when he snares my wrist and hauls me upwards. He grabs my half eaten triangle and tosses it back on the plate. Hand in hand, he leads me to the bedroom. It’s just as impersonal as the rest of his home with a plain navy duvet, wooden bed frame and matching uncluttered furniture.
I climb onto the mattress on all fours. Fingers wrap around my hips, and he spins me around, so my back lands flat. His glorious chest arches over me. Maneuvering himself between my thighs again, his lower lip dents under his teeth. He’s excruciatingly handsome, with maple syrup eyes and a flirty grin that makes me embarrassingly slick down below.
“If you don’t want me to do something, tell me.” He takes a second to wait for my smile, and then his face lowers.
My spine bows. I fist the duvet, flopping my knees open wider. My eyes squeeze shut when his mouth lands. A teasing finger glides across my naval. Teeth graze. I exhale as adrenaline ripples up my legs and swells between my thighs. Every muscle braces in anticipation. With a glorious sweep of his tongue, I moan, bucking my hips into the movement. I can categorically state, with my hands held high, that this dirty scenario is by far the best experience of my life.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, welcoming a finger inside me. “More than okay,” I pant. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
