Page 7 of Rebound
There was a time when I could read her moods and adjust to them. She’s harder to figure out now. Her eyes don’t give her away, and her body language is the same as it was when she walked through the front door. Over the years, she’s clearly gotten really good at hiding her feelings and I fucking hate it.
“Why did you accept my invitation, Tamara?”
“I don’t know,” she says, voice flat and emotionless. “You seemed desperate.”
I can’t help the smile that stretches across my lips, but she meets it with narrowed eyes. My options are limited—fight for her time and make her angrier, or let her walk away. The former is dangerous and the latter is a mistake, but I don’t know how to navigate this icy slope we’re on.
“Just answer one question for me, then.”
She tips her head up to meet my gaze as I close the gap between us. I allow myself a few seconds to count the freckles on her face, remembering when they started to appear during summer camp. She always hated them while I thought they were cute. I want to touch and hold her, brush those curls out of her face, count each mark and remind her they’re still perfect. But I don’t want to die.
“Patrick.”
I blink at the sound of my name and Tamara’s frown greets me. Right, shit. Clearing my throat, I say, “Do you hate me?”
For the first time since she got here, I see something other than anger flicker through her eyes. It’s gone just as fast. She looks away and I watch her every move. She tucks hair behind her ear, fiddles with the thick gold hoop in her lobe and very lightly shakes her head. There are no words, no firm answer to my question and I realise there won’t be one. My shoulders drop and my jaw relaxes as I lean against the counter in defeat.
“Fuck it.”
The rough whisper of words are barely out of her mouth before she grabs the back of my neck and yanks my mouth to hers. My eyes widen as sparks shoot through my body, my brain telling me this is a terrible idea. Then my limbs snap into action—one hand slides down to her ass, while the other grips her waist and I tilt my head to part my lips against hers. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth and I moan, fingers squeezing her butt as I hoist her up onto the counter. She gasps and I tangle my tongue with hers while spreading her legs apart to step closer. Her hands slide up my arms and shoulders to my head, then she deftly unties my topknot and grabs a fistful of my hair, tugging my lips away from hers.
“One time only,” she threatens.
“Twenty-four hours, Lotus. Gimme the day.”
There’s a flash of hesitation as she searches my eyes, then nods. Our mouths crash in a burning kiss I feel all the way to my toes. My hands slide up her sides and to her back, pulling her flush against me. I thought I remembered what kissing, touching and holding Tamara felt like, but I was wrong. Nothing in the world compares to the real thing.
“Fuck me,” she pants between kisses, her teeth pressing gently against my bottom lip before she tugs. My fingers curl into her sides and she repeats her request. Demands it. “Fuck me, Trick. Now.”
It’s the Trick that does it. She’s the only one to ever call me that. It started as a taunt, then it turned into an endearment. Eventually I heard her whisper, whimper and moan it a few times too.
Putting a few inches of space between us, I untie her dress and let it fall open. The matching lacy lingerie set is a pale blue and while gorgeous, it’s in the way of what I want. She tosses the dress to the side and as I drop to my knees, I see a hint of a purple and pink tattoo on her side. Tamara’s giving me instructions, but I don’t listen. What she wants is clear, how she gets there is up to me. I drag my fingers over the wet lace covering her pussy and her hips jolt. Under the heat of her gaze and I rub her through the flimsy material. Pressing kisses along the inside of her thighs one at a time, I nip at the soft flesh, smiling when she rocks forward. The more I touch her, the wetter she becomes and when her underwear is soaked, I nudge it to the side and tease her clit.
“Patrick,” she growls and I lift my eyes to hers. Blown pupils meet mine as I toy with the sensitive bundle of nerves. She’s trembling and I know playing with her is a bad idea, but if one day is all I get, I’m going to make the most of it. “Please.”
Everything I know about Tamara says she’d never beg. It’s not pride; it’s more about always getting what she wants. I see the longing. The need for her release. I wonder what her ex was doing if she’s so desperate for someone to get her off.
“Okay, baby. Legs over my shoulders.”
Her jaw clenches, clearly hating the term of endearment, but she lifts her legs one at a time. I slide a hand under the softness of her belly hanging over her waist and make sure the band of her underwear isn’t pressing into her uncomfortably. She squirms and jostles me by moving her legs, but I need her to be okay. In every way.
Holding her underwear to the side, I drag my tongue through her folds, smiling when a shudder rolls through her. Her thighs press against my head and I repeat the action. Her trembling is either frustration or pleasure, both of which I intend to use to my advantage. She grabs a handful of my hair and before she can tug, I spread her pussy open and push two fingers inside her. Tamara gasps and I do it again, sliding my tongue in as well and she moans loud enough to make the glass rattle. She tips backwards onto the counter, whimpering as my tongue continues its assault of her pussy. I trace her labia, sucking it hard and while my finger touches and teases her clit, my mouth continues its work of getting her to let go.
For twenty years I didn’t have the taste of her on my tongue or her cunt clenching around my fingers this way. In five seconds, I’m falling back into old habits of wanting to make this woman mine. Own every sound, shudder and drop of her, like I once did.
Her fingers find purchase in my hair as Tamara rides my face and I let her take control. At the end of the day, her pleasure is what I’m here for. My tongue plunges in and pulls out with every shift of her hips as I continue to rub her clit. Her trembling thighs press against my ears and I nudge my nose against her bundle of nerves. All the sounds are now muffled, like I’m underwater, and I don’t care.
Making Tamara come is the only thing that matters now.
A keening sound comes from her and her legs fall away, but she’s holding herself back. Growling, I push my fingers back into her. Tamara’s body bows off the counter and she screams loudly as her pussy clenches, holding me inside her. Smiling, I don’t let up. I add a third finger and pump them fast as my thumb works her clit over. She’s writhing and fighting me, but we both know what she wants.
“Chase it, Lotus. Take what’s yours,” I remind her and she whimpers. The next minute, her walls tighten and she’s coming, her body twitching as she rides out the orgasm. “Attagirl.”
With the hand in my hair, she pushes me away and I chuckle, sitting back on my heels. I lick my fingers clean and press my other hand against my aching cock. Slowly, she sits up and meets my eyes. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than Tamara Chandy, before and after an orgasm, and my heart stops at the way she’s staring.
“I said fuck me, Trick,” she rasps and pokes me in the chest with a foot.
I smile and drag a hand over my wet beard as I stand up. “Did you not enjoy that?”
