“Damn, Little C grew up.”
Chapter 8
Gabrielle
The voice of the guy I’ve run into breaks my thoughts and when I meet his piercing green gaze, I realize it’s one of James’ friends from high school. A lot of his and Monica’s friends called me Little C for “Little Calloway” which I used to love, but now it just serves as a reminder that I’m the annoying little sister. He’s wearing a black long-sleeved button down and black slacks that look custom made with how good it looks on him.
“Davis, right?” I cock my head to the side and he nods, revealing a dimple on both sides.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my God. How have you been?”
My phone vibrates in my hand and I don’t even have to look to know who it is. I look down, opening my phone and see his words.
James: Get away from him.
I close my phone, not wanting Davis to catch a glimpse of the message. “I’ve been good.” I tell him politely. “I just finished my first semester at Columbia. Just got home today actually.”
“That’s badass. Following in big brother’s footsteps then? I’m sure he must be proud as hell.” He jokes. Trust me, he is very proud. I squirm just thinking about him. My phone vibrates again and I realize it’s two text messages.
James: I mean it, Gab.
James: Don’t push me.
The idea that James is jealous and I have the power to rile him up sends a surge of lust through me. My eyes dart around the crowded dance floor, wondering if I’ll meet the eyes of my very pissed off older brother. “You want to dance?” Davis asks but then he shakes his head and begins ticking his fingers as if he’s counting. “Wait, you’re not old enough to be here…”
“Fake,” I tell him and he snaps his fingers in understanding.
“Do James and Mon know you’re here?”
“I’m here with Monica.” I chuckle and his eyes scan the crowd. My phone vibrates again and I chance a glance at it as Davis looks around.
James: You have exactly five seconds to get away from him before I come over and move you myself.
“Word? Where? I haven’t seen her in ages. I hear she’s off being a brain surgeon somewhere.” Monica and James were both popular in high school. James for being…James, and Monica for being his younger sister when she got to high school. Being three years apart, they were in high school together for two years and it might as well have been “Calloway’s World” because everyone else was just living in it. Most of James’ friends all wanted to date Monica and she had a short-lived fling with his best friend that James was less than pleased about.
A brief thought floats through my mind about how James would react if Davis even tried it. Even if James and I weren’t currently fucking each other’s brains out, if these text messages were any indication, I’m pretty sure he’d have a whole fit.
“So, about that dance…” He trails off and gives me a smile that shows off his teeth and I’ll admit he’s aged well. Women probably flock to him in packs but I’m only interested in one man who’s probably having a coronary right now.
“I actually have to go to the bathroom,” I say awkwardly. I’m not sure that he’s hitting on me so much as just being friendly but I could be a little naïve in the guys department. I point towards the bathroom. “It was good seeing you,” I say with a tone as bubbly as I can muster before I’m on the move without another word. My quick exit could be misconstrued as rude but I’m not sure how much time I have before James decides to do something reckless. I’m moving off of the crowded dance floor towards the bathroom when I feel someone coming up fast behind me and then a hand wrapping around my elbow and I’m being hauled into a dark room marked Employees Only.
“We aren’t employees,” I whisper. I can’t see his face because it’s pitch black but I sense him. I smell him. I feel him.
“I almost ruined your little reunion. Watching him watch you made me fucking crazy. He was hitting on you.” I feel his breath on my face and it smells of whiskey and mint and it's sexy as hell.
“Was he? I wasn’t sure.”
“And you let him touch you.” He turns on the flashlight on his phone, illuminating the room and allowing us to see each other.
My God, he’s gorgeous.
“He steadied me because I ran into him while I was trying to text you.”
He presses me against the door, rubbing my thigh and sliding his hand between my legs, stroking me through my panties. Despite the cold weather, I’m not wearing tights as only about two inches of my legs are showing, allowing him very easy access to my sex. “It pisses me off that I couldn’t claim you in front of him the way I wanted to. You are fucking mine.”
“I am yours. You know I am,” I tell him. He begins to stroke my inner thigh and I let out a moan as his finger strokes me from the top of my mound downwards. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into the place where his neck meets his shoulder and I bite down. Hard.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Trying to mark me?”
“You’re mine, too,” I grit into his ear. “I know women have probably been staring at you since the second you walked in here.”
“Wouldn’t know. I’ve been so focused on you since I spotted you. I don’t think I took my eyes off of you once. I’ve spent the past year trying to actively avoid looking at you and now that I can, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.” His hands wrap around my back and before I can think they are moving down my ass moving my underwear down my legs. “Are you wet for me?”
“Why don’t you find out?” I ask, challenging him. I see him making his way to my pussy when I stop him. “Don’t use your hands.” I smirk. My eyes gesture to the floor indicating what I want him to do and he shoots me a wicked smirk before getting on one knee in front of me.
“Lift your dress and keep your eyes on me, Gabrielle.” I do as he says and watch as he peppers kisses over the tops of my thighs before he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder to open me up to him. I watch in anticipation as he wets his lips and takes one slow lick up my slit and from here, I can see how wet I am as my arousal coats his lips. I let out a deep moan as he does so again. And again. And again. I run my fingers over his scalp, pulling gently at his hair.
“Fuck, James. Fuck me,” I whisper, wanting his cock in this moment more than his tongue. He doesn’t listen and continues to roll his velvety tongue over my clit. “Please,” I whine.
“Who said I want you to come? Who said I was ready for you to come? Trust me, when I am ready for you to come, you will. Maybe I want you to be a little needy. Maybe I want your pussy aching for the next few hours until you get home so that you’re feeling desperate enough to come to me tonight.”
I gasp in both shock at his words and also because his tongue is now inside my cunt. “Like come to your room?”
“I’m in the basement by myself; I certainly don’t want to come to yours given that you share a wall with Monica.”
“But…”