I watched Rebel enjoy her strawberry-filled vanilla cake. The way her lips pucker and absorb the cake had me stiff as a board. Her tongue darted outward, licking the excess jelly from her lips, and, fuck, how much I wanted my cock inside those plump rosy lips.
She makes eating cake the most erotic thing ever.
Rebel caught me staring, and her eyed widened, almost as if she knew exactly what I imagined. She tasted the frosting in a tango I craved to be a part of. Fuck me. It felt like my birthday, not hers.
I absorbed the site in front of me. No one paid attention to the mind games we were passing each other. They were all absorbed in the music, dancing, drinking, and laughing. A huge ass grin enveloped my face. This was the definition of contentedness.
While Rebel enjoyed her party, I ran through all of the ways to tell her my life choices. They weren’t easy, but unlike most women, she could help me through them.
As the party wound down, Rebel stumbled about, drunken and adorable as hell. “My…book…charact…er,” she staggered. Her voice drawled in a silly, hilarious way.
“What, princess?” I teased. I rubbed my thumb and forefinger on her chin, bringing her into a soft kiss.
“I’ve wanted…to…f…” Her eyes drooped a bit as she tried to finish her sentence.
“Come on. Let me take you to bed.” I smacked her ass, messing with her for drinking too much.
“Ok…ay,” she conceded, swaying all over the place.
I carried her and laid her on my bed. She curled up to my pillow, sleeping off the party booze. Her peaceful smile forced me to relax, avoiding all the tension in my shoulders and mind.
I kissed her forehead and headed out to clean the kitchen from the horrid disaster. Almost everyone had left. Conor and Stace were near fucking on the couch.
“Dude, you have a room for that reason,” I joked, throwing a pillow at him.
“Fuck you, Coen!” he yelled, his tone full of witticism.
“You wish, pretty boy!” I laughed.
I cleaned the kitchen and then the living room. The red solo cups and strewn clothes from god knows who were scattered everywhere. Bottles upon bottles of empty liquor were dispersed across the room. Cake frosting was smeared all over on the cabinets, and a dude I didn’t recognize was passed out upside down on the stairs. What the fuck? A chuckle escaped me. People were in-fucking-sane.
Feeling horrible for the poor bastard, I nudged him arm. “Hey, man. Wake up.” I shoved his shoulder a little more.
He let out a soft groan, “What?” he barely muttered.
“You passed out, man. Party is over. I’m only waking you to get you in a somewhat normal position. You’re like a fucking pretzel down there.”
“Uh, thanks man,” he mumbled, groaning outward. He rubbed his fists into his eyes. “Pretzels are pretty awesome.”
“I’d give some smartass joke about you being drunk and needing to go home, but you’re not driving like this, and I’m not leaving the birthday girl alone,” I stated.
I went to the hallway closet for an extra blanket. I wasn’t letting the dude freeze. Just call me big poppa bear, since Rebel called me care bear on occasions. I like it when they call me big papa. I silently joked.
Once I put the blanket over the half-dead drunken man, he snuggled the covers like a freaking child. He rubbed his face across it in a weird cuddling manner, and I hurried away.
It wasn’t super late, and after the nerves of my future being on the line, my head wouldn’t settle. My persistence wavered, and the bed with the best person in the world were too inviting to pass up. My body connected with the plush comforter, Rebel’s scent enveloped my nose, cotton candy and a sweet pomegranate aroma. I breathed it in, enjoying every fucking lungful I received. For hours, I lay awake, watching her chest rise and fall. After a while, I brought my body flush with hers, I kissed her forehead, inhaling all I could. There wasn’t a comparison to her delicious fragrance. Rebel was the most saccharine and sugary craving I would never give up. I don’t want to.
She stirred. “I need you, Coen,” she murmured. Rebel pressed her gracious lips to mine.
Her tongue forced its way in my mouth. She tasted like rum and strawberries. The flavor was so goddamn delicious that I found myself aching to be inside of her and taste her warm pussy.
My hands roamed her perfect form, touching every piece of skin. Her whimpering pushed me further, and I slowly removed her shirt. Something clicked in my mind, I shouldn’t do this. She could still be slightly tipsy and regret this in the morning.
Never in my life would I force myself on a woman.
“We can’t do this, princess,” I groaned out. My aching cock throbbed and threw the biggest fucking tantrum. I was going to have blue balls for sure.
“Yes, we can.” She licked my throat, nibbling on the skin. Fuck.
“You were heavily drinking. It doesn’t feel right,” I strained, inwardly punching myself. I swallowed a lump in my throat, wishing I had water to ease it down. My stiff friend wasn’t pleased with my decision. In fact, he was mentally tearing me down. Fuck you too, buddy.
“I’m as sober as I’ll get,” she promised, eyes widened and a firm line in her forehead.
“If I ever hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” My inner battle was defeating my sexual deviancies.
“I want you, Coen. It’s still my birthday,” she reminded me. She bit her fucking lip in the most sensual way. She ran her teeth across it, and I caved.
My teeth replaced hers, raking across her bottom lip and taking her tongue inside of my mouth. This time, I couldn’t hold back, and she didn’t want me to. Her hands were all over me, touching me everywhere she could grasp.
She gripped my rigid cock, massaging the tip. Rebel found her way underneath my jeans and boxer briefs, she massaged my balls. Rebel tugged at them, pulling enough to bring tendrils of pain and pleasure, she brought me that much closer to my release.
“Fuck…” My molars ground together from the tension.
After removing her from my pants, I continued to take away her clothing. Every curve, dip, and arch on her body was greeted with my lustful tongue.
“So goddamn beautiful.” A groan of admiration escaped me in an utterly gravelly tone.
“Mmhmm,” she moaned, her face the perfect blend of pink and red. Sexy as hell.
“I’m going to show you how a woman deserves to be loved.” I let the words escape, breathing deeply and watching her eyes with resolution.
15
Hangovers are Shit
Author Dating Rule #56214: If you use intelligent words, I’ll melt like putty. It’s my personal porn.
Rebel
Literally the best birthday I’d ever experienced. Coen had made it perfect, and he didn’t even realize what it meant to me to have him there.
I love this man.
The admission frightened me. Coen Kidd obtained my heart. It had always been his from the start, but admitting it out loud scared me.
I woke in the arms of this perfect man. The spicy scent of his cologne and rum made my panties wet, and I’d never been one for being horny on-the-go.
My hands brushed across his pectoral muscles, grazing his pierced nipples. When did he get these? I couldn’t recall them from before now. Were they always there? I toyed with them for a moment before he was roused awake.