Page 9 of One More Night
CHAPTER FIVE
Once we finish eating,I grab our plates and set them in the sink. Before moving back to my spot next to Juliet, I open the freezer and grab the vanilla ice cream. I don’t even bother fetching bowls. Instead, I grab two spoons from the drawer and sit back beside her.
Popping open the lid, I hand her a spoon and scoop some on my own. “Vanilla is my favorite,” I comment, shoveling the bite into my mouth.
She raises a brow with a smile and takes a small scoop of her own. “Huh. I would have thought something more… unique. Maybe pistachio or lemon-poppy.”
“Really?”
She nods and takes another bite. “You seem to be everything but vanilla, Reed.”
I shrug. “My sexual tastes and ice cream tastes are just different.”
She nods slowly. “Trust, I know.”
“Do you, though?” I smirk.
Tipping her head, she smiles back. “I’d like to think so.”
She holds a spoonful of ice cream by her lips, but her eyes are locked on mine, unable to move. Our stare is sexually charged and fucking crackling with electricity. This whole night, I’ve almost danced around giving in to my wants—only doing things to make her comfortable—but with how she’s looking at me, I’m not sure how much longer I can last.
In my head, I thought maybe the longer we put things off, the longer she would be willing to stick around. I mean, after all, that’s what this is supposed to be, right? Strictly sex—nothing else— but I knew that was a fool’s thought. Deep down, I already felt it before she ever even agreed.
One night, two nights, three nights. It would never be enough. I want her forever.
Without even saying words, I can see the same thing in her too. When she gets quiet or feels the need to fidget, I think it’s because she’s imagining the same thing as me—a future of her and me and how it would look. But right now, with the ice cream melting, and tiny droplets falling to her chest, there is none of that.
Only one single thought dances around the irises of her eyes.
She wants me as much as I want her.
It’s evident in the way her knees press together slightly and how she keeps licking her lips and swallowing to keep her mouth busy, but I have to be the one to make a move.
“You’re making a mess, sweet girl.”
She sucks in a shaky breath and snaps out of the haze that’s fallen around us with my words. “Oh.” She drops the spoon back into the container and reaches for her chest to wipe away the melted ice cream, but I catch her wrist.
Sliding even closer, I lean my head down and run my tongue along the tops of her breasts. Her skin is silk under my tongue, sending a jolt straight to my dick. Slowly, I reach for the top of the bodice of her dress and pull it down. Black lace morphs to her flesh, pushing her large tits up and together, giving me the perfect view of her cleavage.
I let my fingers skate over the line of it, then dip them inside. “Fuck,” I whisper, finding her nipple.
I roll it between my fingers and groan when she moves her hand to my shoulder, then slides it into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Don’t tease me, Reed.”
I smile against her skin, then pull the fabric of her bra down. “But that’s the best part.”
She urges my head down further until my lips hover over her nipple. “Please!” She whines.
I shake my head slightly. “That’s not how you ask for things, Juliet.”
Pulling me back up by the hair, she levels her eyes with mine. “Please, Mr. Taylor, give me everything you promised in that contract.”
I smile and lift a brow but don’t give in just yet. I want to see what she’ll do. I’m all for being the one to take control, but I want her to step more outside her safe zone. I want her to voice what she wants and then take it without apology.
As if she can read my mind, she smirks, drops her hand from my hair, and then reaches for the ice cream container. Standing up, she uses her free hand to reach behind her and unzip her dress, then shimmies her shoulders until it slides down them. She moves carefully, slipping one arm out of her dress before maneuvering the ice cream to it and doing the same with the other.
She rolls her hips slightly, letting the fabric glide down the rest of her body, leaving her standing in front of me in nothing but her bra and matching panties. It’s a sight to fucking see— her body on full display.
Before I can voice my approval of the picture in front of me, she raises the container over her chest and tips it. Vanilla ice cream runs down her bust, to her stomach, and drips down her thighs.
