My Fake Wedding Was the Start of Their Real Prison novel · Chapter 12 of 24
Chapter 12: Porch Light
I got the key in the lock on the third try.
Caelen was kissing the back of my neck, and my hands weren't working right.
"Let me," he said.
"I've got it."
"You've been trying for a full minute."
"Then stop doing that."
He didn't stop.
The door swung open on the dark apartment and the clanking radiator.
He kicked it shut behind us.
I turned the lock.
The click sounded very loud.
He stood in the middle of my little slanted room with his shirt half open and his hair a mess from my hands, and he didn't come closer.
"Say it," he said quietly. "I'm not guessing. Not with you."
I understood what he meant.
Every man in my life had decided what I wanted and handed me a pen.
"I want you," I said. "Tonight. All of it. Yes."
He crossed the room in two steps.
He didn't stop kissing me until my knees hit the edge of the bed.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at me.
His thumbs pressed into the bare skin where my sweater had ridden up.
"Tell me what you want," he said.
His voice was rough, like the words cost him something.
"I want your shirt off."
He reached for the buttons.
"No." I put my hands over his. "I want to do it."
He went still.
I worked the buttons one at a time, watching his face.
He watched me right back, his chest rising and falling under my hands.
When I pushed the shirt off his shoulders, I let myself look at him.
Broad shoulders, a thick chest with dark hair, his stomach tight.
No gym polish.
Just big, solid, real.
I put my mouth on his collarbone and tasted salt.
He made a low sound, a rumble I felt in my own chest.
My hands went to his belt.
"Is this helping?" I said.
"It's checking."
I laughed against his skin.
Then I got his belt open and his trousers down past his hips.
He kicked them off without looking away from me.
He was hard, his cock straining against his dark boxer-briefs.
I ran my palm over him through the fabric, and his whole body went tight.
"Sadie."
I liked the way he said my name, like it was a warning.
I liked that he let me keep my hand there, let me feel what I'd done to him.
"I want you to take my clothes off now," I said, plain.
His hands went to the hem of my sweater.
He pulled it up and over my head, slow enough that the wool dragged against my skin and made me shiver.
My bra followed.
He looked at me like he was memorizing something he'd been told he couldn't have.
Then he bent his head and took my nipple into his mouth.
I made a sound I didn't recognize.
My hands went into his hair and held on.
He sucked, then used his teeth, just enough to make me gasp.
His other hand covered my other breast, thumb working the nipple until it was tight and aching.
"My jeans," I managed. "Caelen."
He undid them without lifting his mouth from me, shoved them down with my underwear.
I stepped out of them, bare now in the hot little room, and he stepped back just far enough to finish undressing himself.
When his boxer-briefs hit the floor, I reached for him.
He was thick, hot, heavy in my hand.
The sound he made when I wrapped my fingers around his cock was the filthiest thing I'd ever heard.
"On the bed," he said.
I went.
He followed me down, braced above me on his forearms, his mouth finding mine again.
His hips settled between my thighs, his cock pressed against my wet pussy.
I arched up into him.
He didn't push inside.
He just ground against me, slow, letting me feel every inch.
"Tell me what you want," he said against my mouth.
"I want you to fuck me."
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