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Traded for Nine Boats, I Walked In Pregnant and Ran Their House novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Roof

The wool blanket was spread across the roof deck, and the November air was cold enough to hurt.

I was on my knees on it, in my coat, undoing his belt.

"Ariadne," Alex said, low.

"It's thirty degrees."

"Then be quick, and I'll be slower."

Below us the East River was black and moving, and the Hell Gate Bridge hung across it with all its lights on.

I could hear the city, and a train, and somebody's radio three roofs away.

Nobody could see us but the water tank.

He sat back against the brick chimney with his legs out in front of him.

His coat was open.

His shirt was open under it, and his chest rose and fell in white breaths.

I pushed his trousers down his hips and took him in my hand.

He was already hard.

He pushed up into my grip with a groan, and I smiled.

"You like this," I said.

"I like you."

"Say what you like."

"I like watching you take control of me," he said.

"I like that you know what you want and you say it.

"I like that you're up here in your coat at midnight because I couldn't stop looking at you at dinner."

I stopped stroking.

"You looked at me at dinner?"

"I looked at you the whole meal.

"I couldn't eat."

"Then let me feed you," I said.

I bent over his lap.

The cold air stung my bare knees, and his skin was hot against my mouth.

I took the head of him between my lips and sucked.

He swore and put his hand in my braid.

I took more of him, slowly, and then more, and I moved my tongue along the underside.

His thighs went hard under my palms.

"Ariadne," he said, hoarse, "the neighbors."

I hummed around him.

He made a sound I had not heard from him, low and broken, and his hips pushed up once.

I pulled back before it was too much and wiped my mouth with my wrist.

"Not yet," I said.

"I want you inside me first."

"You're going to be the end of me."

"I'm going to be the start of you," I said.

He dragged me up by the arms and kissed me, tasting himself on my tongue.

He opened my coat with both hands and pushed his face into my neck.

His mouth was hot against my throat, and his stubble was rough along my jaw.

"You taste like salt," he said.

"I walked up four flights."

"I'm going to taste every part of you."

"Not tonight.

"Tonight I want you inside."

He laughed against my skin.

His hand slid up my thigh, and I let my knees fall open.

He found me bare and slick, and he groaned.

"No underwear," he said.

"You're going to kill me."

He pushed one finger in, and then two, and I rocked on his hand and kept stroking him.

The two of us breathed in short white clouds in the cold air.

I worked my fist up and down his length, and he worked his fingers in and out of me.

Neither of us looked away.

"Stop," I said, when I was close.

"I want to feel you."

He slid his fingers out and brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean, watching me.

My whole body clenched.

I lifted my skirt to my waist.

He sucked in a breath when he saw how ready I was.

"You planned this," he said.

"I thought about it all through the lemon chicken," I said.

I straddled him.

I set my knees on the blanket on either side of his hips.

I lowered myself until the head of him pressed against me, wet and hot.

Then I stopped.

His hands came to my hips, and his fingers dug in.

"Ariadne."

"I'm going slowly.

"You're not going to rush me."

"I'm not."

"Good.

"Then hold still."

I sank down onto him by inches.

The stretch made me gasp.

He was thick, and my body was swollen and tender, and every inch of him I took made my breath hitch higher.

When I had all of him I sat there, trembling, with my forehead against his.

He kissed me.

It was slow and open-mouthed, and he groaned into my mouth when I clenched around him.

"God," he said.

"You're so hot.

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