Rebel (Renegades #2)(35)
Author: Skye Jordan

“Oh…” That was just… “God…”

Wes growled and released her waist. Rubi caught herself with her hands on the counter behind her. Her heart beat fast and stole her breath. Wes jerked her shirt up, exposing her stomach and painted another line up the middle of her belly, navel to sternum. He pressed his mouth to her skin, warming the cold strip.

Excitement burned a path through the center of her body. She pried her eyes open to the sight of his blond head at her belly, licking and sucking the white foam from her skin, his eyes closed with a look of utter bliss. Heat pumped between her legs.

“Wes…” She groaned his name. “Jesus Christ…”

He jerked her shirt all the way over her head and pulled it down behind her, trapping her arms.

Shocked, she struggled against the shirt caught between laughter and frustration. “Wes, what the f**k?”

“Oh, God.” His gaze scoured her bare br**sts. “So beautiful.”

He sprayed a circle of whipped cream around one breast. Her nipple tightened and the skin of her breast tugged toward the center, creating a delicious sensation. A moan rose from her throat. Her brain choked on the raw thrill.

“Wes, we shouldn’t—”

He licked off a section of cream, and his tongue swept across her nipple. Her pu**y surged with heat.

“Shouldn’t what?” he said. “Shouldn’t be friends?” He licked again, and Rubi fisted her hands against the granite. “Shouldn’t enjoy the benefits of liking each other?” And again. Her whimper echoed in the room. “Shouldn’t have fun?”

“Fuck… Wes…”

“Not quite yet, baby. But we’ll get to that.” He licked a circle around her breast, then closed his mouth over her nipple and sucked.

“Shit…” Her legs clamped around his hips and lifted into his erection. He groaned against her nipple and bit down gently. Lust stroked her pu**y, and she suddenly, unequivocally needed him inside her. She didn’t give a damn about consequences.

When she reached for him, her T-shirt restricted her arms. She wiggled, trying to free herself, but one of Wes’s hands held the shirt at her shoulder blades, keeping her trapped.

He chuckled and doused Rubi’s other breast with another ring of whipped cream. “You’re as delicious as I imagined.”

He dove in like a starving man, let his teeth graze her skin. Sensation burned through her, every millimeter of her skin on fire. She tried to find leverage to rub her hips against him, but had none. God, she couldn’t take this anymore.

“You win. You win, Lawson. I want you.”

He lifted his head from her breast, a film of stickiness all around his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, and licked his lips. The whipped cream can hit the counter with a clink, but he didn’t release her shirt.

He picked up the carton of ice cream and held it in her line of sight. “Did you eat all this tonight?”

“What—?”

“Did you?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“Because you want me and keep saying no?”

Her shoulders were beginning to ache. She repositioned her hands on the counter. “Yes.”

“How long have you wanted me?”

“Since the airport.”

“Still want this?” he waved the container.

“No. I want you. I just want you.” She tried to lean forward to kiss him, but he held her in place. “Fuck me, Wes.”

His body went loose. The cardboard ice-cream container hit the sink. Wes lowered his head and closed his eyes. “You have no f**king idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

He lifted his head and met her gaze. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, deep charcoal gray. This skin over his cheekbones had gone tight, his lids heavy. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever known. And nothing had ever felt so right as saying yes to him.

His hand lifted, his fingers sliding over her lips. They were cold, and she startled. Then tasted chocolate. She opened her eyes and found his fingers covered in ice cream. She closed her eyes again and pulled his index finger between her lips, savoring the taste of the melting dessert on his skin.

“God, what a mouth,” he said, his voice raspy. “Look at me when you do that.”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze as she pulled one finger from her mouth and sucked another in. His gaze was dazed, his nostrils flared as he watched. When she’d licked them clean, she whispered, “Put it on your cock.”

His hand moved back to the carton but returned to her body, not his own. He pressed a handful of chocolate ice cream to the center of her chest and she gasped—in both cold and shock. “Wes!”

His mouth turned in an utterly wicked grin, and he slid his cold, slippery hand down her body. She half laughed, half moaned. When his hand pushed beneath her panties and between her legs, she screeched and wiggled away. “Wes, shit.”

She clamped her thighs, but they were locked around his hips. His hand moved freely in the most bizarre, erotic sensation. The freezing ice cream, his warm hand, the slide, the way his fingers stroked her. “Oh my God. I don’t believe you.”

He watched his hand disappear beneath her white panties with that sloppy, sticky mess. “I’ll never look at Triple Chocolate the same way again.”

“Come on, Wes. Let go of the shirt.”

“I kinda like you helpless.”

One side at a time, he dragged her panties off her hips and breathed a heavy moan when her pu**y came into view. “God damn.”

He yanked her panties off her legs and, with his gaze locked on her pu**y, went for another handful of ice cream.

“Wes—” she said in warning, struggling to scoot back on the counter. “Don’t—”

His hand pressed between her legs with a handful of cold chocolate. Rubi squealed, whimpered, pleaded. He ignored her. The touch of his hand was so deliberate, so confident, so perfect, the ice cream didn’t even seem cold anymore. She was hot. Burning to have his c**k sliding between her legs. She fell back on her elbows, and lifted her hips.

His fingers stroked, confident, sure, then he pushed deep inside. An electrifying cold streak mixed with the blissful pressure, and she gasped. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. And so strangely exciting.

He added another finger, and cold raced along her walls. His thumb caressed circles around her clit, freezing and stimulating at the same time.

“Wes, I can’t…” She rocked her hips, trying for more friction, and growled, “Goddammit, Wes. Please.”