Revive (A Redemption Novel) Page 12

  “You didn’t have to.”

  I pull her to me so her back is pressed against my front, both of us standing at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. Softly I drape her hair across her shoulder and run my fingers down the curve of her neck. “Tell me about the picture.” I take hold of the small black coated zipper and watch the expanse of her back become more visible by the second. The dress loosens, revealing her shoulders, the material needing only a slight tug to fall to the floor and leave her naked.

  Kissing her is inevitable, her skin luring my mouth to her shoulders, my tongue drawing invisible lines between her faint freckles.

  “Sometimes there’s a moment in your life where everything, slowly, yet surely begins to make sense,” she starts, her body shivering beneath my touch. “Where the past finally stays where it belongs, and the future is somewhere you actually want to be.”

  My focus switches from her body to her words and back again. Entranced and intrigued, by both, her body is ethereal, her words are prophetic.

  “Are you exactly where you want to be?”

  She nods, and I take it as an invitation to tip her dress off the edge and watch it fall down her body. The vulnerability of her statement and the power of her nakedness turns the moment from a passionate frenzy to an emotional seduction.

  She steps out of the dress and spins on her heels to face me. “Is this where you want to be?”

  With almost every inch of her on display and mine for the taking, the challenge is clear. I reach for the back of my shirt, stretching it over my head, and throwing it to the side of the room. “What do you think?”

  We launch at one another, skin on skin, and we’re back where we started. Cradling her body to me, I rest a knee on the edge of the mattress and let us fall. Our mouths talk, our lips take, our tongues give. Lust turns into desperation as we wrap ourselves up in pleasure.

  I endeavour to taste every inch of her skin, moving from her lips to her neck, down to her filled out breasts. Her nipples stand at attention, begging for my tongue. With every taste, my dick gets harder, wanting nothing more than to break free.

  My mouth makes its way down to the edge of her panties, smelling her arousal before I see it. Hooking two fingers into her waistband, I rise, slowly, and drag the lace strips of material down her legs. Instinctively, her legs begin to fall together, but I hold her knee in protest. “Leave them open.”

  They lax as I discard my own layers of clothes, our impatience bubbling at the surface. She looks at me with intoxicating desire. “You’re even sexier with no clothes on.”

  I grip my cock at her appraisal, warding off the impulsive need I have to thrust myself into her, hard and fast.

  “What are you waiting for?” she goads, her fingertips teasing the top of her open slit.

  Never having to agonise over what I say with Taylah, the words tumble out without thinking twice. “I can’t work out which hole I want to stick it in.”

  She smiles. Full blown. Megawatt. A smile reserved for compliments, not my uncensored fantasies. She gets up on her knees and rests her arms on my shoulders. Instinctively I take hold of her waist. “Answer me this. Is this going to happen more than once?”

  I caress her heavy breast. “What do you think?”

  “Well then don’t think too hard, there’ll be time for every hole.” She bites my bottom lip. “More than once.”

  “Fuck, Crazy, you have the filthiest mouth.”

  “And you don’t even know all the things I can do with it.” She free falls backward on to the bed, with a teasing smile on her face, and I follow. I kiss the smile off her face, transforming it into a moan as my finger slides through her wet pussy.

  My thumb rubs softly over her clit, while a second finger fucks her. The contrast has her arching beneath me, breathless and wanton. Small tremors flitter through her, as her heat cinches around my fingers. “We’re only just getting started, Crazy.” I add pressure to her throbbing bud, and she bucks up against me. I watch her find euphoria as my fingers hit her perfect spot.

  I kiss up her body, capturing her loud moan with my mouth; savouring her moment of bliss in all the ways I can. My shaft nudges at her entrance, the head of my cock, slick and dripping, ready for the final round.

  Slipping inside of her is like the light at the end of the tunnel. Warm and waiting, my breath catches in my throat as she sheaths my cock with her pussy. Groaning, I thrust into her, craving the friction.

  Our worlds collide in a rush of frenzied, rough, and crazed kisses. Hard and desperate, I drive myself into her, and she arches herself into me. I fall in lust with the way she feels underneath my body and stretching around my cock.

  She digs the heels of her feet into my arse, as I pound into her harder. “God, Drix, I’m going to come again.”

  A strained chuckle leaves my mouth. “That’s the idea, babe.” I slip my finger between us, rubbing and pinching her clit, wanting to entice her orgasm along.

  She clutches herself to me, digging her nails into my back as she reaches her peak. Her breathing becomes more rapid as her body turns from tightly coiled to carefree in a single thrust.

  My own release sits heavy in my balls, on the precipice, teasing me every time I feel her clench around my cock. I pound into her with ferocity, challenging myself to tip her over the edge one last time.

  I slam into her, hard, fast and deep, the cries of my name from her hoarse throat spurring me on. Everything turns black as I get lost in the primal need to give and take. Heat creeps up my spine, and the final thread holding us together snaps.

  Coming down from the high, we kiss one another; unhurried, sated, and full of languid satisfaction.

  I let myself deflate against her, floating on air for the first time in a very long time.

  “You’re really good at that.” She smiles while kissing me, and like a transferable tattoo, the shape of my mouth suddenly matches hers.

  Rolling off her, I tuck my hands underneath my head. “So, I’ve been told.”

  Sitting up, she demurely moves her legs over the side of the bed and looks back at me mischievously. “Maybe I’ll just keep you here.”

  “What? And just use me for my dick?” I ask, conceitedly.

  She glances down at my semi-hard cock, licks her lips and innocently shrugs. Stretching across the bed, I snake my arm around her waist and tuck my hand in between her legs. “Will you at least feed me?”

  She leans into me, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “As many meals as you want.” Untangling herself from me, she stands up and begins rummaging through a pile of clothes sprawled on a reading chair in the corner of her room. “But, I need to feed myself first.”

  “Dinner wasn’t enough for you?” I joke while I also get off the bed and find my underwear.

  “Well.” Facing me, she exhales loudly while covering her body, with a geometrically patterned, floor-length satin gown. “I may as well get this out of the way before we go any further.” Slumped shoulders, serious expression, I have no idea what’s coming next. “I hate set menus,” she blurts out. “And I hate everything about sharing food.”

  Hysterical laughs trip out of my mouth, and a pillow unexpectedly hits me in the head. Picking it up off the floor, I throw it back at her. She dodges it, hands on her hips, biting back her own laughter.

  “Is that why you didn’t eat much?” She hands me my boxer briefs, throwing my jeans with the rest of her clothes.

  “You don’t need those unless you plan on going home.”

  With no intentions of leaving her, her house or her body, I forget about the jeans and continue the discussion about food “I’m going to have to hear more about how painful tonight’s set menu was for you.”

  “Don’t even joke, Hendrix. Do you know how hard it is to stop at one duck spring roll? These places. they give you four and there are five people, but you want two. I’m bad at math, but I know it equals me leaving the restaurant hungry.”

  “You’re serious about this.”


  She narrows her eyes at me. “The question is why aren’t you?”

  Following her into the kitchen, I cross my arms, and lean back on to the bench “I’ve really never given it this much thought.”

  Opening her pantry, she pulls out a shake and make pancake bottle, along with maple syrup, icing sugar, and a bag of chocolate chips. Placing them on the counter, she looks up at me. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “You didn't get that nickname for nothing.”

  “So,” she says, flittering around the kitchen for additional needs. “Do you want some of my famous choc chip pancakes?”

  “I could definitely eat pancakes, do you want help?”

  She hands me the plastic bottle. “If you could fill it up with water and shake it using those muscles of yours, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Snatching it from her, I fill it up to the designated line. I flex my arm while shaking the bottle. “Is this what you meant?”

  “God, how will I ever make pancakes without you.”

  “You’re in for some hard times, Crazy.”

  Rolling her eyes, she places a silver mixing bowl between us. “Pour it in here.”

  As I do, she empties the chocolate chips into the bowl also. “You know they have the chocolate chip version of these shake and makes.”

  “I am aware, but sometimes when I go on a random health binge, I snack on chocolate chips and convince myself it’s not breaking the rules because they’re so small.”

  “It’s totally breaking the rules.”

  “Ha. Ha. That’s funny.” She hands me a whisk. “I don’t remember asking you.”

  “I’m sorry, did I sign up for kitchen hand?”

  “You got to earn your keep around here, that dick will only get you so far.”

  I click my tongue. “Is that a challenge?”

  “You’re welcome to prove me wrong after I eat the pancakes.”

  “Deal.” Grabbing her shoulders, I nudge her out of the kitchen. “Go, be busy, and these will be ready in no time.”

  “Drix, I’m kidding I—”

  “No,” I cut her off. “Let me do it for you.”

  “Fine, I’ll just be taking photos of you in your underwear slaving over the stove.”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Do you know women at all? This is equivalent to a photo of you with a newborn baby on your chest.” She jogs into her room and comes back with her phone in hand. “I’m going to send it to all my friends. Better yet I’m going to post it on Instagram, with the hashtag you wish you were me right now.”

  Focusing back on the task at hand, I continue making sure the pancake batter isn’t lumpy, and adding the chocolate chips. Taylah’s explanation of women, babies, and cooking goes straight over my head, as I give her my back and start up her gas stove to cook the pancakes. We’re in a comfortable silence, me dead set on the perfect pancakes, and her trying for the perfect picture.

  “Do you want to eat on the breakfast bar or the table?”

  “You’re going to set up too?

  “Why not?” I ask rhetorically. “You can get the whole Hendrix Michaels experience.”

  “Let me do it, it’s only fair.”

  She sets up her cute little four-seat dining table. Two plates, two cups, cutlery, and maple syrup. It’s unexpectedly domestic. I pick up the small stainless steel sieve and dust the icing sugar over the stack of pancakes.

  Taking myself and the plate to the table, I catch Taylah looking at me with fascination. Being the centre of her attention reminds me of the way I had all her focus when she walked into the restaurant earlier. It’s such a heady feeling to have someone look at you, and see something they like. Something they want.

  “God, I love breakfast food.” She drowns the pancakes with maple syrup, cutting her stack of four into equal quarters.

  “You do this often?”

  “It’s my favourite thing about living on my own.”

  “Eating pancakes at night?”

  “More so eating breakfast food anytime I want.” She rises off her seat, ever so slightly, reaching to the middle of the table to pour us both a glass of juice. “Then there’s being able to have a television in my room, and being able to eat in said room.”

  “You had a lot of rules growing up?”

  “My mum was such a clean freak. You couldn’t even sneeze without her freaking out that something was out of place. As soon as I could afford moving out, I was done.” Stopping to take a sip of her juice, she gracefully manages to eat, drink, and talk at the same time. “Don’t get me wrong, I know having a clean house and a clean mum is a first world problem, but it’s so fucking liberating not to have a woman follow you with a vacuum at all times of the day.”

  “Makes sense,” I say, my mind visualising a younger Taylah feeling irate at her mother’s requests. “I remember feeling something similar after moving out of my mum’s place.”

  “Any rules you were happy to break once you left. Something that doesn’t make me sound like the only deranged one in the room.”

  I finish off the pancakes before answering. Stalling. Giving myself a bit of time before taking a visit down memory lane. “My mum didn’t care about much, to be honest. She only had two rules. One for Jagger and one for me.”

  “What were they?” Her voice is cautious as she asks the question, and I wonder if I made it too obvious that I didn’t really want to go down this road.

  “Jagger’s was, don’t be like your dad, and mine was…”

  “Don’t be like your dad,” she finishes for me. “What was he like?”

  “Absent.”

  “Safe to say you’re a good son then, and didn’t break her rules.”

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it.” My plate finished, I push it forward and lean back on the chair. “Tell me more rules you broke when you got your own place.”

  The change in conversation doesn’t go unnoticed, but she accepts it anyway. “There’s only one more, and it’s my personal favourite.” Loosening the knot holding her gown together, the swell of her breasts become visible. “No clothes.”

  My eyes zero in on her tits, while my cock twitches at the possibilities. “How about you explain the no clothes part to me.”

  Seductively, she licks the syrup off each finger, then opens the rest of her gown. “How about I just show you?”

  14

  Taylah

  He’s around the table, hands on my body, lips on mine, all before the satin even hits the floor. “You know what else is great about living alone,” he murmurs. “We can do this anywhere.”

  Sucking on my bottom lip, he grips my arse. Lifting me up, he wraps my legs around him and carries me to the nearest kitchen counter. He rests me on the edge, and sticky, maple kisses make their way down my neck. I lean back on my elbows as he bypasses my collarbone, licking each nipple before kissing down the valley of my breasts and beelining for his destination.

  The second he reaches the top of my slit, my lungs constrict in anticipation. He changes direction, his mouth teasing me everywhere but where I need him most.

  Hands push my thighs farther apart, opening me up, preparing me for him. A swipe of his tongue has me jolting out of my skin, followed by delicious circles around my clit, he becomes the king of teasing, and taunting. He dips his tongue in and out of me; slow and sensual torture.

  “You taste like us.” Low and gravelly, the sound of his voice against my pussy, and the thought of us having a taste sends a rush of hot need through my body and straight to my core.

  The tip of his tongue runs back up to my sensitive flesh; biting and licking. The pace picks up, and the burn inside me becomes unbearable. My fingers dig into his scalp, gripping onto his hair as my hips grind against his face. He feasts on me like a starved man, lapping at my dripping centre.

  Two fingers sneakily slip inside me, and the intrusion is all I need to feel myself shatter. He sucks my clit through
my entire orgasm, the sensation dragging out a long and illicit, “Oh, fuck.”

  I lay blissfully limp on the counter, unable to talk, unable to move. Rising slowly, the first thing I notice is his wet, smug smile. The second is his dick trying to climb out of his boxers.

  I flick my gaze between him and his cock. “Looks like you might need a little help.”

  He rubs along his length. “Are you offering?”

  Sitting up, I open my legs and he steps in between them. I slip one hand into his waistband, the other pushing the material down his legs. Hot and heavy in my hands, I grip his steel-like shaft. A hiss leaves his mouth as I move up and down. “You ready for hole number two?”

  “Fuck, Crazy. Stick me somewhere before I blow it like a teenager all over your fucking hands.”

  Reluctantly I drag my hand out, and push against his chest, leading him to the couch. “Sit.”

  He puts his hand up, pretending to surrender. “Whatever you say.”

  Naked, he sinks into the couch, his cock standing tall against his stomach. I drop to my knees, eager to return the favour.

  He stares at me. Eyes full of thirst and want. A gaze so potent, I will remember it past this moment.

  “Do you even know how fucking exquisite you look right now?”

  I lower my head to hide the flush I feel creeping up my face. My heart finds the wrong time to try and claw its way out of my chest, as every single detail of this moment carves out its own space in my memory.

  I wrap my fingers around his cock, and it jolts in my hand. A shine of pre-cum coats the tip, and it's the only invitation I need to swipe my tongue through his slit.

  His loud groan spurs me on, and with greed, I take him whole, in my mouth. His skin is warm and stretched, the ripple of his veins sliding against my tongue.

  Lazily, my head begins to bob up and down his dick while my hands keep busy. One matches my movements, the other tentatively massaging his balls. His hand finds the back of my head and together we gain momentum. We find a rhythm. I suck and stroke. He gets harder and deeper.

  “Shit.” His voice is strained and desperate like he’s on the brink of breaking. “Taylah,” he says with urgency. His thrusts become harsher as he hits the back of my throat, his body talking for him, replacing the failed words. I look up at him expectantly, my eyes inviting him to let go. To crash. To fall. To come. Eyes squeezed shut, head tipped back, he empties himself in my mouth. Thick like the tension coursing through his body, it all comes out, filling my mouth and sliding down my throat.