Cockloft Page 6

  Smiling, I walk to greet the customer but stop in my tracks when I find the one man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. The man who ruined me in one night.

  Gabriel Martinez.

  Expert pussy licker.

  King of orgasms.

  The man I love to hate.

  As usual, he looks ridiculously sexy. His worn, faded jeans hang just right off his lean hips. A solid black T-shirt stretches across his impressive body but not too tight, add that with the red ball cap turned backwards and the man is a walking orgasm. For someone who scoffs at me for my fashion, he dresses damn well.

  He flashes me that lopsided grin of his. “Hey, Blondie.”

  “What are you doing here?” I’m surprised how even my voice is despite how breathless I feel.

  “Got a minute?” he asks.

  My eyes dart to the dressing room Mrs. Nelson is in. “Sure. A quick one.” I gesture for him to follow and lead him into the backroom. My skin prickles with every step I take, his close proximity doing things to me that I’m helpless to feel.

  Keep it together, CeCe. Don’t let him know how much you’ve been thinking about him or that magical tongue of his.

  Once we get into the back, I spin around to face him and prop my hands on my hips, hoping to mask all the unwanted feelings battling inside of me. “So, what do you want?”

  “This.” Snaking an arm around my waist, he pulls me against him and steals my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.

  That’s all it takes. A simple touch of his lips and I’m lost to him.

  His tongue does an erotic dance with mine; pulling me into a world I’m helpless against. Moaning, I fight not to melt into a puddle right here on the floor.

  A growl vibrates his chest, his hands gripping the back of my thighs to lift me off my feet. My legs curl around his waist as he sits me on the back counter, situating himself between my parted thighs. The rough denim of his jeans rub against my silk panties, making me thankful for the skirt I chose this morning.

  “You miss me, baby?” he asks, his beautiful lips never missing a beat.

  “No.”

  He chuckles at the blatant lie and pulls back, his gorgeous face hovering before mine. Time seems to stand still as we stare back at one another, nothing but the sound of my heavy breathing filling the space between us. He, on other hand, doesn’t sound the least bit out of breath.

  Asshole.

  “Go out with me.”

  “Huh?” I say, thinking I misheard him.

  “Tomorrow night. Go out to dinner with me.”

  “You want to take me to dinner?” I ask, slowly.

  “Yes. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

  “Because we can’t stand each other.”

  Smirking, he dips his face next to mine, his lips grazing my earlobe. “I think we can stand each other just fine, Blondie.” His warm hand, which rests high on my thigh, dances up my skin to slip under my skirt. “Say yes.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I refuse to give in to him so easily. He’s going to have to work for it.

  “You want to be persuaded, is that it?” His fingers tease the edge of my panties, turning the slow burn within my body into a raging inferno. “I’ll bet your pussy is so wet for me right now,” he says arrogantly, the erotic words tickling my ear.

  “Maybe a little,” I confess on a whisper, my breathing quick with anticipation.

  “Just say the word and I’ll take care of you.”

  I moan, my body trembling with the need to feel his touch again. “We really shouldn’t. I have a customer.” The excuse is weak, my mind and body battling with one another.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t take me long.”

  That’s the only warning I get before his fingers slip into my panties and delve through my wet slit.

  “Oh.” The whimper breaches my lips and my head falls back on my shoulders.

  He takes the angle as an invitation to rake his teeth along my neck, nipping the sensitive skin. “I knew it. Fucking soaked.” His lips descend to my collarbone, traveling all the way down to the beaded nipple poking through my thin tank top.

  I gasp and squirm as he takes it in his mouth; gripping it between his teeth the same time he enters two fingers inside me.

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip to stifle my cries of pleasure.

  “This hot little pussy is all I’ve thought about, baby. The way my cock filled it, fucked it…”

  He’s so damn dirty and I love it.

  My hips move to the rhythm of his finger, seeking the release I desperately crave but it hovers just out of reach…

  “That’s my girl, fuck my fingers, show me how bad you want it.”

  “Gabe.” His name falls from me on a plea as I desperately beg to be put out of this sweet misery.

  “I got you, baby.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he curls his fingers inside of me, stroking that hidden spot. Add the delicious things he’s doing to my clit with his thumb, and I shatter, my mind and body soaring to that beautiful world of pleasure I experienced the other night.

  His mouth covers mine, swallowing my heated moans. My arms curl around his neck as I anchor myself to the only reality I’m able to grasp.

  Eventually, my head drops to his shoulder as I fight to catch my breath. He turns his face into my neck, his lips pressing a gentle kiss as he withdraws his hand from my panties.

  The disconnection leaves me feeling cold until he gathers me in his arms. His affection is a contradiction to what we just did. It’s sweet yet a little unnerving because I don’t know what to do with these feelings, not when it comes to him. A man I supposedly hate.

  “All right, dear, I finally got the first one on and I think it could be our winner.”

  I lift my head with a gasp, remembering Mrs. Nelson. “Shit.” The curse leaves me in a whispered rush. I push Gabe away and hurriedly begin fixing my clothes.

  He watches me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “It’s not funny,” I grumble. He and his skillful tongue need to take a hike before he causes me more trouble.

  Without a word, he steps back up to the counter, yanking me in for one more fiery kiss before resting his forehead on mine. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”

  The sexy, presumptuous jerk doesn’t even bother to wait for a response before he walks out of the room. Probably because we both know my answer has been yes from the beginning.

  “Hey, I know you.” Mrs. Nelson’s voice drifts into the back as she spots Gabe. “You’re one of the firefighters that came to my flower shop last week.”

  “I am. How are you doing?” he asks casually, acting like he didn’t just have his fingers inside of me.

  I quickly jump down from the counter and finish righting my skirt before walking out to join them.

  “I’m very well, thank you. What are you doing here?”

  I open my mouth to shoot out a quick explanation but he beats me to it. “Miss Kensington had a wet spot in the back that needed to be taken care of.”

  Oh—my—god.

  My eyes narrow on him, cheeks aflame in embarrassment.

  “Oh no. Was it serious?” Mrs. Nelson asks, completely oblivious.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” His attention shifts back to me, and the bastard has the audacity to wink. “Have a good rest of your day, ladies.” He bids us good-bye then struts his sexy ass out of my store.

  “What a nice young man,” Mrs. Nelson comments. “I think he likes you.”

  All I can manage is a smile in her direction, my mind still reeling from everything that just transpired within the last five minutes.

  I have a feeling I’m in way over my head, but the challenge has never been more exhilarating.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gabe

  Anticipation pumps through my body as I take the elevator up to CeCe’s apartment. A smile tugs at my lips, recalling the first time I came here to find her ass up, digging for a purse.

  Wh
o would have thought I’d be back here picking her up for a date? I sure as hell didn’t but the pretentious girl I met two weeks ago has gotten under my skin like no other. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her or the night we shared. A night that will forever be ingrained into my memory.

  I have a feeling I’ve barely scratched the surface of finding out who she really is but I plan to keep digging until I know every single thing there is to know about her.

  It’s become somewhat of an obsession, which is damn scary because I don’t obsess over women. I’m a play-the-field kind of guy. It’s easier that way, especially with my job, but there’s something about Blondie that draws me in. I can’t figure out what the hell it is, because the truth is we are completely different. We were raised differently, come from different ends of the spectrum. Things that matter to her don’t matter to me, yet for a girl I have nothing in common with, I can’t help but imagine her in my world.

  Coming to a stop at her apartment, I knock loudly; that rat dog of hers yapping behind the door.

  “Easy, Pep. It’s okay, boy.”

  The door swings open, revealing the beautiful woman that consumes my every thought. I barely notice the dog she cradles because my focus is only on her and the pink-gold shimmering dress she wears. A dress that shows off her mile-long legs, stopping at the top of her slender thighs and showing off every single curve she possesses. Her long blonde hair cascades down her shoulders, accentuating the low-cut dress that shows just the right amount of cleavage.

  My mouth waters, remembering the way those creamy mounds filled my hands and tasted against my tongue.

  “Oh, hey there,” she greets, feigning surprise. “What brings you by?”

  The biggest smartass I’ve ever met and for some reason I fucking love it. “I’m here to pick up the sassy girl who lives here and take her out for dinner.”

  “You mean the dinner I never agreed to?”

  “You sure as hell look like you’re ready to go out with me.” The remark is delivered on a growl, my eyes traveling down the length of her again.

  “What, this old thing?” She acknowledges the outfit with a flick of her hand. “This is my usual Wednesday night attire. Pep and I have big plans to hang out here tonight.”

  My blood heats with the need to claim her feisty mouth. “Get your pretty ass out here, Blondie, and let me take you to dinner.”

  She cocks a hip. “Anyone ever tell you how charming you are?”

  “Anyone ever tell you what a pain in the ass you are?”

  “Nope, but that’s because I save this special attitude just for you.”

  I grunt. “Lucky me.”

  “I know.”

  I smirk, waiting for her to step out into the hallway because we both know she’s going to.

  She gives me a dramatic eye roll. “Fine, you win. You can take me out.” Pressing a kiss to her dog’s head, she says her good-bye to him then steps out of the apartment but not without retrieving her monster of a purse. She turns her back on me as she locks the door, revealing the backless dress, her flawless skin calling to me.

  The moment she turns around, I pull her into my arms and take her mouth like I’ve been dying to. She melts against me, her arms winding around my neck as she lets out the sexiest noise that has my blood pumping hotter—faster.

  I’m about to say to hell with dinner and blow through her apartment door when the sound of muffled chuckles breaks up our heated moment. We look to the left and find two young teenage boys enjoying the show we unintentionally put on.

  “Unbelievable,” Cece mutters. “Come on.” Grabbing my hand, she pulls me behind her, shooting a glare at the boys. “Put your eyes back in your heads!” she snaps, stomping into the elevator.

  Once the door closes, I glance her way. “A little harsh, Blondie, don’t you think?”

  She scoffs. “Hardly, those little jerks are perverts. Every time I turn around they are spying on me. They even had the audacity to try peeking up my dress in this very elevator.”

  My body coils tight at the thought. Now I want to go back and slap the hell out of the little shits.

  “Anyway,” she says, dismissing the moment with a hand through the air. “Where are we going for dinner?”

  I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. “To the best Mexican restaurant in the state of Georgia.”

  She lifts a brow. “Is that so?”

  “Yep, owned by family.”

  “You own a restaurant?” she asks, her surprise evident.

  “Not me, my aunt and uncle.”

  “Huh,” she muses then shrugs. “I’ll try it.”

  My eyes hold hers. “Try it? What does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve never had authentic Mexican. The closest I’ve ever had to it is Taco Bell when I was on my late night drinking binges back in high school.”

  I gape at her, unbelieving the shit she’s spewing. “First of all, Taco Bell is not fucking Mexican. So get that out of your head now. And secondly, you got authentic the other night and loved it so I’m sure you will again.”

  She gives me that famous eye roll of hers but I don’t miss the heat embedded in them. “Whatever, Romeo, quit flattering yourself.” Flicking her hair, she walks off the elevator, each dip of her hips in that dress taunting me.

  It’s going to be a long fucking dinner.

  We make small talk on the drive over to the restaurant, mainly discussing the fire that took place at her apartment. Turns out it was started by someone falling asleep with a cigarette in their hand, one of the most common causes for house fires. That and people leaving on their curling irons. So much destruction caused by something easily avoidable.

  CeCe’s easy demeanor changes when I pull into the restaurant’s parking lot, her eyes scanning the older run-down area the building resides in. Probably because she has never stepped foot in this part of town.

  “Is it safe here?” she asks, a sliver of unease in her voice.

  “You’re always safe with me.”

  Her head turns, eyes softening, but there’s still uncertainty in them.

  “Poor people live around here, CeCe. Not criminals.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” she whispers.

  She did but it’s something I’m used to and she’s not the only person to think like this. Many do. I wonder what she would think if she knew I grew up in this area.

  Shoving the thought aside, I climb out of my truck and stride around to let her out. My fingers curl around hers as we walk into the restaurant, and I can’t deny how right it feels to do something as simple as holding her hand.

  Jesus, I’m fucking losing it.

  The place is packed as usual. Music pours from the speakers and colorful lights are strung across the ceiling, bringing the place to a glow. The atmosphere is loud and friendly.

  My uncle Hector spots us right away and comes striding over. “If it isn’t my favorite boy,” he bellows, pulling me into a firm hug. He’s always been more of a father to me than an uncle, mainly because mine is a piece of shit.

  “Hey, Tio, good to see you.”

  “You too.” His beefy hand gives my shoulder a few hard slaps before releasing me. “And who’s this?” he asks, his gaze shifting to CeCe.

  My arm curls around her waist as I introduce her. “This is CeCe, the girl I told you I was bringing for dinner.”

  CeCe extends her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  My uncle waves away the gesture. “To hell with that. We hug in this family.” He yanks her into the same hard embrace he gave me, squeezing the breath out of her.

  I chuckle at the way she pats his back awkwardly.

  Uncle Hector steps back, looking her over. “What the hell is someone as pretty as you doin’ with the likes of him?” he asks, jerking his head in my direction.

  “I’m still trying to figure that out myself.” Her eyes dart to mine, a saucy smile teasing her lips.

  He finds her as funny as she finds he
rself, his boisterous laugh echoing through the whole damn restaurant. “I like her. Beautiful and sassy.”

  He’s got that right.

  A moment later my aunt Camila rounds the corner, her eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. “My handsome mijo.” Boy. She flings herself at me, kissing each cheek. No doubt leaving her bright red lipstick for the world to see.

  “Hey, Tia.”

  She dismisses me quickly and moves for CeCe, cradling her face between her hands. “Oh you are gorgeous. Look how beautiful she is, Hector.”

  “She’s a beaut all right,” my uncle agrees.

  CeCe gives the best smile she can manage with her face squished between two hands.

  “Beautiful but skinny.”

  “Tia,” I growl, not bothering to hide my irritation.

  She throws her hands up innocently. “What? She is.” Her attention returns to CeCe as she pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. By the time you leave here you’ll have a few more pounds on ya.”

  I dart a look at my uncle for help.

  “All right, leave the girl be, Camila. Come,” he says, gesturing for us to follow. “I saved you a table in the back corner.”

  Grabbing CeCe’s hand, I drop a kiss on my aunt’s cheek then follow my uncle. “Sorry about that. People in my family speak without thinking,” I say, feeling the need to apologize.

  She shrugs, not seeming all that offended. “Could have been worse. She could have told me I needed to lose a few pounds.”

  I grunt. “Trust me, that is not something you’ll ever hear from the women in my family, but either way, you’re perfect the way you are.”

  The smile that dances across her lips tells me it was the right thing to say.

  My uncle pulls out her chair before I can. “What can I get you to drink?” he asks. “Camila makes a mean margarita.”

  “A margarita sounds great. Thank you.”

  He shifts his attention to me next. “The usual?”

  I nod.

  “One Modelo and one margarita coming up.”

  Once he walks away, CeCe opens her menu, scanning over the several pages. I don’t bother to open mine because I always get the same thing.

  “I have no idea what any of this is.”