His eyes widen when she ignores his bared wrist and instead slides her wet finger down the skin of his neck, Adam's apple bobbing as she lazily picks up the saltshaker and sprinkles his skin. She picks up the lime wedge and okay - this is probably not a good idea, not a good idea at all - but she can't stop now. Not after he challenged her. She grips his chin, stubble rough against the palm of her hand, and drags her thumb across his bottom lip. He opens obediently and she places the wedge between his lips.
Good boy.
She pretends not to hear Ruby snickering behind her.
Keeping her torso angled over the bar, she reaches down and picks up her shot glass, staring at the amber liquid with a sort of morbid curiosity. Her head is screaming at her to stop, think, this is wrong but when she looks up and finally meets his gaze, her stomach clenches deliciously. He looks like pure sin - black hair tousled and wild, full lips parted and inviting, blue eyes on fire.
She smirks and runs her tongue along her teeth, his eyes carefully following the movement, head tilting to the side slightly. She tips the shot back slowly, watching as his hand clenches on top of the bar. The burn is delicious and she leans forward, hand sliding over his forearm, up his neck and into his hair. She grips tight, fingers twisting though his thick strands, pulling his head back and exposing the line of salt.
When her tongue slides along his skin (salt and spice and just him), she feels his groan, deep and rough, under her lips. She nips at his pulse point and lets her nose skim his jaw as she moves to his lips, hand still anchored in his hair. Her teeth close on the lime and she lets her tongue swipe under, gathering juice and sliding over his lip in the process. A sharp shock of heat bolts through her and she lingers. She feels his jaw move, warm breath wash over her mouth, and her eyes close.
This is stupid.
God, this is hot.
She sits back abruptly, falling back on the bar stool and popping the lime out of her mouth. Loud cheers sound around her and she's suddenly very aware that the rest of the bar was privy to her little show. She drops the lime unceremoniously into the empty shot glass and gives him a shit-eating grin.
He's looking at her like a desperate man, eyes wide and dark. She swallows hard and her smile falters slightly when she notices just how large his pupils are, heart beating faster in her chest. He blinks, and then a slow, dangerous grin starts on his face.
Oh shit.
He opens his mouth to say something debauched, no doubt, when Ruby intervenes.
Like she can talk anyway, she just used him as a goddamned chaser while the entire bar watched.
Right.
"Come on Emma, let's go dance."
She lets Ruby lead her to the dance floor and she can feel his eyes on her as she moves her body to the beat. But soon she loses herself in the music, the liquor making her far more coordinated than usual. She runs her hands through her hair, exposing the bare skin of her back to the bar and Ruby laughs loudly.
"You're playing with fire, Emma."
Emma grins wolfishly at her friend. "Maybe I want to burn." She shouts back and Ruby grins in response.
She thinks she mutters something like finally but she can't hear her over the loud beat of the music. They dance for a while, until Emma's feet are aching and enough men have tried to hit on them both that they're exhausted of trying to come up with excuses. Apparently her show at the bar drew quite the crowd.
They grab their coats from coat check and her eyes scan the bar repeatedly but Killian is nowhere in sight. She frowns and scans the bar one more time before following Ruby out into the cold night air. She jumps when Killian is suddenly in front of her, same dangerous grin on his face.
"Need a ride home?"
She blinks up at him as her eyes shoot over to Ruby, climbing into a cab with a wink. Manipulative bitch. Emma blinks back to Killian as the cab pulls away, feeling her stomach flip at the way he's devouring her with his eyes.
"Yes, actually." Suddenly shy and lacking the bravado that allowed her to suck a lime out of his mouth, she looks down at the ground. "That would be great, thank you."
He seems to notice her change in attitude because he tips her chin up with his finger. "It's just a ride, lass." He winks and she smiles in response. "Don't mention it."
The short walk to his car is quiet, but comfortable, his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. She lets her eyes linger on the pull of his shoulders as he opens the passenger side door for her, all old world charm and boyish grin. It's such a contrast to his typical deviant manner that she smiles despite herself.
She directs him to her apartment and when he pulls in front, she pauses, hands running up and down her legs anxiously.
"Do you, um, do-" She looks up at him and her anxiety melts away at the look on his face. He's looking at her softly, like he sometimes does without realizing at the diner, when she tells him something unexpectedly genuine, or compliments him on his music. She sighs and bites her lip. "Do you want to come inside? Have a drink?"
He smiles, but in a way that shows he's trying hard not to seem too eager about it. He nods and shifts his car from park, swinging into a spot close to the door. The silence that descends over them as they make their way into the apartment is different than before, filled with a fiery tension. She bites her lip in the elevator, watching him rest coolly against the wall from the corner of her eye. He follows close behind her as she keys into her door, his body heat like electric against her back.
She gestures to the kitchen as she slips off her coat and takes his. "I think I have some tequila in the cabinet above the fridge."
"Tequila, huh?" His smirk is knowing and she fights the blush on her cheeks with a roll of her eyes. She puts the coats in the hall closet as he disappears into the kitchen and tries not to feel anything when his coat is lined up next to hers. When she enters the kitchen, he's ducked into the fridge, the bottle of tequila on the counter top.
"What are you doing?" She questions as she leans against the counter absently and suddenly he's in front of her, breathing in her space.
"I do believe you offered me a drink." His hands find her hips and he lifts her easily, placing her on the counter in front of him. She lets out a surprised noise, something between a squeak and a shout, and he chuckles lightly, eyes now perfectly level with her chin. His thumbs rub absently on her hip bones before sliding down her upper thighs to her knees, pressing them apart gently and stepping between them. When he looks up at her, his eyes are dark.
"I'd like to collect."
And she knows he's talking about much more than a shot. There's no way this isn't going to end in her bed.
Or on the floor.
Hell, the kitchen counter is comfortable enough.
His reaches over her left leg and pours himself a shot, hands sure and confident. His hips are nestled between her thighs, the stretched material of her skirt keeping her covered. The denim of his jeans feels delicious against the bare skin of her legs and she resists the urge to scoot forward, draw him in, and grind against him.
His eyes flit up to hers and then he leans forward, breath hot against her neck. His tongue swipes a long stripe against her collarbone and she bites her lip in an effort not to moan. He pulls back and gives her a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners.
She squirms as he sprinkles salt over the wet line and he chuckles. She shoots him a glare.
"I don't have any limes."
He reaches over her left leg and picks up what he must have grabbed from the fridge – a little bottle of lime juice – and waves it in front of her face.
"What, want me to shoot it in your mouth?"
He raises a single, dark eyebrow in response and she rolls her eyes. She watches as he flicks open the bottle and covers the spout with his thumb, tipping it over and coating his skin with lime juice. His other hand slides along her neck, fingers angling her jaw up.
"As fun as that sounds, love, I've got a better idea." His thumb runs along her bottom lip, much like she had done to him earlier, but this time he's coating her lip in lime juice. Her stomach clenches as his eyes follow the movement of his thumb and she lets her tongue slip out and brush against it. His breath hitches as his eyes shoot back to hers.
She can feel it – the tension between them. It's thick like a summer haze and everything in her is screaming at her to take, consume, devour. They've waited too long for this, she's waited too long for this, denied it and lied to herself and she's had enough.
She reaches forward and twists her fingers through his belt loop, pulling him closer. He picks up his shot glass and winks.
"Cheers, darling."
His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, fingers slipping along her jaw and back into her hair. His tongue is warm against her skin as he licks up the salt and this time she does let a small moan slip from her throat. She feels his grin against her skin and then his lips are in front of hers. She fights the urge to lick hers, knowing it would completely deter the point. Well, she assumes the point is a bit more than the lime juice, but regardless-
Her train of thought is abruptly cut short when his lips close around her bottom lip roughly, pulling it into his mouth and running his tongue along it. He releases it with a wet popping noise but keeps their heads angled together, hand fisting in her hair.
"Emma." He's practically panting into her mouth, the smell of tequila and spice washing over her. She lets her eyes drift shut and braces the hand not tangled in his belt loop on his chest. She fists the material in her hand and drags him into her.
When their lips meet, it's a fiery crash. He groans low in his throat, hand tensing and releasing in her hair before tensing again and angling her head to control the kiss. She lets him, parting her lips and teasing his tongue with hers, mouths battling for dominance.
He's good at this, better than she ever imagined he would be, mouth moving over hers with practiced confidence. She pulls roughly on his belt loop and his hips rut against hers. Shock waves reverberate through her body and she scoots closer to the edge of the counter, legs locking behind him at the small of his back. She gasps when he pushes his hips forward again, making contact with her center.
His mouth slides down her jaw, teeth nipping and scruff scratching. He finds a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and she moans lightly when he bites down. Her fingers tangle in his hair and she pulls roughly, always a battle with him. He chuckles and his fingers find the strap of her dress, sliding under it and pulling it to the side.
She couldn't wear a bra with this dress - the back was too low - and she is infinitely grateful for that fact when his thumb slides over her bare breast. They groan in unison and he leans back, looking down at her bared breast and then up to meet her hooded gaze.
Chest heaving, she struggles to find oxygen. "Never seen a naked woman before, Jones?"
"Were you like this the whole night?" He ignores her question, voice strained, eyes dark. His hand slips from her hair to the other side of her dress and he pulls it down roughly, exposing her other breast. His thumb circles her nipple and she arches her back, pushing her chest further into his hands.
Heat is coursing through her body, circulating and centering between her legs. She shifts against him as his thumbs rolls against her nipples, sending hot pleasure shooting through her.
"Emma." He accentuates her name with a sharp pinch to her sensitive skin. She yelps and opens her eyes, not even realizing she closed them. She blinks at him wildly.
"What?"
"Were you like this the whole night? At the bar?" And his eyes are so dark, so serious, that she feels another jolt of pleasure course through her.
"Like what?" She's panting, unable to concentrate when he's touching her likethat.
"Bare." He practically growls the word and it does terrible things to her. One of his hands slips from her breast and dances down her body, landing on her thigh and slipping under the hem of her dress. "Did you think about this as you got ready? Did you think about me peeling this dress off you and finding you bare beneath it?"
"Oh God." She moans because, Jesus, no one should sound that sinful. His fingers slip under the hem of her dress and curve around her bare waist. His forehead falls against her collarbone and he curses violently when he discovers she isn't wearing panties either.
What? The dress is tight.
"Emma." His voice is hoarse and he bites down harshly on the skin of her neck. "Why aren't you wearing anything under this dress?"
"Because I thought about this." It comes out of her without warning, raspy and whispered and her face flames hot in response. She wants to slap her hand over her mouth and just shut up but he moves his hand just slightly, thumb resting just above where she needs him and all rational thought leaves her mind.
He claims her lips hotly, tongue plundering her mouth and twisting with hers. He pulls away just as quick as he came, forehead resting against hers. "Did you think about me?"
The hand on her breast squeezes gently and she bites her lip, nodding. He breathes in deep and leans his head down, nipping at the skin below her ear.
"Did you think about me touching you?" She moans as the hand under her dress shifts, fingers dancing over her sensitive flesh.
"Gods, Emma." He groans loud. "You're so wet."
No shit, she wants to snark - she's been beyond turned on since she first saw him at the bar - but his thumb is lightly circling her clit and she can't think, can't even breathe properly when he does that.
"You did think about me touching you, didn't you?" His fingers slip lower and suddenly he's plunging two fingers into her roughly. She gasps and squirms, spreading her legs wider against him.
God it feels so good, he feels so good. It's been too long since someone's touched her like this and she can already feel the pressure building low in her belly. He twists his fingers and pulls them out before pushing them back in slowly.
He leans back from her neck and stares at her, eyes raking over her body like he's trying to commit her to memory. She must look a sight – dress pulled down below her breasts, his hand moving under her skirt. His own shirt is rumpled from her grip and his hair is wild, standing at odd angles and making him look completely flustered. Her eyes drop down below his waist, arousal straining against his dark jeans.
He plunges his fingers in and out of her as his thumb drags against her clit and she whines, legs shifting against him restlessly.
"Don't worry, darling." His free hand pulls at the hem of her dress, dragging it up her body until she's completely bared to him. His tongue slides along his lips as he watches himself fuck her with his fingers. "I'll take care of you."
And then he's dropping to his knees in front of the counter, sliding her legs over her shoulders, fingers still moving with gentle rhythm inside of her. He gives her no warning at all before his mouth is over her sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking hard, tongue fluttering against her. She shouts out and she is vaguely worried about what her neighbors must think, but then he's pumping in and out of her with earnest, and pleasure is spiraling within her, pulling her deeper.
She comes quickly, clenching tight around his fingers and then he's standing abruptly, withdrawing his fingers and sliding his hands under her thighs. His lips crash over hers and she moans when she tastes herself on him, one hand cupping his jaw and the other going to his belt.
She still hasn't completely come down from her high when he lifts her from the counter, legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. Her sensitive skin comes in contact with the denim of his jeans and she shudders and grinds against him, the friction making pleasure start again low in her belly. He growls low in his throat as she bites at his neck, hand working franticly at the button of his jeans. He is far too clothed and she needs more - more of him, more of this - just more.
She hears things crash to the kitchen floor around her and she's vaguely confused and then her back hits the solid wood of her kitchen table and it makes more sense. But she doesn't care because she's finally got her hand in his pants and he's warm and solid beneath her fingers, thick and hard and pulsing. She squeezes and runs her hand down his length, twisting and freeing him from the confines of his jeans.
He hisses between his teeth, lips latching onto her breast roughly. His tongue laves against her nipple as she pumps him once, twice and then he's rearing back, pulling his plain black t-shirt up and over his head and throwing it somewhere behind them. Her eyes feast on the bare skin of his abdomen, the smattering of dark hair on his chest as she runs her thumb across his tip.
She releases her grip on him and leans back so she's flat on her back, him standing between her open legs. He pushes his jeans down and steps out of them, gripping her knees and pulling her to the edge of the table. His cock brushes against her and they moan in unison. He pants above her, chest heaving, hands tight on her hips. His thumbs brush her skin gently as she wraps her legs around his waist.
"Emma." It's a whispered oath and then he's pushing forward, stretching her in the best way and making her feel so full. Her nails scratch against the surface of the table as she struggles to find something to hold onto. God, he feels so good.
He buries himself in her and then stops. She opens her eyes and they immediately lock on blue.
"Emma, I can't-" He pauses, slams his eyes shut. When he opens them again, she feels a shock of heat. He's gazing at her like she's something important, like she's something to devour. He swallows hard. "Emma, I don't think I can be gentle."
She shifts against him, rolling her hips against his experimentally and he groans lowly, hands tightening on her hips so hard she knows she'll bruise. She runs her hands over his and grips his forearms, using him to pull her body up. She gasps when he slips deeper inside of her and his eyes slam shut again.
She kisses the hollow of his throat, his chin - lets her lips linger over his.
"Who says I want you to be gentle?"
She lets her body fall back against the table flat and arches an eyebrow when he opens his eyes to look down at her. He blinks at her blankly, and then a wicked smile starts slow on his face.
He pulls out and then slams back in. She gasps as the table rocks.
"As you wish."
His pace is hard and fast and she can't help the moans that slip out of her with every move of his hips. The heat is rising within her quickly as he fucks her hard into the table and she brings her hand down to touch herself. He growls above her and removes his hand from her hip, swatting her hand away and pressing hard against her clit. He circles the bundle of nerves roughly as his hips piston against hers.
"God, Killian." She moans out and he becomes more frantic above her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling her kitchen. Her eyes find his just as she peaks and she moans out his name again, closing her eyes and letting the sensations run over her.
He pumps erratically and follows her quickly, groaning her name and falling forward with his head on her chest, biting her breast hard. She arches her back into him, gasping as the pain mixes with pleasure and extends her own high.
His body is heavy on hers, pushing her into the table as they both struggle to regain control of their breathing. She runs her hand through his hair and he hums softly against her neck, lips turning and kissing her gently.
He leans on his elbows above her and grins wide and she finds herself grinning in response despite herself. His thumb traces the apple of her cheek and she smiles wider.
"You wouldn't happen to have any pie, would you lass?"
Her eye roll does nothing to lessen the grin stretching her face.
-/-
Later, after he tugs her onto his lap in the kitchen and she feeds him pie, wearing his shirt and surrounded completely by him - after he kisses her softly and rubs his nose against hers, whispering to her about how beautiful and special she is - after he finally takes her to bed and undoes her slowly, gently, makes her gasp his name again and again in the quiet stillness of her bedroom – when he is spooned against her and exhaustion is setting into her bones, she whispers for him to stay.
And when she wakes in the morning, warm hands against her stomach, wild hair ticking her chin, she's not afraid of the lightness of her heart.