A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: A Lancaster Prep Novel
A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: Chapter 45

I ARRIVE at the Lancaster building just before one, thanking Peter as he holds the door open for me to get out of the car Crew sent. The building is tall, imposing, and I tilt my head back, my heart racing at the knowledge that in a matter of minutes, I’ll see Crew.

“Give your name to the man at the front desk and he’ll instruct you to the penthouse elevator,” Peter advises after he shuts the door, his smile warm when he turns to me.

“Thank you again,” I say with a faint smile, pushing past the nerves that are dancing in my stomach.

I walk into the building, the lobby similar to where I live, and when I give my name to the man behind the massive wood and lacquer desk, he nods as if he’s been waiting for me, the instructions for the penthouse elevator rattling off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times before.

Tucking my coat around me, I make my way to the elevator, the doors sliding open immediately after I hit the button. The elevator is incredibly fast, making my knees wobbly when I exit, and I’m about to knock on the black door directly in front of me when it swings open, revealing Crew.

His hot gaze races over me, and now my legs are wobbly for a different reason.

“Birdy. I’ve missed you.” He opens the door wider, allowing me entry, and when I walk in, he immediately shuts it.

And is on me in a flash.

I’m pressed against the wall, his mouth replaceing mine, his tongue delving inside. I match his excitement, my tongue circling his, a whimper leaving me when he breaks the kiss to run his mouth down the length of my neck. His hands are on my waist, pinning me to the wall, his thumbs stroking my front.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, his tone full of wonder.

“A dress,” I admit shakily as I reach for his face, needing his mouth back on mine. “Do you like it?”

“I don’t know yet.” He kisses me again, and we stand there in the foyer, devouring each other for I don’t know how long until I’m finally pushing him away, desperate to catch my breath. To get my bearings.

One passionate kiss and I’m overwhelmed—in the very best way.

“Is no one home?” I ask as he wipes at the corner of his mouth. I wore the lipstick but chewed half of it off on the drive over, so his lips only have a trace of red on them.

“I told you they were all gone. I’m the only one left at home. My mother is in Mexico for a girls’ getaway weekend.” He rolls his eyes. “She claims the stress of the holidays sends her over the edge and that’s why she needs the trip, but come on. My mother doesn’t have to do anything to prep for Christmas. She hires out people to do all that stuff.”

“My mother and I decorated the apartment for the first time in years,” I say. “She used to always hire someone out to do it.”

“Why didn’t she do that this year?”

“I don’t know.” I start to take off my coat and Crew comes behind me, slowly helping me out of it. “But it was kind of fun. We haven’t done that since I was a little kid.”

“Hmm, that dress.” His tone is appreciative, and when I turn to face him, I see the lust in his eyes when they drop to the deep square neckline, the tops of my breasts on blatant display. “Fuck, Birdy, you look good enough to eat.”

“Um, thank you?” I laugh. I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a long time.

“It’s a compliment.” His gaze is still stuck on my chest. “Seeing you in that dress makes me want to fuck your tits.”

Shock courses through me at his comment. I don’t know how to answer him so I change the subject. “Take me on a tour of your place.”

“It’s my parents’ place, really,” he reminds me, his gaze dropping to the lug sole boots on my feet. “You’re going to have to take those off. You stain my mother’s white rugs, she’ll freak.”

“I don’t want to do that.” I start to take them off, placing my hand on the nearby wall, so I can pull one boot off, then the other.

Crew offers me a pair of fuzzy slippers and I step into them. He takes my hand and pulls me along with him, taking me around the massive apartment that puts my parents’ place to absolute shame. It’s huge and luxurious, with amazing views of Manhattan.

Our art is still better though. I see a few pieces by artists I recognize and they’re gorgeous. Extremely valuable.

“I see you eyeing the art.” We stop in front of an original Keith Haring, and I’m immediately taken with it. It’s not one I recognize, and I consider myself familiar with his art. “It was originally untitled, but it’s known as the Dancing Dogs.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.” I take a step closer, my gaze unable to land on one spot for too long. There are so many things happening all at once. The dancing dogs are the most prominent, but there are men dancing as well. He only used three colors in the entirety of the painting and there’s a few radiant babies crawling across the bottom of the canvas. “I love it. My mother has one of his pieces. It was my favorite when I was younger.”

“My parents bought this at an auction a few years ago. My mom has a thing for Keith Haring. She says she loved him when she was a teen,” Crew explains.

I glance over at him to replace he’s already watching me. “I didn’t realize your family has so much art.”

“Not as much as yours, but they own some pieces.” He says it so casually, just like a rich person would. I only recognize the casual tone over something so valuable because my parents do the same thing. “My mother is always looking for an investment.”

“She’s smart.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He grabs my hand once more. “Come on. I’ll show you my room.”

“You never did mention where your father is,” I say as we walk down the corridor, past the wall of windows that overlooks the city.

“He’s in town.”

I come to a stop, forcing Crew to do the same. “Could he come home at any time?”

“Maybe.” Crew shrugs. “He doesn’t care if I have a girl over, Wren.”

“I might care.” Has he had other girls over? I probably shouldn’t ask.

It’s none of my business.

He turns toward me, his hands on my waist guiding me so I’m against another wall, his hot, hard body pinning me in place. “I’ve missed you and your fussy ways.”

I’m frowning. “I’m not fussy—”

He kisses me, stealing my words. “You’re adorable. And fussy. Oh, and by the way…I’ve never had a girl over here before.”

Smiling at his confession, I touch his mouth, my finger sinking between his lips. When he nips my fingertip with his teeth, I yelp, yanking my hand away. “I don’t want to make a bad first impression on your father, Crew. Us being here alone might make him question my…morals.”

“As long as you don’t greet him naked, I think you’ll be fine.”

I’m sputtering, about to complain further, but I’m silenced again by Crew’s mouth. That humming sound he makes when our lips first connect, as if he can never, ever get enough of me. I’m lost to the taste of him. The feel of him. His hands grip my hips, his mouth hungrily moving over mine, and I wind my arms around him, clutching him close.

He slides his hands down, his fingers catching on the fabric of my dress, pulling it up, exposing my thighs. I moan when he slips his knee in between them, lifting up, rubbing it against me. A moan leaves me, and I turn away from his mouth, tilting my head back against the wall as I try to catch my breath.

“You’re wet,” he observes, his knee nudging the front of my panties.

“I’ve missed you,” I admit as I strain toward him.

His gaze darkens as he stares at me. “I could fuck you right in this hallway.”

“In front of the art?” I glance around. “The paintings of your ancestors?”

He looks over his shoulder, scowling at the massive portrait of the man with ice blue eyes that resemble Crew’s. “He’s the original Augustus Lancaster.”

“He looks mean.”

“You have to be, to amass a fortune like he did.” He dips his head, his mouth brushing mine once. Twice. His tongue sneaking out for a lick. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Take me to your room then so we can do it on a bed,” I suggest, my fingers curling into the front of his expensive hoodie.

The smile on his face is wicked. Breathtaking. “Let’s go.”

I pause, grabbing hold of his sleeve to stop him. “I forgot my lipstick.”

“You actually brought it?”

I nod, suddenly shy. “It’s in my bag. I left it in the foyer with my boots.”

“Let’s go get it.”

We grab my tiny purse I left on top of my boots and take it back to Crew’s room, which is massive. He has an entire wall of windows too, with that same spectacular view of the city. The walls are painted a rich, deep gray and his bed is draped in a pale gray duvet. The furniture is low and sleek, made of dark wood and there’s a giant mirror that hangs over the dresser. I can see the entire bed, meaning we could probably…

Watch ourselves, if we wanted to.

Crew walks up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist, his mouth on my neck. I keep my gaze glued to the mirror, watching him as one hand slips up, toying with the ruffled neckline of my dress. “I liked that you dressed up for me.”

“I wanted to look pretty,” I tell him and my reflection.

He’s got both hands on my breasts now, cupping them, drawing his thumbs back and forth across the front of my bodice. “I always think you look pretty.”

I tilt my head back until I’m resting it on his shoulder, my gaze still on the mirror as Crew molds my breasts with his hands. My body aches, that delicious throb between my thighs increasing in tempo with every touch. His mouth is on my neck, his teeth and tongue, and I hiss out a breath when he bites my earlobe.

“Are you watching us in the mirror?” he murmurs in my ear.

I nod, not even embarrassed.

“Kinky girl.” His voice rings with approval and there’s no containing the smile that spreads across my face. “Let’s take these off.”

He hitches my dress up a little, exposing my white lacy panties and he studies me in the mirror, his gaze zeroed in on my crotch. The way the fabric clings to me because I’m wet.

The dress falls over my panties, hiding them from my gaze when he reaches for the waistband of my underwear. He kneels behind me, easing my panties down, until I’m stepping out of them and he’s kissing the back of my knees.

My thighs.

I choke out a gasp when he slides his finger inside me from behind. I clench around him, making him groan.

“Spread your legs,” he demands, and I do as I’m told, the skirt of my dress confining me, my thighs only parting a few inches. It doesn’t deter him. His hands come up to my hips, gathering up the fabric, so it’s out of his way and mine before he starts to lick me from behind.

“Oh God,” I moan, my eyelids heavy as his tongue spears inside me. His hands grip me tight enough to bruise, my entire lower half exposed. I can hear him lick and suck, the sound of his tongue slicking through my juices, watching him kneeling behind me in the mirror, feeling him do what he’s doing to me sends me closer and closer to the edge.

I lean forward, pressing my butt against his face as he consumes me. Until I’m shuddering, coming with a whimper. A moan. Grateful he has a hold on me or else I would’ve slipped to the floor. The orgasm left me weak.

He rises up to tower over me, spinning me around so I’m facing him. I stare up at him in a daze, letting him kiss me, his hand slipping between us to stroke me from the front this time. “So easy, making you come.”

“It felt so good,” I whisper.

“When I fuck you, I want you to watch in the mirror, okay? I know that’s what got you off, Birdy.” His dark tone tells me he likes that I watched. That I enjoyed it.

“Okay,” I agree weakly, not even protesting when he unzips my dress and pushes it off my shoulders, revealing that I’m not wearing a bra.

My nipples are hard and aching. My entire body throbs, demanding his attention. He sheds my dress quickly, until I’m completely naked, and he’s got me on the bed sprawled out while he stands beside it and removes his clothes.

“I wanted to take my time with you,” he murmurs as he studies me. “Savor you. It’s been a week since the last time we were like this.”

I nod, shifting my legs, restless. There’s a buzz beneath my skin that makes me squirm and it has everything to do with him.

“But you make me too impatient,” he continues, his gaze drifting down the length of me. “Touch yourself.”

I go completely still, remembering how he asked me to do this last time. “Do you like watching me touch myself?”

“I want to see you rub your clit. Make yourself come again.”

I settle my hand in between my legs, suddenly shy. It’s the middle of the afternoon. There’s so much light spilling into the room, I can hide nothing. I’m on complete and total display.

“Spread your legs wider. I want to see all of you.” He settles on the bottom of the mattress, his gaze zeroed in on the spot between my legs.

I push them open wider, my jaw dropping when I watch him wrap his fingers around his shaft and begin stroking. I brush my fingers against my clit, whimpering at how sensitive it is.

“Hurts?” he asks.

I nod. “A little.”

“Keep rubbing,” he urges, and I do.

We stare at each other as we touch ourselves, and it is the hottest thing I think we’ve ever done. My fingers are busy while he watches with rapt attention. My complete fascination with the way he strokes himself, his thumb coating the head with leaking pre-cum.

My mouth waters. My body vibrates. I want him inside me. I want to feel him move within me, our bodies connected, our mouths fused. I want to feel him come and I want to come again too.

I want all of it. Now. I feel greedy for it. Greedy for him.

He must feel it too because he suddenly gets up, his cock hard and curving upward as he makes his way over to the nightstand and pulls out a condom. I watch him put it on as I stroke myself, my skin growing hot and itchy.

“Come here,” he says as he settles on the edge of the mattress, his feet planted on the floor. “Sit on me.”

I do as he asks, scrambling across the bed and adjusting myself, so I’m straddling his lap. His cock nudges against my backside and his face is at breast-level, which is too much of a temptation for him to ignore. He draws my nipple in his mouth and sucks, murmuring around my flesh, “Look in the mirror.”

I glance over and see my reflection. The rosy flush to my skin. My hair wild and Crew’s head at my chest. His lips tugging on my nipple before he lets it go, his tongue darting out for a long, sensual lick.

“Oh,” I choke out, completely overcome. My skin breaks out in goosebumps when he pays attention to the other nipple, his mouth working wonders on my flesh.

“Rise up, baby,” he whispers, and it’s the way he calls me baby that has me melting. I brace my knees on the edge of the bed and lift up, his cock nudging at my entrance. He reaches around, adjusting himself, and when I slowly lower myself down on his length, we both groan in pleasure.

He’s deeper inside me like this, and I pause for a moment, allowing my body to readjust. This is only the third time we’ve had sex, and I feel as if we’re going from zero to sixty with this position, but oh my God, I don’t want to stop. I love how deep he is. How close we are.

I glance down at him, swooping in for a kiss, and it turns dirty in seconds. His tongue, his teeth, his lips. He’s trying to consume me, and I want to let him.

I want him.

“Rise back up,” he urges, and I do so, that slow glide of my body riding his cock nearly making my eyes cross with pleasure. I keep doing it. Up and down. Nice and slow. My gaze going to the mirror, zeroing in on the spot where our bodies are connected.

I can actually see him enter me, and that’s all it takes.

I’m coming, clutching him close, my inner walls milking him, wrenching the orgasm right out of him until he’s coming too. It’s too much. Not enough. I’m shaking so hard I swear to God I’m going to black out, and when it’s finally over, when all I can do is slump against him, my heart thundering in my ears, he slides his hands down my butt, touching the spot where his cock is still embedded inside my body. He slides his fingers up, along my crack, teasing that forbidden spot and sending a jolt of electricity racing through me.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice full of smug satisfaction.

“I-I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. I’m shocked he would touch me there.

He does it again, and I bite back a moan.

Though I have to admit, I liked it.

I liked it a lot.