Where the spirit meets the bone. (Book 1 of the Illicit Affairs Series)

Chapter XXVII

"Honey, I'm home!" Bucky sing-songed, closing your apartment door behind him. Since Rebecca was still waiting for her first pay check at her new job, he had let her stay in his apartment and basically moved in with you, since your place was a lot bigger, too.

Hidden in the bedroom, you pressed a hand to your mouth to cover the exited chuckles you couldn't contain. You couldn't blow your Valentine's Day surprise, no matter how giddy you felt as you heard James call your name a few times. When he stopped, you assumed he had found what you had carefully placed before.

The first photograph he saw was taped to the front door, which is why he didn't notice it at first. You were in the shop, half sitting on the hood of a car while holding a wrench. Tight black jeans highlighted the outline of your legs and the half visible swell of an asscheek, while a white tank top let out a peek of a pink, lacy bra. Your leather jacket was draped just a little loosely on your arms, showing off your collarbones and shoulders. From the bedroom, you heard a muffled curse.

The second one was a few feet down the hallway. In this one, had ditched the pants, showing off a pink lacy thong as you bent down to inspect something under the hood. If the sight of your ass hadn't been enough, the embroidering on the back of leather jacket he'd bought you, in the same exact pink of your lingerie,  was more than enough to make his jeans feel tight against his hardening length.

Every few steps, he found another one. In the next one, you'd ditched the tank top, too, and your bralette was fucking see through. James had always been a boobs man, but yours just drove him  absolutely wild. It was more of a close up, so he couldn't see much of your surroundings, but the way your head was thrown back let him swipe his gaze over the line of your neck and the swell of your tits, and, if he squinted, he could see the dark circles of your nipples, just enough to make his mouth water.

The next one was his favourite one yet. You were sitting on his bike, sending a smirk over your shoulder at the camera, and you were arching your back enough that the jacket didn't cover your ass at all. At first, he thought the string was just hidden between your cheeks, but, upon closer inspection, he found there was nothing around your hips to hold it up. Your bare pussy was spread open over the seat of his bike. Jesus fucking Christ, he would never be able to ride it again without getting hard.

Almost panting, he strode over to your bedroom door, were the last picture was taped. You were still on his bike, but the camera was at your side. You were biting your lip and the jacket was barely on your shoulder. You were holding it up with a hand splayed on your tit, no bra in sight, and the leather barely covered the outline of your nipple.

He could hear your heavy breathing from inside, adding to the desire he was already being consumed with. He rested his forehead to the door, trying to control his breathing and pressing an adoring kiss to the picture.

"Baby..." he strained, trying to twist the doorknob in vain. You had locked yourself in. He would die if he couldn't be able to touch you immediately.

"Yes, sweetheart?" you giggled, rolling over the bed and revelling in the pained groan Bucky let out.

"Let me in, Y/n." he almost growled, sending a shiver down your spine as your smirk grew uncontrollably.

"Do you think you deserve it?" you continued teasing, the doorknob still rattling.

"I don't." he panted, unbuttoning his jeans to relieve some of the pressure, "I don't deserve you, but I fucking need you. I need you right now."

You had to admit that was tempting, but you still fake sighed and hummed. The rattling stopped for a second, making you furrow your eyebrows, before a loud thud startled you.