Miss Behave

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Miss Behave Page 15

by Nikky Kaye


  “Love?”

  “Hurt.”

  Her palms cupped my elbows, squeezing gently before her fingers trailed up my triceps and around to my shoulder blades. The blanket bunched between us as we drew together like magnets. I rested my forehead against hers and exhaled.

  I felt lighter for saying it, as though my apology had been weighing me down. As though sharing the hurt had halved it. As though telling her I loved her had lifted me up.

  Then I realized what she’d said. I leaned back a little and tilted her chin up. “Wait. Love is contagious?” As in, she loved me back?

  She nodded.

  Swiftly, fiercely, I yanked her forward until she was straddling my thighs. The warm weight of her felt so damn right.

  “Say it,” I demanded. “I need to hear you say it.”

  Lizzie sighed, her breath warm on my face. “I love you. Damn you, I couldn’t help it.”

  My mouth spread into a grin so broad I thought my face would crack. “It’s a fucking epidemic.”

  I only caught a flash of her smile before I covered it with my mouth.

  Finally!

  The restlessness and nagging feeling of incompleteness vanished as we kissed. She shifted on my lap, and I shuddered as her fingernails combed over my scalp.

  I grunted into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Her loose t-shirt fell off one creamy shoulder when I wove my hands underneath the fabric at the small of her back.

  She swayed against me, our mouths moving one way and then angling another, trying to get closer, trying to make up for lost time and dumb mistakes born of nothing more than pride and fear.

  One of my hands splayed over the tensing muscles at the curve of her spine, and the other dipped down under the waistband of her sweats. I met no resistance, of any kind.

  “Going commando?” I murmured.

  She just arched and whimpered into my ear as my forefinger teased the top of her crack. Then she began tugging at the tails of my shirt.

  When she shimmied back, it wasn’t a retreat; it was to unbutton my shirt with hot, trembling hands.

  When my hands left her back, it wasn’t a rebuff, but so I could fill my palms with her gorgeous breasts.

  Her eyes closed and her fingers stilled on my shirt as I rubbed my thumbs over her distended nipples.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “That feels…” There was a satisfied gleam in her eyes when she opened them. A hitched breath and a twerk of her hips punctuated her next words and the last two buttons of my shirt. “So. Good.”

  Impatiently she shoved my shirt off, and as I pulled my arms out of it, she whipped her own t-shirt over her head. She was bare underneath, naked in every way.

  Mine.

  The curve of her neck lured me in, and I latched on hungrily. A primitive part of me wanted to mark her, wanted to suck her skin into my mouth until it was red with welts and bruised with my brand.

  I felt invincible with her in my arms, but still a groan escaped when she pressed against me, skin to skin. I swelled uncomfortably in my jeans at the sensation of her hard nipples against my chest and the taste of her skin in my mouth.

  With one hand I fisted her hair and tugged her head back. I needed to press my tongue against the fluttering pulse beneath her jaw. I needed to feel the vibration of her throaty moan against my open mouth.

  Her fingers scraped across my back, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. All of the blood in my body rushed south, as if I wasn’t already hard enough to bust through the fly of my jeans.

  She rocked against me once, twice, torturing me with her little gasps.

  “Want you,” she sighed then ground down on me harder than before, seeking her own stimulation.

  I didn’t want to make it a competition, but I was pretty sure I wanted her more. I needed her. But… “Baby, are you sure—”

  Lizzie shook her head, scrabbling back on top of the blankets far enough to yank her sweatpants down her legs. They fell off the side of the bed, joining the pile of tissues in purgatory.

  She kneeled before me, naked and flushed, her eyes glittering.

  “You’re sick…” I trailed off as she growled and reached for the button at my waist. Fuck, she was making it hard to be a gentleman with her knuckles nudging against my happy trail.

  “I don’t care if you don’t. And I’m not that sick.”

  Nope, I didn’t care. But— “Lizzie, I didn’t tell you I loved you just to get in your pants.”

  Oh Christ, she was taking my cock out and wrapping her hot little hands around it. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

  Her hungry gaze swung up to my face. She smirked. “Damn. That’s why I said it. And look—” she said, squeezing me until I gasped, “—it worked.”

  “Behave,” I warned her. The sound of her giggle did some kind of hocus pocus on my heart. “I don’t want you to think I’m lying to you or misleading you.”

  “I don’t.” With one hand squeezing my cock at the base, she flattened her other palm on my chest. “And I honestly love you.”

  I just stared at her, my blood boiling from her touch and the truth in her eyes. Fuck me, what did I do to deserve this girl? Capturing her mouth with mine wasn’t nearly enough. I wanted all of her.

  “I love you more,” I murmured against her lips.

  She cracked up, breaking our kiss. “This isn’t some kind of pissing contest, you know.”

  My face screwed up with disgust. “Definitely not. That’s not something I’m into.”

  She grinned as she pushed me off the bed. “I think your competitive nature is getting the better of you. We don’t need a contest to prove who loves the other more.”

  I stood up, shoved down my jeans and boxers, and stepped out of them. My hand went to my cock, standing up and dripping against my belly. “Doesn’t matter. I’d win.”

  Her eyebrow lifted. “Cocky bastard.”

  Looking down, I shrugged. The truth hurts—sometimes.

  She sat back on the bed, her legs curled under her to the side demurely, but her skin had the pearly luster of an old Master. When she held out her hand to me, I took it and let her draw me back onto the bed.

  “Challenge accepted,” she said.

  21

  Lizzie

  He loved me. I loved him. We were naked. Without ice cream, I didn’t see how this could get much better.

  At first, just lying skin-to-skin was enough to send vibrations rumbling through me. He ran his hand up and down my body until I was ready to purr for him. Our mouths met, slanting against each other one way then the other.

  Yet every movement was unhurried and swollen with anticipation. I couldn’t decide if it was the most erotic thing I’d ever felt, or if I was going to scream with impatience.

  For some reason I was reminded of the sensation of waiting for the subway—that second or two between waiting on the platform and the doors opening. It was the same quiet thrill of excitement knowing that the train was finally approaching. Then, the dull roar and the hot air whooshing down the tunnel to blow my hair back.

  Ash thundered into my life and my heart, like taking my first express train after a lifetime of cabs. He’d up-ended everything I thought I wanted, needed, and hoped to have in my life—none of which was the same thing.

  Now, it was decided. The lackadaisical way he strummed my body was way… too… fucking… slow.

  “Enough warm-up,” I announced. “Time for the first heat.”

  I felt his lips curve against my cheek. “Baby, this is a marathon, not a sprint. And clearly you don’t appreciate the competitive advantage of keeping the other player guessing.”

  “I’m guessing you’ll be putting your pants back on if you don’t fuck me soon.”

  “That’s not very sportsmanlike,” he sighed.

  But when he wriggled his way down the bed, my heart stuttered. He knew it was a joke, right? He wasn’t actually leaving, was he?

  Oh.

  Ooohhh.

  He spread my legs and pushed my
knees up, opening me up. Before I could even feel shy, he growled against me with satisfaction.

  “I love doing this,” he said before touching the tip of his tongue to my clit. His hand on my belly was the only thing that stopped me from arching in pleasure.

  “Yes!” I hissed. More more more more.

  My legs went over his shoulders and he cupped my ass in his palms. He brought me to his mouth, his lips teasing and his tongue circling, diving, darting.

  “Hmmm. I’m going to make you come like this, first,” he promised. His hot breath felt cool against my tender flesh.

  Yes, yes he would.

  I was so close, but instead of my body folding in on itself with the tension, I opened my hips and let my knees fall to the sides. No more hiding, no more pretenses. I would let him know about every second of my pleasure.

  “Here?” he asked, filling me with two fingers while his thumb swiped over my clit.

  “Oh god, just like that.” My moan rose in pitch as he doubled down his assault on my senses.

  “Touch your tits,” he ordered. “Show me.”

  I whimpered, but my hands pushed my breasts up to the ceiling and the pads of my fingertips rolled over the aching tips of my nipples.

  “Good girl.”

  Yes, I was a good girl—for him. With one last lash of his tongue I fell apart, unable to control the waves radiating from my center.

  “There you go,” he said smugly. “God, I love to watch you come.”

  A guttural cry escaped me as he pushed me even further, his tongue licking me until I was almost painfully oversensitive. Then his fingers left me, and I nearly panicked at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

  “Fuck me!” I clawed at his shoulders.

  “Condom,” he gasped.

  I twisted around and fumbled in the top drawer of my nightstand. Grrrr! There was too much crap in here! Lip balm, hand cream, hairbrush, post-it notes? Finally I found a foil-wrapped square and threw it at him.

  Ash laughed. “A wet wipe? I’m eating you, not hot wings, Lizzie.”

  Goddammit! “Stupid orgasm. You killed my brain cells.” It was an honorable death, though.

  He reached over me and rummaged through the drawer himself. We both sighed a little in relief once he was sheathed. He waggled the wet wipe at me. “You want to keep this nearby, for after?”

  “Smartass.”

  “You like my ass.”

  I squeezed it as he shifted back between my legs, his arousal heavy and hot against my thigh. As soon as I drew my tongue up his neck, all joking was over. My heart sped up again and my mouth went dry from anticipation—need.

  * * *

  He rose over me and kissed me. The taste of my climax was sharp on his lips, but he attacked my mouth the same way he had my pussy—relentlessly. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my heels in to try to pull him into me. From where he was braced over me on his hands and knees, he reared back enough to look me dead in the eye.

  His fierce expression held me immobile.

  There was no sexy grin, no crooked smirk, no arched eyebrow—just a clenched jaw and an invisible line connecting his heart directly to mine. I wanted to whimper at the triumphant feeling of his cock nudging, pulsing at my entrance, but he held himself maddeningly still.

  “Please, just fuck me.”

  Something softened in his gaze, and I gasped as he slid an inch into me. It felt so right.

  “For the record, Lizzie, I’ve never ‘just fucked’ you.”

  I shook my head, even though I knew he was telling the truth.

  “I love you,” he said again. Sweat popped out on his forehead as he slowly entered me. It was like he wanted to draw it out, tease every neuron in my brain and every nerve ending in my body one by one.

  “I love you, too.” A tear slipped into the hair at my temple.

  His brow creased and he paused. “Am I hurting you?”

  I shook my head. “I just… love you.” It still felt strange to say, but I was like a toddler learning a swear word for the first time. “I love you, I love you. I love you!” I shouted.

  “I know!” he yelled back, then groaned sinfully as I erupted into giggles.

  Making love with Ash—because that was absolutely what we were doing—made me feel exposed but protected at the same time. I’d never felt so overcome by unguarded emotion before. It was unnerving, but I knew that however hard I fell, he’d be there to catch me.

  It was also a whole lot of fun.

  “Do you feel that?” he grunted, rocking deeper into me. “It’s so crazy. It’s like my heart and mind and body are all connected, and you’re holding the strings.”

  My hands went from his shoulders to his face, tracing the emotions etched into the lines around his eyes and mouth. “I feel it. I feel you.”

  “You don’t know the power you have, baby.”

  Power? At that moment, I felt about as omnipotent as a gummy bear. But somehow, lying on my back with Ash thrusting into me, I did feel confident. The best thing about power, I realized, was feeling safe enough to give it up.

  His gaze on me was intense. Anxious. It was then that I realized that I did have power over him—the power to break his heart. And he was more than capable of ripping mine to shreds as well.

  I wrapped my arms and legs around him. “Trust me.”

  He nodded, a bead of sweat running into his eyebrow. “You trust me?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Lizzie,” he urged, “you always have a choice. But I’ll do everything I can to deserve it. To deserve you.”

  My eyes rolled back as he ground against me. I could feel every inch of him, and only the delicious burning sensation where we were joined told me where I ended and he began.

  “Just love me,” I told him.

  Wordlessly, he lowered his mouth to mine and began moving faster. We rose together, pushing each other further, faster, closer to the top. There was no competition now—only teamwork.

  “Can you come again?” he panted, his hand going between our bodies to seek out that delicious friction point that made me sizzle.

  “Think so. Come with me?” I didn’t want to fall alone again. I wanted him with me.

  “Always, baby.”

  I pulled his hand out from between us. It was enough that every time he bottomed out inside me, the insistent pressure on my clit was driving me wild.

  With a short nod, he got what I was silently saying. He laced his fingers through mine and pressed my hands back against the mattress. Planting my feet on the bed, I tilted my pelvis up to meet his every stroke. With each thrust, he grazed over my clit until I was spiraling out of control.

  It wasn’t a matter of if I could come again, but if I had any say in the matter at all.

  Ash swore, his fingers clenching around mine. “You first. But fucking soon, please.”

  As though I’d needed permission, I immediately shattered. Once I did, he groaned and stiffened in the cradle of my body as he poured into me.

  The strangest thing was that I didn’t feel “finished”. Instead it was like something had just begun.

  He fell on to me, heavier than I expected, but I relished the warm, damp weight of his body. My hands moved unconsciously over his back, and I inhaled as deeply as I could manage.

  “Sorry, I’m crushing you.” He lifted up. When I pulled him back down, he chuckled into the crook of my neck. “And apparently you don’t mind.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Lizzie?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Did you just… sniff me?”

  “So what if I did?” Even I could hear the contented smile in my voice. I felt like the Cheshire Cat of sex—like I would appear in a tree somewhere with a badass grin on my face. “You smell good,” I told him with a squeeze.

  Ash shook with laughter in my arms. “Maybe this is all just pheromones.”

  I couldn’t resist a bad pun. “A fair amount of moaning was done.”

  This time
his groan wasn’t one of sensual pleasure. “Oh god, that was awful.”

  Yet he still laughed—because he loved me.

  He slipped away to remove the condom, and I took the opportunity to ogle his very fine ass as he padded to my little kitchen. I pulled the covers up over my body, shivering and sensitized.

  “How are you feeling, now?” he asked over his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

  I stretched my legs under the quilt, tensing all my muscles and then letting go with a sigh. “Good.”

  He turned around. “Just good?”

  “Hmmm?” The full frontal view made me warm, inside and out.

  Ash Garrison wore nothing but a determined smirk as he returned to the bed with two bottles of water.

  “Time to aim for great. Get out another wet wipe, baby. This time you’re on top.”

  22

  Ash

  Lizzie lied.

  She was sick, and now so was I. I’d spent the last week carrying tissues around and chafing my nose with them. At least I also had a big smile right underneath it.

  But I’ll be honest here—and it might sound gross—but it’s really awkward going down on your girlfriend when you’re congested and can barely breathe. Even kissing was difficult. I soldiered on, though! With great power comes great responsibility and all that stuff.

  I also just loved making her come apart like an Oreo and licking up the cream.

  The news desk was still draining her, but she sucked it up and did her best—as she always did. In the evenings, though, if she wasn’t attached to my dick, she was attached to her laptop.

  “Are you still working?” I asked one night, frowning. I’d given up on trying to reconcile both advice columns and was mostly just writing A Guy’s Guy. So far I hadn’t had any complaints.

  She was stretched out on my couch, her feet in my lap while I watched TV. This news gig was definitely taking up more of her time and energy than Miss Behave did, and secretly I wasn’t sure how long she could sustain it.

  “Huh?” She looked up at me blankly. I waved at the computer on her lap. “Oh, no. Not really.” Her expression could only be described as sheepish, which made me even more curious.

 

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