Chapter Thirty-Three
It wasn’t exactly the quick escape she’d hoped for. They had to attend to the girls, walk them to the car and say their goodnights, then there were the goodbyes to the guests. All the while a simmering tension had been building between them, getting stronger with each second they couldn’t touch. Finally, when everything was starting to wrap up, she took Mike’s hand, and nodded toward the hotel.
He didn’t need any more encouragement than that.
They took the elevator to the third floor in silence, and when the doors opened, he stepped out, leading her down the wallpapered hallway. Already she was warm and wanting, her breath a little uneven, her skin tingling. She wanted him to hurry.
She wanted him to slow down.
She wanted to remember every detail.
Her need built as he pulled the key card from his wallet and pressed it into the slot. It built as he held the door open for her to duck under his arm, and then turned on a single lamp on the desk.
It built as he waited for her to make the next move.
She walked toward the bed, skimming her fingers along the plush comforter. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him watching her with hungry eyes.
“I want to show you something,” she said.
He followed her slowly. Each step made her pulse beat a little faster. I trust you, she thought. With all of me.
With her crazy mother and her crazy ex. With her ragged past. With her beautiful child.
She loved him, like she’d never loved another man. And she needed to show him that he could love her just as deeply. He just had to let go.
She could be his rock. His safe place. His secret holder.
She could be his fantasy.
“Sit here.”
When she patted the bed, he approached, snagging her waist on the way by and pulling her into his lap.
“Uh uh,” she said. “I have to change.”
His brows lifted. “Better hurry.”
“I thought you were a patient man.” She smiled.
He gave a growl and began unzipping the back of her yellow dress, one click at a time. “Patience is overrated.”
She shimmied off his lap, and grabbed her bag off the desk. Blowing him a kiss, she disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the items she’d brought from her apartment. It took only a few moments to touch up her makeup, and fasten her hair in a high ponytail.
Nerves fluttered in her belly. She’d never done something like this before, but she wasn’t worried that he wouldn’t like it. This was going to bring him to his knees.
She took a moment to stretch, and when she was ready, took a quick breath and opened the bathroom door. Mike was sitting on the end of the bed. He’d removed his dress shirt, leaving only a sleeveless undershirt on over his slacks. The hard, cut muscles of his shoulders drew her attention first, and for a moment she forgot she was putting on a show. Attraction whipped through her, bringing a hard throb to her center. Her breasts ached, bare against the coarse fabric.
Mike’s mouth dropped open. And then he made a noise somewhere between a wince and a groan.
She was wearing her cheerleading attire. Her Anderson Knights red-and-white stitched top with the matching skirt, held together by a few clips in the back she hoped weren’t noticeable. She’d even dug out her white cheer shoes. The pom poms were still in the duffle bag over her shoulder, but she wasn’t above bringing them into the picture if things got kinky.
“Sorry,” she said, biting her thumbnail. “I think I’m lost. Do you know where the field is?”
He was still staring.
She twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger. “You kinda look like a football player. Hey. Are you all right?”
She set the duffle on the floor.
“My life just became a porno,” he said, mesmerized.
“I think I’m going to miss the game,” she pouted, urging him to play along. He was staring at her legs now. “That totally sucks. And I practiced so, so hard.”
“That’s...” He cleared his throat. “That’s too bad. I used to play. Maybe you should cheer for me.”
“I don’t know.” She dug her toe into the carpet and tried to look conflicted.
“The game’s about to start,” he said, leaning forward now. “But they’re only letting the really good cheerleaders on the field. I’m not sure you look ready.”
“Oh, but I am,” she said eagerly. “I’d do anything to get in that game.”
“Anything?” he asked suggestively.
She snorted before recomposing herself. Mike Stroud was kind of a pervert.
Of course, she was the one wearing the cheerleading uniform, so that didn’t make her much better.
She nodded eagerly.
“Show me your routine,” he said. “If you’re good enough, I’ll see what I can do.”
She swallowed the sudden burst of giggles that rose up her throat. Him playing aloof was as much of an act as her in this attire. His eyes glimmered, daring her to make the next move.
“Well, okay,” she said. “Here goes.”
She clapped her hands together slowly.
“You may be good at wrestling.” She stomped. “You may be good at track.” Two claps. “But when it comes to football, you better watch your back!”
She rocked forward on the balls of her feet, arms raised in a triumphant V. He covered his mouth with one hand, but there was laughter in his eyes.
“Go Knights!” She kicked her leg out to the side, and grabbed her heel. She may not have done this since she was sixteen, but she still had it.
She wasn’t wearing anything beneath her skirt.
Mike jolted to a stand.
“Oops!” She dropped her leg. “I forgot my bloomers! I’m so embarrassed.”
He cleared his throat. “Do it again,” he ordered.
“But...”
“Again,” he said. “Do you want to get into the game or not?”
She bit her bottom lip. Demanding Mike was hot as hell.
Balancing on one leg, she bent her opposite knee and slowly extended it out to the side. He closed the space between them, wrapping his fingers around her raised ankle. With the other hand he reached beneath her skirt, cupping her bare, exposed flesh.
She gasped, the pressure of his palm making her other leg suddenly weak.
“Definitely not ready,” he said tightly. “No panties. No tights. Everyone will see how your thighs blush when you come. Is that what you want?”
She swallowed. “But I’m not coming.”
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “Everyone knows you have to warm up before taking the field.”
He leaned down to kiss her, but before he could, her tongue snaked out and licked his lips. He growled. She nipped at his mouth. The heat in her was rising, taking control.
His mouth found her neck, kissing that place that made her head fall back in pleasure. His hand made slow, deliberate circles, the heel pressing against her clit, his fingers slipping over her slick places. With one leg lifted, she wasn’t unable to push against him to get that deeper contact she so craved. Instead, she was forced to take his teasing torture, balancing unsteadily on one gleaming white cheer shoe.
He lowered to one knee, then the other, hooking her leg over his shoulder. She balanced herself on the hands fisted in his undershirt, gripping her calf around his back while he rolled back the front of her skirt. Looking down brought back the sudden image of the dirty movie she’d watched weeks ago. The man on his knees, pleasuring the woman before him. It had been a dream then. Something that only happened in the movies.
It wasn’t a dream anymore.
“Oh my god,” she said with a rush of breath. He looked up at her, eyes hooded as he gently spread her tender lips and kissed her clit. Liquid fire raged through her core. She let out a staggered moan as his tongue dragged deeper between her legs, and swirled around her entrance. He licked at her, gently at first, then with more pressure, using the
tip of his tongue, and the flat, broad part, and his lips, and his teeth. She’d never felt such a riot of sensation. It was consuming her, building, building, taking away her control.
“I can’t...” Her knee buckled, but he caught her with one arm. With his other hand, he pushed her back on her pelvis, and for a brief moment she felt like she was falling until her shoulders connected to the wall.
“Yes,” she said. “Oh fuck. Oh holy fucking fuck.”
He went crazy, devouring her, feasting on her. He groaned, and she felt the vibrations, and couldn’t stop herself from grinding against his mouth. His fingers pushed inside her, not gentle, but with a claiming force. Mine, his every move said, and she answered, yes, yes, yes. Never before had she given herself to another person like this. She’d always reserved that last bit of herself so she could always retain some control. But that wasn’t possible with Mike. With full trust came no option but surrender.
But there was power in that surrender. She saw it as her unfocused gaze fell over him again. She felt it in her heart, in her body, as it pulled to the breaking point and then snapped.
The pleasure was fierce and beautiful. She cried out, her straight leg flexing, her toes curling, as the waves washed over her. His fingers didn’t stop. He was fucking her now, keeping her in that place between pleasure and insanity. Another finger stretched her further, and her back bowed against the wall. His grip tightened on her waist. He licked her clit, sucked it. The pressure drove her mad. She bent her knee, impaling herself on his hand. She held his head in place. The sound of him pushing in and out, the feel of his knuckles against her outer lips, threw her over the edge again. She was burning alive.
The sounds she made were uncontrolled, unfiltered. She was wild, just as he’d once said. When the pleasure became too much, she planted her heel on his shoulder and shoved him back, using the wall for leverage. He rocked, catching himself in a crouch before he fell. The sudden absence of him against her center shocked her senses. Cold air slapped against her hot, wet places. Her thighs were wet. Blushing, just as he’d said.
She tackled him into the foot of the bed. It creaked, and rocked on the frame as she tore at his undershirt, trying desperately to get it over her head. Stitches popped. Fabric stretched. When it was off, she nipped at his neck, and licked between the ridges of his abs, dragging her nails down his check. The need for him had made her feverish. His hands were everywhere. Petting her, moving her where he needed. Urging her to be rough, be the animal that roared within.
They both worked at his pants, finally getting them down his hips, and when his cock sprang free she bit her lip and moaned, just from the sight of him. His flesh was darker than ever, thick, and heavy, and already shiny with moisture at his wide crest.
“Why does this make me so goddamn hot?” It wasn’t just because she knew what he could do to her. It was him. Everything about him made her feel alive.
She gripped him in both hands. He was still propped against the foot of the bed, watching. She caught his gaze, urgent and yet curious, and without breaking it, she licked the tip of his rock hard cock.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
She wanted him to swear again.
She sucked him deep, rubbing his head along the roof of her mouth while she licked away the salty taste of him. She pulled him deeper, and worked her hands up and down his shaft. When he grabbed her hair, she moaned.
He swore again.
She kept stroking him, and kissed his hard belly, aware of her wet center, aching to be filled. She kissed the rise of his pelvic bone, smiling wickedly when he jerked. She kissed his thighs, and felt his tight balls, and licked them, squeezing her knees together at the sounds he made.
She was making him feel good. If ever there’d been a doubt that she wasn’t capable, it was gone now. Her confidence grew by the second, with every shudder, and every harsh swear. In the way that his hands knotted in her hair, and then fumbled with the zipper and clips on the back of her top. When it was open, the support on her breasts gave way, and though they were small, they felt suddenly heavy.
It surprised her how much she wanted him to come in her mouth. She’d never wanted that before, but now there was a primal, overwhelming need to claim him, as he’d claimed her.
“Amy...” His grip on her hair tightened. “Amy, I’m close.”
She sucked him harder. She worked his cock harder, with both hands. He was hot and hard and smooth, and he belonged to her.
His whole body tensed. He held her down, so deep that she choked. Perhaps realizing what he’d done, he released her, but she stayed there, swallowing to take the pressure off her throat.
He came with a jerk of his hips and a harsh groan, spilling his seed into her mouth. He pulled out before she could swallow it all, wetting her lips, watching her face with an almost pained grimace on his.
His chest was rising and falling with each breath. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
He was still hard.
She was still aching.
“Mike...” Her voice shook. “I need...”
It wasn’t right to ask him this; she knew that in the back of her mind. Men needed time to recover. He was unusually virile, but still. She should clean up; brush her teeth.
He kissed her. She tasted herself over the salty musk, just as he must have tasted himself. His tongue tangled with hers, their desire becoming one single thing. It took them somewhere else, somewhere dark and private and scalding hot where need reigned, and want became trivial.
She shed what remained of her top. He tossed it to the side. He pulled her skirt over her head. She jerked his pants down his legs. They kicked off their shoes.
His gaze stayed on hers.
She straddled his lap. His cock rested between them, seeming somehow more engorged than before. It was still damp and shining, and he bared his teeth when she rocked herself against it. He pulled her close, her knees sliding over the hotel room carpet.
“Can we do it like this?” she asked.
He lifted her hips, and aligned himself with her body. She felt him enter her inch by inch. She closed her eyes. Her mouth fell open. She took all of him, arms wrapped around his neck, breasts smashed against his hard chest, until she was seated on his thighs.
“Oh,” she said. He was deeper than ever before. She couldn’t breathe.
He bent his knees, sliding her forward. Her clit struck his abdomen with a jolt of pure heat.
“Mike.” It was too much. Too good.
She couldn’t take it. The fullness of the moment overwhelmed her. She could feel her body stretching. Her heart stretching. She rose up, just a little, and back down. She did it again.
“Like that?” she managed between breaths.
“Like that,” he said.
She did it again, rotating her hips. Tilting them. Experimenting with the tempo.
She rose a little too high once, and he almost slid free.
“Stay close to me,” he said.
She would never stray far from him again.
They found their pace, their rhythm. One that echoed through to their souls. He kissed her neck and drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking with enough pressure to make her slam back down on him. The both stilled, their bodies reverberating with the force of that impact. She did it again. Again. Faster. She tried to land harder. He was rubbing her deepest places, the friction creating a potent addiction. But she wasn’t strong enough, or maybe heavy enough, to get what she needed.
“Harder,” she begged. “Please. I need it harder.”
He laid her onto her back, lifted one knee against her chest and thrust home. She cried out, nails digging into his chest. He bared his teeth, and began fucking her. Each time he slammed home, she felt it. The connection. The complete merging of their bodies. The deepest well of pleasure she’d ever experienced. It was hard and ruthless, and it tore down the defenses that kept their demons at bay. But just as the fear and grief spilled over her, he severed their hold, shatter
ing the darkness, chasing away any ugliness that had ever touched them.
He slammed into her, his abs flexing, her body jumping an inch up the floor with each thrust. Her head bumped into the leg of the desk, and she gripped it with both hands to anchor them.
“I feel you,” he said, face warping into a sudden reverence. “God, Amy. I feel it.” And then she felt it, too. The contraction of all her muscles, pulsing as one. The flames that flew up her spine. The quake that rang through her. This wasn’t an orgasm. This was more. She wasn’t just coming, she was flying. She writhed beneath him, then went taut, then became absolutely weightless.
He fell over her, gathering her body against his chest and staying deep. And then she felt him. The warmth of his cum inside of her. The slickness that bathed their bodies.
“I love you,” she murmured, still floating. His cock twitched, and she moaned, and slid her hands over his back. He arched deeper.
“Say it again,” he said.
She met his eyes. “I love you.”
He rested his head on her shoulder.
“It’s more than that,” he murmured.
“I know.” She blinked away the tears. “Stay here. Don’t go. Not yet.” She trapped him with her ankles around his lower back.
He kept her close, but rolled onto his side, tucking her against his body. The awareness of him softening, just a little, inside her, brought on a strange, ferocious protectiveness, and she clung to him.
“So,” she said. “Did I earn a spot on the team?”
“Yeah,” he said. But he didn’t add anything to it. He just held her and didn’t let go.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Two days later, Amy was back in the salon, still remembering Mike’s touch while she blew out Maria Ramos’s hair. Most of the time he didn’t stray far from her thoughts, but today, it was almost impossible to concentrate. He’d worked two shifts yesterday to make up for the missed time, and when he’d finally crawled into bed, he’d placed her hands on his back, on his tattooed scars, and made love to her.
Afterward, he’d asked her again to move in.
She was breaking her lease on the apartment at the end of the week.
More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4) Page 32