by Kayt Miller
I let my eyes roam up his tight abs to a chest that was designed by the angels. His hair his down. Holy shit, his hair is down! It’s the first time it hasn’t been in a man bun since we met. It’s long. It probably hits his mid-back.
When my eyes finally make it up to his handsome face. I see he’s clean-shaven. His beard is gone. Plus, his face is painted with blue makeup. The entire right side of his face is blue, and a stripe of blue is on the left. I’ve seen that before. I start to speak, “What?”
“Braveheart,” he says smirking.
“Oh, right! Well, um, you look good, Mick.” Really good! Damn, son! “Your costume looks real.”
“It is. The kilt was my grandfather’s, from the old country,” he explains. I hadn’t noticed at first because I was ogling, but I catch Mick checking me out too, “So, what are you? A sexy witch?”
Ooh, he called me sexy. That’s a win. I can see why he got that right away. I’m wearing a black coatdress that hangs to my mid calf. I’m holding a broom, a witch’s hat, and a stuffed black cat. “No, I’m Minerva McGonigall. You know from…”
“Harry Potter?” he asks chuckling.
He must really think it’s funny because his chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh. One of those that make him throw is head back. He clutches his abs. Damn, those abs. “What’s so funny?” I say punching my only free fist onto my hips.
He calms down a bit. “Jesus, Roni. Nothing. It’s just… you’re hilarious. You surprised me. Of all the costumes you could have picked, that one is the God damn best.”
I’d like to say I came up with the idea myself. But, it was all my college roommates. She thought it was funny too.
“I’ve got to say, though, Minerva McGonigall never looked like that,” he says pointing at my cleavage.
Yeah, the costume is kind of sexy. It’s a dress that the theater must have used for an old West production. It has buttons all the way up in the front like a coat. The top half is dark green, and the bottom half is black. I think the part he’s fixated on is the opening at the top. It’s rather low-cut, and because the thing is much tighter than it was in college, I’m practically falling out of the top.
Mick looks me up and down again and smiles, “You look hot, babe.”
Oh, dang. First sexy now hot? Honestly, I almost gave up on this outfit. I didn’t think I’d get it buttoned, but I pulled out a girdle-like corset thing that I wore to a wedding once. It pulls me in so much that I was able to button the dress at the cost of my overflowing décolletage. My long hair is in one braid down my back. I’ve got a witch hat that I bought at a local costume shop, and I tied the entire thing together with some heeled black booties.
Actually, I do look hot. I smile confidently at Mick, “Thanks!” I push past him and into his place, “So, what do want me to do?”
He walks up behind me and puts his hands on my waist. “Damn, Roni. I kinda wish no one was coming over now.” He leans down, kisses my neck below my ear and whispers, “Maybe next year I should dress up as Harry Potter. Or better yet, you should dress up as a naughty Scottish lass.”
Next year? He’s talking about next year? Like I’m still going to be in his life. With a shaky breath, I pull away, “Well, they are coming so we’d better get this thing set up.” You have no idea how hard that was to pull away.
Mick chuckles, “You’re right. Let’s head to the kitchen area, and I’ll tell you what I have left to do.”
He leads me through a huge open loft-like space that holds a large television and a big sectional couch. It definitely has that single man vibe. I follow him into his galley kitchen. It’s open to the big room, which is conducive to hosting parties. The place is big. Maybe a couple thousand square feet. That’s a coup in Chicago. I bet my place isn’t more than five hundred square feet.
The entire space is concrete and brick. The only real walls are those around, what I presume, are the bathroom and the bedroom. Both of those rooms have doors as well. I’m still looking at his place when Mick clears his throat. I guess I was distracted.
“So, what can I do?”
“First up, can you make the punch?”
“Punch?”
“Yeah, some of my guests don’t drink, so I like to serve punch.” He hands me a little recipe card. “Use this. Everything is in the freezer, fridge, or over there on the table,” he says pointing to his small round dining table filled with cloth grocery bags.
“I’ll be setting up the beer area so yell if you need anything.” He moves toward the makeshift bar he’s set up but turns back quickly. “I almost forgot.” He walks over to his large pantry cupboard and opens the right side, “Come here,” he says beckoning me with his finger.
I come to him. He opens the door as he pulls my arm closer. “I bought everything to make you Old Fashioneds, and because I’m only serving beer and wine, I put the stuff in here. Do you want one now?”
“Sure. That sounds good.” Oh, my gosh. That was so sweet.
He sets to work making my drink, and I move back to the punch area. I pick up his recipe:
12 ounces frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
6 ounces frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
9 cups water or lemon lime soda
5 pints orange sherbet
1 quart ice cream - vanilla
Container: large pitcher or punch bowl
Directions
In large serving bowl or pitcher, combine concentrates and soda.
Gently add in sherbet and ice cream.
Break into small pieces with a spoon.
Stir to partially melt.
PREP 15 min READY IN 15 min
“Mick? Got any music? I love to work with music.”
He reaches over to something on the counter and hands me an iPod. “Here. It’s Bluetooth. Pick whatever you want, knock yourself out. You can control the volume with that thing too.”
I take the device from his hand and start scrolling through. He has a great mix of music. Some classic rock, bluegrass, jazz, blues, punk, and ooh, dance music! “Oh, you’ve got some great music.” I click on Rihanna and Calvin Harris’ “This is What You Came For” and hit play. This song starts off slowly, but it builds. It’s emotional but still fun to dance to at the same time. It’s going to be hard to hold back. I love to dance to this song.
“I’m going to run down to my car to get the rest of the party stuff,” Mick says stepping past me.
“Okay. Sounds good.” I’m a little distracted by the song. I watch him as he exits his apartment and I turn the song way up. I can’t help myself. I’ve got to move to this song. It’s my jam, I giggle to myself.
As I sing the lyrics, “…lightning. Strikes every time she moves. And everybody’s watching her. But she’s looking at you-oo-oo-oo…” I sing aloud knowing Mick is outside. He can’t hear me. Or see me. I move my hips to the song. I’d love to go out to his big open plan space and really dance but no. Not when it’s just the two of us here.
So, I appease myself by dancing in the kitchen as I work on the punch recipe. He’s already thawed out the lemonade and orange juice. I dance my way over to the freezer to grab the ice cream and sherbet. I roll my hips to the beat when I feel hands slide around me from the back. I stop moving, but the hands urge me on. He’s moving behind me mimicking my moves to the tempo of the song.
His big hands slide up and down my sides feeling my body as it moves. One hand slides around the front of my stomach pulling me back into him. I feel warm air on my neck next to my year. “Jesus, Roni. You dance like a fucking goddess.”
I turn my head to smile at him, and it’s the invitation he needs to slam his mouth down onto mine. He’s turned on. I know this because I can feel him behind me. His dick is pressing into my back. I slide around in his arms and wrap my arms around his body. We’re still moving to the music but not like we were. We’ve slowed down, and now it’s just about our bodies together.
Mick pulls away slowly. His eyes are dark and hooded. He lic
ks his lips as he looks at my mouth. “I want to fuck you so bad, Roni.”
I gasp, but it’s only because he was saying exactly what I wanted to hear. “I want that too,” I whisper.
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen toward what I assume is his bedroom. He pushes the door open and yanks me inside. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to show me his urgency. He reaches out and starts to unbutton my dress. “I’ll do it,” I say with shaking hands. I start to unbutton, but he moves my hands out of the way. “I’m doing it,” he growls.
I stop but slide my hands over his biceps. His breathing is erratic, and it’s a turn on to know he’s this excited about getting me undressed. I look down and see his kilt is tented. I want to see him undressed too. I reach for his kilt, but he moves my hands away. “Not yet,” he growls again.
Once my dress is unbuttoned, he opens it up and slides it over my shoulders. “Jesus. Fuck, baby. What’re you wearing?”
“Um, a black corset.”
“I think I could come just looking at you.” He’s dead serious. As soon as the coat falls to the floor, he uses his hands to move me back. When the back of my legs hit the bed, I lose balance and sit. “Scoot up onto the bed and lie back.”
“Bossy, much?” I chuckle.
“Hm-mmm. Get used it.”
Get used to it? Holy crud. I could so get used to this.
“Lie back.”
I scoot my bottom to the middle of his king size bed and lie back with my head on his pillows. He’s moved to the end of the bed. “Show me.”
I blink at him because I’m not sure what he wants to see. I reach up to pull the cups of my corset down, but he stops me, “No. Show me that sweet little pussy, Angel. Are you wet, Roni?” He’s got his knee up on the end of the bed now. He could be face to face, or I mean face to crotch with me any second.
Nervously, I flatten my hand and slide it down my stomach over my lace panties until it’s between my legs. Since I don’t know what he wanted exactly, I slide my fingers into the edge of my underwear and pull it back so he can see.
He makes the most intense guttural noise I’ve ever heard. It’s half angry and half sexy. “You’re so wet, Roni. Your pussy is practically shimmering.”
My breathing picks up because he’s moved closer to me. His face is inches from my center. No one has ever done this to me. I’ve never had a man go down on me. He pushes my hand away and reaches up to the waistband of my underwear. He slowly slides them down, “lift your hips.” I rise up so he can slide them down my legs. Once off, he tosses them on the floor.
He moves back, but this time he doesn’t stop. Using his hands, he opens me up even further, pressing my inner thighs outward. It’s a little painful, but I can’t think about that now. I feel a warm sensation and peer down just as his tongue swipes over my clit. My hips jerk upward. “Mick!”
“You have the sweetest little pussy, Veronica. It’s smooth and pink, and you taste fucking delicious.”
“I do?”
“You do, baby.” He stops talking as he crawls the rest of the way up my body. He stops at my chest. My breasts have fallen out of the top of the corset, and he’s licking each one back and forth now. I arch off the bed again as has hand slides down through my wetness. I’m not sure what to do.
His long middle finger slides into me, pumping in and out as he suckles and nips at my breasts. “Mick?”
He looks up, “What do you need? Tell me.”
Panting, “I need you.”
“You have me.”
“No. I. Uh. Need you inside. Of me.”
“You sure?”
I’m so fucking sure I can hardly say it, “I’m sure.”
He reaches into the little pouch around his waist and pulls out a condom. I giggle. “You keep condoms in your little pouch?”
“It’s called a sporran. And yes, I do,” he chuckles. “I’ve also got lip balm, cash, a pen, and some other stuff,” he says quickly.
“Were you expecting to get lucky tonight?” I’m trying to seem upbeat. I mean, am I just the lucky one right now or was he hoping it would be me? I can’t think about it because I want him. I need to feel him.
“What can I say? I’m an optimist, Roni. Anyway, these have been there a while. I have these condoms in here every year.”
“Every year?”
“Yeah, babe. I wear this costume every year. It’s a running joke with my family so why change things up?”
So, he gets lucky at his Halloween party every year? No wonder he has one every year. Not like a guy like Mick can’t just wink and get laid. I’m sure he can. It’s just strange.
He continues, “Plus, I’m a firm believer in safe sex, so I hand them out at the party.”
“Oh, I see,” I say as I run my hands up over his pecs and then down his abdominals. The guy is cut like a pro athlete. I want to move further down, but he stopped me last time. He watches my hands; so I keep moving down. His kilt is still tented. Is he commando underneath? I move my hand to the front and move the pouch over.
“Can I touch you?” He nods. I sit up and slide my hand up his thigh to the junction of his legs. Yep. Commando. I let my fingernails skim his inner thigh. He groans. Then I move up his length making sure to grasp the head. I can feel wetness––pre-come.
“Roni?” he hisses.
Damn, I feel powerful. I grasp him. My fingers don’t make it completely round him, so I take what I can and move my hand back down.
“Stop. I’m going to lose it if you don't stop, Roni.”
He pulls off pouch, and his kilt starts to fall off. Is that the only thing holding the kilt up? He unwraps it quickly until he’s naked––completely and utterly naked. I take him in in his entirety and let me tell you, I could die a happy woman right now. I’ve now seen Mick Flynn naked. Not just naked, but naked and wanting. He wants me! Veronica McGonigall is about to get sexy with Michael Flynn.
“I’d love to take this corset off you, but I like it, so it stays.”
I nod and wait. He’s looking down as he reaches behind me. Before I know it I’ve been flipped over onto my stomach. How did he do that? He pulls up at my hips, so I’m on my knees. I place my palms on the bed and lift my upper body up. Doggy style. I’ve never done it like this before. Hell, I’ve barely done it missionary style, and that was in college. He slides his hand over my round bottom. “Beautiful ass too. Tits and ass. You’ve got it all, Roni.”
I know I’ve got plenty of ass and breasts. He’s not telling me anything new. He runs his hand through my core, and we both groan. Mick slides his finger into me and pumps it in and out. I squirm and attempt to move back into him to get him deeper.
“Patience, baby,” he coos.
“No. I need it. I need you,” I whine.
I hear the tear of a wrapper and wait. I feel his big warm hands slide over my hips as he presses his cock through my wetness. When is he going to get going? Jesus! It’s then that I feel him start to push inside. It’s been a long, long time, so it burns a little. I take panting breaths until he’s fully seated inside.
“Fuck! Roni. So, damn tight.” He’s leaning over my back so he can speak into my ear. He leans back up and slowly pulls himself out. Without a chance to prepare, he thrusts back in I squeal.
“Did I hurt you?” He sounds apologetic.
“No! Don't stop. Do it again,” I exclaim.
Without any words, he does it again, and again, and again. Sex has never felt this good. Never, ever, ever. I get into the rhythm with him and push back as he pushes forward. I spread my legs further apart to see if he can get deeper. It works.
“Oh, God... Mick!”
“I know. Goddamn it, are you close, Roni?” he says urgently.
“I am. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
He’s pumping into me so fast I nearly fall onto my face. My head is an inch from the headboard. I breathe deep and concentrate on that spot inside of me that he keeps hitting. Two more times and I’m hurling over the
abyss. I moan his name over and over.
He comes soon after whispering dirty things in my ear. Things like ‘best pussy ever.' Yeah, I should be offended, but I can’t be after the best sex I’ve ever had. Not even B.O.B. (my Battery Operated Boyfriend) could give me that orgasm. I should know.
“I want you to stay tonight, Roni. After the party. I want you in my bed. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say catching my breath. An entire night with Mick Flynn? Hells yeah!
Chapter 25: Mick
I just had the best sex of my life. Who’d have thought? Roni’s a conundrum. On the outside, she seems insecure and a little self-deprecating. But, put some dance music on and get her naked and she’s confident, and fiery, and so fucking sexy.
While Roni puts her costume back on, I wrap myself in the kilt again. I search for my sporran; the little pouch that keeps my kilt secure. I find it behind the wastebasket. When I pull it free, the contents spill out.
I find my lip balm; the twenty I had stuffed into the pouch, my pen, and, oh, a bottle opener. I chuckle. I’d been looking for that thing for a year. I spot several condoms to the left of the can of all different brands and types. Some ribbed for her pleasure from last year, there’s a flavored condom from a few years back. It probably tastes nasty by now. I bend over to grab a couple neon condoms from, Jesus, a long ass time ago. Nevertheless, I grab those along with a few stragglers and stuff them back into my pouch.
I turn to see Roni re-braiding her hair and adjusting her costume. “Come out when you’re ready, okay?” I lean in and kiss her temple. She smiles sweetly in the mirror. I could get used to Roni McGonigall. When I open the bathroom door, I stop in my tracks. Fuck. My sisters are here. “Oh, hey Em. Sandy.”
They both turn to me and smile brightly. They heard us. Emily speaks first, “Whatcha doing in there, Mick? Huh?”
Sandy snickers. “I think we both know what he was doing in there. The question is, who’s the girl?” Before she can say more, Roni steps out of the bedroom. She takes one look at the two women in my kitchen, then at me. She immediately turns the most intense shade of red I’ve ever seen.