by Lynn Rider
“You really want me to live with you?” Her eyebrows pinch with her question.
“I need you to live with me, Mia.”
“Chance…” she begins to protest and I close the distance, silencing her with a kiss.
“Block out the world, Mia. Right here, right now, just you and me…doesn’t this feel nice?”.
“Yes,” she breathes, pulling me toward her again and taking my lips with hers. When her legs wrap around my waist, I run my hand down her skin, feeling the subtle curves of her naked body before grabbing her hip and forcing myself from sinking into her. I push back, looking over her ample chest and sucking her rosebud colored nipple into my mouth.
“I love that you’re not shy.” I whisper along her skin as I shift my attention to her other breast.
“Dance teaches you that,” she says breathily, arching into my touch. A sense of possessiveness washes over me with the reminder that other people have seen her beautiful body.
“I don’t want you to strip anymore, Mia.”
“I meant ballet, Chance.”
“I don’t want you to strip anymore, Mia,” I repeat, her explanation still not squelching my protectiveness. I drag my tongue down her firm stomach. “I want this all for myself.”
“It’s yours,” she moans when my tongue grazes over her clit.
“Say it again,” I say, spreading her folds with my fingers.
“It’s yours.”
With the tip of my tongue, I flick back and forth on her swollen clit until she’s moaning and writhing under me. I push two fingers into her center and feel the walls of her pussy instantly tighten around them. “Chance,” she breathes through a moan as her hips undulate, chasing the euphoria. I flatten my tongue, applying more pressure, pushing her over the edge with a heady moan. I ride the last ripple of pleasure that courses through her body before reaching to the nightstand for a condom.
My dick is painfully hard, throbbing to get inside her and I almost skip the latex barrier, wanting, for the first time ever, nothing between me and another person. I’ve hardly gotten it rolled to the base before I lower, slowly pushing into her. I close my eyes, feeling her soft exhale against my shoulder as she rocks into me, meeting my slow thrust.
“Everything feels right about us Mia,” I say through a measured breath as I pump slowly in and out of her. Her hips roll with mine, a soft moan escaping her lips before she pulls me lower, kissing me almost breathlessly as I continue my languid movements in and out of her body.
There’s no hurry, no desperation for either of us to fuck the other. Our hands roam, learning one another’s bodies as we look into each other’s eyes and ride the rhythmic wave we create. I hold her hand, entwining our fingers, gazing into her eyes and feel a connection being built that I haven’t ever felt with another person.
The stirring of my orgasm begins and I kiss her again, wanting to be connected to her in every possible way. Her nipples rub against my chest, tightening under the drag against my skin. Her pussy tightens, clenching around my shaft and I shift my hips, giving her the friction she needs to find her release. “Mia,” I whisper, my breathing becoming more labored as my own release builds.
“Chance…don’t stop,” she whispers softly. Her back arches off the bed with a thrust as her body tightens around mine when she comes. Her pussy pulses with her release, constricting my cock, taking the last bit of restraint I had left from me.
I find her eyes, needing her. “Mia…” falls from my lips as I meet her release with my own.
24
Mia
I stir in the big comfortable bed, the urge to seek out the scent of bacon almost as strong as the one telling me to roll over and go back to sleep. I open my eyes, blinking slowly, absorbing my surroundings: dark wood furniture, light colored carpeting, and a big fluffy down comforter. I lift the comforter, glancing under to where my body is covered with Chance’s sweatshirt and flannel bottoms. I smile, flashbacks of last night coming back to me. We made love, talked, and made love again, with constant reassurances from Chance that we belong together.
I don’t want to think about what this means for us, for him. I just want to bask in the feeling of being with him without thinking about tomorrow or Paul or Audrey…oh God, Audrey. She’s probably worried sick. I’d hung up on her in my lowest hour. A time when I thought nothing was worth fighting for. I glance around the room once more. Chance is worth fighting for. After last night, I’m certain of it.
I climb from the bed, smiling when I reach the bathroom. Chance said I belong here, that his house is now mine. I know he didn’t really mean that, but seeing that he’s unpacked my bathroom bag, spreading my things all over the counter, it allows me to fantasize for a bit longer.
I quickly pee, wash up, and pluck my toothbrush from the holder where he’s perched it next to his. I brush my teeth and comb my hair quickly before seeking out the delicious scent.
I take my time, crossing the living room, my eyes fixed on Chance. With his back turned toward the stovetop, it gives me an opportunity to revel, without shame, on the beauty of his backside. Last night, I’d felt his strong arms, followed the planes of his chest with my hands, felt the indentation outlining every one of his abdominal muscles with my fingers. Seeing him standing here—shirtless, smooth skin covering his broad shoulders, muscular back that tapers into a narrow waist line before disappearing into a pair of low hanging sweat pants—gives me an entirely new appreciation for his physique.
“Ouch,” Chance mumbles, jumping in time with a sizzling pop.
“Good morning,” I whisper and he turns, his face brightening into a wide smile. My eyes fall to the lettering on the front of the apron I hadn’t realized he was wearing before. ‘My meat is better than yours.’ I press my fingers over my lips, doing a poor job at hiding my smile. His meat certainly is better than I’ve ever had, in my limited experience.
His eyes drop, following my line of sight, and a slow bashful smile forms, exposing a dimple I also hadn’t noticed before. “Good morning, baby. You weren’t supposed to see this,” he says pointing to the bright yellow and red-flamed writing. “I was going to serve you breakfast in bed, the apron wasn’t part of the plan, but that bacon grease explodes like a son of a bitch. I think I have a third degree burn on my nipple.” He slides the apron over his head, puts his hand over his right pec and rubs soothingly.
I reach around him. “It’s too hot. You can’t cook it that high or it’ll do that,” I say turning the heat off from under the pan of burned bacon and then wrapping my arms around his waist.
“I was in a rush to get back to bed with you.”
“Awe, that’s sweet. In that case, you want me to kiss it better?” I tease, craning my neck to look up at him. Without shoes, it’s more obvious how much taller than my five-foot-nine he is.
“I was hoping you’d ask that,” he says, lowering to press his lips softly against mine. “Do you like coffee?”
I smile. “This is going to be fun,” I say, only half meaning it. I lean back in his arms to see his eyes.
His expression pinches. “What is? Coffee?”
“Learning about each other, Chance. You invited me to live with you and we hardly know one another.”
He smiles like the cat that ate the canary. “First, I didn’t invite you. I insisted. We could have done that at your place or mine. I’m a nice guy, I gave you the option.” I smile, but it quickly falls slack as he peppers slow kisses down my jawline. I tilt my head, giving him better access when his lips slide down my neck. “Second…”
“Yes,” I whisper, trying to stay focused on his words and not the heated flutter that’s rushing through my body.
“I know that you want me. I knew it the minute you stepped into this kitchen,” he whispers, his breath heating my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt. His hands sneak under the waistline of the oversized flannel bottoms and with very little effort, pushes them toward the floor, leaving me in only his sweatshirt.
His f
ingers bite into my hips, pulling me against his thick erection and rocks into me as his mouth covers mine. His tongue pushes into my mouth as his hands cup my ass and lifts me, my legs instinctively wrapping around him, and he carries me to the center island.
I hiss when the cold granite bites against my warm skin, but Chance’s mouth lands on mine, silencing me. His hand goes between my legs, pushing my panties to the side and pushing into my slit. Stepping closer, his large body forces my legs wider to accommodate him and another finger goes in.
“I think learning about you is going to be the highlight of my life, Mia,” his voice deepens. He pushes me back against the granite, watching where his fingers disappear into my body. “Do you like this?” he asks, huskily, and I nod. His fingers curl into a come-hither motion. “Or this?” he asks speeding up his ministrations.
“Chance,” I breathe heavy, the feeling almost too much to bear. His fingers lift and curl inside. With an intense pressure, my vision blurs and with an unexpected shriek of pleasure, my muscles go weak as my climax hits me without any warning.
“I think this is going to be a lot of fun,” he whispers, leaning down and wrapping me in his arms. He sits me up and presses me against his shoulder as if I’m a boneless ragdoll, weighing nothing. “Is now a good time to confess, I can’t cook for shit?” he adds through a quiet chuckle. I hold him tighter, kissing his neck and falling a little harder.
“Clearly your skills are in other areas,” I whisper. “What was that?” I add without thought.
He pushes back, his green eyes glittering brightly. “You don’t know?”
“No.” I lay my head back on his shoulder, partly embarrassed he may know something about my body that I don’t and the other still too lost in the euphoria to care.
“That was your g-spot. No one has ever found your g-spot before?” he asks, incredulously.
“No,” I admit, ashamed that my sex life has been so limited. I thought an orgasm was an orgasm. Clearly, I was wrong.
“I feel like Christopher fucking Columbus. I may need to step away for a minute and run around this kitchen while beating on my chest that I was the first one.” He chuckles and I smile into his neck. He holds me against his chest as his hands leisurely rub up and down my spine, allowing me to slowly regain my senses. I’ve never had an orgasm like that. I’ve been happily living in a world where I considered myself lucky just to have an orgasm.
“I love coffee,” I mumble into his shoulder several minutes later.
“Is that my sign to get off you? Are you one of those that can’t join the real world without your morning cup ’o joe?” he teases, slowly uncoiling his arms from around me. He kisses me on the nose before stepping completely out of my grasp. I immediately feel cold from the loss.
“I think I need it to bring me back to life after that orgasm. I don’t want to feed your ego or anything, but shit…the bar’s been lifted.” I laugh, only half joking. “Do you have creamer? Because coffee’s not coffee without all the good shit.” I hastily change the subject, embarrassed that slipped out. I push the big sweatshirt over my lap, not ready to hop down, fearing my legs won’t hold me and I’d go straight to the floor.
“Of course, I have the good shit.”
“I love the good shit,” I say, giggling until my eyes flick to the tent in his pants. My laughter stops and I hop off the counter, dismissing my wobbly legs, solely focused on remedying that.
“I’m fine,” he says, turning to wash his hands before I can get to him.
“Chance…”
“Mia, there’s going to be exchanges and then there will be times it’s all about you. You came in here needing something and so this was all about you.”
“Needing something?”
“Yeah, don’t act like you weren’t ready to eat me up when you walked in here. You needed something.” He smirks, kissing me on the nose as he walks to the huge stainless refrigerator.
“What about when it’s all about you?”
His pushes the large stainless door closed. With creamer in hand, his eyes meet mine, their emerald irises shimmering mischievously. “It’ll never be just about me. Ever.” The conviction in his last word has me leaving the subject alone. I like that he’s willing to give and not receive, but I can’t deny the hint of disappointment of not pleasing him right now.
I look at the remnants of a few bacon slices left soaking in grease in the pan and half a package sitting, uncooked on a plate. “I can save this,” I declare as I fish the burned pieces out and turn on the burner—to a much lower setting—excited to get to cook in his incredible kitchen.
“I’d say fuck it and take you out for breakfast, but they’re predicting another four inches this afternoon. They’ll be lucky to get the roads clear for tomorrow morning rush hour,” he says, handing me a warm cup of coffee.
My gaze hardly registers the heavy blanket of snow outside before roaming over the living room and landing on the framed picture of my family. It’s the same one Chance picked up in my house, but now it sits proudly on display in his.
“Chance,” I whisper as my eyes go misty.
“I told you last night, you belong here, with me. I wanted to unpack it all, but everything in those boxes is a piece of your past and I want you to share that with me,” he says gently. His smile softens when he takes in my crumpled face. “Don’t cry Mia. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He wraps his arms around me and I fight the surge of emotions from getting the best of me. He really wants me here. “We can unpack after breakfast, but I want you to decide where it all goes. Just promise me you’ll stay, Mia. I want this.” I nod, too choked up to tell him how much I want this too.
25
Chance
I stand by the oven door where I’ve been perched myself the twenty-two minutes since sliding a frozen pizza in the oven. I burned the shit out of breakfast this morning, but I’ll be damned if I do it with dinner. I owe Mia a date, but the weather isn’t cooperating, so frozen pizza it is. I sent her upstairs a little while ago, making her promise to give me an hour to get ready.
I tilt the oven door open, peeking in and laugh at myself.
Who in the fuck am I?
I’ve lit candles, set the table, and have a bottle of wine waiting for us in the dining room. I’ve never dated a woman before, never wanted to put in any effort in doing so, but with Mia, every second spent obsessing over learning these things is worth it.
I peek into the oven once more, deciding it’s done.
“Hey, handsome,” Mia says softly. The oven door springs closed as I turn and see her walking across the living room, wearing a short black dress and red heels. She’s all long legs and blonde wavy hair. She smiles. God, I love that smile. I smooth my hand over my heart, hoping to soothe its erratic beat. She’s fucking beautiful. “Are you ready for me?” she asks, her eyes flicking to the dining table before landing on mine.
“Let me show you to our table.”
She grins when I hold out my arm, weaving hers around it. I escort her to the dining room, pull out the chair and she slides in gracefully. “I’ll be right back.” I quickly kiss the top of her head before running back to the oven to save the pizza I momentarily forgot about.
“Can I help?” she calls out as I take the large pizza from the oven.
“You can open the wine. The opener is on the table,” I reply, stalling as I survey this cardboard shit. The cheese is a darker golden on one side, but I make quick work at cutting it in a way where I can serve myself those pieces.
“I’m impressed, Chance,” Mia gushes as she takes her first bite.
“You’ve seen it all. First, grilled cheese and now frozen pizza. This is the extent of my cooking skills.” I grin and she smiles again. “I love that smile,” I blurt, unsure if it really came out. When her smile falters, I realize it did.
“You make me smile,” she says bashfully, picking up her wine glass and taking a long sip. Seeing her do the same thing before, I know she’s hiding behind it.
“You make me happy,” I say, one-upping her. She cuts skeptical eyes my direction over the rim of the glass before lowering it. “Vic noticed it yesterday at the gym,” I add, brushing my hand over her cheek. “But I didn’t need him to notice. I feel it, Mia.” When her face leans into my touch and her eyes close slowly, I fight the temptation of pulling her into my lap. “I like us together and hope that you do too.”
“I do, Chance,” she whispers before clearing her throat. “You’re distracting, you know that?” she teases lightly and sits up straight.
“I could say the same about you.” My mind flashes over memories of today. We started with one of her boxes and just as I wanted, Mia told me any story there was behind every photograph, every book, and every little trinket. By the end of the afternoon, I’d had a glimpse of the beautiful life Mia Elizabeth Hall had growing up. Stark difference from mine.
We’d successfully emptied all but two of her boxes in between make out sessions that often led to love making sessions. I smile, thinking of all the places we’ve christened in my house in just one day.
“That smile is devilish; nothing good is going on up there,” Mia says, knowingly.
“I was just thinking about today.” Her cheeks flush with color, her gaze dropping to the table and my smile widens. “We need to get a bookshelf for my office so we can unpack those last few boxes of books you have.”
“They’re just books I’ve already read. They can stay in the boxes.”
“Do you like to read?”
“I didn’t when I was little. Too busy dancing, but when I had the accident, I was stationary and needed a way to pass the time. I still remember the feeling I had after closing the first book I read. For a few short hours, it allowed me to escape in someone else’s life long enough to forget everything that I had lost in my own.”
“Good book, huh?”
“It wasn’t so much the story. It was what it sparked inside of me that stuck with me far longer than the words. Growing up, Audrey and I could invent entire skits, play dolls with storylines that would rival most television shows, but as an adult, I rarely use my imagination. After reading, I realized a part of me I hadn’t known was gone was suddenly there again and I craved that feeling again. For months, I read everything I could get my hands on. My father was a big reader and he used to say, ‘no two-people read the same book’. I never understood that until I saw one of those books turned into a movie. It was all wrong,” she says, smiling at me.