Wait With Me

by Amy Daws

“What’s the big deal?” she retorts, her voice rising defensively.

  I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly. This is not how I envisioned tonight going. I need to calm the fuck down, or I’m going to ruin both the friends and the benefits part of this arrangement. “Nothing, sorry.” I clear my throat and take another bite of pizza. “So, you redecorated?”

  This shift in subject brings a smile to her face. “Yes! It’s looking pretty nice. I even got this new desk that rises and lowers so I can write standing up if I want.”

  “Why would you want to write standing up?” I ask, dead serious.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Apparently, it’s healthier. I’ll probably never use it anyway since I can’t seem to get into the writing groove again.”

  I shake my head. “Then why didn’t you come back to Tire Depot this week? The coffee still tastes the same. I’ve checked.”

  She sets her plate down and reaches for her beer. “I don’t know. It seems…unnecessary now. Overindulgent. I’m frustrated that I can’t write in my own damn house. I redecorated that whole room, and that desk was frickin’ expensive.”

  I nod and set my plate down to grab my beer as well. “So is that why you decided tonight was a good night for research?”

  She nods and waggles her brows at me. “I thought maybe it’d get my juices flowing, literally.” Her snicker afterward is so adorable, and I feel my own mood lightening with her.

  But all humor is lost when I notice a naughty glint in her eyes as she wraps her pink lips around the amber glass and takes a long, cool drink. My body roars to life as memories of last weekend roll in and remind me just how great she feels naked against me.

  “Let’s get to work then,” I nearly growl, staring at a liquid droplet of beer on her lower lip.

  She swallows and licks it away while looking down at my plate. “You haven’t even finished your pizza.”

  “I’m hungry for something else,” I murmur, leaning over and taking her beer from her hand and setting it down on the table next to mine with an audible thud.

  When I sit back, I slide myself in closer so our legs are touching. Resting my hand right above her knee, I let my fingers press into her inner thigh and inch up ever so slowly. Her legs squeeze together as my eyes lift to hers. She trembles with an obvious shiver of anticipation.

  “Okay, fine, I’m hungry for sex, too,” she mumbles and sucks in a deep breath of air. “But I need to hear what you’re thinking the whole time we do this…you know…for research and stuff.”

  “For research and stuff,” I repeat, licking my lips and trying not to smirk.

  “This is serious, Miles.”

  “Okay,” I acquiesce. “But I have to warn you. I’m probably not going to be the most articulate when I’m buried inside you.”

  She swallows slowly and squirms in her seat as my hand inches up a little farther. Her voice is husky when she replies, “You had no problem articulating yourself the night of my party.”

  I chuckle at that memory. “Well, those were extenuating circumstances.”

  “Were they?” She bites her lip and stares down at my hand that’s now disappeared under her skirt.

  “Yes,” I reply with a brazen squeeze of her thigh. “I was sexually frustrated beyond belief. I’d spent weeks watching you flounce into the comfort center looking so fucking sexy and unsuccessfully sneaky.”

  “Unsuccessful?” she exclaims defensively.

  “Yeah, you weren’t what I’d call stealthy.”

  “Shut up.” She giggles, and her lower lip sticks out as she mock sulks.

  “Then you kissed me at that bar and rode on the back of my motorcycle. By the night of your party, I was a sexually deprived madman. Then I catch you flirting with that guy—”

  “I wasn’t flirting!” she exclaims, shoving me hard in the shoulder.

  I pull my hand from under her skirt and use her momentum to pull her onto my lap. She happily obliges, straddling me and resting her hands on my shoulders, mindlessly toying with the neckline of my T-shirt.

  I slowly slide my hands up her bare thighs, and the movement has her legs spreading even farther. “I know you weren’t flirting, but I wanted to fuck you so bad I couldn’t think straight.”

  She pulls her lips in and rubs them together, seemingly appeased by that response. “Well then, what are we waiting for?” she asks, making fierce eye contact with me as she shamelessly grinds her hips down onto my groin.

  My dick develops its own heartbeat as the heat of her center touches my erection. I reach up and cup her face, connecting our lips at last. Her gloss tastes like strawberries, and I swirl my tongue into her parted lips to taste more of her. She combs her fingers into my hair and gives as good as she gets.

  Then…

  She braces her hands on the back of the couch and begins full-on humping me.

  I break our kiss, breathless and a little lightheaded. Tucking her red tendrils behind her ears so I can see her face more clearly, I ask, “Are you dry humping me?”

  She smiles, her lips a little raw from my whiskers as she greedily thrusts her hips into me again. “Maybe.”

  My dick jolts, and my hands fall from her face to rest on her hips as I ride the motion like she’s some sort of wave pool at a theme park. The texture of my jeans becomes painful as my cock pushes to full length.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she pants, dropping her forehead to mine as she continues working herself on top of me.

  I press my head to her chest, the painful tightness in my pants unbearable, yet something I don’t want to stop either. It’s like an itch that feels so fucking good to scratch, but you know if you do it for too long, it will be raw and fucked by the end.

  “Research mode already?” I ask, sliding my hands up the side of her ribs and cupping her breasts through the silky fabric.

  “Oh,” she moans loudly, her eyes closing as my fingers brush over her clearly unrestrained nipples. “And yes, tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

  I nip at her breast through her dress as she grinds down on me again. “I’m thinking about how thinly veiled your little pussy is as it rocks on my thick, hard denim.”

  “So hard,” she repeats, eyes still closed as she gyrates on my lap.

  “And it feels so good having you ride my cock, but I bet your little clit is just burning for release. All that friction and rubbing. I bet you’ve soaked through your panties.”

  “Yes,” she husks and runs her hand through her hair as she grinds on me faster. “What else?”

  My dick is getting angrier by the second, so I decide right then and there we’re through with the dry humping session for this evening. “I want you naked and in a bed, now.”

  Her blue eyes pop open, pupils dilated and hair a wild mess as she drops her hands to my chest. “Very articulate,” she says with a smirk and looks over her shoulder for a second. “But we’re going upstairs. I want to christen that new bedding, and I can’t think of a better time to do it.”

  With a half-smile, I help her off my lap and stare at her ass the entire walk upstairs. My dick is a fucking smashed-up mess in my jeans, and I cannot wait to let it free inside her.

  When we step into the upstairs bedroom, I’m surprised at the transformation. On the right is a white desk with a gray tufted chair that looks really fucking comfortable. Her laptop rests closed on top of the desk. There’s no clutter on it. No life. It was clearly set up and left completely unused thus far.

  In the middle of the room is a giant king-size bed. Bigger than the one she has downstairs. Since I’m a big dude, this pleases me greatly. It’s covered in a gray linen duvet with some colorful accent pillows strewn all over it. Overhead is a modern chandelier that Mercedes has dimmed, setting the mood for further “research.”

  Craving more, I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to me for a kiss. She presses against my chest, pushing me backward until the back of my legs hit the bed, and I’m forced to sit. “Research first,
” she chastises like I’m some naughty schoolboy.

  “You really are a workaholic,” I tease.

  “You really are a sex fiend,” she teases back and moves away from me so she’s standing all alone on the hardwood floor, fully out of my reach. “So let’s start with something easy. What runs through your mind when I do this?”

  She twirls in her bare feet, her dress fanning out all around her so high, I get a glimpse of her white thong and bare ass cheeks.

  She stops, and I lift my brows. “You want the honest truth?”

  “Of course,” she replies, her brows furrowing like she’s preparing to take mental notes.

  “Honestly, because I am the way I am, all I thought about was the fact that I hope you never wear that dress in public again.”

  “What? Why?” She looks down at it accusingly

  “Because when you did that, I saw everything. So either you can’t wear that dress, or you need to wear big ole granny panties underneath. Or better yet, a pair of my basketball shorts.”

  She laughs at that idea. “Good God, you are too much. Good thing you’re not my boyfriend.”

  Her response has my face tightening slightly, but I hide my reaction and repeat, “Good thing.”

  “Okay, let’s try something a little harder. What are you thinking when I do this?” She bends over and peels her little white thong off, the one that I saw so perfectly only seconds ago. She stands back up and flings it over her shoulder.

  “I’m thinking lots of things,” I reply, running my hands down my denim-clad thighs. It’s painful to be this far away from her right now, and I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.

  “Okay, like what exactly?” She gestures for me to elaborate.

  I clear my throat, my eyes raking over her like a prize meant to be claimed. “I’m thinking about the fact that I can tell by the dampness on the front of my jeans that you are wet already. In fact, you’ve probably been wet all night. Same way that I was half hard just driving out here. So because you were so wet all evening, that means there’s nothing to stop that moisture from running down your thighs.”

  She sucks in a big gulp of air, as if she forgot to breathe for a second. “And what would happen if you saw some of that wetness run down my thighs?”

  I pin her with a wicked glare. “I’d have to lick it off you with my tongue, of course.”

  “Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she sings, her voice a mix of crying, moaning, and begging.

  Unable to stay away a moment longer, I stand and take three long strides to tower over her. She’s barefoot and completely naked under this dress—it’s a fucking miracle I lasted this long.

  I run my fingers down the sides of her arms and feel goose bumps erupt all along her skin. Lowering one of my hands past her fingertips, I touch the skirt of her dress, steal underneath the fabric, and find her smooth center with my fingers.

  “Just as I suspected,” I husk as my digits swipe along her folds. “Fucking soaking wet.”

  “Yes,” she moans, one hand reaching out and clutching my bicep for support. When I sink one long finger into her heat, her other hand flies out to catch herself on my chest. “Oh my God.”

  “Let me take care of this,” I husk against her ear as I remove my hand from between her legs.

  I turn her in my arms and walk her back to the bed. She lies back, her head hitting the pillow, her red hair fanning out wildly. The bed dips as I press a knee between her legs and slowly push her dress up and spread her thighs apart.

  I glance down at her needy center, practically quivering for more. I hit her with one last, smoldering glance before lowering myself and dipping my nose between her folds.

  I inhale deeply. “Christ, you smell like sin.”

  “Oh God,” she moans, and I really surprise her when my tongue darts out to tease that tight bundle of nerves. “And you taste like heaven,” I add before flattening my tongue and licking the entire length of her.

  “Holy shit,” she cries loudly as I proceed to fuck her with my tongue.

  God, she’s responsive. It’s been ages since I’ve done this with a woman because I refuse to do it with random girls. But Mercedes is definitely not random. She’s fucking perfect as she writhes against my assault on her pussy. Her back arching and flattening over and over as she squeezes the bedspread and struggles to handle everything I give her.

  When I suck her clit into my mouth, her hands fork into my hair, nails scoring my scalp so harshly, I growl into her sweet cunt. “Jesus, Miles! Yes!”

  The vibrations of my voice only drive her more wild because suddenly, her thighs squeeze so tightly around my head, I go deaf for a second—lost only to the sensations of my heartbeat racing and the interior, erotic noises of my mouth as I swirl my tongue all over her sweet center.

  I can tell she’s close to coming, but not because her cries grow louder. It’s because they grow softer. In the short time I’ve spent with her, I know that she loses her voice when she reaches that point of no return. It’s when she can see the finish line, and it looms over her like a ticking time bomb.

  It’s fucking glorious to witness.

  I pull back to look up at her as I plunge two fingers into her wet heat. When she comes, I want to feel it. I want to feel everything from this woman. I seal my mouth back on her clit and suck, hard. And like a damn easy button, her spasming response is instantaneous.

  She goes stock-still, tensing everywhere except her center as her muscles contract, pulling me into her. I have to bite back a proud laugh as I feel every single tremble of her pussy detonate against my fingers.

  It’s magnificent.

  After a few moments, her voice returns with long, breathy moans of delirium. She’s not saying anything. She’s recovering. She’s making up for the moans her orgasm stole from her and goddamnit, it’s perfect.

  “Want to know what I’m thinking now, babe?” I ask, staring up at her from between her thighs.

  She looks down at me, her hair wild, eyes wide, lips parted. “Yes,” she croaks, voice raw and overworked.

  “I’m thinking your pussy is the best I’ve ever had, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of it.” My honest words take me by surprise, but I quickly cover them up by rising to my knees and pulling off my shirt.

  When I undo my jeans, and my dick pours out long and hard and ready for its own release, we both forget my admission and get back to work. This is just for research after all.

  The sound of soft tapping wakes me in the middle of the night. I assume it must be raining outside and maybe Mercedes left her window open, so I roll over to have a look. My eyes have to blink a few times to take in the sight of my redhead, sitting cross-legged in the chair at her desk. But she’s not facing out toward the window, she’s facing the bed. Her face is illuminated in the soft white light from her laptop screen, and she’s so laser-focused on what she’s doing, she doesn’t notice me watching her.

  She’s wearing my black T-shirt, and I’m betting nothing else as the laptop rests squarely in the middle opening of her legs. Her tongue slips out of her mouth, running along her upper and lower lip, and I think I hear a little moan escape her lips, but that fact doesn’t stop her fingers from flying across the keyboard.

  It’s an adorable sight, and one I’d be very inclined to sit back and enjoy if I didn’t have a raging erection already. I prop myself up on the headboard and have to clear my throat before she even notices me in her eye line.

  “Jesus Christ!” she exclaims with a jolt, her hand pressing against her chest. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Only a couple of minutes.” I frown at her wide-eyed, guilty expression. “What are you doing on your computer that’s so important in the middle of the night?”

  My hand instinctively fists around the blanket in preparation, because if this was Jocelyn, whatever she was doing wouldn’t be good.

  Mercedes eyes alight with excitement. “I’m writing!”

  “At this hour?”
I ask, dubiously, glancing over at the digital clock on the end table that displays 3:18 a.m.

  “I couldn’t get to sleep!” She shrugs. “The ideas have been flowing since the minute we shut the lights off.”

  “You’ve been writing since we went to bed?”

  “Well, no, I was plotting in my mind for a good hour first. I was trying to whisper scenes into the audio recorder on my phone so I wouldn’t wake you, but then I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get up and frickin’ write!”

  She turns her laptop to face me, showing me a word document full of her efforts. “Five thousand words in three hours. That’s Tire Depot magic right there!”

  I half-smile, my entire body relaxing with a strange relief. “Maybe it’s Miles Hudson magic.”

  Her eyes drift down to take me in more fully this time. My bare chest is on full display, and the blanket is draped so low, she gets an eyeful of the deep V muscle of my obliques. The heated look in her eyes is not lost on me.

  “Do you want to come back to bed so I can show you some more magic?” I waggle my brows at her suggestively.

  She bites her lip and looks down at her computer, clearly warring with herself over what’s more important. Apparently, it’s a quick inner conversation because, in a flash, she sets down her laptop and jumps on top of me.

  I laugh and roll us so that I’m on top, between her legs, nibbling at her neck and pushing her shirt up so I can feel her naked thighs all around me. “I think waking up hard is going to be a constant with you,” I murmur, biting her nipple through my shirt.

  She squeals and wriggles against my groin. “I’m super okay with that.”

  With all the wiggling she’s doing, the tip of my dick connects with her center. She’s wet and warm, and fucking hell, the direct skin-on-skin contact has me groaning. I press my face into her neck and groan, “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

  “You too,” she states, her hips pulsing up toward me, trying to take me inside her more.

  “Babe, stop,” I moan, sliding my forehead to her shoulder, my breath trembling with need. “I have to get a condom.”

  She whines out a little-frustrated noise as I move off her and grab my wallet off the end table. I lay on my back and roll the rubber on, feeling her eyes on me the whole time. “This is my last one, so no morning sex for you.”