“Make mine like yours. I don’t eat steak that often, so I’ll trust your judgment.”
He paused at the corner to the kitchen, eyebrows scrunched. “Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why don’t you eat steak that often? Steak is awesome.”
Fuck. Me and my big mouth. I tossed him a shrug I hoped passed for nonchalant. “My parents didn’t let me have too much red meat. You know, the free radicals and stuff…” My voice trailed off in embarrassment. Fucking cancer. Fucking overprotective parents. A steak wasn’t going to kill me, no matter what psycho article they’d read.
Laird looked stricken.
“No!” I hastened to reassure him, to not be that girl. The one he’d look at differently—treat differently— because of some stupid fucking rogue cells that had once wreaked havoc on my body. They were gone. Had been for years. I was safe. Healthy. Strong.
Normal.
And if he brought out the kid gloves my parents used around me, this was going to be over before it ever really started.
“Laird, it’s fine.” I rose from my position on the floor, crossing to his side and squeezing his arm. The muscle beneath my hand was rock hard with tension. “My parents… Look, my parents were crazy overprotective. But I’ve been in remission for a decade. A decade. I can have steak. I can march on drumline.” I offered him a wicked smile. “I can even have naughty, wall-banging sex with a hot guy if I want. I’m fine.”
He swallowed hard, his eyes searching every inch of my face. Slowly, by tiny degrees, his forearm relaxed, and he reached out to tug on a wayward lock of hair.
“How ‘bout this? No cancer talk tonight. At all. Not your history with it or mine. We won’t even talk about the hospital. Eli, Amelia, none of that.” He looped his arms around my waist and drew my hips to his. “Tonight, we’ll eat some fantastic fucking steak—medium rare because that’s the only way to eat it—and talk about happy stuff. Then maybe afterward we can revisit your statement about banging on walls.”
I beamed at him. “Sounds perfect.”
And it was.
Over a salad with the best croutons I’d ever had, I told him about my early childhood, when I explored the Appalachian foothills, climbing every tree I could, and swam in the Monongahela River, chasing minnows and Canadian geese as they migrated south, and how I made the biggest damn mud pies in three counties.
While we ate steak so tender we barely needed knives, and sweet potatoes drowning in butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon, he told me about Mario Kart tournaments with Garrett, building Lego empires, and the tire swing in their backyard, the one Garrett fell off when he was four because Laird had pushed him too high and he’d gotten scared. Garrett had broken his arm, and Laird had felt so bad, he found the steepest hill in the neighborhood, the one three streets over from where they lived, and raced his bike down it as fast as he could—then purposefully crashed into the Morrisons’ fence at the bottom, fracturing his elbow and breaking two fingers. They’d had matching bright blue casts the whole summer.
“See right here?” Laird held up his hand and pointed at his little finger, which was just a bit crooked at the joint. “A little memento from that day.”
I snagged his hand and pressed a kiss to the old injury. “There. All better.”
His eyes turned darker, laced with lust and something deeper I wasn’t ready to examine.
I ducked his gaze, took a sip of water, and traced a pattern into the condensation on the side of the glass.
He picked up the last bite of steak from his plate and held it up to my mouth.
I parted my lips obediently, letting him feed me, letting him perform one of my most basic needs. It didn’t feel demeaning or belittling, the way it did when my parents micromanaged my life. Instead, I felt cherished, protected, taken care of as if he was honored to do so, not because I was fragile and delicate.
I swallowed, then wiped my mouth with my napkin.
“I’m wearing them,” I blurted out, no finesse, no segue. “Like you asked.”
“Wearing what?” His eyes drew together a bit in confusion.
I rubbed my damp palms on my thighs. “The black lace panties.”
Laird
Black.
Lace.
Panties.
Just like that—with three little words—all the blood in my body rushed to my groin. I ran my eyes over her, letting her outfit finally register in my sluggish mind. Bright pink shorts highlighted her tanned, endless legs and practically screamed for me to notice her ass. A soft white shirt with an oversized neckline in danger of slipping off one perfect shoulder, a hint of a matching black bra visible beneath.
And then, with the kind of speed Usain Bolt would be proud of, I swept up our plates and deposited them in the sink—safely out of the reach of Oscar—before rounding back by the table and scooping Reese into my arms on the way to the bedroom.
I didn’t just toss her on the bed though.
I wasn’t a fucking caveman.
Instead, I sat her on the dresser in front of the mirror. Watching my actions in the reflection, I gathered her hair in one hand, drawing it to one side, exposing the long curve of her neck to my view. I buried my nose in that tempting spot where her collarbone flared out.
She smelled so fucking good. Like cherries and flowers that thrived in the South. Magnolia, maybe?
I nibbled her skin as her thighs separated to make room for me. While my mouth started the journey north to her ear, my free hand drifted down her arm, dragging her shirt a bit until her shoulder was bare. Her pulse thrummed in her wrist beneath the pads of my fingers, warm and alive and deliberate as a Sousa fanfare.
“Do you like it when I tell you what to do, Reese?”
Her breath hitched, but I didn’t stop the lazy trail of kisses I dropped along her jaw.
“Like with the underwear?”
She shivered in my arms, and her heartbeat picked up pace, more of a circus march now than a military one.
“I think you do.” I rubbed my nose down the length of hers. “I think, deep down, there’s times you don’t want to be the one in control, when you get tired of trying to prove yourself.”
Reese whimpered and lifted her chin, trying to capture my lips, but I pulled back just enough to get her attention.
“You’ve never found the right person, have you? Someone you trusted enough to let your guard down, and let him take charge for a while.”
She bit her lower lip and peered up at me from beneath her lashes, but there was nothing innocent about her expression.
“I can give that to you tonight. I can be that for you.” I freed her lip, running my thumb along its curve. “Just say my name. Say my name and tell me yes.”
I pulled on the hair wrapped around my fist, tipping her chin back until she was forced to meet my eyes fully. Her chocolate irises shimmered with a passion I couldn’t wait to explore. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You’re beautiful tonight, Reese. More beautiful than I deserve. But I’m greedy, so fucking greedy when it comes to you. I want to see your face when I make you come, taste it on my lips, feel it around my cock. I want you on top, underneath, on your knees, against the wall. I want you spread out on the kitchen table, bent over in the shower, tangled up in my sheets, and in my arms. Always in my arms. Do you want me to give that to you? Find all the ways to make you scream my name?”
I pulled back just enough to see her face. She let out a ragged breath, her eyes impossibly dark.
Without breaking my stare, she cupped my aching hardness in her palm, drew her hand along its length, and squeezed.
This girl. She was so fucking perfect.
“Yes, Laird.”
That’s all I wanted to hear her say the rest of the night. Loud, soft, desperate, begging. Over and over again.
I stole her mouth in a searing kiss, plunging inside the second she opened for me. Her hungry moan filled the air when I sucked on her tongue, my cock pulsing reflexively at the sound. I released
her hair. I needed both hands to frame her face, to tilt her head to that angle that let me kiss her the way she liked best, the one that made her wrap her legs around my waist and twist my shirt.
I could kiss Reese for hours and never get tired of it. Get lost in her lips, dueling with her tongue, taking control, then backing off to let her lead. It wasn’t just an appetizer to the main course. It was everything, all by itself.
When I had to pause to take a breath, I pulled back. “Take my shirt off.”
She didn’t hesitate, her nails scratching deliciously along my skin as she fought to tear the cotton from my torso. I squatted down to help her get it over my head, paying no attention to where she threw it.
“Now yours.”
It was gone before I could blink, leaving behind those perfect breasts of hers just peeking over the edge of her sexy bra.
“Lean back.”
Her eyes flew to mine as she reclined against the mirror, her hands reaching for me in quiet protest.
I caught her wrists and directed them to her chest.
“Play with them. I want to see you touching yourself up here while I’m touching you,” I paused to run my hands from her knees to the tops of her thighs, not stopping until my thumbs rested right over the zipper of her shorts, “down here.”
She bit her lip, her disheveled hair falling over her shoulder.
I worked on unfastening her shorts blindly, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of her hands cupping and plumping her sweet tits. There was an awkward moment when I struggled to get her pink shorts down while she was sitting on the dresser—she had to drop her hands to help raise her hips—but then she was naked except for scraps of black lace.
“Squeeze your nipples.” My voice was deeper than before, and my cock was hard as granite.
Reese pulled the cups of her bra down, letting those creamy mounds spill over the sheer fabric. Her nipples were darker than I anticipated, a deep rose where I’d been expecting dusky pink. It’d been dark the first time in her dorm room, and she’d kept her shirt on the other times. The sight of those tightened peaks in the light were nearly my undoing, almost breaking my resolve to go slow this first time.
“More,” I rasped.
I slipped my hands under the leg holes of her panties. With aching slowness, I softly traced the margin of her hot core, giving her the barest taste of the friction she craved.
She twisted and tugged those rosy buds, and it took all my self-control not to bend forward and pull one into my mouth. I shifted my thumbs closer together, able to feel the slickness of her now. I stroked around her clit but never quite touched it, watching the frustration grow on her face as she parted her lips and furrowed her brow.
Yes, Reese. Just like that.
“Laird,” she panted, rocking her hips up to meet my roving hands.
“Not yet.” I couldn’t resist any longer. I captured one sexy nipple with my lips, sucking hard. Her hand slid around the back of my head, the scrape of her nails like thunder in my ears, and pulled me tighter to her chest.
I shifted. One hand slid behind her to work the clasp of her bra, the other stayed behind, my thumb finally, finally settling on her clit, making light circles meant to torment, not satisfy.
When her bra unsnapped, Reese removed it without needing prompting.
Good girl.
The hand on my head nudged me toward her other nipple.
“This one feeling neglected?”
She shivered and arched her back, propping her perfect mounds up higher like an offering. “Just a little.”
I switched sides, using my tongue and the hard edge of my teeth to work her until she was undulating her hips in an increasingly desperate rhythm.
“I need you,” she cried.
“You have me,” I countered, kissing a wet path down her stomach until I reached the waistband of her underwear. I paused, then stood back to take a second to just look at her.
God, the sight of her in only those black lace panties. It did things to me that defied explanation.
My pulse skipped and settled into a new pattern, one with her name embedded in it, a rhythm that was more than just her and more than just me. It flowed through every blood vessel, strong and sure, a harmony more resonant than any symphony ever composed.
I never wanted it to end.
A strong bass note echoed off my ribs, bounced off my vertebrae.
I think I’m in love and I’ve never even been inside her.
I swallowed, oddly comfortable with the idea.
“Take them off,” I ordered in a voice like gravel. “Slowly. Watch my face the whole time. Watch what you do to me.”
I moved at the same time she did, undoing my shorts and dropping them to the floor in a well-practiced move. Without preamble, I reached inside my orange boxer briefs and gripped my aching dick, squeezing tight at the base to slow things down on my end.
“Now, Reese.”
Her dark eyes were dilated as they flicked down to my groin, where the head of my hard length peeked over the top of the elastic.
“I promise, you can play with him all you want in a bit. But right now, watch my face.”
Slowly, her eyes trailed up my body, bouncing over the squares of my abs and pausing on my pecs before reaching my burning gaze.
“You’re so incredibly sexy. I need to know that you know that.” My focus dropped to her slender fingers, sliding the lace off one flared hip.
I shoved my boxers off, desperate to free myself.
To her credit, a quick glance showed her eyes were still glued to my face as directed.
“Keep going.” My voice cracked as she lowered them off the other hip, until just the most intimate part of her was still hidden from view.
My nostrils flared and I clenched my jaw so hard, the muscle in my cheek jumped. I was mesmerized by the sight of her being slowly unveiled in front of me, but I was also so damn proud at the way she was responding to my orders. She wasn’t shrinking back in shyness, or coyly refusing to play the game with me. Oh, no. Reese was right here in the moment with me, the perfect treble counterpoint to my bass.
I ran my hand over the head of my cock, where a bead of precum had already formed.
Lifting my eyes to hers, I caught and kept her gaze as she squirmed in front of me. One more wiggle and she was bare.
“You’re beautiful.”
She huffed out a small breath of disbelief. “You didn’t even look yet.”
I stepped forward, the underside of my dick pressing against her slick core, and ghosted a kiss over her swollen lips. “I don’t need to see your pussy to know you’re beautiful, Reese.”
Her breath hitched, and her eyes got shiny. I tipped her chin up, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was a blatant imitation to what I wanted to do to her somewhere lower. I rocked my hips, torturing us both by sliding along her seam, but not giving either one of us what we really wanted.
She felt exquisite. Petal soft, beckoning me closer with her wet heat. I wanted to bury myself in her and never reemerge.
When the urge to slip inside her grew too strong, I eased back and reached over to my nightstand to grab a condom, sheathing myself in milliseconds before returning to my spot between her legs.
With a grunt of anticipation, I positioned myself at her opening, rubbing the head through her wetness.
“Eyes down there now, Reese. Watch your body take every inch of me. You’re so damn soaked, it’s only going to take one push to be deep inside you, to have you squeezing me tight. Fucking hell, I’m ready to explode right now, just thinking about it.” I pulled her forehead to mine, cupping the back of her neck as we both looked down. “Once I’m there, once I’m pumping in and out of you, I expect to see your hand on your clit. Understand?”
I felt her nod against me.
And then I couldn’t wait any longer.
I flexed my hips and when her warmth enveloped me, hugging me tight within her snug channel, I ground out a primal sound that e
very man since the beginning of time would recognize. Mine.
“Now, Reese. Let me see you touch yourself.” I shifted my hands until I gripped her legs beneath her knees, giving me the leverage I needed.
I didn’t start slow. I didn’t need to. She was ready, I was beyond ready, and waiting was no longer an option. My hips pounded a steady rhythm, and I tilted back a little so my thrusts focused on her front wall. That same position also gave me room to appreciate the way her middle finger rolled fast, hard circles around her pink nub. I moved faster, hammered my hips harder, knowing it was the right move when the muscles on her forearm tightened and her thighs squeezed and her breath came in ragged little pants.
“Laird,” she gasped. “Yes. Like that.”
“Keep rubbing, Reese. I won’t stop if you don’t.”
She shook her head. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not.” I groaned as I bottomed out, pulling her forward on the dresser so my balls could slap against her ass with each plunge.
“I don’t want it to end yet.”
“We’re not even close to done, beautiful,” I promised. The night was young and my balls were full. I’d take her again and again, as long as she’d let me.
She whimpered, her knuckles on her free hand turning white as she squeezed the edge of the dresser.
“I’m close, Laird.”
“I know. I got you.”
Gently, I brushed her fingers from her mound, replacing them with my own. I found her most secret spot, tapping it lightly with my thumb.
“You ready?” I asked.
She nodded, the movement jerky.
I increased my pace, and pressed harder with my thumb, fast, tight, unrelenting circles.
She exploded seconds later, clamping down like a vise around my dick. As she cried out my name, I heard Oscar scratching at the door and howling in panic.
I thrust half a dozen more times, then followed her over the edge into the bright oblivion, slowly rocking my way through my orgasm.
“Reese.” My voice was reverent. I wrapped her legs around my waist, gathering her in my arms and burying my face in the crook of her neck.
I couldn’t help but steal little tastes of her damp skin as I nuzzled into her, not ready to let go yet.
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