Steve was pleased with the job they’d done, but he wasn’t pleased by the profuse way Michelle kept thanking Brent.
She could have smiled like that at Steve and told him how much she appreciated him, but she didn’t.
Chloe was openly grateful to all of them, and she took them out for an early dinner to thank them.
Steve basically had a good time. Or he would have if Michelle would ever stop smiling at Brent.
She hardly looked at him at all.
It bothered him.
A lot.
It bothered him so much he couldn’t say much because, if too many words came out, then they’d start to reflect the jealousy and resentment bubbling inside him.
They finished dinner, and Chloe went back home as the others headed back to their building. Finally Brent disappeared into his own place, and Michelle and Steve were alone in their apartment.
Jill and Lucas still weren’t home. Steve had no idea where they’d been all day.
“Okay,” Michelle said, putting her purse down and toeing off her shoes. “That’s done then.”
“Yeah.”
Michelle looked at the floor and twisted her hands together. “I’m glad we could help her.”
“Yeah.”
Steve was tense, wired, and trying not to show it. He took a few deep breaths, determined not to let his own mood spill over into Michelle. She wouldn’t like it. It was entirely the wrong approach with her.
He had to be careful.
Gentle.
“Thanks... thanks for helping out.”
Well, at least she’d finally thanked him. Recognized that he was with her the whole time and it wasn’t just the fucking lumberjack who had saved the day. “Yeah.”
Michelle’s head jerked up. “What’s the matter with you?”
Steve blinked. “What?”
“All you’re saying is yeah.” Instead of self-conscious, she suddenly sounded angry. A fire had awoken in her eyes, and it triggered a rush of excitement in Steve’s body, his heart.
“What am I supposed to say?” His voice was too rough, too demanding.
“I don’t know. Something other than yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay isn’t any better.”
“Then tell me what the fuck you want me to say.”
That was entirely wrong. The wrongest thing Steve could have said. He sounded rude and fierce and angry. His hands were fisted at his sides, and he was breathing raggedly. Something was throbbing in his veins, something powerful, unstoppable.
Something he wanted very badly.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” Michelle snapped, her cheeks flushing deeply red. Her slim body was as tense as his, the long line of her legs and the graceful curves of her neck and collarbone awakening something primal at his core.
Arousal hit him so suddenly and powerfully it hurt, making him hot, making him hard. “Then tell me what the fuck you want me to do,” he ground out.
“Just do whatever the hell you want.” Michelle took two steps closer to him, evidently unaware of how close he was to grabbing her, kissing her, fucking her right there on the entryway floor. “Why am I the one who has to make all the decisions around here? Are you some sort of robot?”
“No, I’m not a robot. But you’ve spent the last six months telling me not to pressure you. Are you saying you want me to now?”
“No, I don’t want you to pressure me. I want you to treat me like a human being who can make her own decisions about her own life, but I also don’t want you to act like a whipped puppy.”
His eyes blurred over in a surge of resentment. “A whipped puppy?”
“Yes. If you have something to say, then just say it. If you want to do something, then just do it. If I make decisions about me, then you make decisions about you. Why is this so complicated?”
“It’s complicated because you don’t want me to do what I really want to do.”
“How do you know if you do nothing but pretend to be a nice guy all the time.”
Steve surprised himself by making an angry noise in his throat, almost like a growl. “I am a nice guy.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. I am.” He was fully aroused, his erection pressed up painfully against the front of his jeans. He was sweating now. He couldn’t take a full breath. And Michelle’s pretty, angry face was everything he’d ever wanted in the world. “And you would know it if you’d ever open your eyes.”
She gasped indignantly. “Open my eyes? Screw you, Steve, and screw every nice guy in the world who’s just like—”
Before she could finish the (illogical) retort, Steve grabbed her and kissed her hard.
He couldn’t help it.
There was no way he could hold himself back.
She was stiff against him for just a moment, but then she melted. She melted. Her warm body softened against his, and her arms twined around his neck as she opened her mouth to the advance of his tongue.
Pleasure and need throbbed in his head, his groin, his chest as he slid his hands down to her soft little ass and cupped her there.
She moaned into his mouth, and the helpless sound sent jolts down to his swelling erection.
His need so overwhelming he couldn’t think or restrain his impulses, he backed her up to a wall and devoured her mouth. She wound one leg high around his hips and ground herself against him.
She was on fire. Openly eager. Clawing at his back and shoulders and arching her spine to press her breasts against his chest.
She’d never been like this with him before—she’d always been shy, hesitant—and the knowledge filled him so deeply that he had to break the kiss and pant against her neck to keep himself from coming right there and then.
“Steve, please,” she gasped, trying to drag his head back up from her neck. “Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping.” His voice was no more than a rasp, and he moved his hands farther down to stroke her firm thighs. She was wearing those leggings she always wore, and the thin, stretched fabric did nothing to disguise her firm flesh and gentle curves. He stroked the leg that was wrapped around him from her knee to her bottom.
He slipped his other hand under her shirt and sweatshirt and explored upward until he discovered that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He felt her soft, supple breast, her tight nipple, and his body throbbed dangerously again.
She gasped and arched into his hand.
“You like that?” he asked hoarsely.
She bit her lip, her face dark red and a sheen of perspiration breaking out on her skin. “Y-yeah.”
He teased her nipple between his finger and thumb.
She bit her lip harder and whimpered.
He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him today. He normally tried to be patient and thoughtful in bed, but he needed more than that right now. He needed to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Tell me how much you like it.”
Her head fell back, exposing her long, shapely neck. Her lips parted and her eyes closed.
He gave her nipple a little tug. “Tell me.”
“I like it!” she gasped. Her fingers tightened almost painfully in his shoulders. “I like it so much. I want you to touch me more.”
Making a throaty sound of approval, he moved his second hand under her shirt so he could play with her breasts with both hands. He loved the feel of them. Soft. Small. Just right to fit into his hands.
He caressed her intentionally until she was shaking and whimpering out a soft, eager refrain. “Yes, touch me, touch me like that. I like it so much. I need it so much. Steve, please, touch me.”
It was intoxicating.
He’d never seen Michelle like this before.
He wanted more of it.
He wanted all of it.
When the strain of his arousal was too powerful, he slid his hands back down to her bottom and kissed her again.
She wound herself around him again, trying to hump him so shamelessly that h
e almost lost it.
He heard a sound out in the hallway, and it sent a little jolt of knowledge into his hot blur of need and sensation. “Wait,” he mumbled against her mouth. “The rules.”
“I don’t care about the rules.” Michelle’s hands were under his shirt now, clawing lines down his back. “I don’t care if you’re my ex. I need this. I need it so bad.”
“I didn’t mean that. I need it too. I mean the house rules. We’re in the living room.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times, obviously trying to clear her mind. One of the few rules of the apartment was that sex had to stay in the bedroom—out of the respect for everyone else who lived there. Jill and Lucas might come home any time. “Maybe we should go to a bedroom.”
“Yes. Bedroom. Good.”
Fuck, he sounded like a caveman.
He’d never been a caveman. He’d have to be careful, or he’d be too rough with her.
No matter how hot and eager she was right now, there had always been something delicate about Michelle, and there was no way in the world he was going to hurt her.
So he was gentler than he wanted to be as he hefted her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around him tightly as he carried her into her bedroom.
Their bedroom.
The one they used to share.
In Steve’s mind, it had never stopped being theirs.
He laid her on the bed, and she pulled him down on top of her. He kissed her again, holding himself up on his forearms so all his weight wouldn’t land on top of her.
Her long legs twined around his hips again, and she started to rock beneath him.
His tongue delved deep into her mouth, seeking, claiming, making her his, as he moved his hips with her rhythm, the bulge of his erection tight and aching and crazy-making.
He normally took the time to make sure she came during foreplay, but her legs were so tight and her hands so entitled and her body so small and familiar and irresistible that he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He reared up and started to peel off her clothes—first her top, then her boots, then her leggings and panties, dropping them all over the side of the bed. He stared down at her with slightly dazed eyes. Her slender hips, her long arms and legs, her small, firm, rounded breasts with rosy-tan nipples that shook slightly with her ragged breathing.
He had to close his eyes for a moment to get himself under control, but then he quickly tore off his own clothes.
She was pulling him back down on top of her as he asked, “You’re still on birth control?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to use a condom?”
“No. Just fuck me. Fuck me right now.”
He’d never heard her say anything like that before, and his erection gave a dangerous throb.
He reached between her legs and used his fingers to stroke her open. She was very warm, very wet. His finger slid inside her easily, and her inner muscles clung to him eagerly. “Shit, you’re so wet.”
“Yes, I’m wet. Now I need you to fuck me.”
With a low groan, Steve kissed her again, and as he did he parted her legs more widely and guided his erection into position. He pushed into her slowly, groaning even more helplessly as he sank into the hot, wet tightness of her.
She bent her knees up high, letting him sink into her more deeply. Panting and so tense he was shaking with it, he pushed one of her knees farther back. She was slim and flexible, and she hooked that leg over his shoulder. She arched up and gave a soft, breathless cry that she immediately tried to stifle by biting her lower lip.
“Is it good?” he asked, trying to hold himself still until she was ready.
She must be ready because she was moving enthusiastically beneath him and sliding her hands down to hold on to his ass. “Yes. Good. So good.” She mumbled out the words and bit her lip again, her head tossing a few times on the pillow.
He started to thrust, slowly at first, although everything inside him wanted to take her hard and fast. “Tell me what you want, kitten.”
“I want you to... fuck me.” She was trying to ride him from below, and soft whimpers were spilling out behind her bit lip.
“How? Tell me what you need.”
“I need... I need...”
“Tell me.”
“I need it hard!” The sudden exclamation must have surprised her. Her face twisted, and her head turned to the side.
He was still moving inside her, slowly, rhythmically, and both his heart and his body were so full they might just explode.
“Kitten, look at me.”
She didn’t turn her head back.
“Look at me.” His voice was rough, almost fierce.
She turned her head and met his eyes.
“I’ll give you anything you need,” he murmured.
She whispered, “I need it hard.”
He adjusted his position, spreading her open even farther for him and widening his stance so he could get better leverage. Then he started to thrust harder, faster. “I’ll give it to you hard.”
Her face twisted in pleasure as she arched her neck. Her hands flew up to hang on to the headboard. “Yes. Hard.”
It felt like something had been set free inside him, and he couldn’t hold it back. This rush of power, of satisfaction, all mingled with the deepest of tenderness. He fucked her so hard that the bed shook and her leg jiggled over his shoulder.
Michelle’s whimpers were turning into sobs and gasps, all stifled by the lip she kept trying to bite. She’d turned her face away again, tucking her head against her shoulder.
Steve wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to stop hiding. “Is this what you want?” he demanded.
“Yes. Oh, yes. Hard.”
“Look at me. Tell me again.”
Her body was starting to shake now, and she was tightening around his erection. She was close. Her flushed face was damp with sweat now as she turned her head to meet his gaze with wild, hot brown eyes. “Oh fuck, Steve, I need it hard!”
He gave her all he had, and her body bent back like a bow. Then she was shaking and clawing lines down his ass and letting out a long, low moan.
Steve couldn’t hold back anymore. He pushed into her clenching channel with a few last, fierce thrusts, grunting like an animal, and then all the pleasure coiled up and exploded as he came inside her.
They lay tangled up together afterward, panting and trying to recover. Michelle kept making little whimpers, but they sounded pleased rather than uncomfortable. Almost like purrs.
His kitten.
He had her in his arms again, and it had never been like this.
He’d always wanted her to let go, let him all the way in—and this was the first time it felt like she fully had.
He hoped she wouldn’t be embarrassed.
He hoped she wouldn’t pull away.
He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so she was sprawled on top of him. He stroked her hair and her back and brushed a few kisses into her hair.
Her body had softened deliciously, and she wasn’t pulling away from him, so after a while his hand got a little bolder. Eventually it slid down between her legs.
She was very wet—from her fluids and his—but that just filled Steve with a strange sort of pride. She was hot and tight after her orgasm, and he slipped two fingers inside her.
Her inner muscles clung to his fingers eagerly, and he pressed down against her G-spot, making her groan.
“Are you insatiable or something?” she asked, moving against him restlessly.
“Not me. I’m perfectly satisfied. But I’m hoping you might be insatiable.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I already came once, and it was really good.”
He was smiling as he moved his other hand to rub the soft flesh of her bottom. “So you don’t want to come again?”
“I don’t think I can, but I’m perfectly satisfied.”
“It doesn’t f
eel like you’re satisfied.” He pumped his fingers a few times. “It feels like you might want more.”
“That’s your ego talking.”
“What ego?”
“The ego you try to hide because you’re such a nice guy.” There was a smile in her voice. An intimacy that he wanted, needed from her.
“No ego here. Nothing but very nice guy.”
She giggled. “Ego.”
He didn’t intend to do it, but they were teasing and one of his hands was still resting on her ass. He said playfully, “Don’t argue with me,” and gave her bottom a gentle smack.
His fingers were still inside her, so he felt how hard she clamped down around him in response as she gave a breathless cry.
Without thinking, he did it again. She cried out again. Clamped down around his fingers again.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You really like that, don’t you?”
He’d never dreamed—not in his wildest fantasies—that his sweet, shy kitten would like to be spanked.
Four
MICHELLE HAD NEVER felt anything like the jolt of pleasure that sliced through her when Steve gave her the little spank.
Anything.
It was like he’d flipped a switch inside her that controlled every pleasure zone in her body.
But it was so unexpected and so out of the bounds of who’d she’d always understood herself to be that, after the second spank, she rolled over off him, turning on her side so her butt was facing away from him and pulling the sheet up over her.
Steve rolled onto his side to face her, big and naked and frowning slightly. “What’s the matter? I thought you liked it.”
She had liked it. So much she was still shuddering from the lingering sensations. Her face burned, and she gave a little shrug, too self-conscious to get any words out.
Steve’s face changed. He reached over to brush his knuckles against her cheekbone. “Are you embarrassed? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m—” She cut off her immediate denial since it would have been a lie. “It just doesn’t feel like... us. It doesn’t feel like what we do.”
Living with Her Ex-Boyfriend (The Loft, #2) Page 6