He really is quite sweet.
I’ve just closed the door behind me when there’s a knock.Honestly, I know today was a lot, and I probably look as banged up as my uncle’s old sedan, but I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the eight feet to my bedroom.
But it isn’t Lucky at my door.
“Sterling, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t look good.He might actually look worse than me as he steps inside, brow furrowed and unblinking.
I worry about what he sees.
It’s not that I’m messy.I’ve just … had other priorities lately.It’s been easier to forget the socks I left in the bathroom because I almost wore them into the shower or the pair of headphones under my pillow because I fell asleep watching a two-hour deep dive on the drama surrounding a niche hobby I’d never heard of.It’s the mug that never makes it back into the cupboard because keeping it next to the coffee maker saves me five seconds and the collection of charging cables plugged in at all times for easy access.
But Sterling never stops looking at me long enough to notice.
“I never left.I’ve been stuck in my car, debating whether or not this is a terrible idea, but I don’t give a shit anymore.I need you.”He stalks forward, catches my face in his hands, and kisses me, hard and desperate.
Oh, finally.
I fall into him, clawing at his clothes, clinging to him, the last threads of my energy turning my need for him up to eleven.
He kisses down my neck, but I’m too aware of where we’ve been.
I push back.“Wait.I’ve been sitting on the floor for half the day.Let me clean up first.”
“Let me,” he says, picking me up and walking to the bathroom.
“You don’t need to worry about me.I can manage.”
He’s gentle as he sets me down, as though I’ll break if he moves too quickly, presses too hard.“Please, Mia.Let me take care of you.”
“Okay.”
He strips me carefully, gently, keeping me out of the shower until he’s satisfied the temperature won’t scald me.The water’s a little colder than I like it, but he’s pulling his shirt off and his zipper down, and I don’t care about the water anymore.
Long, lean legs and broad shoulders aren’t the only impressive things he’s hiding under his suits.His dick is gorgeous, thick and hard between his thighs, and I’m glad I didn’t die before I got to see it.Touch it.Taste it.
He walks in after me, kissing me again, and I let go, standing still and safe while he pours some gel in his hands and starts to wash me.He’s methodical, never stopping to tease, but, oh, does he look.
When he’s done, he rinses it off, and then he redirects the showerhead to hit the wall, crowding me against it.The tiles are warm from the water, and it’s so like him to think of a detail like that.Hotter than that is his body, which presses against me as he kisses me again.
When he drops to his knees, I have to grip his shoulder to keep upright.
“Say the word, and I’ll stop.”
But I don’t have any words, and I don’t need them because he licks between the seam of my pussy, sucking my clit into his mouth, and I’m consumed by white-hot pleasure.
His fingers bite into my hips, but it’s a delicious reminder that I don’t need to hold myself up because he’s here, he’s got me, and so I dig my fingers into his damp hair and lose myself to every swipe of his tongue.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I gasp.
The air is thick with steam, sticking to my skin, making me hotter.
He eats me out like a man starved for it, and all it takes is finally looking down, seeing the great Sterling Ross, hot and hard and hungry between my thighs, and I’m gone, overwhelmed by him, my stomach tensing under his palm as I rock into his mouth.
When it gets to be too much, he relents, placing gentle kisses on the inside of my thigh, along my hips, holding me through the aftershocks.
I can’t keep myself up when he moves, but I shouldn’t have doubted him.He wraps me in a towel and scoops me back up, walking me to the bed.
