My dick is like a pre-programmed guided missile. Its course? Rhiannon Morrigan’s G-spot. Not even military or divine intervention can stop it.
The only thing that can stop me fucking her tonight is if she doesn’t consent.
But I really,reallyhope she does.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’re quiet. If you’re tired, I don’t mind finishing my tea and heading to the guest room?” If I’m not imagining it, there’s a hopeful tinge to her voice that makes my cock light up like the fucking Larne town Christmas tree.
I shake my head and pat my lap.
She stares at my legs, then jerks her head up. The furrowed brow and scowly lips are quite cute. She shakes her head. I pat my lap again. “If you don’twantto sit on my knee, that’s one thing. If you’re afraid of hurting me, that’s against my leg rules, remember? I know what I can take, and I need you to trust me when I say as much.”
She nibbles her lip. She moves to sit sidesaddle on my knee, but she’s sitting precariously balanced on the edge of my good leg.
I huff out a sigh, grab her hips, and position her a little more evenly spread. “Much better.”
She giggles, taking me by surprise.
When I query her with my eyes, she links her hands behind my head. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
I brush my nose against hers. “Jinx. I was just thinking that you’re kind of cute when you get that furrowed brow when you’re concentrating on something.” I place a kiss between her eyebrows where I’m referring to.
“I don’t think you can call professional rugby players cute, Robert.”
I love how she says my name, unhurried, like she enjoys how it tastes in her mouth or sounds when it falls from her lips just like I do. She never shortens it to Rob, or Bob, or Robbie, she just lets me take up space.
She’s staring at my lips like she wants to kiss them or bite them. Jesus. I’d totally let her bite me.
“I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you that this is a bad idea.” There. I’ve done my due diligence, even though there’s no mistaking my intent. My rock-hard cock is pressing against her toned ass.
I swallow. “I want it, but it’s against the rules. We can’t even blame alcohol. We can’t pretend we don’t know who we are. And this whole thing’s what got us into this mess to begin with.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, wincing at my words. Her body freezes.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I grunt, wanting to kick myself for putting my foot in it.
Her head turns, and for a moment, I think I’ve lost her. I cup her soft face in my hand and move her until I can see into her eyes. The vulnerability waiting for me in them splits my rib cage in two.
“I’m sorry I said that.” I sweep my nose against hers again. She seems to like it, and it’s growing on me as an affectionate gesture as well. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. And for what it’s worth, I like this mess we got into.” I shrug. It’s as close as either of us have come to admitting catching feelings.
She traces my face with her fingers, drawing a sigh from my chest and making my eyes flutter closed. Her featherlight touch is becoming more than normal; it’s like an addictive substance I can’t help but want more of it.
She presses her lips to mine, but I don’t move.
My muscles are tense, poised like a taut spring, but I’m not presuming. I’m not demanding. I’m letting her take things every bit as slowly as she needs to.
She doesn’t use her tongue. She just holds her mouth to mine, and her body softens. “It is a bad idea,” she murmurs against my lips. “Totally against the rules… But I still want it.”
It’s moments like this where I envy people with all of their limbs. In every romance movie, right now, the hero would stand up, curl the heroine’s legs around his waist, and carry her off to bed.
But I can’t do that without first reconnecting my prosthesis. So sexy.
As if she can read my mind, she stands. “Are you comfortable here? Or do you want to go upstairs?”
I’m half afraid to mull her question over for fear she’ll change her mind, but if she does, then it wasn’t enthusiasticconsent to begin with. And all I want from this beautiful woman is enthusiasm, in her consent, in how she kisses me, in her orgasms, and in hopefully what will be a real relationship.
Do I want our second time to be here on the couch? Not really, but I’m comfy and can’t be arsed moving. Though if I don’t, we’ll have to move when I’m even more exhausted.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
