The words that tumble out of my mouth make no sense at all, but he understands every syllable because another cool wave settles over my over-sensitized nipples. It’s too much in the best way possible. Cupping my tits, I offer them up to him and the man knows exactly what to do. I don’t know if he’s just this good at sex, or if he’s just this good at reading me, but he alternates between blowing puffs of air on my nipple and twisting the swollen peaks with the tips of his fingers. I’m pumping my hips and crying out because it’s too much and not nearly enough all at once.
Mickey’s relentless, though. He’s making good on his promise not to stop and I could kiss him for it if my mouth weren’t preoccupied with moaning.
I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm. I can feel it just out of reach. I’m so damn close that I’m trembling, and when Mickey pulls back and lets his gaze wash over me, I'm tempted to tell him to put his mouth between my legs.
The smile he gives me tells me I don’t have to say a word. He knows exactly what I want and how to give it to me. Taking his sweet-ass time, he sucks his fingers into his mouth one by one before trailing them down my body. My skin feels like it’s on fire, but he’s in no hurry to put it out. When his wet, thick fingers ghost over the lace that covers my center, I shiver. Two fingers slip their way past the barely-there barrier and when he gently traces my seam, I’m fucking done for. The climax rocks its way through every cell of my body and I’m not quiet about how good it feels. I ride my way through it, soaking every drop of pleasure out of Mickey’s talented fingers
After my breathing returns to normal, I realize I’m sitting on his couch, sticky and mostly-naked. I’m not sorry about it. I’m not the kind of woman who’s embarrassed by my sexuality. I embrace it, and I’m not about to cover up out of some false, antiquated sense of modesty. Mickey’s eyes are still raking hungrily over my body, so I know he’s not complaining.
“So,” he says, his lips turning up into a sexy smile. “That happened.”
“Sure did,” I agree, my eyes locked on his.
“This was probably pretty stupid,” he says, shaking his head.
I’m not an angry person by nature. I teach yoga for fucks’ sake. My Zen is legendary, thank you very much. And I’m not new here. I’m the queen of hookups, so I know that swapping spit does not a lifelong commitment make.
I have had guys roll out of bed two seconds after coming like a damn freight train. One guy made a phone call while I was going down on him. It was fine. He was calling off work so we could hook up.
Those things didn’t offend me in the least.
But hearing Mickey call what we just didstupid? That fucking stings.
“Wow,” I say, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Regret set in pretty fast, huh?”
The man is still on his knees in front of me and the look he gives me is guileless. “Regret? Fuck no.”
“Did you not just say this was stupid?” I ask, gesturing between our bodies.
“No, fuck,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, I did. But that’s not what I meant. Sometimes my brain works faster than my mouth, and I don’t get all the words out. And sometimes too many words escape, and I sound like a dumbass.”
Common sense kicks back in and I take a calming breath. This is Mickey. He might have just been helping me answer the question of whether my breasts are as responsive as they used to be, but he’s not cruel. He wouldn’t have willingly participated if he wasn’t into it. Logically, I know that.
I watch Mickey’s chest expand as he takes in a breath, holds it a few seconds, and lets it go. “I meant it was stupid because I didn’t want to stop.”
“Then why did you?” I ask.
“I needed to catch my breath. I needed to count to a fucking million to keep myself from coming in my shorts. You just asked me to help you answer a question, so I did. And now my work here is done.” He blinks before he holds my gaze again and the vulnerability I see behind his green eyes hits me in the chest.
“What if I had more jobs for you to do?” I ask, hoping like hell we’re on the same page.
“I’ll do anything you want, Viv. Anything. It’s probably dumb to cross that line, but?—”
“Then we won’t,” I say, an idea forming in my mind. “If it’s dumb to cross the line, then we just won’t cross it. That doesn’t mean we can’t walk right up to the edge of it, though. We won’t have sex. But that doesn’t mean we have to be saints. There’s a whole hell of a lot we can still do.”
.
8
Mickey
Is Viv McDonald propositioning me? Is that what’s happening right now? Or did I take a puck to the side of the head and now I’m fucking delirious?
If that’s what’s going on here, please don’t wake me up.
When she puts her hands on my shoulders, her delicate fingers kneading and releasing the tension there, I know I’m dreaming. The thing I’ve been fantasizing about for a year now finally happened. I hooked up with Viv..
And she wants to do it again.
