Her body pulses around mine as her cries fill the air, and I’m powerless to stop my own release. It barrels right through me, wrecking me for any other lover.
What am I saying? That happened a year ago.
21
Viv
Iwake up in Mickey’s bed. That’s nothing new.
I wake up to his naked body tangled up in mine.
Again, we’ve been here before.
But it’s different now. At least, for me.
We had sex last night. Like, actual s-e-x. Like, his penis was fully inside me and I came so hard I couldn’t see straight. Even we can’t deny that counts as sex.
And now I’m terrified that things have changed between us. Or that we’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t panic. What I said last night was true: these are our bodies and we get to decide what we do with them.
But I so desperately don’t want anything about my relationship with Mickey to change. It’s perfect just the way it is. We don’t need labels or promises to complicate things. We just need each other. We can play by our own rules.
“You good?”
I look over to see the most handsome man in Bainbridge looking at me with a frown on his beautiful face. “Of course. I’m great,” I say, the words coming out too fast and at too high a pitch to be believable.
“Okay…” he answers, clearly not buying my bullshit. “Because you’ve been rustling the covers for at least five minutes and you’re clenching your jaw so hard that I’m afraid you might break a tooth.”
“Sorry if I woke you.”
“I had to get up anyway,” he says, shrugging one freckled shoulder. “I am up half an hour early, though, and you seem tense, so maybe we could do something about that?” The way he waggles his eyebrows should be comical, but it’s simply adorable. Mickey is playful in a way that none of my other lovers have been. He jokes and laughs and is never afraid to just be himself. I love his authenticity. His humor. His way of looking at the world.
“Oh yeah?” I respond, arching a brow because he brings out my playful side, too. “What were you thinking? We could do some exercise to get the blood pumping. Maybe some hip openers? Something to really warm us up?
Mickey lifts himself off the bed and spreads his body out on top of mine. His forearms are braced on the bed, bearing his upper body weight while his knees are bracketing my legs. “Yeah,” he says, glancing down at my body and letting his gaze linger on all my very best parts. “I think we should start with the hips. Or maybe the tits? Actually, I think I want to start right here,” he says, grazing my lips with a soft kiss. I can’t help it. I melt into the mattress.
I could kiss Bran Mikalski for the rest of my life, and that’s a terrifying thought. I need to stay in the moment, so I reach for his cock. Is that a dirty move? Probably. But he’s not complaining, as he thickens in my hand. Images from last night parade around in my mind. Sex with him is the best it’s ever been, but that’s no surprise. He told me once that his super power is hyperfixation, and I can attest to that. When he’sseeking my pleasure, he takes his mission very seriously, and nothing deters him from giving me what I need.
It’s no different right now. I’m trying to make this all about him, trying to put his pleasure first, but he’s not having it. Every nip and lick of his mouth on my body has my blood pumping. Every kiss has me wanting more—more of this, more of him, more of our bodies moving together. “I need to put my mouth on you,” I tell him, gasping as he wraps his lips around my hardened nipple.
“What a coincidence,” he tells me, pulling back and giving me a smile. “I was about to say the same thing.”
“Imagine that,” I quip. “I think we should do it. I’ll go first.”
“Or,” he says, cupping my other breast and lavishing attention on it, too, “we could go at the same time.”
I spin myself around in record time, making Mickey do a double-take. “Damn,” he says, laughing. “All that yoga really does pay off.”
It’s probably a combination of that and years of gymnastics, but I don’t want this to turn into a kinesiology lesson. “Then thank god for stretching because now I can suck your cock.”
He barks out a laugh, but it stops abruptly when my lips meet the head of his dick. I stroke him as I swirl my tongue over him. He tastes of sleep and salt and the sandalwood scent I can always smell on his sheets and t-shirts.
His cock is heavy and hard in my hand, and I do my best to take him far enough into my mouth that it tests my gag reflex. I find my rhythm as he spreads my legs open and ghosts a finger along my seam, making my legs fall wide open. With every lick and suck, he brings me closer to the edge, so it’s only fair I do the same to him, right? I’m working him over in earnest, making a mess all over my lips and his dick.
“You’re so damn good at that,” he mutters before diving back into the valley of my thighs for another round of toe curlingkisses. “Fuck.Fuck. It’s just like that first night. The second you got on your knees and put your mouth on me.”
The world stops spinning long enough for me to make sense of his words. He’s not talking about the other night when he walked in to catch me feeling up my own boobs. Oh, no. He’s taking it all the way back to last spring and the night we hooked up after Maggie and JT’s baby shower.
I peel my lips off his dick and spin myself around. “You remember?” I ask, fully aware that my lips are glistening with his precome, but not caring at all.
