I nod. “So badly.”
He swipes it off, lifts a hand, then says, “Suck it off in front of the mirror.”
I reach for him, circling his wrist with my hand, bringing the thumb to my mouth, and rubbing the drop of him on my lips. His growl is unholy. Deep, dark, and filthy. Like his eyes right now.
I draw his thumb farther into my mouth, sucking on it as he stares at me, eyes glimmering with heat. I let his thumb fall from my mouth, then lick my lips. “Just the way I like it,” I say, and that’s enough for him it seems, since he grabs me, yanks me against him, and kisses the breath out of me.
We’re all teeth and tongue, lips and moans. We’re limbs and heated skin, smashing into each other. He deepens the kiss while also somehow tugging my sweater off, stopping only for the second it takes to get it over my head. I’m downto just my bra, but he divests that in seconds. When he breaks the kiss, I see he’s got my clothes in his hand. He doesn’t fold them this time, but he sets them on the chair, then turns back around.
“On my bed. Hands and knees. Facing the mirror.”
I scramble and get in position. He’s behind me in seconds, kneeling, lining up with his dick in his hand.
But he stops, gritting his teeth. “Need to get a condom.”
I reach an arm out, stop him. “I’m negative and on protection.”
His eyes flare. “I’m negative too.”
He notches the head against me, and I tremble from head to toe. “Yessss,” he groans as he pushes in. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking perfect.”
I feel perfect, but in a whole new way. In a way I haven’t arranged or organized. I feel perfect because this moment is him kneeling behind me.
Me on all fours.
Us unable to look away from our reflection as he slides in, eases out, then drives back into me.
His fingers dig into my hips, and I bite the corner of my lips. He pulls out, then slams back in, tension lining his jaw, desire etched in his eyes.
My breasts sway. His biceps ripple.
My hair swishes. His Adam’s apple bobs. And he fucks me. Sinking in, pulling out, then picking up the pace.
It’s hot and it’s X-rated. It’s like watching our own dirty videos. A live sex tape as the jealous, possessive secret poet of a hockey player fucks the tightly wound perfectionist, the sunshine to his rain. His fake girlfriend who’s somehow become another person after dark with her fake boyfriend.
I’m someone who can let go.
Because that’s what I’m feeling most of all. The giving in. I give in to pleasure, to the sensations whipping through me, tothe kick of bliss in my belly, to the insistent ache between my thighs, and most of all to Lake Axelrod as he fucks me in front of the mirror. I don’t dare look away anymore. I enjoy the show as I thrust a hand between my legs, helping myself along till I’m gasping, moaning, begging formore, harder, yes, now.
I break, shattering as I fall apart, my head dropping, my back arching.
I can’t keep my eyes open as I come. Who could? But I don’t close them for long. When I open them, and raise my face, there’s Lake. He’s grunting, shuddering, his gorgeous face twisted in pleasure as he comes deep inside me.
And I get to see him lose control.
It really is its own kind of perfect.
41
ACQUIRE ME
LAKE
“I have only two eggs,” I announce in the morning as I stare at the fridge, frustrated with the barrenness of it. “Hmm. I didn’t think this through.”
Remy’s right next to me, peering into the appliance too. “I’ve noticed there’s no berry bar either.”
“But thereareberries,” I say, grabbing the blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries I ordered from the grocery store last night. They arrived sometime after her second or third orgasm. It’s a haze. I’m not sure when.
