Claire
Smitty doesn’t, in fact, cause a cake riot.
But it’s a close thing because he gets bingo twice.
“I don’t care if you have an entire blackout,” Jackson had growled at him, “but if you win another fucking round and make trouble for Junie”—because our neighbors at a nearby table looked ready to commit dabber-cide—“I will gleefully throw you to the permed, cat-sweater-wearing old ladies.”
Smitty had taken a look around and wisely shut his mouth for the duration of the night.
Even though, I’m pretty sure I saw he had a bingo in the last game.
Now, I watch as Jackson carries Gran, passed out and exhausted from all the activity of the evening. I’d feel bad if not for the fact that she had a great night, one of the best in a while, smiling and ordering the guys around, grumbling when her numbers weren’t pulled, eating not one but two giant slices of cake.
She hadn’t seemed tired.
But the moment we hit the highway, she was out.
Snoring away in the back seat, leaving Jackson and I to share quiet looks as he navigated back to my place.
Now, he settles her on the bed and leaves me to get her comfy and tuck her into bed. She doesn’t move as I take off her shoes, set her glasses on the side table, along with her purse, and plug in her phone, doesn’t so much as make a peep as I turn off the lights and step out into the hall.
And find it empty.
Frowning, I move down the hall toward the sliver of light shining onto the carpet and push into the bedroom.
And freeze, heart squeezing.
Jackson has a pair of my pajamas in his hands. “You should get some sleep, kitty cat,” he murmurs, holding them out to me. “You’ve had a long week.”
He’s right.
We’re both tired, and it’s been an exhausting series of days.
But…it’s also the first time we’ve been alone together and upright and—
I move to him, take the pajamas from his hand, and drop them to the foot of the bed. And then…I wrap my arms around him.
“Sweetheart?”
I kiss him, put all of that practice makes perfect of the last week to good use.
He responds in a flash of movement, groan rumbling through his chest, arms banding around my middle, tongue thrusting into my mouth, kissing me until my lungs protest, and only then does he release my mouth. He reaches for the hem of my sweater, yanking it up and over my head, tossing it to the side, allowing me to do the same to his tee, to get up close and personal with his hard chest and muscular abs and—
I freeze for a second, not knowing where to go, what to do with all of this.
Kiss or lick, touch or bite.
I want to do it all and I want to do it all right now and—
“Oh!” I gasp when he wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs, sending us both toppling to the mattress.
I land on top of him with a rush of air but don’t get to catch my breath because he’s kissing me again. “Don’t feel overwhelmed, kitty cat. We stop at any time, remember?”
Sweet man.
My man.
“I love you,” I whisper.
His eyes go wide, but this time, I kiss him.
“And I’m not overwhelmed,” I say when I manage to tear my mouth away from his. “Or not in the way you think,” I tell him when he begins to protest. “There are so many things I want to do to you, and I don’t know where to start,” I admit. “Kiss your chest, suck at your nipples, reach my hand into your pants and stroke your…” I swallow because I may be a virgin, but I’m not an idiot. I read romance novels. I’m a pro with my vibrator. But something about giving voice to all of this is…
Vulnerable.
But only for a second because then he’s flipped us, my back pressing into the mattress, his big body boxing me in. “First,” he whispers. “I love you too.”
My lungs inflate in a rush.
“I think that’s why I fought it so much.” His mouth curves. “I knew that if I gave in, I’d never have any hope of keeping you out, and after you discovered what I did”—he touches my cheek—“it was easier to be mad and push you away than delve into it.”
“You’re a good person.”
He exhales. “I think I am, but—” A shake of his head. “I’m still working on really accepting that.”
I want him to believe it down to the very marrow of his bones.
But…
Practice makes perfect.
One step at a time.
“And second,” he says, heat slipping back into his eyes, his mouth near enough that when he speaks, the words brush against my lips, dance down my tongue, “I want you to stroke my cock and kiss any part of me you want, but we have time,” he murmurs. “So much time for this.”
“I have years to make up for,” I counter.
His mouth twitches up at the corners. “That’s true enough, kitty cat. So, how about for tonight you just tell me one of those fantasies?”
So many.
There have been so many.
But one stands out.
And…
I don’t hesitate to tell him.
And…
He doesn’t hesitate to make it come true for me.
Slowly dispensing of both of our clothes, kissing me until my breaths come in rapid, short gusts, until my lips tingle and feel swollen. Then moving down to my breasts, sucking at my nipples, sending my nerves alight with sensation, leaving me needy and wet and…
Ready for his mouth when he crawls down my body and licks me between my legs, slowly, like we really do have all the time in the world. Focusing on my clit and using the flat of his tongue to drive me crazy as he fucks me with a finger, in and out, in and out, steady and smooth and unhurried.
I gasp as he slips a second and then a third finger in, knowing he’ll be bigger, that I’ll need the preparation.
And even though, I’m shaking, I’m ready—beyond ready, really—for him. Even though I’m expecting him to draw back after a few minutes, to push inside me and rock us both to completion, he doesn’t.
He’s still taking his time, not in any rush, and—
“Oh!” I gasp as the orgasm sneakily rolls over me, a wave of sensation that takes me under when I least suspect it.
And still, he’s slow and deliberate, coaxing me through the highest peak of sensation, deliberate as he touches me and draws out my pleasure.
I’m limp when I hear the distant crinkle of a condom wrapper opening, but I manage to peel one eye open.
“We can stop here,” he murmurs, noticing that I’m watching him—because of course he does.
“I want it all,” I tell him, reaching for his arms and drawing him back over me. “With you, I want it all.”
“This may hurt.” A soft apology as he settles between my legs, thumb coming back to my clit, cock notching at my entrance.
“I’m ready.”
He inhales—
And then he’s pushing inside, my pleasure easing the way, his thumb making me forget about the burn and stretch. I thank God for my vibrators when he pauses, leaving me feeling as though I’m filled to bursting. They prepared me for this—
Not nearly enough, of course.
But the burn of him inside me is a perfect mix of pleasure and pain.
“Okay?” he rasps.
He’s shaking, sweat on his forehead, a wild sort of energy in his body.
But he’s holding on, he’s waiting.
Making sure I’m okay.
“Perfect,” I say, wrapping my leg around his waist, arching my hips to allow him even deeper. “Now,” I order. “Give me the rest of it.”
And just like always…
He does.