Plus One Love: The Wedding Party Series

8. Amy

“Yes.”

The invisible band around my chest tightens at the finality of that single word. All day long, with the way Micah looked at me, I allowed myself to believe that his feelings had changed. That the sexual tension between us, that soul deep draw was stronger than whatever discomfort my age offered him. But since he never said anything in plain language, all my thoughts were based on supposition.

The smart thing would be to back away, to protect what is left of my heart, but I can’t. The idea of leaving this place, of finishing this weekend without ever knowing the pleasure Micah can elicit in my body makes me ill. Not even the fear of Elise dampens my need, my longing. Besides, the longer I spend in Micah’s presence the stronger my willingness to walk away from her grows. Only my concern for my parents keeps me in her employ or rather servitude.

Yet the one thing I’m sure of, I’ll regret it all my life if I never act on my feelings for him. It might only be for one night, but it’ll stay with me forever.

I take a deep breath and then jump. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” But even as he questions me, wanting double confirmation, he slides the straps of my dress down my arms. The material catches on breasts, but with each heave of my chest, it threatens to fall all the way to my waist.

He holds himself still, waiting for my answer. That alone has my heart melting. Why does this have to be just for one night? Why can’t this be forever? None of my other dates or the few people I’ve had a relationship with showed even a smidgen of the care, concern, and respect that he has. The realization that I might never be able to be satisfied with any other man after tonight nearly has me hesitating, but the heat in his look has me pushing all my fears away. “Kiss me.”

There’s no verbal answer. Only his lips on mine in a move reminiscent of what happened on the airplane. Lips, teeth, tongue, he uses them all to control me, master me, and I love it. None of this fumbling around shit that occurred on my previous encounters with men. And when I say men, I use the term loosely in both numbers and maturity.

The slight smokiness from his earlier whiskeys soothes me, quelling any doubts I might have about whether or not this is real. But there’s no need for me to pinch myself; I’ve never experienced a dream that tastes of whisky before.

A moan escapes me as he nips the underside of my jaw. But it’s his thumbs, stroking along my collarbones that are the real culprit. Who knew that collarbones could be so erogenous? Until now, I never would have guessed. Now that I know, I’m never going to feel the same when someone places their hands on my shoulders. I’ll feel the anticipation of their touch sliding down further like I’m anticipating his first touch of my breast.

My nipples strain against the fabric of my dress. It feels like their stiffness is what’s holding my dress up, keeping me covered from both his eyes and his hands. I want more. I want his touch.

Then he finds the hidden zipper.

My dress falls to the floor. He steps back, opening the space between us. My body rebels at the lack of his touch but only for a second as the cool air from the air conditioner makes goosebumps erupt when it meets my overheated skin.

“Beautiful.” His heated gaze roams over me, making me feel like his word his truth. “You’re absolutely gorgeous and I can’t wait to touch you, to taste all of you, to sink into you.”

I swallow as my knees shake. I want it too. All of it. “Then don’t wait.”

I reach for him, unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to touch him as much as I want to be touched. The feeling must be mutual because he helps, stripping himself of his pants and underwear until he stands before me naked.

I suck in a shaky breath. Need riding me hard as I stare my fill. I’d seen him bare chested yesterday morning while at the beach and even in the mornings after we woke up, but it’s different this time. Knowing I can freely touch him, can run my fingers, my lips, my tongue over him increases that ache between my legs. I press my thighs together, trying to get the needed friction, but he shakes his head.

“None of that. Your pleasure is mine to give.” And with that pronouncement, he drops to his knees before me. He grasps the side of my lace panties and slides them down while keeping his face poised over my pussy. His warm breath fans over my skin as he taps one ankle and then the other, having me lift my feet, removing my panties completely.

“My mouth’s been drooling, wanting to taste you, to make you mine since that first kiss.” The word kiss mixes with my moan as he bends forward and devours me. There’s no lead in, no slow build up. He attacks, all lips and tongue, even the slight graze of his teeth against my clit. I’m already so worked up that it’s enough to send me over as my climax rolls over me.

“Micah.” I shove my hands into his hair, pulling on the strands on top while holding him close. That climax was amazing but I’m not done yet. And from the way his mouth—and now fingers—continue to play with me, he’s not done either. A benefit of his experience and maturity because with the guys my age, you’re lucky if they even get you off before seeking their own pleasure. Not him, not as he continues to tell me he wants more, wants to have me orgasm a few more times on his tongue and fingers.

And I do.

My legs are jello after my fourth orgasm and I’m sensitive. I push his head away. “Enough. I cry uncle.”

He chuckles as he stands, scooping me up into his arms. “You’re amazing.”

When his lips press against mine, I taste myself. I can’t stop the soft moan as my desire ramps up again despite my fatigue. His fingers were large, filling me, but it wasn’t the same. I still feel the need for more, to feel him inside me. And luckily, he agrees.

He drops me on the bed, rolling me down. His lips trail down my chest, sucking one nipple and then the other in between his lips. The slight pinch from his bite has me gasping.

“More, please,” I beg, running my nails over his back as I try to hang on.

His erection presses against me, sliding between my thighs. For the first time I feel a hint of disappoint. Not at the size, but because I didn’t get a chance to touch it, to taste him like he did me. But before I can say anything, he slides in… each and every glorious inch, filling me.

“Fuck. You feel perfect.” He brushes some of my hair away from my face as he gazes at me. A softness in the look has my heart cracking. If only he looked at me like that all the time, every dream of mine would be fulfilled. None of this Vegas shit. I don’t want him to forget me, to leave me. Once won’t be enough. At least the night is still relatively young so hopefully we’ll have time for at least one more round before the dream ends.

He tilts his hips, driving in and out. Our breathing grows ragged. The spiced soap he uses mixes with the exotic florals that normally fill our room. The scent is like the best aphrodisiac because all my fatigue leaves.

“Eyes on me,” he commands. “I want to watch you come apart, knowing it’s my cock giving you pleasure.”

“Please, please,” I beg. Each stroke hits my g-spot, restlessly marching me towards what I know will be an overwhelming orgasm. But his cock isn’t enough. Something I think he knows because once I’m wound impossibly tight, he shifts, resting all his weight on one arm while snaking his other between us. His fingers brush my clit and I start, pleasure spiking. He rubs again and again, driving those spikes, closer and closer together until they become one.

One pinch… and I’m launched. The desire in his eyes makes them impossibly dark, like the night sky, but that’s not all that in them. I swear I see love for the brief second before I can no longer keep them open as pleasure swamps me. The French call it the little death and for the first time, I understand the meaning why. I lose track of almost everything except for the feel of him as he explodes in me. Condom forgotten but that’s a discussion for another day since I’m covered birth control wise.

I feel him gather me closer as he rolls us onto our side while still inside me. His murmurings wash over me, but I’m too far gone to understand them as I succumb to the overwhelming tiredness.