Chapter Thirty - Mirabelle
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mirabelle
WE WENT TO a small local bar last night with Andrew and Wilson to play darts, and I wish we’d gone back there tonight instead of this trendy bar. It was easier to talk, and Henry was more relaxed. The guys on the team were excited they had a weekend off and Henry’s birthday fell on Saturday night. Henry didn’t want to kill the enthusiasm so he agreed we would all go out to celebrate.
Henry has his arm draped over the back of my chair as he and Wilson debate which past NFL team should have won the Super Bowl but didn’t. I’m having fun people watching with my drink because I feel like I never get to see any of these guys outside of the stadium, and it’s entertaining to watch them decide which girls to go up to.
Andrew nudges me with his elbow, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. “God, is this what you feel like living with them?” he asks, and I grin.
“Yes.”
“I would think they spend enough time talking about football, they wouldn’t want to do it at bars,” he jokes, before nodding his head in Quinn’s direction where he’s chatting with a pretty girl. “Mackie has the right idea.”
“You could go find a pretty girl to talk to,” I say, and he gives me a perfectly slanted smile.
I know I’m in love with his best friend, but I’m also not blind. Andrew’s nice to look at with his perfectly coiffed blond hair and striking eyes. Factoring in his height and charming smile, he’s the total package if you’re into blond men—which I’m not. I prefer dark hair and tattoos, but I can still appreciate Andrew’s handsomeness. What is it about me that’s doomed to spend all my time with men who look like they belong in a Calvin Klein advertisement? Actually, I wonder if Stacey would be on board with the guys on the team posing for a sexy calendar and donating the proceeds to charity?
I take a sip of my second vodka cranberry, feeling a happy buzz already.
“I’m already talking to a pretty girl.”
Again, I can still be totally in love with Henry and be flattered that his hot best friend thinks I’m pretty. “You’re sweet,” I say, my cheeks flushing. Andrew leans closer to me to whisper in my ear, and my curiosity is piqued.
“I have a theory I want to test. Are you in?” he asks, leaning back with the same playful smile on his face.
I nod my head, interested to see where this is going to go, and Andrew stands up from his seat, drawing both Wilson and Henry’s attention.
“Are you getting another round?” Henry asks and Andrew holds out his hand to me instead.
“Nope. I’m asking a pretty girl to dance with me. Mira, want to dance?” I blink in surprise at him, but he winks back at me. What exactly is this theory of his?
“Yeah, that definitely sounds more fun than debating the 1998 Cyclones and the 2007 Serpents,” I say, standing up to slide out of my chair. Henry catches my wrist, stopping me.
“Que fais-tu?” 31 he asks, and I shrug, because I’m not sure what Andrew has up his sleeve.
“Je dance,” 32 I answer simply, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “J’ai hate de t’offrir ton cadeau.” 33
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” 34 Henry asks, raising his eyebrows, dropping my wrist.
“Viens me retrouver plus tard pour que je te le donne,” 35 I tease, winking at him. My plan is to bring the birthday boy to his knees figuratively, and be on mine literally. I guess that all depends on when— or where —he finds me.
I take Andrew’s hand, letting him lead me to the dance floor, and I’m keenly aware of Henry watching every move we make. His crystal eyes are sparkling mischievously, and I wonder if I should be worried. “So do I get to know your theory?”
Andrew spins me, the unexpectedness of it causing me to laugh. “While you’re beautiful, you’re also off-limits in more than one way, but I’m trying to see how long it takes Henry to come over here and interrupt. I figured he’d have a better reaction to me asking you to dance than Mackie,” he explains, and Andrew rotates us to where I can see Quinn watching us too. “Do you know how to salsa?”
“I was a gymnast, not a dancer. I can follow if you lead, but Andrew, we’re literally in the middle of a trendy bar, and this is the wrong music,” I point out as he positions me how he needs me. “How do you know how to salsa?”
“Honestly? My high school football coach made all of us sign up for dance classes, and salsa sounded a lot more fun than ballet. I ended up losing my virginity to my dance partner after we won a competition,” he says sheepishly, before slowly walking me through it.
“Don’t look at our feet, but count in your head,” Andrew instructs, moving us a little faster. “You’re light on your feet.”
“Had to be,” I say, noting the faster we go, the easier it is to follow. “So what’s your plan if he doesn’t come over here and interrupt?”
“I think you seriously underestimate the effect you have on a room, Mirabelle,” he says, pulling me closer as I relax and follow Andrew’s lead.
I roll my eyes because that’s ridiculous. “Okay, then explain your comment about Quinn. He’s been talking to that girl all night,” I point out, and Andrew twirls me, dipping me after.
“He has been talking to her, but he’s been watching you all night. I would have put money on Mackie coming over to ask you to dance the second Henry got up to get you another drink. What did you tell him when he asked you out last week? I never did hear.”
“How do you know about that?” I ask, my feet stumbling underneath me. I didn’t even tell JJ about that, so how does Andrew know?
“Wilson told Henry about it,” he says, and I had no idea Henry knew.
“He didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“Hence, my theory tonight.” Andrew chuckles, but I can tell he’s waiting for my answer.
“I told Quinn no.” I wouldn’t do that to Henry. My life would probably be a lot easier if I could.
He smiles again before looking to see who predictably appeared by our side. Henry has a smile painted on, but it sure doesn’t reach his eyes. Oh fuck, I just thought we were going to mess with him, not piss him off on his birthday. “I was starting to wonder what was taking you so long,” Andrew says. He’s poking the bear—big time.
I choke on my laugh, shaking my head as Henry rolls his eyes. “Go find your own girlfriend, she’s mine,” Henry says, and instead of getting irritated he’s going all caveman again after yesterday’s argument, I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
“Thanks for the dance, Andrew,” I say, leaning up to press my lips in a chaste kiss on Andrew’s cheek.
He laughs, a booming sound from his chest. “I think I like you. I hope you’re planning on sticking around,” he says and I move closer to Henry, slipping my hand into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Not planning on going anywhere.”
“Andrew, you can go somewhere else now. Literally anywhere but right here,” Henry says and I’m trying not to read too much into this. He’s jealous. I mean, I know he was jealous of Quinn, but to be jealous of his best friend? Maybe I’m just too far gone at this point, or Henry might actually have feelings for me. Is that insane to think?
I look up at Henry, beaming like a ray of fucking sunshine. “You’re jealous,” I tease, and Henry looks down at me, his eyes scanning my face before landing on my mouth.
“Damn straight I’m jealous,” Henry grumbles, leaning down to kiss me. His hand slides up my neck to the curve of my jaw, the feeling of his touch forever imprinted on my soul. Henry brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and I hold my breath waiting to see what he does next. I hope he kisses me. “These are mine,” he says, looking me in the eye so I can see how serious he is.
“Okay,” I agree. I’d agree to anything Henry says right now. Actually, that’s not much different from usual, but I feel a lot less argumentative.
“Mine to kiss, mine to touch, and mine to fuck .”
Oh my god, thank you Andrew for testing your theory so I get to see this side of him. The expression on his face tells me this isn’t Henry putting on an act for everyone else in the room. “Then I guess you better kiss me.”
Henry doesn’t need to be told twice, pressing his lips roughly to mine. This kiss is possessive and greedy, taking everything I have to give, and then more. I love him. I want more. Henry sucks my lower lip into his mouth and I moan quietly, feeling this kiss throughout my entire body. He pulls away, sliding his fingers through my hair. “You said something about a birthday present?” he asks, pressing another short kiss that isn’t helping my brain function any better.
“Having a birthday party without the birthday boy makes this just a party,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“It’s my birthday, and I’d rather be with you than talking to anyone here,” Henry answers, and my heart explodes into fireworks inside my chest.
There’s a wolf whistle near us and I turn to see Henry’s teammate, Tyler, wagging his eyebrows at us. “Get a room, guys.”
“That’s the plan,” Henry calls back, smirking at him, whereas Andrew gives me a thumbs up. Don’t read too much into this.
“I think I like your friends,” I add, following Henry back to the table.
“I think I like them better when they’re not dancing with you.”
~
I almost wish I’d had a third drink for extra courage before we left.
The tension in the air is thick as Henry tosses his keys onto the table by the door, and I swallow the lump in my throat. But then he looks at me, and I forget all my anxiety about doing the right thing, saying the right thing, and whether I will be enough.
All of it disappears into thin air because Henry is looking at me like I’m the answer to his goddamn prayers.
We’re a collision waiting to happen, staring at each other to see who is going to make the first move.
Keeping my eyes locked on Henry’s, I move to undo the strap of my stiletto, but he shakes his head. “Keep them on, please,” he says roughly.
“It’s your birthday, whatever you want,” I say, straightening.
I’m not sure who takes the first step, but the space between us shatters when we crash together. Henry’s hands are all over me, refusing to leave a single part unmarked. My gold dress falls to the ground, leaving me in my white lace lingerie as I fumble with his shirt, trying to push it up so I can feel his skin pressed against mine in the best way.
“Unreal,” Henry mumbles against my lips, as he grips my hip tightly.
“Take it off,” I say, dragging my nails gently over the defined ridges of his abdomen. He’s flawless. Henry’s fucking perfect.
Henry pulls back and I hate the loss of his body against me, but the sight I’m rewarded with makes it a little more bearable. “So much better than through a screen,” I say, chuckling as I step closer, resting my hands on him again. He inhales, placing his hands on my lower back to pull me flush against him again. I can feel how hard he is through his clothes, and I think this is better than I ever could have imagined.
“Way better,” he agrees, his mouth turning upward as I run my hand over his chest decorated in ink before sliding both hands around the back of his neck.
“Happy birthday, Henry,” I say, and his face softens.
“Thanks, mon c?ur ,” Henry says, kissing me sweetly. It’s slow, contradicting the rapid heart rate in my chest, but it feels right. It feels like we’re getting to know each other differently than we have during any of the times we’ve kissed before. He pulls back, cupping my jaw, and I’m impressed by his control, because I’m ready to jump Henry’s bones, or I guess, just one in particular.
His hazel eyes rove over my face, drinking me in like a fine wine, savoring every note. “Kiss me,” I whisper, a quiet plea for more.
I can feel the calluses of his hand on my cheek, and my breathing is labored as I maintain some of the most intimate eye contact I’ve ever had. “Je vais t’embrasser, mais je veux d’abord te regarder,” 36 he says, and I melt. Whatever he wants, that’s what I agreed to.
Henry presses his lips against my forehead, my temple, the tip of my nose. My eyes flutter shut, and he places featherlight kisses on both lids and along the curve of my jaw.
I twist my fingers into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, trying to hide how they’re trembling with need, doing my best to hold still. My heart is betraying me, and I’d be shocked if Henry doesn’t hear it.
And finally, fucking finally, I feel the ghost of his touch brush over my lips.
“Beautiful,” Henry says, hovering. “Absolutely beautiful.”
The next time our lips meet, his control snaps, kissing me. Yes . Controlled Henry is beyond hot, but unrestrained Henry? I’d let him do anything he wanted.
He slides his hands over my ass, smoothly lifting me as I hook my legs around his waist without skipping a beat, my heels digging into his back. I groan, opening my mouth to Henry so his tongue strokes mine. Oh my god. Is this supposed to be as all-consuming as it feels? I pull away as he grips the back of my thighs, wanting to look at Henry.
Henry’s pupils are dilated, his swollen lips glossy from kissing me, and I press my lips again to his cheek. “Let’s go upstairs,” I mumble, angling my head to kiss the sensitive skin of his throat.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he struggles to say, slowly moving toward the stairs. I give Henry a taste of his own medicine, nipping gently at the same spot.
God, is he stupid? I know we don’t have to do anything, but I definitely want to.
“Henry?” I ask, dropping my head further down to kiss the beginnings of his tattoos on his shoulder.
He inhales raggedly, moving toward the stairs. “Yeah?”
“Shut up and let me give you your birthday present,” I say, and Henry starts to take the steps two at a time. I smile, angling my head the right way to press my mouth against the spot where his jaw meets his neck.
We barely get his bedroom door shut behind us before Henry’s lips are on mine, holding me against the door as he grinds his hips against my core in a way that makes my body sing for him.
Being with Henry feels like anything is possible. Everything feels like I’m falling in love all over again for the first time, and I can’t get enough of it. It’s extraordinary in the best way, and I don’t know how anything less than forever could be enough.
He lowers me to the ground, bracing himself over me as we both breathe heavily. He cups my breast covered in detailed lace, his gaze filled with wonder. “Is this my present? You wearing this pretty little outfit for me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the underwire, and I smile. I considered wearing my old Wonder Woman costume, but after taking his fascination with my heels into consideration, I decided to save the outfit for the future in case I need to pull out the big guns as a bargaining chip.
“It’s part of it,” I admit, pressing a hand to his strong chest to move him backward. “Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it,” he says, but I can practically see Henry’s mind spinning until it explodes as I lower myself carefully to my knees.
I unbutton his jeans, never taking my eyes off his as I tug them down over his muscular thighs. God, he’s a work of art. Every part of his body has been carefully honed for football, and it’s a masterpiece. “Step,” I instruct, taking the opportunity to be bold. As much as I enjoy Henry being in charge of these moments, I want to try this for the both of us. I want to make Henry feel as good as he makes me feel.
Henry lets me undress him, following every instruction until he stands in front of me in his birthday suit. His cock is fully erect, the head swollen and glistening with pre-cum as my mouth waters. Holy shit, the camera didn’t exaggerate his size the other night. I grasp the base, pumping a few times as Henry bites his lower lip, watching me. It’s hard, but the skin is soft as I drag my tongue along the vein underneath, a low groan rumbling from Henry as I close my mouth over the tip, swirling my tongue like it’s my favorite flavor of lollipop.
I am so turned on having this control over Henry right now—even while I’m on my knees, it’s electrifying.
“ Mirabelle ,” he hisses as I bob my head, taking him deeper into my mouth as my hand still wrapped around the length strokes in rhythm. It spurs me on further as my confidence grows, loving how the ecstasy on his face makes me feel. I suck until the need for air is greater than my desire to make Henry feel good, and I make use of the lubrication my spit provides as I take a moment to breathe.
“Does this feel good?”
Henry breathes out, a breathtaking grin forming. “Shit, mon c?ur . . . anything you do feels good.”
I feel the ache between my legs intensify, and I understand what Henry means when he says he enjoys making me feel good. “What do you like?” I ask, and Henry’s jaw tightens.
“Spit in your hand—it’ll help your hand move easier,” he says, his eyes gleaming.
That’ll be a first for me, but still, I do it, wrapping my hand around him again. Henry’s right; it is easier. He wraps his hand around mine, tightening my grip before helping me get him off. I lean forward, capturing the sensitive head between my lips to suck as he inhales sharply. “Perfect. You’re fucking perfect, Mira,” Henry says, looking at me through half-lidded eyes, slowing our hands. I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out with the praise. “I wish you could see how pretty you look right now with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock looking like an angel in white.”
I moan, rubbing my thighs together as I grab his thigh for stability so I don’t collapse on the floor. I force more of him into my mouth than before, hitting the back of my throat, and his hips jerk, causing me to pull off, coughing.
“Shit, are you okay? I’m sorry,” he apologizes as I blink back the tears that have formed in my eyes. Henry’s touch is gentle, brushing my hair out of my face as I inhale a few ragged breaths.
“I’m fine. Sorry for choking,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Henry cups my face, shaking his head. “I don’t care. Are you okay?”
I nod, smiling to reassure him. “I’m good. Actually, I have an idea . . .” I trail off, wondering how insane he’s going to think I am for this. I resume stroking Henry, making sure I haven’t made a complete disaster of this.
“What?”
“You said my lips were yours to fuck. I want you to fuck them,” I say, forcing the words out of my mouth before I can second-guess myself. Henry’s mouth falls open in disbelief.
“Are you sure?”
“Happy Birthday, Henry.” I open my mouth, and Henry rests his hands on the back of my head, looking at me with so much tenderness, it makes my heart beat faster in my chest as he slowly enters my mouth. He’s careful at first, trying to be gentle, but that’s not what I want. I grip his thigh tightly, silently communicating as I look up at him that it’s okay, as my other hand slips into my panties, feeling how drenched I am.
I’m prepared this time when he hits the back of my throat, moaning as I play with my clit. This is incredible. Better than I thought it would be. I close my mouth around him, moaning and Henry increases his pace, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Does it turn you on to have my cock in your mouth?” he asks, pushing and pulling my head to make himself feel good.
“You’re taking it like such a good girl,” Henry says through clenched teeth, his pace slowing to hold my head down, forcing past my gag reflex as my eyes water. He loosens his grip to massage my scalp, and I breathe in quickly through my nose as I hold the position. My jaw begins to ache, but I push it to the back of my mind as I squeeze his thigh, humming in ecstasy as I fuck myself with my fingers. “Are you okay to keep going?” he asks, and I moan my unintelligible response causing Henry to smile and wrap my hair around his fist.
There’s control in relinquishing control.
“I wish you could see how fucking beautiful you look drooling all over my cock after asking so nicely if I’ll fuck your sweet lips.”
He’s ruining me for anyone else, and he has no idea.
My fingers move faster, matching Henry’s urgency as his hips jerk erratically while I chase my peak. I’m not sure if Henry’s still speaking or if I’m moaning that uncontrollably, but I don’t dare close my eyes. I want to see everything.
“Mirabelle, I’m about to—” Henry tries to pull away, but instead, I pull him close to make him come in my mouth as his thighs shake under my touch before I let him go to fall apart myself. I come fast and hard, as Henry drops to the ground next to me, brushing my hair out of my face to press his lips to my forehead.
It feels almost perfect.
The only thing that would make this moment better, is if any of it were real.