31. Mia #2
I both didn’t want to ask—and also did. “What’s that?”
“We could flip the mattress.”
That made me laugh. “I never, ever want to do that again.
He was in complete agreement. “That thing had to weigh several tons.”
“I felt bad asking you to help,” I admitted.
“You shouldn’t have. I was glad you came to me.” He hesitated. “I wanted to impress the cute new girl and show her I could flip a mattress or slay a dragon for her, but I swear the dragon might have been easier.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Probably. But we did it.”
“Yep. And then we landed on it.”
“You landed on me.”
“Yes,” Aaron said slowly. “I remember that part very well.”
I hesitated, but the fact that it was mostly dark and we were under the covers gave me courage. “Were you going to kiss me?”
“Yes,” he said, and it sent a thrill through me, even though he had kissed me since then. “At least until Raymond interrupted. That guy is a waste of space.”
“He’s not so bad,” I said, surprising both of us.
“Since when?”
“Since...” I thought about it quickly. “Last Thursday.”
“When you were still sick?”
“Yes.”
“All right, well, I’ll take your word for it, but I’m still pissed that he interrupted us.”
“Maybe it was for the best. Because when we did have our first kiss, it was in the most magical place in the world.”
He snorted. “Squashed behind a mirror?”
“Exactly,” I giggled, scooting a couple of inches toward him.
Aaron reached out and stroked my hair, pushing it away from my forehead. I lifted my head and settled it back on top of his arm.
Now we were touching.
“Okay, if I can’t be mad at Raymond, can I be mad at Cousin Dan?”
“Well, if he hadn’t been horny, we wouldn’t have been behind that mirror in the first place.”
“All right, you’re right.”
“The situation may have been messed up, but I thought the kiss was pretty damn good.”
“So did I,” I said quietly.
“And then…” He hesitated.
“What?”
“Well, I just… I was really surprised when you put my hand on you.”
He was being so purposefully vague, perhaps out of propriety’s sake, that it took me a moment to understand that he meant when I’d lifted his hand to my breast.
“Oh. Yeah. I was kind of surprised I did that too. But I didn’t want you to feel bad that you were turned on.”
Aaron’s arm tensed under my head. “So you only did that so I wouldn’t feel bad? You weren’t turned on by being pressed up against me?”
“Of course I was. My nipple was hard, remember?”
“Ah, good point. And yes, I remember that quite vividly. After that, Cousin Dan ceased to exist for me. It was all you.”
“Same here.”
I shifted closer again, wanting to feel his body—but not too close. I didn’t see how we could talk if our faces were right next to each other. But then again… there were other things I wanted to do with him besides talk.
“Those first two encounters were pretty awkward,” he admitted.
“They were. But this one doesn’t have to be.”
He stilled. “I just… I don’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable. Just because you agreed to stay in my bed doesn’t mean?—”
I reached out and put my index finger over his lips, stopping his words. “It means I want to be here with you. And that I want to spend the whole night with you. I trust you. I know you would never make me do anything I didn’t want to.”
“I’m glad.” He reached out, his hand trailing along my upper arm.
“I’m here because I want to be,” I said again. “So you don’t have to… I mean…”
His fingers trailed down the rest of my arm, and he caught my hand, squeezing it.
“You can tell me anything, Mia.” His voice was low and soft.
“You don’t have to hold back,” I said in a rush. My face heated, and I hoped he couldn’t see that in the low light. “I mean, I like that you’re kind and polite and a good friend, but you don’t always have to be a gentleman.”
“In bed, you mean,” he supplied, not sounding offended.
“Yes. Thank you for stopping my babbling.”
He sighed. “I want to touch you. And kiss you. I want to make you feel good. But you just have to promise me—if something’s not right, if you want to stop, you’ll tell me instantly.”
“I promise. But maybe you could agree that if I don’t tell you that—if I’m touching you and kissing you back, please don’t stop on my account. Because I don’t want you to. Unless you want to, I mean.”
Aaron sighed, laughing slightly. “We’re worse at talking about consent than Diego was at the welcome meeting.”
“Yeah, probably. But I think we’re on the same page. And… we’re in the same bed.” That fact made me more excited than nervous now.
“I’m glad we are.” He reached up and gently tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “May I kiss you now?”
His question stole my breath. I wanted that so much. “Yes.”
His hand cradled the side of my face, and then his lips met mine—soft at first, like a whisper.
I leaned into him, my fingers curling lightly at his waist. The kiss was soft at first. Unhurried.
Then it deepened, still gentle but more sure now.
His slid around me, pulling me closer until there was almost no space between us.
His hand moved to my hip, resting there. He didn’t rush anything, he just held me. My satin top shifted as I moved, the cool fabric brushing against his bare skin.
Hoping it was all right with him, I placed my hand against the wall of his chest. His heart beat steadily, if perhaps a bit fast, under my palm.
When his hand slipped to my waist and paused there, his eyes searched mine—checking. Waiting.
I didn’t look away.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, his fingers tracing the hem of my cami where it met my skin.
“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely audible even in the quiet of the room.
His warm palm slid beneath the little satin top, coming to rest on my bare stomach. The contact sent a shiver through me, and I arched slightly into his touch. His fingers splayed across my skin, thumb tracing small circles just below my ribs.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured against my lips before kissing me again, deeper this time.
I ran my hands over his shoulders, marveling at the firm muscle beneath smooth skin. He felt so solid, so real under my touch. When his hand inched higher beneath my top, my breath caught.
“Still okay?” he asked, his voice husky and strained.
I nodded, then realized he might not see clearly in the dim light. “Very much so,” I whispered.
He cupped my breast, and I gasped softly at the sensation.
It felt entirely different now that it was his bare skin against mine.
When his thumb brushed across my nipple, I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped me.
He smiled against my lips, then rolled my sensitive nipple between his fingers.
Pleasure spiraled through me, making me press closer to him.
“You’re beautiful, Mia,” he said, his mouth moving to my neck, placing gentle kisses along my throat.
I explored his chest with tentative touches, tracing the contours of his pectorals, the ridges of his abs. His skin was hot beneath my fingertips, and I could feel his muscles tense and relax with each breath.
“That soft touch… it feels so damn good,” he whispered, his hand moving to my other breast, giving it the same attention.
Almost instinctively, I hooked my leg over his, drawing him closer. The thin fabric of my shorts and his pajama pants did little to hide how much he wanted me. His erection pressed against my thigh, making my heart race faster.
His hand slid down my stomach, fingers playing at the waistband of my shorts. “May I?” he asked, his eyes holding mine.
I nodded and found my voice. “Yes.”
His fingers dipped beneath the elastic, moving slowly, giving me time to change my mind. But I didn’t want him to stop. When his fingertips brushed against my slit, I gasped, my hips jerking slightly at the contact.
I hiked my leg higher up on his, giving him better access. He traced the length of my seam as I moaned.
“God, your skin is radiating heat.”
Before I could respond to that, his fingertip slid into my folds, gliding easily. “Hot and wet. You’re going to be the death of me, Mia,” he groaned.
My hips rolled in response to his touch, and I pushed against his hand, wanting more.
“Is this what you want?” He asked softly, circling my clit with gentle pressure.
“God, yes,” I whispered, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He continued working my clit, alternating between soft circles and firmer strokes. When he slipped a finger inside me, I moaned, burying my face against his neck.
“You’re so damn tight,” he murmured. “So damn perfect.”
He slid a second finger in, pushing them in a little more each time as the sounds of my ragged breathing filled the room. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building rapidly within me. A shuddering moan escaped my lips, my hips moving against his hand.
“That’s it,” he encouraged softly. “Let go for me, Mia.”
He knew just how to make that happen, rubbing my clit faster, fingers circling before pushing in again.
The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.
I cried out, my body shuddering against him as waves of pleasure washed over me.
He held me through it, his body absorbing my thrashing movements.
I cried out, my head against his shoulder, unable to catch my breath as I writhed around on the bed.
His fingers finally slowed when I was completely spent.
Aaron cradled me to him, stroking my hair and whispering soothing things that I could barely hear over my harsh breaths. But when my chest finally stopped heaving and my hips stopped bucking from aftershocks, he still held me.
Now that I was able to breathe—and think—again, I became aware that his erection was still pressed against me.
I shifted my leg, and I felt its hard heat through his soft pajama pants. Feeling suddenly bold, I slid my hand down his chest, over his stomach, until I reached the waistband of his pajama pants. “Can I... touch you?” I asked, my voice small but determined.
His breath hitched. “Only if you want to.”
“I do,” I said. It was true—but I had to find the courage to do so. I wasn’t very confident about my skills in this area. Or any area when it came to men.
Slowly, I slid my hand beneath the stretchy fabric. When I encountered the hard flesh of his cock, we both froze. Then, tentatively, I wrapped my fingers around it. He was hard and hot in my hand, and bigger than I was expecting. The skin surprisingly soft, but there was steel underneath it.
“Am I doing this right?” I asked, giving him an experimental stroke.
“God, yes,” he groaned, his hips pushing into my touch. “Just like that.”
Encouraged, I continued, varying my pressure and speed, watching his face for reactions. When I rubbed my thumb over the tip, spreading the moisture I found there, his eyes closed and his head fell back.
“Does that feel good?” I wanted to make sure even though he sounded like he was enjoying it.
“It’s perfect,” he assured me, his voice strained. “ You’re perfect.”
His breathing grew more ragged as I continued, and I felt a surge of confidence knowing I was making him feel good. Then his hand covered mine, guiding me to the rhythm he needed.
“Mia,” he warned, “I’m close.”
I increased my pace, and moments later he tensed, a low groan escaping him as he came. I stroked him through it, fascinated by the way his body responded to my touch.
Afterward, he pulled me close, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, his breathing still loud and harsh. “That was amazing,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against mine.
I nestled against him, feeling strangely powerful and vulnerable all at once. “It was,” I agreed softly.
We lay together in comfortable silence, our breathing gradually slowing. He pulled the blanket over us both, and I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“Still with me?” he murmured in the darkness.
I smiled against his skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”
We had the whole rest of the night. It seemed like a shame to waste it on sleep, but I felt it come. I felt utterly safe in his arms, more content than I could remember being in a long time.
I couldn’t imagine a more perfect beginning to the start of this week with such amazing men.