Chapter 21
I JUST WANNA MAKE LOVE TO YOU
MICK
On the way back to the flat–Michael’s flat–there was a strange tension between us.
Not an awkward silence, but tension. And I couldn’t say it was bad either.
Something was in the air between us, like we were both being held back by tightly wound strings that could snap at any time, and when they did, something spectacular would happen.
Conversation flowed between us, about nothing important, but not small talk. Michael would make a comment about a pub we passed, or I’d mention a move I’d done, and we just blathered on. All the while, something was building between us.
I was painfully aware of his body, and its closeness to mine.
On the tube, we both sat with our legs spread, and the motion of the carriage kept pushing our legs together.
Every time it happened, a zing of electricity shot straight to my groin.
It got so intense that I had to keep my legs together to both remove the chance of our knees touching, and to hide the stiffy I’d been sporting for the last half an hour.
Urges to place my hand on his thigh or wrap an arm around his shoulder drove me to distraction.
Heat filled my whole body, and I wasn’t sure if it was just being on the underground in summer or if it was the proximity to Michael.
On the surface, the cool summer breeze of the evening caressed my skin, but when Michael’s shoulder brushed mine as we walked, my blood ran hot again.
This man was making me lose my mind.
When we got into the flat–his flat–I barely managed to hold myself back from slamming him into the wall and thrusting my tongue down his throat.
I knew with absolute certainty that I was going to try it on with him tonight; it was just a case of when and how.
I wanted my attempt to be successful, so I had to be clever about it.
I was fairly certain Michael wanted me; I’d caught his lingering looks.
Somewhere in the back of my head, sensible Mick warned me I liked him for more than just sex.
He warned me that shagging while living together could make things complicated.
But it was very easy to ignore sensible Mick.
He didn’t show up often and he was usually drowned out by impulsive Mick, stupid Mick, and horny Mick.
Formulating a half-arsed plan, I hung up my jacket, loosened my tie, removed my cufflinks, and rolled up my sleeves. It wasn’t much, but a bit of skin on show was a good start, and I had nice forearms, firm and muscled from shifting furniture every day for ten years.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” Michael asked me. It was a British reflex to ask that question the minute you walked in the door.
“How about something stronger?”
His eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to work out a difficult algebra problem, but after a pause, he said, “Alright. Two G he copied the motion, and our bodies moved in perfect synchronicity.
Nuzzling my nose against his ear, I inhaled his exotic aftershave, the hint of his true scent mingling with the spicy fragrance.
My goal was in reach, and it would have been so easy to move an inch and take the kiss I wanted. But I needed to check something first.
I had to be sure this wasn’t just sex for him.
I didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t just carnal desire.
It was something more. It was friendship and affection, and feelings I couldn’t or wouldn’t put a name to.
How I’d be able to tell if any of that was true for him, I had no idea, but I had to try.
Keeping my hands on him, I leaned back a couple of inches and gazed into his eyes.
There it was. That thing I felt that I didn’t understand.
I saw it shining right back at me. Sparkling through the silver-blue was lust, fear, desire, and want.
Sensing my silent question, he answered by inclining his head a fraction of an inch.
Unlike last time, which was urgent and desperate, I wanted this to be slow and teasing. Lowering my mouth onto his, I kissed him softly, then again and again. Each time I pulled away, he made a tiny breathy moan that I silenced with another featherlight kiss on his satiny lips.
I pressed a little firmer and pushed his mouth apart with mine, sliding my tongue across the crevice and entering him.
Impatiently, he twirled his tongue around mine in an attempt to speed up the kiss, to make it more urgent.
But I wanted to take my time with him and broke away, causing him to whine with need.
Chuckling, I rubbed my cheek against his, relishing the feel of his stubble against my skin. Even at twenty-six, I only needed to shave once a week, twice at most. Michael had a delicious five o’clock shadow every night, and I’d dreamed about feeling the coarse texture over my skin again.
Little gasps escaped him, and I fucking loved being the reason for all those noises.
Taking his delicate earlobe into my mouth, I held it between my teeth, tugging on it the tiniest amount.
His fingers dug into my shoulders as another little whimper came out.
He was so responsive, so vocal. It was glorious.
Everyone likes to know they’re doing well, and each of his sexy sounds told me I was doing a bang up job.
Laving my tongue over his ear got his motor racing, and I logged that away for later–I sincerely hoped there’d be a later.
I didn’t want this to be a one-off, and I didn’t think he did either.
Running my hands through his soft hair, I let myself just enjoy everything about him, about being with him.
His smell, his sounds, the feel of him, all drove me wild.
He was putty in my hands, and it was so fucking intoxicating.
Even better though, I knew what came next.
I knew that when the time came, he would take what he wanted–what he needed–from me, and the combination was so sexy.
I never got to be in charge in bed, and I loved taking the lead with Michael, but I needed him to be a willing, active partner. What was the point otherwise?
He put his hands on my chest, manhandled me over to the couch, and straddled me.
Could he read my mind? No, he could just read me that well.
Kissing me with a fevered passion, he unbuttoned my shirt and yanked it off my body.
His hands came back to my chest, cupping and kneading my pectoral muscles. Fuck, why is that so sexy?
A pinch of pain followed by a whole lot of pleasure spread through me, starting at my nipples, where his expert fingers were squeezing and twisting them.
“Fuck, Michael, that feels so good. Why does that feel so good?”
With his mouth still on mine, he giggled, and the sound made my stomach flip and my dick twitch. Reaching around him, I grabbed his pert little bum, loving that I could fit his whole arse in my two hands. Dragging him forward thrust our dicks together, and the friction was so good.
“I need you naked,” I growled. Another adorable giggle fell from his lips. His hands went to his buttons, but I knocked them out of the way.
“No, I want to do that. You’re like a sexy birthday present.
Let me unwrap you.” I was talking complete bollocks, but he seemed to love it.
Not one to miss an opportunity, as I undid his shirt, I placed open mouthed kisses along his collarbone and neck.
Sliding the shirt over his shoulders, I took my time to run my hands down his back, loving the feel of his smooth, firm skin.
Arching into my touch as my hands reached his bum, he let out a filthy moan.
“You’re so pretty when you moan for me.” Pretty was probably a weird thing to call a bloke more than ten years older than me, but it was true.
He was beautiful. Mouthing over his throat, filling my senses with him, I couldn’t get enough of him.
In one swift movement, I rolled him over so he was sitting on the couch and knelt in front of him.
Catching his eye, I held his gaze as I opened his button, then his zip.
Arching his back, he lifted his bum off the couch, so I could slip his trousers down and off.
My hands ran up his legs that were dappled with fine dark hairs, reached up his thighs, and then inched his underwear down his body.
Tracing my fingers back up his legs, slower this time, I finally broke eye contact with him to bury my face in the soft curls at the base of his dick.