Chapter 21
MIKE
Lyssa fell asleep on my chest. I left her there as long as I could before my arms started getting pins and needles.
Surrendering the battle but not the war, I gently rolled her to her side before tugging her back into my arms so we could share my stacked pillows. Other than her deep breathing and the hoot of a morepork somewhere outside, the night was silent. It wasn’t long before I followed her to sleep.
Unfortunately, I woke multiple times in the night, suffocating on her hair. Her long brown strands went everywhere, multiplying.
I didn’t care. I pulled her closer.
At some point during the night she must have gotten up, because the light of early dawn illuminated a shiny little slip she hadn’t fallen asleep in, and she was nestled in a fort of pillows I recognized from my guest bedroom.
At four a.m., I got up and showered, as usual.
But I didn’t have to be anywhere until later, so I got back into bed with her after.
Lyssa didn’t wake as I tugged her back into my arms. Her ass was cradled by my thighs, and she slept on soundly, despite my dick digging into her lower back like a heat-seeking missile.
I knew the heat it wanted, but it was too soon—she’d be too sore.
But when she stretched and wiggled, adjusting herself so my cock was pressing against her ass, that resolution became a little foggy.
Gently, I lifted a mass of her hair and pressed soft kisses down her neck.
Her sleepy moan made my dick throb. I wanted to lick more of those moans out of her.
I wanted to suck on her pretty nipples and lick a path down her body to taste the pussy she’d let me drill last night.
I’d kiss it all better, kiss until she was screaming and her knees were clamping around my head.
And my horny imaginings didn’t stop there.
I wanted her to come on my tongue, and then I’d flip her over and lick the tight little hole she’d been so sweetly self-conscious about last night.
I knew she’d be shy about it again this morning.
Maybe she’d give a half-hearted protest we both knew she didn’t mean, but she’d be into it, and the thought made my gut swoop.
Once she was good and worked up, she’d be holding her ass cheeks open for me, begging me for more.
I’d happily oblige. I’d slide my cock into her cunt at the same time I put my thumb in her ass, and if I was lucky, she’d come like that, and I’d feel her tightening around both my cock and my thumb at the same time.
I grunted then, my cock made painfully hard from the feel of the soft, sexy woman in my arms and the scene playing out in my head.
Lyssa made a matching little sound in her throat then. Suddenly, I realized all the wiggling she was doing wasn’t unconscious at all.
“Good morning, Princess,” I said into her ear.
She shivered. “Morning.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” She arched her body, stretching, and I couldn’t help it, I thrust forward, nudging the pretty split of her ass.
I’d put on some black briefs after my shower because I hadn’t wanted to risk her rolling over and opening her eyes to my unrestrained morning dick, in case she never let me put it inside her ever again.
Now, spooning her, I was grateful for the fabric preventing me from sliding between her thighs and rutting like a fucking animal.
She had no idea of all the things I wanted to do to her.
Well, maybe some, if the way she was moaning and pressing back against me was any indication.
“Girl, we should get up. And you’ll be sore.”
She ignored me and reached down to tug the shiny fabric of her slip up over her hips so it bunched around her waist. She’d put on a nightgown but not underwear, and the fabric sliding over her bare flesh, revealing her softness bit by bit, was beautiful agony.
“You’re so hard,” she whispered. “Can you orgasm from rubbing against me, just like that?”
Right now, I could probably come just from her whispering to me.
My grunt was affirmative.
“Do it.”
With a growl, I reached around and cupped her pussy, tugging her tightly against my body.
She squeaked in surprise and then shuddered.
My princess was wet for me already, and my fingers slid easily against her clit.
I rubbed her the way she’d liked last night, but gently.
I was prepared to spend a while at it, gently petting her and telling her how good she was.
But when I reached up and wrapped my other hand around her throat—not with any pressure, just enough that I could keep her out of her head if I needed to—she detonated.
Lyssa clutched my hand as she trembled, coming for me like she’d been doing it for years.
“Good girl,” I panted into her neck, before dropping a soft kiss there. “Look at you.”
Lyssa twisted around and stared up at me, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. Seeing that, my ego grew three sizes—some would say that took it to a dangerous mass, but they could get fucked.
I withdrew my fingers and after a split second’s hesitation, which horniness overrode, I brought them to her lips so she could taste herself.
She licked eagerly, which did a number on me.
I gave in to temptation and gripped her hips to grind on her like a horny boy at his first school disco.
My hips rocked as hers rolled, and in no time at all, I was coming with a groan, making a mess of my briefs and dampening her ass.
I held her tightly, waiting for my heart to slow.
Lying in bed while my cum dried on my briefs wasn’t high on my list of pleasing experiences, but I still asked, “Do you want to use the shower first?”
My water bill was going to be a nightmare this month. I didn’t care.
“Can’t we shower together?”
“Not without one of us cracking a skull. I’m a lot of man, Princess, and both of us won’t fit in there. But I like how you think, ya horny little goat.” I slapped her ass affectionately. “Get in the shower.”
* * *
I’d worried that sex with Lyssa would ruin my focus, but it was the opposite. When we left the house later that morning, I was sharp as a tack and in a great mood. Could’ve whistled.
We drove to Levitate in separate cars. I was due at the Tararua Rural Entrepreneurs Association meeting at midday, and Lyssa was heading out to Cilla’s. I knew she’d be dying to see Caroline, but she and Chase were out with Dad today, due back this afternoon.
I’d be lying if I said the thought of their reunion didn’t make me sweat. Lyssa wasn’t known for keeping secrets—she livestreamed literally everything. But she’d promised not to say anything that would give us away, and I trusted her.
Aroha was on the coffee machine this morning, but yielded the machine to me and took her break when I arrived.
I made Lyssa and I flat whites, while Lyssa leaned against the counter, twirling her scarf through her fingers, confessing her cat’s habit of sneaking in her neighbor’s window and stealing socks. She was bubbly, luminous.
I was a goner.
There weren’t any customers and Aroha was smoking out the back, so I felt brave enough to steal a kiss.
Coffee in hand, Lyssa headed out. She indicated for three full seconds before pulling onto the road, the position of her rental car precise in the left lane, but I still watched until her car turned the corner and disappeared.
I was trying to be relaxed about her driving in Woodville, but it was always going to make my heart pump faster.
My own drive to Woodville School, where the Association was meeting, only took ten minutes. I was early, so I sat in the parking lot with the laptop I’d borrowed from my cousin Tessa propped against the steering wheel, rehearsing my slides.
Back at the café, Lyssa had asked if I wanted to practice my pitch with her, but if she was holding eye contact with me for more than three seconds, I was likely to forget what the fuck I was talking about. Better for me to practice solo.
Exhaling slowly, I made myself focus. I needed the Association to give me enough start-up money to make Mike’s Place a reality. This was it. My shot.
I told my reflection in the rearview mirror that I was a charming motherfucker, as brainy as I was sexy; and then it was time to shine.
The sound of the double doors to the hall swinging on their hinges brought back all sorts of memories. Good ones, like being in school assemblies and watching the kapa haka group perform, and bad ones, like end-of-year exams.
The brown linoleum under my feet had the boundary lines of both a basketball court and a netball court.
This hall was used for everything: school assemblies, exams, sports when it was too wet out, every school ball and dance, theater productions.
On weekends, it was available as a meeting space for local groups and clubs for a donation to the school’s outdoor turf fundraising effort.
For as long as I could remember, the school had been fundraising for it.
We were only about 20 percent of the way there, which might have bought us half a turf ten years ago but would barely buy one hockey stick now.
High up on the walls were the listed names of ANZAC soldiers and the honor roll of students who got dux or other awards. Tessa’s name was up there somewhere. Mine and Caroline’s definitely weren’t: She’d been busy dancing or flirting; I’d been busy fighting or fucking.
There was a row of chairs in a half-moon shape near the front of the hall, below the stage, where members of the Association were seated. Two of them held takeaway Levitate cups, I noticed.
“All right, Mike, mate?” Hodges asked from his seat in the center of the half circle.
“Absolutely.” I gave him a thumbs-up. “Stoked to be here.”
I took the empty seat next to Martin Shailor-Chapman. Monica sat on the other side of her husband—it occurred that this was one of the few times in the last five years I’d seen her without a small child.