Chapter 7
Seven
RHEA
“ T hat Dream Girl shit… it’s a fantasy to these other niggas. But it’s real as fuck for me.”
My head was spinning.
If I didn’t know better, I would swear it was the liquor, or worse, some sabotage orchestrated by the virtual stranger I was sitting across from.
It wasn’t.
It was just… a flood of understanding, wrapped in confusion, making it hard to completely think straight.
I wasn’t even supposed to be here.
Besides the high probability that this psychic mind-meld thing we had going on was going to end in chaos, Micah was a client at my soon-to-be new job.
A job it would be insane to sacrifice over a man.
“I think I’m going to go,” I said, standing up, and he immediately stood as well—several inches taller, many pounds of muscle heavier, with a fresh heavyweight title.
And yet… harmless to me.
Still, the suddenness of him being so close, looming over me, made me take an instinctual step back.
Shit, I’m scaring her.
“No.” I shook my head. “I told you already; I’m not afraid of you. Not physically, at least.”
His eyebrow lifted. “How then? Do you think I would?—”
“I don’t think anything, Micah,” I cut him off. “I know that you’re a highly sought-after, handsome, charming, rich athlete. One who is talking a very good game.”
“It’s not a game.”
“I know you don’t mean for it to be,” I assured him. “I just… I’ve had a man thinking about women he’d take a bullet for while I was riding his dick. A man’s deep devotion will never mean much to me when it doesn’t mean a fucking thing to him.”
“That’s a weak man.”
I shrugged. “I don’t disagree. I just don’t know if you’re any better.”
“Because you don’t know me yet. Can you give me that chance? You’ve been in my head, you know my intentions.”
His gaze stayed on mine.
Steady.
Please?
I burst out laughing, shaking my head. “Begging? Really ?”
“Hey.” He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “If that’s what it takes; I’ll get on my knees right here.”
To illustrate his point, he did drop down, right in front of me… which put his nose right in line with my pussy.
He tried to restrain himself.
Tried.
But he had to breathe. Maybe not as deep of an inhale as he took, but still.
Fuuuuck. Why did I do that to myself?
“Get up,” I said at the same time his big hands planted at the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer to his face. I felt the rush of air through the seat of my panties as he inhaled again, even deeper, felt the vibration of his audible groan of approval as his thumbs pressed into my skin, gripping me tighter. “ Micah ,” I gasped, reflexively gripping the short coils at the top of his head as a surge of desire rushed through me. “I… fuck, I have to go.”
His face tilted up, meeting my gaze.
Hands dropped.
Waiting.
“Then go.”
Not… permission.
Not really.
A challenge.
I scowled. “I should slap the shit out of you.”
That grin spread across his face again, even wider this time. “Do it.”
Please. Do it.
Not even a challenge, a fucking dare .
I let out a sharp breath, and… did it.
It landed sharp and loud, but Micah didn’t flinch.
He kept grinning.
Then, before I could do, or say, anything else, his palm cracked against my ass.
Hard.
I gasped, more out of shock than pain, but it did hurt like a bitch… and sent even more moisture between my thighs.
He chuckled, finally pushing himself up to his feet, his full height reminding me just how much space he took up. Not just physically—everywhere.
I need to get out of here.
After that little stunt, my body was craving the contact of his skin on mine, and I was not trying to indulge that.
Needed to not give in to it.
I turned, heading back inside like I was on a mission… I was on a mission.
“Rhea,” Micah called after me, but I kept moving, not turning around or stopping as I retraced my steps back through his house. “I know you’re not mad about that!”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d have to care about you for you to make me mad.”
“Damn,” he chuckled. “You’re saying you don’t give a fuck about me?”
I finally turned as I reached the front door. “Your words, not mine.”
His lips twisted in disbelief, and… shit.
Did I believe I didn’t give a fuck about him?
I mean, I didn’t know him, and yet… that mystifying, frustrating pull was still there, way deeper than simple sexual attraction or lust. Some confused, or confusing , part of me definitely wanted to stay, wanted to get close, wanted to… connect.
No, not connect.
Collide.
Micah could tell I was at war with myself in my head, and took advantage, giving me an innocent grin before he extended his arms, inviting me in for a hug.
“Why would I hug you right now?” I snapped, and he shrugged.
“It’s just a hug.”
Just a hug.
That’s all it was.
I could handle a hug.
I stepped into his arms.
Sank into his warmth, into his earthy-clean musk, into the drum of his heartbeat, into the solid, secure mass of him. His hands rested at the small of my back, respectful but… possessive.
I want you so fucking bad.
Shit.
I blinked.
Was that his thought, or my own?
I tipped my head back, meeting his gaze, trying to parse between the two.
Looked at his lips—full, soft.
I wanted to taste them.
Or… was it that he wanted to taste mine?
Fuck.
I pushed myself out of his head, completely, and still… my hands went up, fingers grazing the wiry coils of his beard to cup his face, pushing myself up on my toes to meet him.
What the fuck are you doing, Rhea?
That thought, for sure, was all my own… and I didn’t have an answer.
Just an insurmountable desire to have his lips on mine.
So I kissed him.
Soft, at first, uncertain… and then deeper, harder.
Sure.
Micah groaned low in his throat as he kissed me back, the sound rumbling in my chest as he pulled me even closer, hands sinking lower.
Grabbing my ass.
Pulling me closer, still, so I could feel his hardness pressing into my stomach. My fingers tightened in his beard, and he groaned again, a dangerous sound that shot straight between my thighs.
His tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting and exploring, snatching away my breath. I moaned into him, melting as his tongue stroked against mine.
Slow.
Deep.
Deliberate.
Savoring me.
“ Micah ,” I whined against his mouth, when he finally pulled back for us both to get much-needed air.
“I know,” he said, which… wasn’t possible, because I didn’t even know.
But then he was moving.
Hands gripping my ass, lifting me, pressing me against the door. Instinctively, I opened my legs, wrapping around his hips, and he settled there, right against my exposed panties.
I rocked against his dick, chasing the friction as heat and moisture pooled between my thighs.
Okay.
Maybe he did know.
But still…
“Micah… I can’t do this,” I murmured, even as my hips rolled against him.
He rested his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose something good,” he said, his voice low. “So if this isn’t what you want, say so.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
I need to feel you.
Him or me?
I didn’t know.
Micah’s grip on my ass tightened as his mouth dragged over my jaw, my throat, my collarbone—biting, tasting, teasing. With him touching me like this, it was impossible to stay out of his head, discern his thoughts from my own.
The need for each other was so, so very mutual I couldn’t tell if it was him aching to be inside of me or if I was just desperate for him to be there.
“You’ve gotta say it,” he told me. “Yes or no?”
I didn’t have to think.
Couldn’t think.
“Yes.”
“I‘ve got you,” he growled against my ear, fingers yanking my panties to the side. He pushed his sweats down just enough to free his dick, and then he was right there, teasing, stretching, pushing inside me with a slow, deep thrust.
Finally.
I choked on my next breath, eyelids fluttering closed as he thrust again, my nails biting into his back as he filled me, slow, deep, stealing the air from my lungs. Micah groaned, a low, ragged mix of restraint and reverence. I clenched around him as my body adjusted, taking all of him.
His head dipped, forehead pressed to mine, meeting my gaze.
I felt it before he did, the thread with all that patience and certainty and control he’d been holding onto… snapped.
Mine.
He pulled back.
Thrust again.
Deep.
Hard.
Perfect.
My moan broke into a cry, pleasure spiking through my body as he fucked me against the door, hips rolling into mine, lips brushing against every inch of skin he could reach.
His hands were all over the place—sliding up my waist, gripping my ass, snatching the cups of my bra down so he could caress through my dress.
His strokes were deep, steady, ruthless.
I felt him everywhere—his hands, his lips, his dick, his thoughts so tangled up with mine I didn’t know whose pleasure I was drowning in.
Mine?
His?
It didn’t matter.
His rhythm stuttered as I clenched around him, a sharp groan spilling from his lips, vibrating against my skin. “ Rhea…” His hand slid between us, fingers finding my clit, to tease, to play, to command my body to give in to what I was feeling.
What we were feeling.
Everything.
The slick, delicious grind of his dick on every deep stroke. The heat, softness of my pussy, the way it stretched, gripped him tightly. The pressure of his fingers, teasing, circling, pressing exactly where I needed.
Perfect.
Perfect.
So let go.
A cry broke from my throat as the building, coiling tension snapped. Even the first fringes of pleasure hit hard, overwhelming and all-consuming, my thighs shaking as I came. Micah cursed, his fingers digging into my thighs as his strokes turned desperate, sloppy, chasing release until he buried himself deep, spilling into me with a shuddering breath.
His forehead dropped to mine again, his hands still firm, like he wasn’t ready to let me go.
Our eyes met, and I… fuck.
I kissed him again.
Soft, slow, just my lips on his, tasting and lingering, letting the moment stretch while he was still inside me. Micah grunted against my mouth, one hand curling around the nape of my neck, holding me in place as he kissed me back.
Mine.
There it was again.
That thought I couldn’t decipher between mine or his.
What I did know, without a doubt… there was no coming back from this.