CHAPTER 7 Millie Monroe #2
Condoms of all shapes, sizes, types, and flavors.
There must be twenty of them in there. A sampling of different lubricants, one flavored, one that’s warming.
A few different types of massage oils. And then there are the toys—all in brand-new packaging.
A vibrating cock ring. A blindfold and silk ties.
A bullet vibrator. Something that looks like a giant ruby red ring.
I pick that one up and glance up at Archer with a clear question in the quirk of my brows.
“Butt plug,” he says.
Why my pussy literally clenches at the thought of that, I may never know. Or maybe we’ll plow through this assortment in one night. A girl can hope—except for the twenty condoms. That might be excessive for one night.
“Do you…uh—” I begin, not sure where I’m going with this.
“Use toys?” he supplies.
“Well, yeah.”
“I mean, when you’ve got the right equipment, you don’t need them,” he says, and he sets his hand over his cock and pulls up with a smirk on his face. “But I’ve found they can also enhance the fun. You?”
“I haven’t.”
“Mind if I ask how many men you’ve been with?” he asks quietly.
“Two. Is that important to you?”
“No.” He presses his lips together. “But you’ve got me beat.”
My brows might fly off my forehead at that admission. “Really?”
“I was in a long-term relationship with the same person since college, but I knew her for years before we got together—I guess I was just too busy to make my move earlier.”
“And before that?” I ask.
“I was focused on sports and studies.” He shrugs.
Right. He doesn’t know I know he’s a professional baseball player, but I imagine the love of the game started young. I’d venture to guess that it’s pretty much his entire life, and he hasn’t had much time for cultivating new relationships.
“When did that end?”
“Five months ago.”
“And you haven’t been with anybody since?” I ask, shock settling over me.
“I haven’t wanted to be with anybody until a gorgeous woman slid into my booth for four for one earlier this evening.”
My heart melts a little at that. It might just be a line, but even if it is, I don’t care. It works.
I take the basket from his hands, rifle through the condoms, and choose two ultra-thin ones. I hold them up. “XL?” I ask a little overly hopefully.
He chuckles, but he does grab the XL from my fingertips.
“Thank you, Lord,” I mutter. I set the regular-sized one back in the basket, and I grab a bottle of lube, too—I’m probably as wet as the pool downstairs, but if he wants to give that ruby plug a try, who am I to say no? I pick that up too with a shrug. “Just in case.”
He chuckles, and he sets the items in my hands on the coffee table. I guess we’re doing this right here.
Instead of kissing me this time, he reaches for my shirt, pulls it over my head, and tosses it to the floor. He flicks the strap of my bra, and if he’s not some sort of sex expert, he’s got me fooled.
I reach for his shirt, too, and when I pull it off, I’m met with abs that are carved out of heaven and perfection.
Holy hell. This man is freaking stacked.
I run my fingertips along his abdomen in complete and total awe. I’ve seen six-packs before, you know, on book covers or on TV. But never in person, and never one that seems to have a few extras. He’s literal perfection.
He’s watching me with intent as I trace each muscle there in the pack, and then it appears it’s his turn.
He reaches out for me, and he slides his palms along my torso, up my ribcage, and to my breasts.
He palms them both, his rough hands rubbing along my already hard nipples in the process as he massages them.
He tweaks my nipple between his thumb and the side of his forefinger, and between running my hands along his muscled body and the feel of his hands on my nipples, I’m about to combust right here.
A brutal ache presses between my thighs as my body seems to clench everywhere all at once.
I’m panting, breathless, and I close my eyes and lean my head back only to be surprised when I feel his mouth covering one of my nipples.
He sucks on it, running his tongue over the tip a few times before sucking again, baring his teeth just a little before sucking again.
He pulses an ache and then soothes it, pulses another ache only to soothe it again.
He switches sides, giving my other breast some attention, massaging the first one, and I feel like my entire body is igniting with a fiery need.
Fire flows through my veins, fire for this man, an inferno of need.
I moan as he continues working my nipples, and I reach down to run my hand along the hardened outline, attempting to tent the stiff, unforgiving fabric of his shorts.
He groans at the feel of my hand, and as much as I want to let him suck on my tits for the rest of the night, I also need to feel him moving inside me like I need to take my next breath.
I don’t know that I’ve ever held this amount of anticipation for sex before.
“Archer?” I ask, my voice loud in the quiet room.
He lets go of my nipple with a pop and looks up at me. “Hm?”
“I need you to fuck me right now.”
His eyes darken again, and he wastes no time in working the button and zipper of my jeans and dragging them down my legs along with my panties.
I kick off my shoes before he gets to the bottom, and then I fumble a bit with the button on his shorts.
He bats my hand out of the way and takes over, and he’s out of his shorts and boxer briefs in a few seconds.
When he straightens, my eyes go right to his cock.
Oh. Wow. “Whoa.”
He raises a brow.
“Arch, my God. Wow. That’s not going to, uh—that’s big.”
Without warning, he cups my pussy with his hand before he slips a finger right inside me. “It’ll fit.”
My chest tightens with nerves. I’ve never been with someone who wore XLs, okay? It’s always been the regular size. But Archer Bradley wears the largest condom size because his dick is fucking huge.
He eases his finger in and out of me. “Baby, we have lube, but you don’t need it. Your cunt is soaked.”
He called me baby. Oh my God, Archer Bradley just called me baby while he’s fingering me.
Maybe he forgot my name, but I’m pretending it’s a term of endearment because he’s so in the moment it’s the intimate word that slipped out.
I try not to make a big deal out of it, but fuck, it’s a big deal.
My legs start to tremble. I think I’m going to come.
Oh, God, this is so embarrassing. Just seeing him naked and feeling his rough fingers moving in and out of me, God, it feels so good.
“That feels so good,” I cry, my words probably dumb in this moment, but self-consciousness has been delightfully drowned by the Aperol and prosecco, thankfully. Instead of worrying about how I sound or what I’m doing, I’m focused on the feel of his fingers.
“Yes, baby. Give it to me.” He moves his mouth back to my nipple while he continues fingering me. “Give me your cum,” he says between suckles. “I want to feel you drench my fingers so I can slide my cock in next.” He pulls his finger out to rub my clit before he slides it back inside me.
Oh, Jesus. He’s a dirty talker too?
I reach down for his cock so I can fist him and give him a hand job while he gives me all this pleasure, but he backs out of the way.
“We have plenty of time for me. This is about you. Watching you fall apart like this, fuck, if you touch me right now, I’ll come all over your hand. Fucking hell, baby, it’s already leaking out of me.” I glance down and see a drip of cum as it falls out of him and onto the floor.
Oh, God. That does it.
I fall apart under him, my body convulsing as he continues driving his finger in and out of me, his mouth clamped down tightly on my nipple as I ride out wave after wave of pleasure, panting through my orgasm senselessly as I string together barely coherent words.
“Oh, yes, Archer, God yes, fucking yes, yes!”
Eventually the grip of pleasure starts to slow, and I feel like I’m going to collapse. He holds me steady, though, and helps me over to the lounger section of the couch, where he lays me down and lies beside me.
He allows me to catch my breath with a few moments of recovery, and eventually, I’m able to form words again.
“Have I died and gone to heaven?” I ask.
“No. Just Paradise, baby. Now put your knees on the couch and put your palms on my window so I can look at your fingerprints tomorrow and jerk off as I remember how good it felt to fuck you.”
The command is all I need to hear to move into the position as requested.
And then I wait.