Chapter 24 #2
The writing was sharp, confident, and unapologetic. Heat crawled up my neck the longer I read. I shifted on the couch, trying to adjust without being obvious, but my body was reacting and I wouldn’t be able to hide for long.
By the time the hero had the female main character bent over the balcony railing, the city lights glittering below while he took her hard from behind, I was half-hard and uncomfortably aware of every breath Shannon took beside me.
I glanced up, only to find she wasn’t reading at all.
Her mystery novel rested closed on her lap, and those grey eyes were fixed on me, dark and intent, watching me the whole time. A slow flush colored her cheeks.
“Is this what you read every night?” I asked, voice rougher than I intended.
“Most nights,” she said softly. “Yeah.”
I let out a low breath and gestured toward my lap, where the evidence was now impossible to hide. “Do you get this turned on while you read?”
Her gaze dropped, then lifted again, meeting mine without flinching. “Sometimes.”
The air between us thickened like it had after every game lately. But this time, there was no crowd roaring, no post-game adrenaline, no excuse to blame this on anything but the truth.
I wanted her.
She wanted me.
And we’d been circling this for weeks.
I set the book down. “Shannon.”
She swallowed. “Yeah?”
I reached over, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Can I kiss you?”
For a second I thought she might overthink it, but then she whispered, “Okay.”
That was all I needed.
I moved over her on the wide couch, one knee settling between hers, until she was lying back beneath me.
Her hands came up to my chest, not pushing away but curling into my shirt like she needed something to hold on to.
We were both breathing harder now, chests rising and falling in the same ragged rhythm.
I looked down into her eyes, close enough to see the flecks of blue in the grey, and something in my chest cracked open.
I couldn’t believe my life had led here—to this woman, this moment I didn’t deserve. The last few months were a living hell, but I didn’t regret a single thing that brought me right here, in her arms.
So I kissed her.
It started slow, almost careful, but the second her tongue brushed mine, the heat from the book roared to life between us. I deepened it, tasting her, chasing the little sounds she made when I sucked on her bottom lip.
In the scene I’d read, the hero had mapped her body with his hands first, slow and deliberate, so I did the same.
My palm skimmed down her side, over the curve of her waist, then back up under the hem of her dress. She shifted restlessly under me, her warm skin soft to the touch. When my fingers traced the edge of her panties, she shivered and arched into me.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” I murmured against her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her throat.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Thank god.”
We stayed on the couch longer than I planned—hands and mouths everywhere, learning each other the way we hadn’t before. This wasn’t so much chasing release as it was being in this moment together.
I undid the buttons on the front of her dress, tasting the swell of her breasts, while she worked my shirt open and explored my chest.
Every gasp, every whispered “yes,” every roll of her hips against mine wound me tighter.
But this couch was too small for the plans I had for her. I stood, scooping her up in one smooth motion. She let out a surprised laugh that turned into a moan when I kissed her again, carrying her down the hall to my bedroom. I kicked the door shut behind us and tossed her gently onto the bed.
She bounced once, dark hair fanned out across my cream sheets, lips swollen, eyes bright. I let my shirt fall to the floor, then climbed over her and reached for the zipper at her side until the dress slid away.
Maybe I should have seen it coming, but the sight of that same red lingerie set I’d seen dangling from a hedge weeks ago undid the last of my control. Red lace and sheer panels hugged her body like it was made for her—tiny bows at the hips, the bra pushing her breasts up so far, my mouth went dry.
“Fuck, Shannon,” I breathed.
She bit her lip, but the way her thighs pressed together told me she was as affected by this as I was. I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her panties and dragged them down slowly, then settled between her legs like I knew she loved.
Shannon’s breath hitched the second my mouth found her.
I took my time like the book described—long teasing licks, savoring the soft sounds she made when I circled her clit with my tongue.
Her fingers threaded through my hair, holding on as her hips rolled against my face.
I slid one finger insider her, then two, curling them while I sucked gently on that sensitive bundle of nerves.
“God, yes,” she gasped, thighs trembling around my ears.
She was so responsive, so wet already, and every moan went straight to my cock.
I could have stayed there for hours, memorizing exactly what pressure and rhythm made her back arch off the bed, but Shannon had other ideas. Her grip tightened in my hair, and she tugged me upward.
“Come here,” she breathed, pulling me up her body until our mouths crashed together again. I could taste her arousal mixed with the kiss, filthy and perfect.
Her hands fumbled between us, palming me through my pants before she worked the button and zipper open with impatient fingers.
I helped her shove the fabric down, kicking my pants and boxers the rest of the way off without breaking the kiss. Skin to skin now, my cock was heavy and aching against her thigh.
Still, we kept kissing, equal parts deep and messy and desperate and so full of longing I was about to break.
Shannon broke the kiss enough to whisper, “I want you.”
I pulled back slightly, bracing myself on my forearms so I could look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes blown wide with need, lips kiss-swollen. And she was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.
“You sure?” I asked, kissing along her neck, then sucking her nipples through the fabric of her bra.
She sucked in a breath, arching into my mouth, so I did it again to the other one, switching back and forth between the two.
“I’m sure.” She reached between us, wrapping her fingers around me and stroking once, twice, making my hips jerk into her hold. “I’m on birth control, but after everything you’ve been through, if you want a condom too, I understand. No more pregnancy scares for you.”
I swallowed hard.
For one, the idea of stopping long enough to find a condom felt impossible. But even more than that, her words unlocked something deeper. I looked down at her, spread out beneath me in that red lace, and the thought hit me with surprising clarity.
The idea of Shannon pregnant with my child wasn’t terrifying.
Not even close.
She already felt like family. Like she belonged in my world, in my bed, in my future.
So when the image of her belly round with my baby popped into my head, of her glowing and soft and carrying a piece of us, a fresh wave of heat went through me.
Shannon’s hand was still on my cock, working me over, so she felt the moment I got even harder. We both looked down at it, and a slow smile spread over Shannon’s face.
She let out a soft, surprised laugh that turned breathy when I rocked against her again. “Is this because I mentioned being pregnant? Do you like the idea of coming inside me bare? Filling me up with your seed?”
“Don’t say that word,” I growled against her neck as I got even harder in her hand. “That’s a weird word.”
She tossed her head back and laughed, then squeezed her hand around me. “Who knew Mikko Laaksonen had a breeding kink?”
I grinned down at her, brushing my nose against hers. “Only with you.”
Something shifted in her expression—warmer, softer, hungrier. She pulled me down into another kiss, legs wrapping around my waist. “Then what are you waiting for?”
That was all the permission I needed.
I pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the tight, perfect heat of her. Shannon’s nails dug into my shoulders as she took me, her head tipping back with a long, low moan. When I bottomed out we both stilled, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
“You feel incredible,” I whispered.
She rolled her hips, urging me to move. I started with deep, measured strokes that built gradually, finding the rhythm that made her gasp my name.
The red bra stayed on for a while longer until I couldn’t resist tugging the cups down so I could taste her breasts while I fucked her.
Every thrust drew new sounds from her, every kiss swallowed her moans.
We moved together like we’d been doing this for years and like it was brand new all at once—hands everywhere, bodies sliding, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room.
I flipped us so she was on top, watching her ride me with her hair wild around her shoulders, hands pinching those pierced nipples.
Then I moved her again to take her from behind, one hand braced beside hers on the headboard, the other reaching around to circle her clit until she came hard around me, crying out my name.
Only then did I let myself go, burying myself deep as I followed her over the edge.
We collapsed together in a sweaty, satisfied tangle, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns along her spine. The city hummed quietly beyond the windows, but in here it was only us—heartbeats slowing, breaths mingling.
Shannon pressed a kiss to my sternum and looked up, a small, sated smile curving her lips.
“Paljon onnea, rakas,” I murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “Happy birthday, beloved.”
She laughed softly. “Best one yet.”