Chapter 7 #2
He’s nipping and licking and when the bunched-up lace rubs against the sensitive skin of my breast, I feel it everywhere.
My whole body is pulsing with need, thrumming with the desire to let go.
But I’m wound too tight. It’s been so long, things don’t feel the same as they used to.
Honestly, they feel better. I don’t know whether that has to do with the surgery I had or the fact that Mickey is taking very good care of me.
Okay, I do know. It’s Mickey. There’s no question. But I’m willfully turning off the part of my brain that recognizes his touch and craves it. She’s a wanton hussy who wants to drag Mickey up onto the couch and have her wicked way with him. So she’ll be sitting this round out, thankyouverymuch.
“How you doing, Viv?” Mickey asks, his voice a little raspy as he releases my breast. “Come to any conclusions yet?”
It takes my lust-addled brain a second to realize that Mickey is referring to the question that got us here in the first place. And the answer is a resounding yes. “What do you think?” I ask him, unable to hold back the smile that crosses my face.
“I think you like it, but you’re not begging yet. Guess I’m gonna have to work a little harder, huh?”
I hear myself gasp as he presses his thumbs to my nipples and draws tight circles.
My panties are already soaked, but when he flicks each tight tip, I cry out.
Damn, that feels good. It stings at first, but when he soothes the pain with his soft, pliant lips, I find myself needing more.
And I’m not going to be shy about asking for it.
“Again,” I plead. Mickey doesn’t say a word.
He just follows the damn directions and ohmyfuckinghellyes.
“God, don’t you dare fucking stop,” I say, not caring in the list that I probably sound demanding.
It fits. I am demanding, especially when it comes to keeping Mickey’s very talented lips on my body.
“No plans to stop, Viv,” he says, the words a little muffled. “Not even gonna start slowing down until long after you come for me.”
My hands tighten in his hair and he moans, going at me with even more enthusiasm.
I think he fucking likes it when I get a little bossy.
And I like it when he gets a little wild, a little messy.
His face is pressed between my breasts and when I cry out and tug at the straps, Mickey takes the hint and pulls my bra down until it’s circled around my waist like a belt.
“Holy fucking god,” he mutters, licking his lips as he looks his fill.
“They’re nice, right?” I ask. I’m not fishing for compliments, not really. Objectively speaking, my boobs look great. They’re firm and plump, but not overly large for my small frame. “I think Dr. Klauder did a really good job. I think—”
“I think you were perfect before, and you’re perfect now.”
The air stills for a second as Mickey’s words register in brain. They’re the sweet sort of words you say to a lover, the kind you whisper in the dark when you can’t get enough of each other.
That’s not what’s happening here, though. Mickey and I are only—
“So fucking perfect,” he murmurs, squeezing one breasts and tracing his tongue over the swell of the other.
And just like that, he’s back to worshipping my body, and I’m back to letting him.
I let my mind go blank as I give myself over to the sensations.
If I think too hard about anything right now, I’ll put a stop to this, and that’s not something I want to do.
I don’t want to overthink things, so I’m going to under-think them instead.
I’m going to put my body in charge of all major decisions for at least the next hour.
And if that means I wake up with a pile of regret in the morning, well, it won’t be the first time.
Mickey’s got my breasts pushed together, and he’s lavishing wet, hungry kisses on the soft, supple flesh.
My hands are holding his head steady, though it’s not like he’s going anywhere.
The man seems more than content right where he is, especially when I rock my body up into his.
My boobs have been getting all of his attention, and the rest of me is jealous.
“You need somethin’?” he asks, breathless. “Cause I’m busy right now, but I can take care of anything you need in just a little bit. I’m just gonna make you come a couple of times first, okay?”
My body melts against his. There’s no other way to describe it.
We’re fused together, but I manage to slip my hand between our bodies so that I can tug on the soft, stretchy waistband of my leggings.
Mickey takes the hint and offers assistance, but his lips never leave my breasts.
Damn, the man is talented, and soon enough I’m basically naked except for the scrap of lace between my legs and the bra around my waist. He’s muttering curses as his body rocks into mine.
He’s taking care of me, and it’s turning him on. God, that’s fucking hot.
Leaning back on his heels, he slips his hand under his waistband and strokes himself once, twice. I’m about to get in on the act when he puckers his lips up and blows a soft stream of air over my chest.
Holy fucking fuckballs.
The words that tumble out of my mouth make no sense at all, but he understands every syllable because another cool wave settles over my over-sensitized nipples.
It’s too much in the best way possible. Cupping my tits, I offer them up to him and the man knows exactly what to do.
I don’t know if he’s just this good at sex, or if he’s just this good at reading me, but he alternates between blowing puffs of air on my nipple and twisting the swollen peaks with the tips of his fingers.
I’m pumping my hips and crying out because it’s too much and not nearly enough all at once.
Mickey’s relentless, though. He’s making good on his promise not to stop and I could kiss him for it if my mouth weren’t preoccupied with moaning.
I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm. I can feel it just out of reach. I’m so damn close that I’m trembling, and when Mickey pulls back and lets his gaze wash over me, I'm tempted to tell him to put his mouth between my legs.
The smile he gives me tells me I don’t have to say a word.
He knows exactly what I want and how to give it to me.
Taking his sweet-ass time, he sucks his fingers into his mouth one by one before trailing them down my body.
My skin feels like it’s on fire, but he’s in no hurry to put it out.
When his wet, thick fingers ghost over the lace that covers my center, I shiver.
Two fingers slip their way past the barely-there barrier and when he gently traces my seam, I’m fucking done for.
The climax rocks its way through every cell of my body and I’m not quiet about how good it feels.
I ride my way through it, soaking every drop of pleasure out of Mickey’s talented fingers
After my breathing returns to normal, I realize I’m sitting on his couch, sticky and mostly-naked.
I’m not sorry about it. I’m not the kind of woman who’s embarrassed by my sexuality.
I embrace it, and I’m not about to cover up out of some false, antiquated sense of modesty.
Mickey’s eyes are still raking hungrily over my body, so I know he’s not complaining.
“So,” he says, his lips turning up into a sexy smile. “That happened.”
“Sure did,” I agree, my eyes locked on his.
“This was probably pretty stupid,” he says, shaking his head.
I’m not an angry person by nature. I teach yoga for fucks’ sake. My Zen is legendary, thank you very much. And I’m not new here. I’m the queen of hookups, so I know that swapping spit does not a lifelong commitment make.
I have had guys roll out of bed two seconds after coming like a damn freight train. One guy made a phone call while I was going down on him. It was fine. He was calling off work so we could hook up.
Those things didn’t offend me in the least.
But hearing Mickey call what we just did stupid? That fucking stings.
“Wow,” I say, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Regret set in pretty fast, huh?”
The man is still on his knees in front of me and the look he gives me is guileless. “Regret? Fuck no.”
“Did you not just say this was stupid?” I ask, gesturing between our bodies.
“No, fuck,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, I did. But that’s not what I meant. Sometimes my brain works faster than my mouth, and I don’t get all the words out. And sometimes too many words escape, and I sound like a dumbass.”
Common sense kicks back in and I take a calming breath. This is Mickey. He might have just been helping me answer the question of whether my breasts are as responsive as they used to be, but he’s not cruel. He wouldn’t have willingly participated if he wasn’t into it. Logically, I know that.
I watch Mickey’s chest expand as he takes in a breath, holds it a few seconds, and lets it go. “I meant it was stupid because I didn’t want to stop.”
“Then why did you?” I ask.
“I needed to catch my breath. I needed to count to a fucking million to keep myself from coming in my shorts. You just asked me to help you answer a question, so I did. And now my work here is done.” He blinks before he holds my gaze again and the vulnerability I see behind his green eyes hits me in the chest.
“What if I had more jobs for you to do?” I ask, hoping like hell we’re on the same page.
“I’ll do anything you want, Viv. Anything. It’s probably dumb to cross that line, but—”
“Then we won’t,” I say, an idea forming in my mind. “If it’s dumb to cross the line, then we just won’t cross it. That doesn’t mean we can’t walk right up to the edge of it, though. We won’t have sex. But that doesn’t mean we have to be saints. There’s a whole hell of a lot we can still do.”
.