32 - Kayla
Kayla
The moment Michael’s mouth crashed into mine, the fortress I’d spent fifteen years building detonated.
I tried to maintain the panic, tried to keep the idea of breaking it off from taking root, but I didn’t have to worry about it.
Any thought that wasn’t Michael and Michael only, was swallowed whole by the desperate heat of him.
My hands, which had been pushing against his chest only seconds ago, betrayed me. They flew up, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there was nothing but a microscopic gap left between us. A low, broken sound escaped my throat. A surrender that tasted like salt and wood-smoke.
Goddammit, I love him.
The realization blindsided me. Terrifying and absolute. I loved the way he looked at my son, I loved the way he brought Seattle to a Texas rooftop, and I loved the way he refused to let me lie to myself.
"Michael," I gasped against his lips, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs. "I can't... we shouldn't..."
"Don't," he growled, his voice a strained vibration against my mouth. His hands were everywhere, cupping my face, sliding down to my waist, pulling me up until I was pressed against the cold edge of the bartop. "Don't think. Just feel this. Tell me you don't feel this."
"I feel it," I confessed, the words a broken sob. "I feel everything. But it’s too much."
"It’s exactly enough," he whispered, kissing the corner of my mouth, my jaw, the sensitive hollow of my throat.
We moved with a blind urgency that sent a stack of clean napkins fluttering to the floor and knocked a metal shaker tin off the rail with a deafening clatter.
Neither of us flinched. The world outside the bar didn't exist. Gabe was upstairs, the Stanley Cup was a thousand miles away, and the only reality was the solid, muscular weight of the man pinning me against the mahogany.
This wasn't like the hotel. That had been a fever dream of lust and curiosity. This was something else, something heavier and more dangerous. It was an admission.
Every time his hands roamed over me, they felt like they were claiming territory I’d forgotten belonged to me.
I pulled at his shirt, my nails raking over the skin of his back, needing to feel the heat of him through the expensive fabric.
I was drowning in him, and for the first time in my life, I didn't want to swim for the surface.
"I love you," he breathed, the words a desperate vow as he caught my lower lip between his teeth. "Kayla, look at me."
I opened my eyes, my vision blurred with tears I hadn't realized were falling. He was right there. The man who had seen all my rough edges and decided to stay.
"Say it," he pleaded, his breath hitching.
"I love you," I whispered, the admission breaking the last of my resolve. "I love you so much it scares the shit out of me."
The kiss that followed was explosive, fueled by the raw honesty of the words.
We stumbled back, my hip catching the edge of the cash register, but we didn't stop. I needed him with a feral, aching hunger that made my blood sing. The tension that had been building since the rink, since the drive, since the moment we’d met, finally snapped, leaving nothing but the fire between us.
Heated lips caressed the skin of my shoulder, making it prickle under his touch as he kissed all of that exposed skin.
His fingers closed around my wrist, sending the glass I held flying, icy liquid splashing across my chest and half the counter.
His other hand shoved the blender and shot glasses aside, clearing a space.
Mouth hard and hungry on mine, he hiked me up until I was forced to sit on the bar, knees spread to make room for him between them.
"Off." The single word was growled against my throat, his fingers inserted between my stomach and the waistband of my jeans, tugging with obvious demand.
I wasted no time complying, wriggling out of my jeans and underwear at the same time, to settle into his cupping hands as they curved around my bare ass and pressed me close to the bulge tenting his pants.
Oh, please, yes.
His grip was firm and tight around my thighs, pulling me forward to the edge of the counter, my back arched and head resting on the surface behind me.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, breath hot against my skin as he lapped at the tangy sweat filming my chest and stomach. My shirt was bunched in his fist, gathered roughly out of the way as he feasted, his other hand moved to cup my breast, thumb flicking back and forth over my stiff nipple.
The edge of the bar was sharp against my shoulder blades, my fingers sliding along the slick surface, looking for purchase.
My legs lifted to curve around his waist, grinding myself against his erection as he bent his head to suck my nipple into his mouth.
Head rocking back and forth against the bar, a small whimper escaped me, legs tensing, my entire body striving to tell him I was more than ready. I wanted him to take me.
Michael felt my need, and grunted in acknowledgment, his hands finding and unfastening belts and straps and pants. He pressed his fingers against my warm pussy, dragging them through the wetness that collected there as he teased my lips.
I bucked my hips reflexively, searching for more.
“I see,” he said, and was over me again. Hovering. His lips pressing against the skin along my collar bone, tongue following suit.
He left behind a wet trail as he made his way over to my shoulder, pulling the fabric of my shirt until it ripped.
I hissed at the sudden shock of it, but let out a sigh, relieved to be free of the final layer of separation between us.
He bit down hard on my shoulder before soothing the reddened skin with the warmth of his tongue.
He pushed up on his forearms as I slid my fingers to the hem of his t-shirt, before pulling it up.
Lifting my head slightly, I removed it and tossed it to the floor to join my clothes.
Eager fingers found the soft texture of his hair, stroking through the waves, my nails grazing his scalp in a soothing manner despite the need growing in my limbs for him to fuck me senseless.
Michael’s lips began their work down my chest to the black lace that cupped my breasts.
His fingers dipped beneath the fabric and pulling slightly, revealing my breast to his lust filled eyes.
Hot breaths danced along my nipple as he hovered his mouth above the hardening peak before closing his mouth around it, sucking generously, pulling at the bud as he clamped his mouth around it.
His tongue gave a flick or two for good measure before he moved onto the other, repeating the same actions as before.
Reaching behind me, he quickly unhooked my bra and sent it to the same abyss with everything else on the floor.
Then he pushed himself lower, ghosting over my mound.
His nose dipped into my scent, mouth closing over me with enough heat to make me squirm.
Before moving further down to press against my swollen lips, he inhaled deeply, reveling in my musky scent.
"Delicious." His low tone vibrated from within his chest as the warmth of his breath danced along my sensitive skin.
“I have my moments.”
Michael chuckled, then dragged his tongue between my slick folds, sliding up until he reached my clit. He circled once… twice… before going back down to dip into the warmth of me, shallow thrusts of his tongue tasting my pussy with relish.
I glanced down to find his eyes locked on me. His gaze was dark with desire, making my pussy throb uncontrollably.
"I thought so," he said with a smirk, and the next second his mouth was back where it belonged.
His tongue flicked over my swollen lips once more, pushing between them to lap at my clit before going back to her core.
He hummed his approval as he tasted the arousal dripping out of me.
Slowly, he danced the flat of his tongue in a waving motion along my clit before moving one of his hands along the inside of my thigh, fingers searching until it found that sweet warmth at my core.
He thrust one finger inside, waited for me to still the rolling of my hips, then added a second, moving in the same rhythm as his tongue, fingers curling just slightly to hit the spot he was sure would cause my toes to curl.
He was right, and within seconds, I was a whining, needy mess on top of the bar.
"Oh, yesss…" I moaned as I ground down harder against his mouth, helping to further stoke the flame that ignited deep within with my belly.
Every few strokes of his tongue, Michael stopped to send a warm breath along my clit before going right back and doing it all again.
He worked a steady, maddening pace that threatened to annihilate me.
I arched into the sensation, and let out a huff of air as my fingers searched down my body to snake into his soft hair.
"Fuck, that’s good." I wiggled slightly to increase the pressure of his tongue. "You can fucking eat me out any day of the week."
"Can I, now?" He lifted his head, bringing my pleasure to a halt, eyes blazing as my chest rose and fell with each labored breath I sucked into my trembling frame.
I only nodded and pushed my hips up in a way to urge him back to me, but he shook his head.
"So greedy." His fingers curled against that sensitive spot inside me. “I love it when you get like this. When your body says what you won’t.”
"Michael…” His name was a breathless, defenseless moan. I wasn’t in any position to pretend he didn’t have me in the palm of his hand.
"Is this what you want?" He thrust two fingers into me, hard.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"