Chapter 45 – remi #2
“I’m not shy.”
I cluck at him twice, giving him the same ridiculous chicken impression he used on me once.
His eyes narrow behind the mask, then it clicks, and he breaks, dropping his head as laughter shakes through him. “You did not just fucking cluck at me.”
“Oh, I absolutely did.” I let my gaze travel pointedly over the clothes he’s still wearing, then raise an eyebrow.
“Then prove it. Strip for me, Batman. Let me see what I’ve been thinking about riding all night.”
His laughter dies down as he shakes his head, but I can already see the challenge getting under his skin. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that.”
I smile. “Maybe, but you’re the one who told me you can’t say no to me.”
Thiago stares at me, then climbs over my body and kisses me slowly, pressing his already hard dick between my thighs and nearly making me reconsider this entire idea.
“No, I fucking can’t,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Good.” My voice is just as breathless. “Now give me my show.”
His forehead drops against mine as he laughs. “Fine. But if I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.”
He moves off me and heads toward the dresser, turning on his speaker before grabbing his phone. Anticipation has me biting my lip as he taps the screen a few times until the opening notes of “Makin’ Good Love” by Avant fill the bedroom.
My head starts moving with the beat before I even realize I’m doing it. Thiago gives me a look.
“What do you know about this song?”
I narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just asking.”
“No, you’re implying. There’s a difference.”
His mouth twitches beneath the mask. “It came out before you were born.”
“You too. And? My parents raised me right, Braga. I know Avant.”
“So it’s your parents’ music?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
His laugh gets me, and I point at him. “Keep laughing. See what happens. You want this pussy or not?”
“That pussy is already mine, fera.”
Well, fuck.
The words hit me straight between the thighs, wiping the smirk off my face. Thiago knows it too. He winks and steps back as the music settles into its rhythm, and whatever comeback I had disappears with it.
So he’s really fucking doing this.
Thiago reaches for the cape and rolls one shoulder free, then the other, taking his time as he falls into the rhythm. My lips part when I realize the bastard can move.
He lets the cape slide from his hand and keeps going, completely committed now, while I sit there trying to make sense of the man who just refused to give me a striptease with Batman currently giving me a fucking show. A laugh breaks through my surprise.
Thiago points at me. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth, but that only makes it worse. “I wasn’t prepared for you to take this so seriously.”
“You wanted Batman to strip.”
“I did.”
“Then behave.”
That shuts me up for all of two seconds. I nearly lose it again when his hands go to his jacket and he starts undoing the button. His hips move with the beat, a slow roll followed by a short thrust that has me biting down on my nail to keep it in.
It doesn’t work.
Especially when he does it again as he turns, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders and tossing it aside like he’s done this a hundred times.
I laugh harder.
But then he faces me again, and the next roll of his hips is so fucking smooth that my laughter falters.
Okay. The bastard really does know what he’s doing.
There’s something deeply unfair about watching this giant man move like that as he slowly takes off his clothes. Every grind of his hips makes me wetter, and suddenly what started as a joke feels a lot more like torture I willingly signed up for.
He loosens his bow tie, each pull and shift timed to the music, sliding it from beneath his collar, letting it fall, then gives me another controlled thrust of his hips as his hands go to the first button of his shirt.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip.
I make it through two more buttons before I’m done watching from across the bed.
I crawl toward him, still biting my lip, and reach the edge of the mattress, rising to my knees.
Thiago keeps moving as I reach into the front of my catsuit and pull out a folded bill.
He stops dancing when I tuck the cash into the waistband of his underwear.
Thiago looks down at it, then at me. We both lose it.
“Where the fuck did you even get that?”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
“I’m serious. Where were you keeping money in that thing?”
“Thiago.”
He’s still laughing when I grab the open sides of his shirt and pull him between my knees.
“Less talking. Keep stripping.”
The amusement lingers on his face as he slips the shirt from his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor.
Then his hands are on me. He turns me around and gathers my hair over one shoulder, exposing the zipper running down the back of my catsuit.
The music keeps playing as he drags it down, taking his time until the leather loosens around me.
His mouth brushes my shoulder as he works the suit from my body, and by the time the song starts again, neither of us is laughing anymore.
Tonight, there’s no pretending and no rules about what we are.
There’s no fuck-buddy bullshit I can hide behind tomorrow.
I told him I wanted to be his, and he told me I already was.
Thiago turns me back toward him, and I barely get my arms around his neck before he lifts me.
My legs wrap around him, and his mouth crashes into mine as he turns and sits on the edge of the bed with me in his lap.
We kiss like we’ve been starving for each other our whole lives, not just months.
Maybe that’s why this feels so different.
I’m his now.
He’s mine.
And knowing it makes me want him with a desperation I’ve never let myself feel.
My fingers disappear into his curls as I kiss him harder, rolling my hips and grinding against his thigh until I’ve made a complete mess of it. His hands cup my bare ass with the same urgency, holding me against him while the fucking song starts over again.
When we finally come up for air, we’re both breathing hard. A thin strand of saliva stretches between our mouths before breaking. Thiago reaches up to wipe the corner of my lip, but I grin and catch his wrist.
“You want another taste?”
His gaze drifts to my mouth. “You know I do.”
“Then ask me,” I murmur, tracing my thumb over his lip. “Show me how much you want me.”
His hand glides up my throat as he draws me toward him. “Let me have it, fera.”
I lean in and run my tongue over his lips as I tug his jaw open and spit into his mouth. He watches me as he swallows, his grip tightening around my throat.
The look on his face says I’m about to find out exactly how much.