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“Yeah, sure.” He comes back, and my anxiousness settles. I move over, allowing him space. Kicking off his shoes, he climbs into bed with me. Once he’s settled, I curl into a ball and look up at his profile.
“You can ditch out once I fall asleep. I just… don’t want to be alone until then.” I close my eyes and focus on his breathing. Knowing I’m safe, I find sleep.
***
Alarm clocks are the devil.
That’s what I mumble when I wake from what may have been the best sleep of my life. Peeling my eyes open, I see why.
Shit.
Shit!
I’m sprawled out on my bed—not uncommon. Whatisuncommon is Tate under me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Crap. What did I do?You asked him to sleep with you—and he did.But he stayed. And now, I have him in a bear hug, my right leg slung over his thighs, my arm on his bulky chest, my head resting on his left pec. I stop freaking out for a second and bask in how nice this feels. Even though he’s made of steel, he’s super cozy. And he smells divine.
The alarm gets louder, and I slap at my phone, shutting it off. Instead of getting up, I go right back to where I was. I could get used to this. I wouldn’t even need to pay for heat. All I’d need is the warmth of his body. I bet morning sex with him would be phenomenal.
“You’re mumbling.”
Shit! “What? You’re awake?” It’s probably best I climb off him now. I raise my leg to abort ship when his large hand clamps onto my bare thigh, holding me in place. I lift my chin, and his breath skates along the top of my nose. When he speaks, his words come out low and growly. “I heard something about morning sex?” His lips curl into the sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen, and it does me in. I have this itch I’m dying for him to scratch. Guard dog or not, consequences be damned.
Raising myself with impressive quickness, I straddle him. My head dips, and I take exactly what I want: his full lips. He doesn’t miss a beat, cupping my ass and digging his fingers into my skin. A moan travels up my throat as he pulls me forward, the hardness of his cock rubbing between my already swollen flesh. He kisses me back, and this time, there’s no anger. Only intent. Lust. Need. My fingers slide into his hair, and I grab his thick, dark locks, bringing his mouth closer. His tongue fights for entrance, and I gladly open, allowing us to dance around one another. I work my hips back and forth, needing friction. Every thrust brings me closer to the edge. I doubt I’ll make it long enough to know what morning sex with him is like. I’m only at morning dry-humping, and it’s fucking fabulous.
“Fuck, you feel good on top of me.”
“Not as good as you feel under me.” I rock my hips back and forth. He’s so long and so thick. He thrusts up, and my eyes nearly cross. I’m so close I can taste my orgasm. Suddenly, he stops, tossing me off him.
“What the fuck? You’renotseriously stopping again—”
“Not having you come that way, babe.” Working his way down my belly, he spreads my legs and pulls my panties to the side. I gasp as he drags his tongue over my opening and snakes it into my pussy before sucking my clit into his mouth. He flicks the tip of his tongue over my clit and slides one thick, glorious finger inside me.
“Fu-u-u-ck,” I moan, falling back onto my pillow. Tate eats my pussy like a starved man, devouring me, sparking my nerve-endings to life. Without mercy, I tug my fingers into his hair and ride his mouth. My mouth falls open in pleasure as white spots blaze behind my eyelids, and I moan out his name. I’m nowhere near close to coming down from my orgasm when he pulls away. Within seconds, he’s as naked as the day he was born and climbing back between my legs.
His steely gaze captures mine. Before I can demand he do something, he powers forward, filling me almost to the point of pain. That doesn’t stop me from wrapping my legs around him and lifting my ass to grant him better access.
“Fuck, babe,” he growls and pulls out, only to thrust back with more force. His fingers dig into my hips, and he holds me in place as he takes and takes. The sound of sex fills the air. The slap of our bodies connecting, moans, whimpers. One hand releases my hip and travels up my ribcage to cup my breast. He rolls my nipple between his fingers, then pinches, and I cry out in pure bliss. He grabs my jaw, his fingers biting into my skin and silences me, kissing me with frenzied passion. I rock my hips to meet his as he sinks deep fucking me with purpose. My orgasm builds until I can barely see straight.
“That’s it. Fuckin’ let go for me.” Both hands are on my legs, and he brings them up, spreading me, penetrating so deep it becomes too much. Too good. “Fuck!” I cry out as a second orgasm follows. Tate hammers into me, my legs high in the sky, and I short-circuit. He works hard and deep, a feral grunt echoing around the room until he finally succumbs to his own orgasm.
I can’t breathe. Or feel my legs. And I think I’ve died. Tate’s body falls over mine, his heart pounding. “Is that your heart or mine?”
“Fuck,” he pants. “I think both.” His lips skate up my neck. He lifts himself onto his elbows and looks down at me. “What the fuck was that?” he asks, just as confused as I am. I want to reply with the hottest sex I’ve ever had. Three never-heard-of, mind-blowing orgasms. A connection I’ve never felt before. Instead, I say, “Gross.”
His palm smacks against my butt cheek, and I yelp. “Watch it,” he murmurs, his low tone reviving my libido. Banging sounds on the front door, and Tate freezes. A second later, he’s off of me, sliding his clothes on. “Stay here.”
“It’s my door, I—”
“Stay the fuck here.” And then he’s gone.
I’m not sure he’s figured it out, but I don’t like being told what to do. So, I climb out of bed, dress, and follow him. He’s on the phone, his jaw tight. “Who was it?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer.
“I need a squad car immediately.” He rambles off my address.
“Tate, whowasit?” I cross my arms over my chest as I frown.
“Not sure. I can’t leave my client.”
“Whowasit?” I ask again. When I realize he’s not going to answer me, I throw my hands up in frustration and step toward my door. Tate tries to stop me, but I brush his arm away and open my door. My breath hitches, and I jerk backward. A large bouquet of red roses sits in front of my door. “How… who put these here?” My hands tremble as I bend down to grab the card attached, but Tate stops me.
