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I fought my grin. It was stupid that I still felt giddy over hearing him say girlfriend. I had officially reverted back to high school. But I didn’t care. I loved that he made me giddy and girly and head-over-heels in love.
“Oh, so when I did that thing where I put my mouth on your dick and then didn’t remove it until you came, that wasn’t what a good girlfriend would do? I’m sorry I did that. I’ll make a note to never do that again. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll learn from my mistakes.”
“Now, wait a minute. Let’s not get too hasty here,” he backtracked, still focused on tattooing something on my skin. “I think you need to do that thing a few more times. Like every day, for the next five years or so, before I can really decide if I like it.”
I grabbed his hair, pulling his head up so he looked at me. “You didn’t like it?” I asked, my eyes narrowed.
“I can’t really remember.” He shrugged, fighting a smile. “Why don’t you do it again and then it might help me give you a proper answer?”
“Oh.” I feigned innocent understanding. “So, I should just put my mouth on your cock again? You know, slide it in real deep until it taps the back of my throat, and then suck hard, while I run my tongue all over you. Would that help? Or should I do something else?”
“No,” he said, swallowing hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob. “You should do those things.” He cleared his throat, his body’s answer growing hard and straining against my thigh.
“All of those things you just said—yeah, do those.”
My face cracked into a smile, amused by the strain in his voice and his, um, yeah. That too. I was definitely enjoying that reaction.
“Okay, all set. Per your request, the contract is in writing.” He tossed the pen back onto the nightstand. He gripped my thighs as he kneeled on the bed between my legs.
“Now, let’s get back to what you were saying before. I believe you said something about putting your mouth on me?” He smirked, waggling his brows playfully. “Or do you want me to just slide inside of you? Because I’m a big fan of this perfect pussy.” He ground against me.
“The biggest fan, actually. No one loves this pussy as much as I do. Which is why no one else will ever see it, touch it, taste it. Consider me your orgasm donor for life. Any time, hour, second of any day, you need to come, I’m your guy.”
I giggled. “Like my orgasm soul mate?”
I was rewarded with a smile. “Exactly like that.”
He brushed his fingers across my belly and hip bone, where the pen’s previous ministrations still had my nerve endings tingling. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“What did you write?” My eyes followed his, to the place where his hand rested on my skin. “Move your hand,” I urged. “I swear to God, if you drew a penis or—” I stopped mid-sentence, my gaze locking onto the straight and narrow lines of his masculine script.
My heart in your hands and you in my arms, that’s all I’ll ever need.
“I mean it,” he whispered. “I mean every word, Georgia.”
I looked at him, really looked at him, hovering above me, his hands now resting beside my head. His heart was in his eyes—tender, loving, perfect.
What simple words for such a profound declaration.
Kline had just laid it all out there. He’d just told me I had him. He was mine. His heart was in my hands. And all he wanted was me. And that would be enough for him.
“I love you,” I said, my voice choking on emotion. “I love you so much, Kline.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed me hard, deep, and desperate. His lips, his touch, the way he made love to me, it told me everything I needed to know.
This was real, him and me. This was it. And the best part of that revelation was that we were both certain. Neither of us was in limbo, waiting for the other to catch up or decide if this was right. We were all in, both of us, in love.
Intense, life changing, forever a part of one another kind of love.
I handed my boarding pass off and walked onto the plane. I was beyond exhausted, my arms damn near giving out as I lifted my carry-on up and stowed it away. Kline had switched my seat without my knowing. Yesterday, he had seen my boarding pass on the nightstand and asked if I was in coach because the flight was overbooked. When I responded that I didn’t want to take advantage of the company’s budget, he told me to never book a seat in coach again.
I’d acquiesced with a sassy, “Yes, sir.”
Apparently, he’d appreciated that answer because I had been generously rewarded with his talented mouth between my legs.
