Page 29 of Complications

I was supposed to be helping Michel fix dinner, but I’d designated myself the role of supervisor instead. He was entirely too efficient in the kitchen to want my help anyway, since I didn’t know how to do anything but boil water, and even that was questionable some days. So I sat on the counter instead, taking swigs from the bottle of wine we were sharing while he put together whatever it was he was cooking.

“Yes, why?” Michel answered, then paused to press a firm kiss against my lips. His tongue licked the drop of wine I’d left behind, then came back for another quick taste.

I made a needy sound when he pulled away, which made him chuckle, but he returned to the stove and kept stirring whatever was in the pan.

“Because Matteo and Connor want us to come to dinner tomorrow night.”

“A friendly visit?”

“Yeah. Since the invite came from both, I assume so, but they seemed a little on edge. And Joey’s been jumpy as fuck the last couple of weeks.”

Michel nodded slowly. “Hmm. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

With that, he stepped between my legs and pulled my ass to the edge of the counter. Before Michel, I’d never thought about the lead-up to anything. But him? He fucking lingered. His hands settled on the curve of my ass, his long fingers flexing. My cock chubbed instantly. His mouth found the side of my neck and dropped a trail of kisses.

Goddamn, I loved this man.

Michel’s mouth moved at a deliberate pace along my neck, then my jawline, until he found my lips again. I parted for him, and his tongue slipped inside. I swallowed the moan that wanted to escape as he mapped my mouth. The warmth I always felt when he was near me settled softly into my bones. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have imagined my life would be working for Matteo and playing house with Michel. But it was, and I wasn’t ever going back to what it had been before.

“Babe, you’re gonna burn dinner,” I gasped after forcing air back into my lungs. But if I was taken out by a kissing incident, it’d be one hell of an obituary.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Leaving it on made no sense. I wanted to touch you,” he murmured in his low, sexy voice that always sent electric tingles up my spine. My concentration slipped even further as his fingers trailed up my thighs. “Because…” Michel dropped a soft kiss to the base of my throat. “I need to…” Another one behind my ear. “Fuck you…” A nibble to the lobe. “Until you…” A sharp bite. “Scream.”

“Yes. Now. Please.”

I wasn’t overly articulate, but it didn’t matter when I knew Michel was about to give me what we both wanted. I locked my ankles around his waist and smashed our mouths together. Before had been sweet, but now it was explosive. Our tongues circled and swept around each other until we settled into a rhythm of what was to come.

“Gladly,” Michel said with a smirk and a devilish chuckle.

Michel’s hands found their way to my shirt and pushed it up my chest. His fingers splayed across my torso and then moved higher. His touch left small explosions along my nerve endings. My cock was painfully hard behind the zipper of my jeans, and already my patience was disappearing.

He pulled my shirt off and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed somewhere on the floor, but as much as I loved a tidy house, I wasn’t worried about the mess at the moment. Michel’s eyes never left mine when he deftly undid the button on my jeans and pushed the fly open.

“Oh, look at you. Commando.”

His nails gently scraped against the top of my thighs through my pants, and I thought I’d lose my damn mind. His soft huff of laughter told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me—and was happy to do it again and again.

“Take my pants off,” I whined.

I didn’t care if I sounded needy because that was exactly how Michel liked me. Add in desperate, and he’d be over the fucking moon.

“Happily.”

In a single move, Michel pulled me off the counter, dropped to his knees, and yanked my pants down. My cock sprang free, its head already shiny with precum. He immediately fell on me like a starving man and swallowed me down without hesitation. My groan bounced around the room as he proceeded to suck me down his throat. His nose teased the wiry curls, and his hands gently tugged on my heavy balls. The contrast—firm suction with gentle hands—forced whimpers then shouts from my throat.

“Babe, you’re killing me,” I ground out.

When I glanced down at the man who loved me like I was the only one in the world who mattered, he was staring back at me. Even on his knees, he was fully in control of himself and me. He set the pace. He decided where we’d go, and I followed because I knew he’d never steer me wrong.

Michel pulled off, lips shiny with spit, and did nothing more than smile up at me. Asshole. But when he leaned forward and sucked just the head of my cock, I thought I might jump out of my skin. His tongue teased the slit, and precum leaked at a steady pace. He ignored my hip thrusting, concentrating on dragging me closer to oblivion.

“Please fuck me,” I begged as Michel’s steady pace quickly brought me to the brink.

Every time I was close to tipping over, he’d slow down or pull back. Again and again, he tortured me in the best ways, and I lost another piece of my composure. My shaky knees threatened to give out as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge.

“You sure?” Michel asked after a quick pause to suck my balls. “Positive?”

His teasing was enough to make me growl. I needed relief, and I needed it now.