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He kept powering up into her. The water from the bath had long evaporated, replaced by sweat that had her just as wet and slippery. The edges of her vision blurred at the same time her fingertips started to tingle. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let the climax rise up.
“Eyes on me,” Keith said, sounding like a man on the brink.
Her eyes flew open and locked with his. They both moved faster, harder, more desperate to watch the pleasure take over.
And then it happened. Mickie slammed down on him one final time, cried out so loud her voice cracked, and her fingers curled into his chest. Her entire body shook, pussy clenching over and over again.
Keith screamed out her name, gripped her hips with punishing force and emptied into her. His rhythmic contracting and relaxing caused her to rock over him, prolonging her orgasm. Eventually, she collapsed on his chest. He wrapped his bulky arms around her. Neither moved beyond catching their breath.
“Missed you,” he whispered.
She pressed a kiss to his damp pec.
The moment was perfect. Hot, erotic, but also tender and sweet in a way. Something warm and pleasant spread through her chest. It was then she realized she’d never been happier than she was at that moment. Wet, sore, exhausted, lying on her bathroom floor. All the fame, money, possessions, and adoration she’d received in the past didn’t come close to reaching the joy of this simple moment.
She wouldn’t voice one ounce of complaint if they fell asleep right there, no matter how much her body would hate her in the morning.
Just as she was about to ask if Keith was still awake, a loud bang followed by a screeched, “You bitches better be done making up. If I walk upstairs to find something that makes me pluck my eyeballs out, I’m telling you right now, I’m gonna throw a helluva fit.”
“Oh my, God,” Michaela said with a gasp as she pushed up. “Ralph! I forgot about Ralph.” She scrambled off Keith. “My friend from LA is visiting.”
Keith smirked. “I know. Who do you think gave me the time to be ravaged by you?” And ravaged was exactly how he looked, sprawled on his back on her wet bathroom floor. His sated cock rested against a muscular thigh, slick from their combined arousal.
Her jaw dropped. “You met him?”
Keith nodded as he sat up with a wince. “Yeah, ran into him in the driveway. Quite the guard dog you have there.”
Mickie ran a hand through her damp hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. He’s protective. We’ve been through a lot together.”
“Shit.” He stood, rolling his shoulders. “Not as young as I used to be.”
“Aww,” she said with a giggle as she moved into his body. “I’ll rub the sore spots later.” Now that they’d worked through things, she didn’t want to be more than inches away from him. He wrapped a bulky arm around her back and drew her in for a dirty kiss.
“That sounds perfect. For Ralph’s sake, I hope he bought enough ice cream for three.”
She couldn’t even try to stop the enormous smile from gracing her face. “You’re gonna hang out with us?”
With a snort, he slapped her ass. “If you’re gonna be my woman, I’m gonna get some ice cream out of the deal.” Then he winked at her and strode into her bedroom, naked as could be. “Give us two minutes,” he shouted before shutting her door and flipping the lock.
“Two!” Ralph shouted back. “And unless you’re an embarrassment to men everywhere, that’s not enough time for you guys to go at it again, so don’t be getting any ideas.”
Keith laughed as he rummaged through her closet for a pair of jeans he’d left last week.
Mickie stood in her bathroom, grinning like an idiot.
His woman?
He’d called her his woman.
Yeah. If he was going to call her that, she’d buy him every tub of ice cream in the shop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE NEXT MORNING Mickie found herself seated at her brand-new kitchen island behind a giant stack of pancakes. When Keith didn’t return home the previous night, the rest of the Benson crew assumed he and Mickie had reconciled, which resulted in them inviting themselves over for an epic breakfast. They’d brought all the ingredients, and Jagger did the cooking. How could she refuse?
“Slide the fucking syrup down this way, would ya?” Ronnie asked with her mouth full. She sat there in pink dog pajamas that were the last thing on earth Mickie ever pictured her wearing.
JP snorted as he sent the syrup gliding across the island to his sister. “You’re such a lady, Ron. Can’t imagine why you don’t have a boyfriend.”
As though six instead of twenty-six, Ronnie opened her mouth and gave her brother a gross view of her half-chewed pancakes.
“I rest my case,” he said.
