Page 51 of Not Home Alone

“You aren’t going to be able to walk very well when I’m done with you.”

I feel her body get even tenser. I’ve finally said the right thing to shut her up.

“Watch your head,” I tell her, when I carry her through the door to my room. “And your mouth.”

“You aren’t the boss of either of them,” she replies.

I lower her to the edge of the bed. Her blonde hair’s all fluffed-up and her face is even more flushed. Even though she’s glaring at me, she looks so pretty my heart hurts. “I am the boss of your entire body tonight, Tucker. And for tonight only, you’re the event manager of mine.”

She has to school herself not to laugh at that, because it was clever.

I pull my tank off over my head and drop it to the floor. Then I take off my jeans and shoes and socks and watch her watching me. I watch her bite her lower lip and wriggle around as her brown eyes widen. She grips the edge of the mattress, arms tight against her sides, and it pushes her tits together. She crosses her legs at her ankles, pointing her toes. Every god damn thing she does turns me on, and it’s going to fucking destroy me when this is over.

But that’s not my problem tonight.

I lift her legs to pull off her boots. Left, then right. Instead of dropping them to the floor like I did with all my clothes, I place them side by side on the floor next to the bedside table. I pull off her socks, fold them up and put them on the floor next to her boots. Then I tell her to lie back so I can remove her jeans. They’re tight and she has to wriggle around so I can peel them off. Even this, the way she wiggles around, is so hot and I know what it’s going to be like when I’m inside her.

I can’t wait, and I also want to put off being inside her for as long as I can. I’m going to savor these last few minutes of my life where I can still pretend that I’m the one in charge. Of her and myself.

Her panties are pine green with red lace trim and there’s one little candy cane sewn onto the middle front of them. And right beneath the straight end of that candy cane, I can see how wet she is. Confirmation that she wants me almost as much as I want her.

“It’s rude to stare if you aren’t going to do anything,” she mutters. Her legs are trembling. Her whole body is trembling.

“You cold?” I ask, as I grab her wrists and pull her up to sit again.

“Sure,” she says, blowing out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m cold.”

I push her knees apart so I can kneel between them. “So you don’t want me to take the rest of your clothes off, then?” I ask, slowly pulling one strap down off her shoulder, until her breast is exposed. Her perfect, full, perky breast. I plant kisses from her shoulder, down her arm, and then flick at her hard, pink nipple with the tip of my tongue. Stroking her outer thighs so gently, just with my fingertips.

Her hands are balled up into fists at her sides. Eyes shut tight. Her whole body is so tense, but her tits are full, her lips are swollen, and I know what’s going on between her legs, but she wants me to show her how much I want her, so I will. I pull down the other strap and tweak her nipple. A groan escapes my throat. It makes her relax a little, though, knowing the effect she has on me.

“You are so damn beautiful, Merrily Tucker,” I say on an exhale. She deserves to know it. “You were pretty when I met you, but now you’re absolutely stunning.”

I feel bad that she looks so surprised to hear this. She should know. But also, I want to be the only man who says this to her.

She arches her neck, slides her hands behind her, leans back, offering herself to me. Gorgeous. Cupping her breasts, I let them fill my hands and suck a hard bud into my mouth. Fucking delicious. It’s like she bathed in vanilla extract.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about all these years when you think of me?” I say, in between languid swirls and long laps with my tongue.

Her head sways from side to side. I like that she’s getting more relaxed. “You first.”

“So you did think about me,” I say, grinning.

“You first,” she repeats.

“I thought about the way you put my hand under your sweater when we were kissing,” I tell her.

“Mmhmm.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve pictured us sneaking behind a tree on that dark corner of the street your house was on. Doing all the things I wanted to do to you that night. You ever think about that?”

“Yes, and I bet my fantasies are hotter than yours.”

“I really doubt that, sweetheart. Sometimes, I’d picture us in my room instead of that sidewalk,” I continue, squeezing her tits together and lavishing my tongue across the peaks until her entire body swells and she’s softly moaning. “I fantasized about doing this to your tits. The sounds you’d make when I fucking devoured them.”