Page 92 of Until We Come Home

“You did win at the fair,” she murmurs, stepping closer. “So it’s only fair I keep my promise. Though I might have been wearing this under my sweater anyway, just in case.”

“Just in case, huh?” I ask, my voice rough as I pull her against me.

“Hoping you’d get lucky,” she says, a smile spreading across her face.

I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “I never thought I’d get lucky enough to have you.”

“You’re pretty sweet for a brooding East Coaster,” she teases, leaning up to kiss my jaw.

My hands slide down her body, over the lace and the curve of her hips, until I’m cupping her ass. I lift her, and she wraps her legs around me with a gasp, and I carry her to the bed and lay her down on the quilt, kissing her neck as I lower her.

I brace myself over her and just look for a moment. The black lace stands out against her skin, the straps thin as thread over her shoulders, the cups barely holding her in. Her hair is spread across the pillow, and her chest rises and falls fast under my gaze.

She has the most incredible body I’ve ever seen, strong and lean and soft in all the right places, shaped by years of dancing. Something possessive rises in me, hot and fierce. She’s mine. Not Derek’s, not anyone else’s.

I kiss my way down her body, taking my time. I start at her collarbone, then move to the lace edge of her bra, the dip between her ribs, the flat plane of her stomach. She arches beneath me, her fingers sliding into my hair, drawing her legs up and letting them fall wide open for me.

Then she sets a hand on my chest and pushes me back.

There’s a devilish look in her eyes as she turns over onto all fours. She slides her legs out to either side into a full split, her hips sinking all the way down to the mattress like it’s nothing, the way only a dancer can. She folds her chest flat to the quilt, stretched out in front of me, and looks back at me over her shoulder, her hair spilling across her back. The lace rides high on her ass, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

My mouth goes dry. That’s when I notice the opening in the lace between her legs, cut so her pussy is bare and on display for me.

“Just noticed, huh?” she asks, a wicked smile curling her lips as she watches my face. “It’s made so you can fuck me while I’m still wearing it.”

She holds my gaze, and I nearly lose my mind. My hands trace the line of her spine and over her hips, feeling every muscle flex under my palms. I slide my fingers through the gap in the lace and find her already wet. A soft moan slips out of her as she buries her face in the quilt, and I grip her hips, holding her still.

I smack her ass, the sharp crack ringing out in the quiet cabin, and she lets out a low, breathless whimper, arching back into my touch.

“Like that?” I ask, smoothing my palm over the warm skin.

“Yes,” she breathes into the bedding. “God, yes. Do it again.”

I pull her out of the split and drag her back to the edge of the mattress until her knees rest on the floorboards, her hips lifted for me. I kneel behind her, part her with my thumbs, and lower my head.

She screams into the quilt. I eat her like I’m starving, licking through her from her clit to her entrance and back again, sucking on her, fucking her with my tongue, my hands holding her ass wide open so I can get deeper. She’s soaking and I want to drown in her. Every time she tries to squirm away from how good it is, I drag her right back onto my mouth by her hips.

“Oh my God, Mateo, your mouth, fuck, don’t stop, I’m going to come all over your face,” she sobs, grinding back against me shamelessly.

“Then do it,” I growl into her, and suck her clit hard, and she does.

She comes with her face buried in the quilt, shaking all over, gushing against my tongue, and I lick her through every second of it, drunk on the taste of her. Then I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“You like when I’m possessive with you,” I say, dragging the head of my cock over her, heavy and aching. “Don’t you, Mia? Answer me.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her fingers twisting into the quilt. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

“You want me to claim you,” I say, giving her ass another firm slap and then a squeeze. “You want to remember that no other man gets to touch you like this. That you belong to me.”

“Please, yes, claim me. Tell me I’m yours,” she begs, looking back over her shoulder, eyes wide and dark. “Only you. Only your mouth, your cock, only you. Mateo, please, I need you inside me.”

Gripping her ass, I line my cock up with the opening in the lace and slide into her, inch by inch, watching myself disappear inside her. She’s so wet it’s unreal, so tight that halfway in I have to stop and grit my teeth. A long, broken moan spills out of her and fills the cabin.

Then my control snaps, and I start to move. Every thrust is hard and deep, my fingers digging into her hips tight enough to leave marks, pulling her back onto me with every stroke. The bed creaks beneath us, rain drums on the roof, and she moans my name over and over, her pussy clenching around me every time I bottom out.

I keep up the pace, holding her hips while the lace sits taut against her skin. But I need to see her. I pull out, making her whimper at the sudden emptiness, and flip her onto her back.

I hook a finger in the front of her bra and yank it down beneath her breasts, and she gasps. I cup one, still half caged in black lace, spilling over the top of it. Then I slam back into her before she can catch her breath, and the deep, punishing thrusts draw a moan out of her and arch her clean off the bed.