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“No, I don’t think that I do.” He said, leaning forward again until his face was only a breath from mine. I caught the heady musk of him again and it nearly made me dizzy. God. He smelled so good. I wanted my tongue to glide along the muscles of his neck and travel down his form until I could only ever taste him. Until he was burned into all of my senses. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Right. I was in charge. I could do this. I tried to ignore the drunken flutter of excitement at ordering him around. As much as I was an independent, take charge kind of person, this was completely different. A new sort of thrill. I knew at any moment he could tell me no; he was bigger than me, stronger than me. But he wouldn’t. He was indulging me like a giant would indulge a little fairy and for some reason I could feel that making my underwear damp.
Who was I kidding? It was practically a lake down there.
“Take off my shirt.” I said, sliding back enough so that he could get his hands between us. In one smooth motion, he had it up and over my head and thrown into the front seat. The cool air of the hummer prickled along my skin, making every sensation that much sharper. I could feel the power of his thighs below mine, supporting my weight as I straddled him. I wanted to settle further, to see if his length was insistently pushing at his pants like I hoped they were, but I wasn’t at the right angle.
“Now here’s the hard part,” I gasped, feeling breathless and wound up and all sorts of exciting things.
“Oh, it’s been hard since you pulled me in here.”
“Good to know,” I leaned back a little further. “Take off my leggings.” I raised my eyebrows at him, sure this would be quite the challenge. But then suddenly one of his hands gripped my hip and the other pushed firmly but gently against my sternum, until I was flat on the middle console between the two front seats.
It was so sudden that I let out a surprised cry, but Mickey didn’t even seem to notice. His fingers curled into the top of my leggings and yanked them right from my body before drawing me back up and into his lap.
Holy shit. He really was strong. Not that I had forgotten, but it was always thrilling to see a firsthand example. And by thrilling, I meant my body was throbbing even more than before. “Now my bra.” I continued, my voice more of a pant than actual words.
“Whatever you want.”
That stupid, perfect smirk was still on his face as he reached behind me to undo the clasp of the garment. With a practiced ease for someone who seemed so earnest, he pulled it up over my head and threw it into the back of the car.
“Now kiss me already.” I demanded.
The look in his eyes was absolutely indescribable and flames rose ever higher within me, scorching a line from my center to my brain. Leaning forward, he slowly, reverently, pressed his lips to the swell of my right breast. I sighed, my hands returning to his shoulders as tenderly pressed his lips to dozens of little spots. Never any of the places I wanted, but for once I didn’t mind the slow burn. It made me ache in ways I didn’t think were possible, longing for something just beyond the horizon.
And then his rough tongue flicked over a sensitive coral bud and his blunt teeth ever so lightly grazed them immediately after. Electricity ran down my spine and my thighs clenched on either side of the man before her.
“Like that?” He breathed into my skin.
“Yes,” I whispered, pushing myself forward for more. It was amazing how easily this man turned me into a glutton, always seeking fulfillment, always seeking satiation but keeping it just out of my reach. Was this what it was like to let go, to fly high with euphoria and never touch down? Or was I just drunk on never having to worry about hiding myself? About pretending to be anything less than what I was?
I didn’t know, and I supposed it didn’t matter, because then his mouth was moving to give the other side equal treatment while a hand came up to roll the still-damp nipple between his fingertips.
It was too much. But it was never enough. My hips rolled against him without restraint. I was sure that I was absolutely ruining the underwear I was wearing, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything really that was outside of Mickey and all that he could do to me.
Somehow, when he touched me, all I felt was the fantasy. There was no responsibility, no stunt company, not even that stupid producer who had insulted my weight. There was only the energy between Mickey and I, the safe haven we made for each other where there were no walls. No pretentions. Just flesh on flesh.
