“Tell me you want me,” he ordered.
She pursed her pink lips and gave him a pitying look. “Aw, are you feeling a little needy?”
He shifted to one side and slid his leg up until the meat of his thigh pressed hard against her pussy. Her hips rose off the mattress, her body straining to meet his demands. “I have a lot of needs, but ego-stroking isn’t one of them.”
Her smile heated as she let her hand slip between their bodies and start its teasing slide down to his cock. “How about I stroke something else?”
“Yes, please.”
“So polite.” She cooed the words, but the grip she took on his dick was anything but sweet and playful. “How do you want me?” she asked, her breath hitching as she gave him a hard stroke. “Slow? Fast? Soft and gentle, or do you like things a little…rough?”
He kissed her. Partly to shut her up long enough for his brain to engage again, but mostly because he loved the taste of her. Sweet. Spicy. Hot. Kissing Millie was something like shoving an entire pack of cinnamon gum into his mouth. The heat and flavor nearly unbearable, the sugary shock of her addictive.
“I want you to suck me.”
Her hand stilled, and her gaze flicked up to meet his. The words, stark and unadorned with any of his usual niceties, seemed to jolt her. Truth was, the simple statement shocked him as well. He hadn’t been so blunt with a woman since his days of banging groupies. An apology sprang to the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it at the last second.
Millie’s mouth—the mobile mouth that drove him to distraction—curved up at the corners. “Do you?”
Her saucy smile erased all thoughts of apologies and rescinding the request. He’d told her what he wanted, and he didn’t want to back down. Excitement pulsed through his veins. But unlike the short, sharp strobes pushing him too quickly to the brink, this surge of desire made his blood run slow and sluggish. As if he had all the time in the world, and she was his to command.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Still smiling, she wet her lips, then popped the collar on his shirt so the tips stood up around her ears. “I didn’t hear the magic word.”
The games they’d played on the phone came rushing back in time to keep him from making a huge tactical error. Of all the teases and taunts they’d exchanged, this was one he would not lose. Whether he had what she wanted or needed was for her to decide. He’d be damned if he forfeited his pride to a woman again. Particularly not one who’d been clawing his back a short time before.
“I won’t beg you.”
“You will if you want me bad enough,” she taunted.
The lilt in her voice told him she issued the challenge with the same gravity as a playground double-dog dare. He smirked in response, then bent to nuzzle the creamy skin exposed by the open collar. Her back arched when his teeth scraped the rise of one breast. “Never mind. I can find other ways of entertaining myself.”
“No, I want to,” she said, grappling for a hold on him as he slid down her body.
“Nah, that’s okay.” Ducking under the shirttail, he pressed a lingering kiss to the juncture of her hip and thigh. Then he let his tongue trace the tender crevice leading to the sweet folds of her pussy. “I’ll just…” He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his soap mixed with her arousal. Then he buried his nose in the downy nest of curls. “This seems as good a place as any to hang around a bit.”
“Oh, it’s a great place,” she answered with a husky laugh. And Millie, being Millie, spread her legs wider in blatant invitation. “Stay as long as you like.”
He brushed a kiss across the curve of her belly, a chuckle rolling through him. “So generous.” Clasping the insides of her thighs, he spread her wider still. “Accommodating.”
She moaned as his breath ruffled those damp curls. Millie pressed her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips off the bed, offering her pussy up like a trophy. “That’s me. Putty in your hands.”
Oh, yes. She’d be wet. And hot. And so fucking tight, he could lose his mind. If he hadn’t been raised believing without pain, he’d achieve no gain, he might have broken. But Ty was a professional athlete. A team player. She didn’t realize she was trying to toy with a man long accustomed to finding triumph through hard work, self-denial, and the ingrained notion that no single player could carry the day every day.
He glanced down at his hands. She might be putty, but he was hard as granite. The tips of his fingers sank into pliant flesh. His palms curved to fit the bend of her knees. He was more than twice her size and more stubborn than she could ever imagine. Raising his head, he waited until their eyes met and held. “Maybe I should wait for you to say the magic word.”
Her laugh came fast and breathless. “I’m not that easy.”
“All evidence to the contrary.”
“I’m being polite.”
She added a smirk to the prim statement, which only served to increase his determination. Releasing his hold on one leg, he trailed the very tips of his fingers along the seam of her pussy. He wasn’t wrong. She was wet. And impossibly hot. Without breaking eye contact, he thrust one finger into her wet welcome.
Millie gasped, but he withdrew before she could get a word out. Planting his other hand on the mattress, he stretched up over her again. Her eyes widened with shock, then darkened with arousal when he traced her lower lip with his wet finger, coating the pillowy softness with the evidence of her own arousal.
“Suck me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and raspy.
And God help him, she did.
Eyes open but heavy-lidded, she drew
