Andre and I both looked at him. All he had left to take off were his boxer briefs.
He met my eyes, and damn, he looked drunk.
“Okay, wait a sec,” I said, taking pity on him. I reached under my skirt again and slipped off my panties. I held them up, then dropped them on the floor.
Ronan’s eyes glazed over as he watched me do it. Booze and lust.
I shrugged when they both stared at me. “Call it a pity freebie.”
Andre grabbed the tequila bottle and poured us shots. Ronan picked up his shot and downed it without even waiting for us. Then he stood up, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear.
And oh… my.
He. Was. Hard.
Andre choked on the shot he’d just put back. “Oh. No. Brother, don’t—”
Ronan took a breath—and whipped his underwear down.
“NO!”
I gasped in pure joy and applauded as Ronan’s underwear dropped to his ankles.
“Brooooo! NOOOO!” Andre moaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “I DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT!”
“Oh, he did it,” I said, and tossed my shot back.
Ronan rested a hand on one hip and took a big, drunken breath. Then he dug the other hand into the popcorn bowl. He stood there snacking with his naked, glorious hard-on out, as Andre fell out of his chair, one hand still over his eyes, and groped around on the floor for his shirt.
“What?” Ronan said through popcorn. “I lost the game.”
Andre pulled on his shirt and grabbed his shoes, staggered to the door, muttered something about calling a cab, and left. The door slammed unceremoniously behind him and I burst out laughing.
Ronan sighed raggedly. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“That… was… amazing,” I said, gazing up at him with unadulterated adoration.
Was this what it felt like to fall head-over-heels in love with one’s bodyguard?
Yeah. I was pretty fucking sure.
He put a hand on the table to steady himself. “Fuck. I’m hammered.”
I just laughed.
“You are so sexy,” he croaked. He sounded parched. His head was kinda hanging as he peered up at me. He looked like it was taking all his effort to stand, actually.
His dick was still pretty hard, though.
“Oh, baby.” I got up and went to get him a glass of water from the kitchen. “Drink some water.”
He chugged some back, then passed it to me. I took a swig as he watched, then set the glass aside.
“Are you fully cognizant of the fact that you just showed Andre your dick? While it was obscenely hard?”
“Maybe one of us will forget about that by tomorrow?”
“I kinda think that mental image is gonna be burned into his brain, forever and always.”
“It’s your fault,” he said, his voice gruff. “You stripped off all your… stuff. I’ve been hard for the last twenty minutes.”
My gaze drifted down to his stiff dick, and I definitely filed that away.
Can get it up, even when wasted.
“That’s impressive,” I told him, sitting down in my chair again. “Given how drunk you are.”
He leaned over me, braced against the table, and his eyes dragged over my body. “Do that thing again…”
“What thing?”
“You know, where you peel your panties off while you’re still wearing your skirt.”
“I can’t. My panties are already off. I can do this, though.” I put a leg up on the edge of the table so my skirt fluttered back, hooked my thumbs under the lace at the top of my stocking, and started sliding it down my thigh.
Ronan groaned and his dick flexed.
Then he hauled me out of my chair and manhandled me over to the couch.
Not so worried about hurting me when he’s horny…
We tumbled onto the couch in a groping, drunken heap. He rammed into me while I was still in my bra and flouncy skirt and one stocking. He fucked me while we kissed like we were drunk—on each other.
We screwed each other until we were sweating, and I told him, “Don’t stop. Don’t pull out…”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I could feel the intensity of his arousal as he drove into me, the anticipation of coming inside me for the first time. And after he pulled my hair and bit my neck and growled out I’m gonna come so deep in that pussy you’re gonna taste it, I came so hard I was afraid the neighbors might call the cops because they thought he was murdering someone.
He wasn’t exactly quiet about his orgasm, either.
Apparently, the only thing that made Ronan come harder than my mouth or hands on his dick was being buried deep in my pussy.
We lay in a sweaty, panting, entangled heap for long minutes afterwards. My head was spinning and I was pretty sure birdies were tweeting all around it like in an old cartoon.
And maybe hearts were throbbing in my eyes.
I couldn’t even look at him, just in case.
“You okay?” he asked, as I buried my face in his neck.
Gets all mushy-voiced after he comes.
Loves me?
I cleared my throat and decided to avoid the romantic after-sex talk that might possibly follow that fuck, if he was drunk enough—and make my heart explode as hard as my ovaries just had.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked him.
“Uh…” He seemed lost, or maybe the blood just hadn’t returned to his brain. He pulled out, still panting, and collapsed next to me. There wasn’t enough room for that on the couch, so he was still half on top of me. “D’you want to stay over?”
“If you want me to.” I met his eyes.
He put a hand on the side of my face, stroked his thumb over my lips, and kissed me softly. “I want you to.” His voice was all husky, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
Relax, I tried to tell my ovaries. We already did it.
“Then let’s have morning sex,” I said casually, “and go pick up groceries or something. Like a normal boring couple.”
“Sounds exotic.” He sighed, sounding sated and tired. And still
