by Stacey Lynn
Sawyer is protective, no doubt, and with the way he stays close to his sister, his girlfriend Debbie too, I feel bad for her. No one deserves someone in their life who doesn’t make them feel like the most important person. I watched enough women being treated like they don’t matter to have learned exactly how not to treat someone you claim you care about.
Which really makes me hope I don’t screw things up with Paisley. It’s not like I’ve had the best role model.
“Damn. That seriously sucks. Anyone know where he went?”
“Sawyer’s making calls. She’s supposed to be here only for the weekend, but I think Sawyer’s trying to get her to stay longer.”
“Good. Good for her.” At least, I think it is until I see Jason approach her on the other side of the pool. She straightens her spine and narrows her eyes at him. Whatever Jason says to her, smiling like the happy-go-lucky guy he usually is makes her scoff.
“What’s going on there?” I tip my beer in their direction.
Jude shrugs. “Fuck if I know. He and Sawyer went to college together. He’s known him for years, so I figure he knows Tessa.”
“Doesn’t look like she likes him.”
As I say it, her cheeks burn bright and she spins, stomping away from Jason. She heads straight to the bar and slams down her beer.
Jason, on the other hand, shoves his hand to his hips, glaring daggers at her I can feel from a dozen yards away before he tips his head back to the sky.
“He’s probably just pissed about her shit. When he and Chauncy met, she would have been like, sixteen or something. Like a little sister.”
Yeah… no. That is not a little sister vibe I have from the pissed off Jason. He’s too laid back for that. Whatever. It’s none of my business.
I punch Jude in the shoulder. “I’m going to go check on Angelo.”
I haven’t seen him in an hour. Some of the men who have teenage children hired their kids to watch the younger ones. I’m not used to Angelo being away from me. I thought it would be easy, but other than Paisley, he’s the only one I keep thinking about.
“See you later?” Jude asks.
“Probably.”
Or not. I still keep thinking of Paisley in her swimsuit. And how I want to take it off her. She hasn’t ditched the cover-up since we arrived, and I give her a small, brief wave on my way inside. There is a room on the main living area that I think is supposed to be a library, but based on the lack of books, I don’t think Jude has ever used it. It’s where the kids were supposed to play inside.
Soft, childlike laughter guides me down the hall and I’m almost to the room when a warm hand wraps around my wrist and tugs.
“Hey you.”
It’s Paisley. My chest squeezes at the sight of her. Now that I know what’s beneath the baggy but soft cover-up, it’s all I can see when I look at her. Her head is tilted to one side, green eyes sparkling with mischief. Her cheeks are pink, perhaps from the scorching heat outside. Her blonde hair, spun like gold, flops over one shoulder with the end of it brushing over her breast.
It’s her lips that grab and hold my attention. They’re pressed into a smile. One that hints of teasing to come, or better yet… something else.
“What is it? You okay?”
“Doing great, Lutzgo. Come here for a minute.”
Before I can ask where, she’s dragging me down, past the library, around a corner and into a room I haven’t been yet.
It has a bed, simple white, fluffy cover, no headboard, and one dresser. The room is plain as can be and I assume it’s a guest room. I’m really not thinking of Jude’s guests in his house when Paisley places her hand on my chest and pushes me backward.
“What are you doing?”
“I keep thinking of later and I can’t concentrate on anything else.”
Oh. Yeah, I like where this is going. My eyes go to the door behind her. It’s shut. And locked.
How did she do that so quickly and quietly?
“You are?”
Her hand on my chest runs down to the edge of my shirt, and then her palm is at my stomach, sliding to the back. She moves closer until her breasts are pressed to my chest and a heat hotter than the hundred-degree temperature outside floods my system.
“What are you—”
“Shh. I’m sorry, Mikah. But I don’t think I can wait until later anymore.”
As she speaks, she’s rolling to her toes, pressing her lips to mine. I do not want to wait anymore either. And I forget all the reasons why I was waiting, which was mainly so we weren’t distracted by Angelo in the middle of anything important, when her hand at my stomach moves to the center of my abs.
And then down.
My dick is semi-hard, getting harder by the moment and when her fingertips press over my growing bulge, all my muscles constrict.
Right. There was another reason why I wanted to wait.
Because the last thing I want is for this to be over too soon, for me to embarrass myself. To make Paisley think I’m not good at this.
“Paisley.” My hand covers hers, and together we put pressure to my now, fully hard cock beneath my swim trucks.
Good Lord, I do not want to be interrupted.
And I most definitely do not want to blow too soon.
“I know you don’t have much experience,” she whispers, and this time, my muscles harden for an entirely different reason.
Embarrassment. I might have implied it, but who would have…
“Paisley.” My voice is rough. Thick with lust but shaking with nerves.
“I figure,” she keeps whispering like I’m not trying to stop this. We should talk first.
I should explain.
“I figure, if I take care of you now, it will be better for both of us later.” Her hand at my dick presses, slides along my covered shaft. My hips buck into her hold. They now have a mind of their own, my hips, my need. All rational, careful thought has fled my brain.
“You don’t have to.” But God, please, if you’re there, help her stay on this path.
My embarrassment recedes, quickly taken over the desire to have her.
To have her want this. And me. Not just my dick.
But me.
“Oh. I might not have to, but tasting you has been all I can think about. It keeps me awake at night. I think of you, inside of me, before I fall asleep. Trust me, Mikah. I want this.”
She squeezes again, firmly, not too hard. The perfect amount of pressure along my length to pull a groan from my throat.
And then she surprises the hell out of me, dropping to her knees, curling her hands around the waistband of my swim trunks and tugging them with her.
“Shit,” I gasp at the sight of her. The top of her head, blonde and highlighted in my view and eyelashes fluttering along the top of her cheeks as her focus is on my dick. Hard and erect.
Aching.
Burning with the thought of what she’s about to do.
My hand goes to her hair and I run a finger over her head, behind her ear, getting her attention until she tilts her chin up at me.
She has her hand on my dick. Slowly stroking. It’s painful and incredible and my jaw may break from trying to hold on.
I will not go too soon, but hell, I could give it all to her right now.
“Take off your cover,” I grunt. I do not think I’m being nice.
Paisley does not seem to care.
She grins at me, lets go of my dick, and she wiggles on her knees until she’s pulled the cover-up over her head and tosses it on the floor next to her. It pools like silk and my shirt joins it after. My swim trunks that I kick off to free them from my ankles are next.
I’m naked and staring, speechless, at her on the carpeted floor. The strings of that swimsuit. The brightness of it.
It looks like a puzzle, a maze, something I will have to solve to take off her later.
But more than that, it’s Paisley—
On her knees. To please me.
God. If there
has ever been anything more beautiful, I would be surprised.
My balls are full and pulled tight and she just looks at me, smiling.
“I knew you’d be gorgeous everywhere.” Her voice is a whisper. Pleased.
And for some damn reason, I like that she likes looking at my dick.
“Please.” I am begging. Her hand is firm but small. Her nail polish is bright white. And her strokes are short, and then long. Teasing. At risk of taking me to the end before I feel the warmth of her mouth.
“Suck me.” No woman has done this to me. I have fantasized about me, jerked off to the idea of it. But now I feel like I’m being a jerk and I don’t want that. Not for Paisley.
“Mikah,” she whispers and she leans forward, slides out her tongue and takes one slow stroke around the tip of me. “I like it when you’re bossy. It makes me wet. So stop thinking, start enjoying, and say or do whatever you want.”
She might kill me. There goes my season. This woman might bring me to my knees right here.
“Pais—”
And it’s all I get out before she puts her mouth back on me, but it’s not just her tongue, it’s her whole mouth, sucking deep, taking me in until her lips meet the curve of her fingers.
And oh holy shit, I will most definitely not survive this. It’s so warm. Wet.
My hands go to her head mostly to keep myself from falling over but also because if she likes it when I boss her, there are other things I want to.
Like have control.
It might be the only want I have.
I am careful with her, not pressing her hard, and I let her work her magic while I mumble curses and grit my teeth.
There are people in this house, I’m vaguely aware of the voices and the activity and the memory that I have a kid who is not too far away.
But Angelo, for the first time in weeks, is the very last thing on my mind as Paisley keeps sucking me. And then her hand drifts down to my balls and—
“Holy shit,” I bite out. “Do that. More.”
My orgasm is close. But I want this. Her squeezing my balls, sucking them. It is dirty and so damn sexy that she seems to get so into this.
My teammates have said there are two kinds of women.
Women who love the power and control of a blow job, of giving and having that power over a man.
And women who dole them out as chores on birthdays and anniversaries.
Thank you to the God in Heaven if he exists that Paisley seems to be the first.
“Yeah,” I groan, and she takes me deep. She has one hand on my hip, the other on my balls. She gags when she takes me deep and I can’t help it.
I really like that, too. Her eyes water as she peers up at me, and I do what feels right. I hold her there for a minute, watch her green eyes darken from her tears before pulling her back.
“Do it,” she whispers. Her cheeks are flushed. “Do what feels good, Mikah.”
It sounds like a dare. Perhaps she’s as desperate for me as I am her.
“You look sexy down there. I want to do to your mouth what I want really want to do to your body later.”
She pumps my dick and licks off the glistening liquid that is there. “Show me.”
Goodness. This woman.
She keeps getting more perfect for me.
I take her again, pumping my hips into her throat. I like the way she moans when I hit the back of her throat, the way she hums around my tip when I pull out. Her suction is divine. It only makes me think of how tight she’ll be when I finally get her to a bed.
And that’s all it takes. The thought of my dick in her. How wet will she be?
How tight?
“Paisley,” I grunt. “I’m going to—”
As if she knows, she moves both of her hands to my hips. She pulls me toward her, takes me all the way until I feel my dick down deep in her throat.
She swallows and it’s so damn good I come. My orgasm lights up my veins like a wildfire and my fingers dig into her scalp.
“Yes,” I groan, as I empty myself, my dick throbbing, my balls feel like they’re exploding, and Paisley takes it.
She takes it all, gasping and swallowing and making it all feel like the best present in the world. And when I am done, she eases off, circles my head with her tongue and smiles up at me.
“I take it you liked it?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Paisley
* * *
I’m filled with a sudden rush of feminine euphoria at what just happened.
I can’t believe I just gave Mikah a blow job in Jude’s guest bedroom.
It’s not me. I don’t mind being bold, but I’m definitely not a take charge and drive the men crazy kind of girl. I blame Mikah and his show me attitude earlier with his arms crossed, dropping his gaze to my swimsuit and my breasts in such a way that hours later I still feel his eyes on me.
I blame him for driving me so crazy lately with the desire to have all of him, I can’t stop thinking about what it will be like.
I blame him for looking at me with such intensity all afternoon. The only thing I’ve been able to think of is later and what exactly that means.
Mostly, I blame his genetics and even his jerk of a father for blessing Mikah with such glorious DNA that it’s impossible to not want to do what I’ve done for him.
And I’m still on my knees, going from bossy vixen to teasing temptress in a matter of moments.
Yeah. I like this guy. A whole lot.
I hand him his shirt and swim trunks, but he ignores them as he takes my wrist, gently pulling me to my feet.
“I am blown away by how beautiful you are,” he says. His heart is racing. I can see it in his pulse at his throat and the way his chest heaves and another powerful rush floods my system.
I can bring this hockey playing star to this trembling mess. It’s good for my own ego and confidence.
“You did not have to do that, but I am so, so very glad you did.” His finger trails down my cheek. My hair must be completely messy from his fingers digging into it. I reach up and pat it down.
“I wanted to.”
He swallows slowly, his gaze taking in my flushed and heated skin, swollen lips, the tremor of my own rapid pulse.
“I wish I had a sitter for Angelo. I want time, alone with you.”
“About that.” I’m suddenly nervous and clasp my hands together. It’s not my place and it most definitely wasn’t earlier, but when Hannah saw me watching him earlier, she brought it up. “I sort of lined one up for you… or us… maybe?”
His blue eyes narrow and he pushes his lips out. He looks stern. Possibly annoyed. Who can blame him? I definitely overstepped.
“Hannah saw me staring at you earlier and she teased me about what you’re like in bed. I told her I didn’t know yet and she said she’d watch Angelo after the party today.”
“She what?” I’ve ruffled him. He runs his hand through his hair, shakes it before it falls to his hip. And yeah, I’m staring. I mean, he’s still naked. And totally unconcerned.
And I might have already seen him naked, but him naked and hard? Well… Mikah is glorious. Every single inch—and there’s a lot of them.
“She—”
“Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and yanks me toward the door.
“Mikah!”
“What? If she’s offering, I’m taking her up on it. I want you. Alone.”
“And I love that.” I gesture to his lower half and I can’t help but laugh. “But maybe we should get our clothes back on first?”
Mikah glances at the clothes still strewn on the floor and curses. “I lose my mind around you. Forget everything.” He yanks on his shorts and tosses me my cover-up. “Do not think you’ll be wearing that long, but no one is seeing that suit besides me.”
His bossiness is a side of him I didn’t expect. Especially not when he grabbed my hair earlier, held me against him… the memory makes me flush and I lick my lips.
“If you keep looking at
me like that our first time will be in Jude’s house and that is not what I want for you.”
“Okay, okay. Keep your pants on.” I throw on my cover-up and when I look at Mikah again, his brow is puckered. “What?”
“My pants are on. I just put them on.”
I laugh again. “It’s an expression. It means be patient.”
I slide up to him and he wraps his arm around my lower back. “I think we have waited enough, yes?”
It takes much longer than I’d like to say our goodbyes. Then we have to find Hannah in the swarm of teammates, find Byron to get his keys to the SUV so we can transfer the car seat base to their car. Hannah assures Mikah almost a thousand times when he keeps repeating Angelo’s schedule that she’s got this under control. Thankfully, when he packs the diaper bag, he packs it like he’s going to be out of town for the weekend so I’m certain Angelo has plenty of food, pacifiers, and diapers for a few hours.
Hannah and Byron promise to bring him back to Mikah’s later tonight, which gives us hours alone. No one pushed for an overnight babysitting job, so I kept my mouth shut.
I planned enough I probably shouldn’t have, but when Hannah teased me earlier about having sex with Mikah, and I admitted we hadn’t yet, I mentioned Angelo… and it all went from there.
Hannah and I might have started a bit rocky a couple of weeks ago, but I’m starting to completely love this woman.
We’re now in the car on the way back to our building, Mikah taking corners in his SUV like he’s being chased by men with guns, zipping through the streets of Charlotte. His hand is on my thigh, mine covers his, and we’ve barely spoken until when he whips his SUV through the underground parking garage, yanking the steering wheel one last time into his spot.
Mikah turns off the ignition and turns to me. “Are you hungry? We can order something to eat if you would like.”
I had a burger, potato salad, regular salad, not to mention the regular snacks and chips and vegetables with dip. Plus, I couldn’t pass by the dessert area and not snag a few cookies.
Twice.
In my defense, they were small.
