by I. T. Lucas
“I don’t mind your morning breath.”
“I also need to take a piss.”
“Okay, but hurry. I’ve been waiting long enough already.”
He closed his eyes and touched his lips to her forehead. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”
“You’d better.” She made a pouty face and slapped his shoulder playfully.
The relief was almost overwhelming, and as Michael trotted to the bathroom, Kri lifted her eyes to the ceiling and offered a prayer of thanks to the merciful fates.
They weren’t over. This had been just a bump, a hurdle, and their relationship was going to survive.
Chapter 9: Michael
God, he’d been such an idiot.
Michael banged his forehead on the vanity’s mirror. When he’d woken up with Kri’s incredible breasts pressed to his back, and her lips on his neck, he’d felt like a ten ton boulder had rolled off his chest.
The woman was an angel for still wanting him.
He'd been in such a bad place ever since that fight in the alley. Feelings of inadequacy, of inferiority, and of pure shame were destroying him from the inside. The only way he knew how to deal with them was to work himself to exhaustion, trying to improve.
What really hurt, though, was the realization that Kri had been indulging his fantasies. She should have told him that he wasn't good enough, that he needed years of training to reach even one tenth of her skill, if at all.
For real, though, he'd been angry, plain and simple, and in a roundabout way he'd been taking it out on Kri.
It wasn’t her fault that he was ashamed, that he was feeling like less of a man ever since she’d showed him what real skills looked like. She'd been magnificent, but instead of telling her that, he’d been acting like a moron, letting his entire life revolve around his training.
A hell of a boyfriend he was.
People in a relationship were supposed to spend time with each other and make one another a priority. Instead, he'd been focusing only on himself, his feelings and his needs. On some level, he'd been aware that he was hurting Kri. She didn't understand what was going on with him. She probably thought he'd been avoiding her.
Not that she was wrong. Ever since that fight, he'd been obsessed with getting better. It was like a compulsion, and anything outside of this singular pursuit was a distraction. Including Kri.
What did it say about him?
Was it immaturity? A personality flaw?
Probably both. But he’d be damned if he let himself continue on this destructive path. He was going to make love to Kri until their bed caught fire and she begged him to stop.
Not that there was a chance in hell of that.
His woman loved sex, and lots of it. The more likely scenario was that he would drop dead from loss of bodily fluids before that.
First order of business, however, was to cease all this self-deprecating mental beating and get back in that bedroom. Dropping his boxer shorts in the dirty laundry hamper, Michael marched naked into the bedroom like a man on a mission.
Kri lay sprawled atop the bed linens, greeting him with a sexy smile and a pair of stiff nipples adorning her ample breasts.
What a sight.
The woman was a goddess.
With a leap, he closed the distance between the bathroom doorway and Kri’s inviting body.
She squeaked as he got on top of her, letting her feel all of his considerable weight. There was no need to be careful with Kri. She was big and strong, and she wasn’t going to get smothered by his bulk.
Perfect.
Looking at her flushed face, so beautiful, so pure, he lowered his lips to her mouth and kissed her, gently, just a feathery touch.
Even though he was burning, even though he couldn’t wait to be inside her, Michael wasn't going to rush this. He wanted to do it right. Compensate for the days he’d wasted acting like an insecure jerk.
Kri deserved better.
She deserved a man who would always put her pleasure and her wellbeing before his own, and Michael vowed that from now on he was going to be that man.
With a ragged groan, Kri’s hands shot to his neck and she forced his head down, smashing her lips over his. Hot, hungry, demanding, her tongue slid into his mouth.
God, he almost spilled from that kiss alone.
She kissed him as if she’d been starved for him, as if she had waited to do this forever. But then, she had, and it was all his fault.
His fingers digging into her hair, he cradled her head and kissed her back, pouring all of his emotions, all the things he couldn't say to her, into that one epic kiss.
Kri moaned, her hands abandoning his neck to grab his ass and hold him tight as her hips circled under him, trying to guide him inside her.
“Keep doing that, and I’m going to come,” he murmured into her mouth.
She let go of his lips. “Then go for it, big boy. You’ve got more than one in you. Or two, or three or four.” She smirked.
True, but he’d rather be inside her each and every time.
Sliding down, he licked her nipple, his fingers rolling and tugging the other one. Then he switched, suckling and kissing the other while lightly pinching its wet twin. God, he was crazy about these breasts. He loved everything about them; the way they overflowed his large hands, the way her nipples drew tight and rigid when she was aroused, the way she responded to his fondling—her throaty moans and groans getting louder by the moment.
He wasn’t done with the foreplay, though. Not yet.
Both palms plumping the heavy weight of her breasts, he shifted downward and planted a wet kiss on her lower lips.
Her thighs parting even further, she allowed him better access. Kri loved a good tonguing, and he was going to give her one to remember.
Michael was quite proud of the lover he’d become. He’d never told Kri, but his sexual experience before meeting her had been limited to only one lover. The girlfriend he’d had for a few months in his third year of college had been his first, but he hadn’t been hers. Which he was thankful for. At least one of them had known what to do. Besides, she had taught him all he knew about pleasuring a woman, so he hadn’t fumbled like a rookie when Kri had first taken him to her bed.
Still, that had been nothing compared to what he’d learned from Kri. She wasn’t shy about what she wanted and how she wanted it, and he wasn’t either.
Michael was more than happy to accommodate whatever pleased her, and that included her quirky penchant for having sex in public places. Not his thing, but if that was what turned her on, then why not.
Except, from now on, darkened alleys were out. Once had been enough.
Licking and sucking with abandon, Michael gripped Kri’s undulating hips, holding her in place as he tongue-fucked her into an orgasm. She shuddered, quaking with the aftershocks, and licked some more, drawing out her pleasure.
“Come up here,” she husked, pulling his head up from between her thighs. "I want that beautiful shaft of yours inside me.”
Oh, yeah. He was all for that.
With a lurch, he got on top of her, and she gripped his length and guided it inside her. Hoisting her thighs around his hips, he retreated a little only to plow inside her with one powerful thrust.
They both groaned, clutching each other, fusing their sweat-misted bodies like they were never going to let go.
This was it.
This was his home, his life, his future. Right there with his woman, joined as one.
Chapter 10: Kri
“You’re in a good mood today,” Anandur smirked as he helped Kri up.
They’d been sparring for a while, and she was getting tired—which was the only reason he’d succeeded in toppling her to the mat. Though bigger and stronger, Anandur wasn’t as agile and nimble as Kri. As long as she moved fast enough to evade his grip, she was good. Problem was, he knew that eventually she would run out of steam and then he would get her.
Today, th
ough, nothing could upset her. Not even losing to the big oaf. Again.
Gone was not only the sexual frustration that had been turning her into an angry harpy, but also the painful churning in her gut. Things were back to normal between Michael and her.
Almost.
He hadn’t been ready to talk yet, but for now it was good enough. What was important was that they were back together.
She hadn’t lost him.
“Sure I am. It took you how long to win today? Forty minutes? Forty-five? I’m getting stronger and better.”
“That you are, girl. Good job.” He patted her shoulder.
Kri wondered if she’d ever be on the receiving end of the bro embrace and clap. After two decades of training with them and proving her worth, the guys were still treating her like a girl.
Just to spite him, she smiled sweetly and gave him a little princess wave. Trouble was, he didn’t get it, smiling back indulgently. Like he was proud of a kid or something.
Ugh, the guys had no idea how much it irked her.
It had been a good workout, though, and she was done for today. Grabbing her towel off the floor, Kri headed out and took the elevator up to her place.
Michael wasn’t back yet. He was still training with Arwel in one of the converted classrooms. The guy was teaching him to use his telepathic abilities. They couldn't train in the gym proper because Michael had a hard time focusing on his opponent when there were other people around. He’d have to get over that hurdle or his telepathy wouldn’t be worth shit.
After a quick shower, Kri grabbed a bite to eat, then headed out to Amanda’s. They weren't done talking. Amanda had insisted that Kri must come back to report on her progress.
Trouble was, Amanda wasn't alone when Kri got there. Dalhu was sitting on a barstool and sketching a portrait.
“Darling, would you mind working in one of the spare bedrooms? Kri and I want to have a girl talk.”
He grunted something, picked up his sketch and his charcoals, and headed down the hallway.
“Thank you!” Amanda called after him.
“I feel bad. He didn't look happy about being kicked out.”
Amanda waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. He is grumpy because the portrait isn’t coming out the way he wants. Besides, I’ll make it up to him later. You want a drink?”
“Sure.”
“What would you like?”
“Just a beer, thank you.”
Amanda pulled a bottle out of the fridge and handed it to Kri. “You need a glass?”
“No, thanks, I’m good.”
She watched Amanda pour some weird, green liqueur for herself.
For some reason, Kri couldn’t stand green liquids. Perhaps because they reminded her of the fresh-squeezed vegetable juices her mother used to make for her.
Blah.
Drink in hand, Amanda sauntered over to the couch and sat down, crossing her ankles. “Okay, girl, talk to me. Just from looking at you I know it went well, but I want the details.”
Kri sat in the overstuffed chair facing Amanda and took a swig from her beer. “It worked like a charm. But Michael still won't talk to me about it. He’s probably too embarrassed to admit it and I don't want to push him. He’s having a hard time as it is.”
“Yeah, men’s egos are so fragile. Maybe you should compliment his size. That always puts them in a good mood.”
Kri chuckled. “I did, but I really meant it.”
Tapping her foot on the floor, Amanda took a sip from her disgusting drink, then put it on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve been thinking.”
Oh boy, here it comes.
“Maybe you should soften the edges a little. You’ve been putting on this tough façade for so long and hanging with Guardians like you were one of the guys that perhaps you’ve become a little too masculine.”
Kri narrowed her eyes. “So what are you suggesting? That I put on a dress? Or paint my face? That’s not who I am, and I’m not going to change just so Michael could feel more manly. He needs to accept me the way I am.”
Amanda reached for her drink and took another sip. “I’m not talking about a personality overhaul. I’m talking about small gestures. It’s not like you suddenly need to become Miss Congeniality. I’m not expecting you to start prancing around in skirts and dresses every day, but once in a while, for a special occasion or a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant, it won’t kill you to wear a dress or put on a little makeup.”
Well, putting it this way, Amanda had a point. If wearing a dress once in a blue moon, on a special occasion, would improve her relationship with Michael, then she could tolerate it for one evening. Come to think of it, though, she’d gone to Syssi’s wedding wearing a pantsuit, and Michael had told her that she looked beautiful. Maybe Amanda was overestimating the importance of the damn dresses because she happened to like them.
“I don’t think it matters to Michael what I wear or don’t wear.”
“Don’t be silly. Look at it this way: If you go out to a romantic dinner with the guy, and he shows up with a two-day growth, wearing torn jeans and dirty boots, you may not say anything but you are not going to be happy. But if he puts in an effort to look good for you; he shaves, puts on some cologne, a nice dress shirt, and polishes his boots, you are going to appreciate it.”
“True.” What could she say? The woman was right.
“So how about it? I can get you reservations at By Invitation Only, and you invite Michael to a nice dinner. Of course, i’ll dress you up for it. This is not a job for amateurs.”
When Kri cringed, Amanda raised her palms. “Nothing fancy. Just an elegant dress and some flat ballet shoes. I know you hate heels. And anyway, you’re too tall.”
“Hey, I’m only an inch taller than you, and you wear crazy heels all the time.”
Amanda cocked a brow. “Do you want to wear heels?”
“No, of course not.”
“So what are we arguing about?”
“You said that I’m too tall, and I pointed out that I’m not much taller than you. That’s all.”
The truth was that Amanda could pull off wearing insanely high heels, towering over everyone, and still have all the males drooling over her. Kri would just look like a big, square tower.
Amanda sighed. “Whatever, fine. Now let's go and try on some dresses.”
Kri closed her eyes and sighed.
The things I’m willing to suffer for this guy. He’d better appreciate the hell out of me for it.
Chapter 11: Michael
“Kri?” Michael called as he entered their apartment.
There was no answer, but he found a note on the kitchen counter.
I’m at Amanda’s getting dressed. Be ready by six-thirty.
Damn, he didn’t know how he felt about going to that fancy restaurant. Nervous? Excited? Frustrated?
By Invitation Only, what a pompous name.
He’d had to cut his workout routine short, so he’d have time to come home, shower, shave, and get dressed in something nice. Not that he had anything like that. The tux from Syssi and Kian’s wedding wasn’t an option, and other than that he only had jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies. Maybe he should follow Kri’s example and borrow something.
But from whom?
Anandur was taller than him, Brundar was slimmer, Bhathian was both taller and wider. Kian’s clothes would probably fit him best, but he wasn’t going to ask the guy for one of his designer suits. First of all, even the simplest one in Kian's closet was probably worth a fortune, and he would be stressing throughout dinner about putting a stain on it. Second, wearing a suit to a restaurant he would feel like a tool.
Damn, she should’ve given him more notice. With more time, he could’ve run out and bought himself something decent. Like a new pair of jeans and a button-down. For shoes he could use the ones from the wedding. Black shoes were black shoes, right?
With a sigh, he picked up the receiver and punched the extension fo
r Kian and Syssi's penthouse, hoping Syssi would answer. It would be easier to ask her for a favor. Kian was a good guy, but he was intimidating as hell.
“Kri?” Syssi answered.
“No, it’s Michael.”
“Oh, hi, what’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
“Shoot.”
“Can I borrow one of Kian’s dress shirts? Kri is taking me to that By Invitation Only place, and all I have are T-shirts and jeans.”
He heard her chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick up a few and bring them down to you.”
“Thank you. You’re an angel. I’m going to grab a shower, but the door is open. If I’m not out yet, just come in.”
“I will.”
When he came out, Syssi was already in the living room with an armful of brand new dress shirts.
“Last week, Mr. Fentony delivered a bunch of new ones. Kian hasn’t even looked at them yet.”
“Are you sure it's okay with him?”
She nodded. “He couldn’t care less. Here, choose whichever.”
“Are they all the same size?”
“Yes. Same size and same cut, just the fabrics are different. I would go with the white one, always a safe bet. Or maybe the blue one to bring out your eyes. Which do you prefer?”
He took the white. “Thanks.”
Syssi made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go on, try it on. I’ll wait.”
The shirt was a little tight across the chest, but only a little. It would work. Hell, it had to. Michael had no time to look for something else. He pulled on his best pair of jeans, the shoes from the wedding, and ran a comb through his short hair.
Not bad. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror.
Hopefully, the place had no policy against jeans. He could just imagine a snooty hostess or host turning him away. Sorry, sir, but jeans are not allowed in here, you have to leave and come back properly dressed. Or something like that.
When he came back to the living room. Syssi beamed like a proud mother. “Oh, Michael, you look so handsome.”
He felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”
