by Mia Miles
His words made me blush.
“Are you really going to pay for me to go back to school?” I asked.
“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pay for you go to back and finish your degree.”
Cutter had my back. He really had my back. If he was anything like the rest of the Renegade Lions I had met, his support was unconditional. They all seemed like the kind of people who took someone all the way in when they took them in at all. I felt like he was trying to do the same for me.
I still hadn’t accepted his invitation to be his old lady. I wanted to tell him that I already was. I had been since the first time we slept together. I had been denying it because I didn’t want to be anyone’s girl. I wanted to be my own, but deep down we both had to have known that everyone else was right. We were already together.
We pulled up to his house and got out of the car. This time, I took his hand, and I led him up to the door. I wanted to show him my appreciation for him. I wanted to show him how much I had grown in the short time I’d known him. His support was giving me a lot of new confidence.
Sure, I was proud, and I knew I could be stubborn when I wanted to be, but that wasn’t the same as real confidence. After the reactions of the audience at the club, I felt I had a better idea of what people saw when they looked at me. I knew I was attractive, and I was worth more than just being some married man’s side-piece. Cutter’s reaction to my performance had told me what he thought of my body as well, even though he’d been reluctant to say much about what he thought.
On top of that, it felt good not to hide my body. It felt good to own myself. I didn’t belong to any man, and even as Cutter’s old lady, I wasn’t going to belong to him. I wasn’t property, and even if I was, I was my own property. That meant I got to decide how I shared that property with others.
My parents may have believed that my body was only to be shared with a husband or a serious, devoted boyfriend, but if it belonged to me who was to say it couldn’t be shared with someone who had earned my trust, boyfriend or not? It had felt good to share myself with Cutter without commitment. Confusing, sure, because it was the first time I had even entertained the idea of doing it that way, but it felt good nonetheless.
“Hey, what’s happening here?” he joked as I pulled him along behind me.
“I want to show you how thankful I am that you’ve been so supportive and accepting,” I answered. I was turning myself on by taking control of him and letting the rest of the evening be about my decisions. He’d probably wanted to take me inside and undress me himself, but I was taking over.
“Okay, okay. I’m good with that. I was thinking we needed to finish the night off with a little desert myself,” he said, pressing against me in front of the door.
Our lips almost met. We were close enough to feel each other’s breath. I smiled and said, “Open the door. We can’t do what I want out here.”
He laughed and unlocked his front door. I pushed him through it backward so that he was facing me the whole time. He was starting to grin.
I pushed the door closed with my foot and pushed him toward the stairs. I was in control. He wasn’t pulling me with him. I could feel his body waiting for me to tell him where to go.
As he backed up the stairs, I undressed him. I pulled his shirt out of the waist of his pants and began unbuttoning it, revealing his gorgeous body underneath. I unbuckled his belt as we reached the top of the stairs and made him drop his pants on the floor there, before making it to his room.
“Keep your boxers on,” I told him as he reached to pull them down. I wanted to stroke him through the fabric. I wanted to feel his straining erection hidden from my eyes, waiting for me to take it out for my mouth, or for my wet core.
“I like this version of you,” he panted as I stroked him in the hallway, pushing him back toward his bedroom door. “You’re so confident. It’s a big turn-on.”
“Good,” I purred.
As we made it into his room, I pushed him onto his back on the bed. He watched as I pulled my clothes off and left them on the floor at the side of his bed. As I revealed myself to him, I felt like I was back on stage. I ran my hands slowly over my body, sliding them up over my breasts. I cupped my soft, round tits and squeezed them for him, watching the desire in his face and between his legs. I pinched my hardening pink nipples for him and pulled.
Pleasure erupted through my body. It was like bolts of lightning shooting out from my nipples. I slid a hand down between my legs for him to see. I had never pleasured myself. I had never been one to explore my own body, but as my fingers passed over the delicate, moist folds of skin between my legs, I realized it was something I needed to do, the final step of claiming my body as my own. My legs pressed together around my hand as the sudden shock of ecstasy nearly brought me to my knees.
Eddie and Cutter had both touched me, but it felt different when it was my own fingers, my own hand, passing over my clit.
I stopped playing. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t myself. I pulled his boxer shorts down, exposing his manhood to me, standing hard and ready for me to take him inside. I stroked him with my hand. His skin was soft, though it was pulled taut by his erection. I climbed onto the bed and straddled him.
“Is that how you want it?” he asked.
“This is how I need it,” I told him as I positioned his head at my entrance. I could feel his hips pushing up toward me ever so slightly, pressing him into my lips. They parted, and I pushed myself down slowly onto his shaft.
Every single inch of him passed through my opening with intense pleasure. My body shook as I pressed down onto him, taking him deep into me. It was the first time I had ever taken control, and it felt amazing. I had been on top before, but not like this. This time, it was all me.
I grabbed his hands and put them on my breasts. I made him squeeze me as I thrust myself down onto him, impaling myself with him, over and over, faster and faster. Harder each time, until I could hear our bodies slamming into each other.
We both panted with passion and exertion as our hips collided again and again. He grunted as he pressed his hips up to meet mine. I moaned as he penetrated deep into me. I tilted my head back and moaned at the ceiling with my hands still holding his in place on my tits. He squeezed and massaged them without my assistance, though, as I just held him in place.
I listened to what my body was telling me to do. I pressed down on him and started rocking my hips furiously back and forth, keeping him deep inside of me as I rubbed myself against him.
“I’m going to cum,” I told him. My body shook. I leaned down and put my hands on his firm chest as I continued rocking on top of him. The noises that escaped me! I whined and whimpered and moaned and cried out as pleasure coursed through my body uncontrollably. There was an electrical storm inside of me as my ecstasy grew to the point that it could barely be contained.
His hands had moved and my body searched to see where I could feel him touching me. They were on the sides of my face, and his lips were on mine. Our mouths were locked together and our tongues were intertwined. I moaned into his mouth as my orgasm erupted from deep within.
My body wanted to collapse as my hips continued to rock against him. He grabbed me and pulled me down, not letting me lose my rhythm. He worked my hips at the same pace.
“Keep cumming for me,” he ordered as he took me over. My body shook and shivered, and I panted with my eyes closed against his chest.
I felt him growing even harder, felt the tension in his cock increasing. He was about to cum. I felt him so acutely that I could almost feel his orgasm working up through his shaft. He held me down, held himself deep inside of me for a moment, pushing his hips harder and harder against me, before pulling back, pulling out of me.
He put a hand on the top of my head and gently pushed me down his tense, stiff body. I grabbed him and took him into my mouth, sliding my lips down his shaft, working him, pumping him with my lips and tongue until he exploded inside me. His warmth, his salty fla
vor, filled my mouth, filled my throat. I swallowed him as quickly as he came, each jerk of his cock filling my mouth with more of his flavor.
I sucked and licked up every drop until his grip on my head relaxed and I felt the tension of his body give way. I looked up at his panting face. His eyes were closed. He faced the ceiling. His chest heaved.
If anyone had taken anyone tonight, I had taken him, I thought. He may have wanted me to be his, but I had made him mine in giving myself to him.
Chapter Seventeen
Cutter
As I lay in my bed with Missy next to me, coming down from the heights of our shared ecstasy and intimacy, I thought about how much she had changed. The girl who had come into my office hadn’t been confident enough to do what she’d just done to me. She had been confident in her ability to dance and her ability to overcome obstacles, but she had come across as shy about her body itself. She had been reserved.
While so many girls who came through my door lost their spirit on that stage, Missy had found hers. She owned her body now. Hell, she’d owned mine in bed.
“So how does this work?” she asked dreamily as we lay next to each other. She rolled over toward me and curled up against me.
“What do you mean?” I asked. We’d had sex before. She certainly knew how that worked.
“I mean, do you take me back to the clubhouse? Do I stay here tonight? All of my stuff is over there now. I wasn’t really prepared to spend the night.” Her voice didn’t lose its comfortable, dreamy quality while she talked, despite her questions. She sounded like she wanted me to assure her that she didn’t need to go back to the clubhouse. I didn’t want her to. I wanted her to stay.
“I’ll take you back in the morning so you can get ready for work,” I told her.
She put her arm across my stomach and squeezed me.
“I missed this,” she said, as if she were already drifting off to sleep.
“I did, too, even though it was only one night.” I looked down at her and stroked her hair.
She chuckled, and I felt her breath on my skin. “How funny is that? We can’t even be apart for one whole day without being all sad and depressed, like a couple of teenagers.”
I wanted to remind her that she wasn’t that far removed from her teenage years, but I didn’t need the reminder that I was. At twenty-nine, I had left my teens just before she made it to hers. I tried not to think about the age difference, though. As we got older, the gap would seem to shrink. At twenty-one she was closer to me than she would have been when I was twenty-one, even though the numerical difference would have been the same. We were closer in maturity. Then, I laughed to myself. Even though I hadn’t said anything, I was still reminded of the difference in our ages.
“Well, have you given any thought to what I said at dinner, about being my old lady?” I asked her.
She looked up at me with her sweet blue eyes. “It’s all I’ve really been thinking about, Cutter. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t feel the need to say it out loud, since everyone thinks we already are. I was just letting things go their own way. That kind of seems to be how my life works these days.”
“I can see that,” I agreed, still stroking her strawberry blonde hair.
“Why is it so important to make that distinction?”
I had to choose my words carefully, I knew. Even though she sometimes seemed shy or inexperienced, she was still a very independent woman. If anything, discovering confidence in her body seemed to be making her even more independent. She probably saw my attempt to label our relationship as a way to exert control over her, and for once, I was thankful that I wasn’t going to have to control the relationship. For once, I knew the relationship was going to be fine on its own. Still, I wanted it to be official. I wanted to be sure of the nature of our relationship.
“I want you by my side, Missy. I want to share more than my bed and my home with you. I want to share my life with you. I want to send you back to school so you can finish your degree and do what you want with your life instead of just following a paycheck,” I stared, stopping short of saying everything that was on my mind. There was more I wanted for her, but I wasn’t sure how she was going to take it when I said it.
“I know you do, and I thank you for that, Cutter. I thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said, stroking my chest, still reluctant for some reason to accept.
“I want you to move back in, Missy. I don’t mind if you spend off time at the clubhouse, but I want you here, with me,” I confessed.
She laughed. “It was just one night, and you’re already changing your tune. You really must like me or something,” she teased.
“You have no idea.” I grabbed her hand and pulled it up to my mouth, kissing the back of it gently.
She blushed, and I caught a glimpse of that same uncertain girl who walked into my office with hopes of auditioning to be on my stage.
“If you will have me as your lover – and I don’t mean as an occasional partner, I mean as your lover – I will never turn my back on you like the other men in your life have done.”
Her eyes widened as I spoke. She stared at me slack-jawed as if she hadn’t expected me to pledge my devotion to her that way.
“I don’t know what to say, Cutter.” She pushed herself up from my chest. “I’m flattered, definitely, but that’s heavy stuff to drop on me like that.”
“I know, but I mean it. No one should ever walk out on someone they love, not if they truly love them. Your father had no business shutting you out and turning his back on you the way he did. Your mother should have stepped in to stop him. Instead, I’m willing to bet she just sat back and watched, probably with tears in her eyes.” I didn’t care if my words overstepped my bounds. I wanted her to know and understand where I stood and why I stood there with her.
“She tried, but, you know,” Missy started, letting her voice trail off with a touch of disappointment in her mother’s inability to stop what had happened to her.
“And any man who wants to be a woman’s lover certainly should open his door to her when things go wrong in her life. Instead, that coward who fathered your child ran off once he realized you were knocked up. He probably took his wife with him, and now she’s probably wondering why her husband is suddenly so devoted to her. He’s scared shitless because his little affair became too real for him,” I told her, realizing for the first time how upset I was that everyone from before had treated her the way they did.
She looked down at the bed and put her hands in her lap. She looked like she was about to cry. She had really cared for that married man she’d been seeing. “What would you have done?” she asked quietly.
I put a finger under her chin. “I can’t honestly say I would have done any better if I had found myself in the same situation, but I wouldn’t have found myself in that situation,” I told her.
“Well, what are you going to do about it now? It already happened. It’s old news,” she said, shrugging off the tears in her eyes and laughing nervously to keep them from spilling over.
“I’m going to adopt your child, if you will let me. If you will have me, I want to adopt your child. I want to take you and your child in as my family. I want to spend every day making it right for you.” I had a vague idea of what I was saying, but for the most part, the words just gushed out from my heart.
“You’re not only talking about me being your girlfriend,” Missy said in surprise.
I didn’t say anything. I realized that what I was saying to her, everything I had said to her, sounded like a marriage proposal. I was talking about building a life together, which was exactly what I wanted, but I hadn’t actually made it far enough in my thought process to label what I was thinking as marriage, but that was exactly what I was saying. I wanted her to be my old lady, my permanent old lady.
“You’re talking about the future, way down the line, about us staying together forever, that sort of thing,” she continued, breaking it down so that it made sense withou
t saying that I was proposing to her or asking her to marry me.
I wasn’t proposing, but there was no way I wasn’t putting it out there. I was definitely putting it on the table. It was something for us to think about as we continued to move forward. Together.
“I mean, you’re talking about making yourself and the MC my family,” she said. The more she talked, the more animated she became. “You want me to be yours. Not just your lover or your girlfriend, but yours-yours.”
I laughed as I watched her wrap her mind around what I was saying.
“Right,” I agreed. “I want you to be mine, but not in the sense that you belong to me. You’re not a piece of property, and your independence is one of the things that continues to attract me to you. You’re strong. You’re my equal. You are not beneath me. You will be more than just my girlfriend, my lover, my old lady, or my wife. You will be my partner, and that baby will be our baby. I will take the place as your child’s father,” I said.
