Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

“Winter Morrison, you need to—”

Placing her down, I silence her with a finger to her lips before reaching up to undo the bun she’s got her hair in. I want that hair down so I can grip it while I fuck her. “Baby, it’s time for a little less talking.”

“You want my mouth around your dick instead?”

Hooking my finger under the thin strap of her dress, I say, “You should try harder to read my mind more often.” I drop a kiss to her bare shoulder after I slide the strap down. “Your mouth on my dick is something I’ve thought about at least ten times today.”

Her hands go to my belt and undo it. “Only ten? I need to up my game.”

“I’m not opposed to that.” I hiss as she makes fast work of getting her hand in my pants and around my dick. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Her eyes remain glued to mine as she works my dick. “You know what would feel better?”

“Tell me.” I slide the other strap of her dress over her shoulder and watch as the flimsy material falls to the floor.

Birdie brings her spare hand to my chin and tilts my face back up so our eyes meet again. “I’m pretty sure my tongue would feel better.” She kneels. “Like, if I did this”—she licks the length of my cock and then circles her tongue over the head a few times—“I think you’d like that a lot more than my hand.”

My head falls back as the pleasure spreads through every vein in my body. “Show me what else you’ve got, angel.”

She repeats what she did, slowly and fucking skilfully until I can barely restrain myself. Birdie knows my body well and stops when she reaches the point where she knows I’m about to blow. Rising from her knees, she says, “I love you, Winter.”

The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice throw me. She might be telling me she wants sex, and she might be doing everything to make me think she wants this, but there’s something else going on here. And as much as I want nothing more than to come in her mouth and then fuck her for hours, I need to slow this down so I can get to the bottom of what’s really going on.

When she nabs the bottom of my shirt to lift it up, I stop her. “I love you too, Birdie.”

She cocks her head as I refuse to let her remove my shirt. “You don’t wanna get naked with me?”

“That is exactly what I wanna do with you, but first I wanna know what you’re thinking.”

Misunderstanding, she hits me with a sexy smile. “I’m thinking your dick—”

I shake my head. “No, I wanna know what else you’re thinking about besides fucking me.”

Something passes in her eyes, something I can’t get a good read on, and instead of sharing it with me, she says, “Right now, the only thing I’m thinking about is fucking you.”

I know my wife, so I know when she’s trying to force something she’s not feeling, and that’s what she’s doing here. “Angel, fucking me might be something you think you wanna do or something you think you should do because I want it, but it’s not what you actually want to do. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

She takes a step back, away from me, but I quickly pull her close again. She fights me on that, though, and says, “Let me go, Winter.”

I keep hold of her. “No. Start talking, Birdie.”

Her face fills with annoyance. “God, you can be infuriating sometimes. I just wanted us to have sex and to forget everything else going on for a few hours, but now you suddenly want to talk.”

“Suddenly? I’ve been talking for weeks. Months.”

“Yes, but only because I’ve initiated all that talk. You can’t tell me you love it and prefer it over getting your hands on me.”

Fuck, when Birdie gets like this, we enter dangerous territory. She’s looking for a fight, and the only time she does that is when she’s either trying to avoid thinking about shit that’s bringing her down or when she’s pissed off with me over something completely different to what she’s picking a fight over. So generally, whatever we end up fighting over has fucking nothing to do with anything. Right now, we can’t afford to be fighting over dumb shit so I need to end this before it escalates.

“You’re trying to forget about IVF tonight?” I ask.

“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps.

“This is the subject.”

“No, we’re discussing the fact you don’t like to talk about things.”

“No, that’s the thing you want me to think we’re talking about, angel. What we’re really talking about is your anxiety over the fact we’re about to start shooting your body up with a whole heap of shit in an effort to make a baby that you’re worried we’ll never make.” I soften my voice and run my fingers through her hair. “I’m worried about all of that, too.”