Merry Ever After

God, it had been too long since my last satisfying sexual encounter. A one-night stand a few weeks after my divorce was final. Since then, I’d found it hard to put into words what I wanted from a new lover. And Mark’s sexual dysfunction hadn’t exactly done anything for my self-confidence.

But I knew from the sweep of his tongue, from the rock of his arousal against me that Vonn would be different.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he murmured against my lips.

The lights seemed to flicker before my eyes, and then I was plunged into darkness as he expertly kissed the life out of me. It took me several long, embarrassing seconds before I realized the lights really had gone out.

“Power outage,” I gasped into his mouth.

“I’m aware,” he said smiling as he stroked his thumb over my sensitive nipple. Once. Twice.

My knees went weak.

“I can still make tea,” I squeaked. “On the stove.”

“Baby, fuck the tea.” His breath was warm on my cheek.

To emphasize his point, he ground his erection against me.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Stay here,” he said, giving my butt a gentle squeeze. And then he was gone.

“Vonn?”

I heard the strike of a match in the kitchen and the hiss of a candlewick. The kitchen grew progressively brighter as he lit several candles.

The man had cooked me dinner, force fed me Tylenol, rubbed my feet, and gathered candles in case of a power outage. I’d never felt more cared for in my entire life.

When he stepped back from the counter, my eyes were drawn to his crotch. His bulging erection on full display through the thin material—thank you, Jesus and the inventor of sweatpants.

Just one kiss with me had done that to him. I blew out a shaky breath.

Vonn took two fat pillar candles and jerked his head toward the living room. “I want you by the fire.”

He could have said, I want you spread eagle in the snow, and I would have happily trotted outside without pants.

I followed him back to the living room and stood awkwardly as he placed the candles on the coffee table, then added another log to the fire. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or if I should sit down or jump him as soon as he finished stoking the fire.

He took me by the hand and led me back to the couch. But he didn’t settle back on its deep overstuffed cushions. He sank to the floor in front of it and pulled me down to straddle his lap. He bent his knees behind me, and I slid down his hard thighs until his iron-hard shaft notched between my legs.

He let out a guttural moan that had my toes curling in wicked delight.

Our mouths were so close we were breathing the same air.

“Tell me you want this, Brooke.”

“Yes. Please,” I begged.

“Thank fucking God.”

He took my mouth again and gripped my hips, dragging me over his erection.

Up and down. Back and forth until I was panting for more.

A realization hit me. “Shit. Wait!”

He lifted his head, concern written on his gorgeous face. “You okay?”

I reached past him, the change in angle inciting more torture between my legs. Grabbing my phone, I stabbed at the Record button and turned it off.

“Now, I’m okay.”

His grin was downright lethal as he hooked his fingers in the neckline of my tank top and pulled down. I had just enough time to shrug out of my sweater before his mouth fastened onto my nipple. His arms, tattooed monuments to a wild life, wrapped around me as his beard abraded my breast.

Even as he sucked and licked, as he bucked his hips, I noticed that he was careful with me. Avoiding the bruising, holding me still.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” I murmured against the top of his head as my empty core spasmed with need.

“Babe, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If this is our one night together, I don’t want to waste it being careful.” To emphasize my point, I dragged down the waistband of his sweatpants.

Of course the man went commando.

A moan escaped my throat as his erection sprang free. It was proud and thick enough, long enough to guarantee I’d be sore tomorrow. I couldn’t wait.

I gripped him at the base, wrapping my fingers around the shaft.

He nudged my chin up, and I met his gaze.

“Been dying to watch you like this,” he confessed. “Two weeks I’ve been watching, wanting. Now I get to see you up close.”

I blew out a breath, my grip tightening on his impressive cock.

Vonn wanted to see me.

The man I’d dreamed about since my twenties was seeing me. Not Addison and Shane’s mom. Not Ryan’s ex-wife. Not the woman handing over change at the sports boosters concession stand.

Me.

“It’s been a little longer for me,” I confessed. “A few decades. Sure hope you live up to the hype.”