Make Her Mine

This woman. Fuck, this woman.

“I want to taste you when I cum,” I tell her, still staring into her eyes, and she shivers. I pull her onto the bed beside me and flip over top of her into a 69. Her eager lips latch around me almost instantly, and I bend down to run my tongue the whole length of her slit, savoring the taste of her sweet puss. I delve into her, lapping at her walls, loving the muffled groan she makes, and the way her moan vibrates her throat around my cock. I lift one hand to part her lips and slide a finger inside as my tongue swirls around her clit.

Another sound from her rocks my hips against her mouth. Fuck. She pumps her mouth up and down my length, and I thrust between her lips, unable to help myself. I lick her harder, faster, and drive my finger into her, one, then two, then three, pumping into her as I lavish her clit. For a second she breaks rhythm to gasp desperately, and then she swallows me again, working harder.

A few seconds more and we both moan against one another, her body shaking beneath me as the climax rocks through her, my ass clenching as I cum deep in her mouth. I feel her swallow every ounce of it. Her tongue still flicks at my tip, and my cock jumps against her lips. I lick her again and grin as her tight walls convulse around my fingers.

Finally, I roll off her, loving the sound of her sharp breathing, knowing I’m the one who made her gasp.

I sit upright and watch the distant streetlights through my open curtains play on her glistening skin, her breasts rising and falling with each inhale, her eyelids fluttering as she regains control of her limbs after that orgasm.

“God,” she finally hisses, and I laugh.

“How did that feel?” I mold my body against her curves like she’s a puzzle piece I’m fitting into.

“I haven’t come like that in—” She meets my eyes with a sparkle in hers. “Ever.”

“Well, then.” I dip down to press my nose to the curve of her neck, her sweet scent amplified now that she’s all hot and bothered. I lick her salty skin, the taste like caramel on my tongue, and lightly nip the crook of her neck. “It’s a good thing I’ve got no plans to quit now.”

10

Skye

The next day at work, I can’t fight the bounce that sneaks into my step. I feel like I’m floating around the diner on air. Even Rick, the kitchen manager, can’t harsh my buzz when he asks what the fuck I keep smiling about. I just grin and tell him it’s my lucky week.

He rolls his eyes and mutters something about crazy girls before he stomps off to bark orders at the kitchen staff. Even that can’t burst my cloud.

I’m too busy reliving the night in lengthy detail, savoring the deep ache between my thighs with every step that I take, like I can still feel the thick length of Stone’s cock buried to the hilt inside me as he fucked me against his studio wall, the mirror rocking on the wall beside us as I wrapped my legs around his waist and—

“What’s gotten into you?” Evie, one of my co-workers, asks, startling me into awareness again. It takes me a few blinks staring at her before I realize she’s holding the fresh pot of coffee I’d asked her to prepare for a table full of hungover teenagers.

“Just had a good night,” I answer, unable to wipe the stupid smile from my face.

She slides the coffee pot onto a tray and makes a face. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Mr. Tall, Blond, and Gropey from the other night, would it?” She purses her lips together into a knowing smirk. “All the other girls have been calling him Ragnar since he looks like something that walked right off Vikings. I’d call him anything he wants, if you catch my drift.”

At her waggling eyebrows, I immediately cringe. Crap. I forgot she saw me the other night—hell, half the diner staff saw me. And the ones who didn’t probably already heard it from the ones who did. Nothing stays secret in this place for long.

When I don’t confirm, she tilts her head to one side and scrunches her nose again. “Shit, girl. Guess it does.” She chews on her bottom lip. “Like a hookup, or…?”

“Well, we did hook up.” My skin feels red hot, but I continue, “But he asked me out again already.”

Another memory flashes in my mind. Our long, long kiss goodbye this morning when Stone dropped me off at the steps to my apartment. It took me three tries just to climb out of his truck because our hands kept finding one another’s bodies again, his squeezing my hip or wandering along my breasts, as our mouths locked into another slow exploration. And then, just before I finally tore myself away, because I knew if I didn’t I’d never be able to leave, he’d said, “Dinner again on Friday night?”

My heart had almost flown straight out of my chest. For some reason, until that moment, I’d been half holding my breath. I enjoyed my time with him, that’s for damn sure, but I still assumed he was treating it like a hookup. One night and done. I’d been trying to force myself not to picture anything more, not to hope for anything beyond that single night.

“I think it could maybe be something,” I admit to Evie in that breathless voice that I’ve only ever heard other people use when they describe a new love interest. I’ve never heard myself talk like this before. I’ve never dared to hope it might be possible before Xander Stone.

I’m not sure what reaction I expected from Evie, exactly. Not happiness since none of my co-workers particularly give two shits about me unless they’re guilt-tripping me into covering one of their shifts. But maybe at least a wink and a suggestive joke, or for her to bug me for details that she’d probably share with the other gossips who work here.

At any rate, I don’t anticipate the worried, almost pitying look she’s giving me.

“What?” I ask, my heart sinking because the long silence that stretches between us is painfully awkward.

“Well, it’s just…” Evie tugs at a stray blonde curl that dangles across her eye, then shoves it behind her ear in a whip-fast motion. Her gaze quickly wanders over my body before snapping back to my face. “Are you sure he’s, you know, serious about a second date?”

I blink at her a few times. “Sounded like he meant it. I mean, if he’d just wanted a one-night thing, he could’ve said so. He could’ve just not asked me out again.”

“Right, sure. Yeah.” But Evie continues to chew on her lip, even as she turns away from me to start working on preparing another pot of coffee. I stand there a few inches from the pot she already made, aware that the coffee is cooling and the customers waiting for it will start to get impatient soon. I can’t quite make myself let this go, though.