Tiebreaker (It Takes Two 2)

And then I kiss him, a kiss worthy of all the kisses we missed over the years, absent of resentment or bitter history. He stands abruptly, takes me with him, and kisses me back. Charged with so much emotion, it’s hard and sloppy and quickly gets out of hand. His fingers dig into my hips and release––as if he’s afraid of hurting me. And were I a smaller woman I would be hurting. But I’m not small, and I’m not fragile, and I want him as much as he wants me.

Gripping my ass, he picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and we stumble around the living room, his erection, impossibly hard and thick lying against my thigh.

“I need you. Make love to me, please,” I murmur between indelicate kisses.

I don’t care what I sound like. I don’t care that he knows I’m at his mercy. I don’t care that I’m that lovesick girl again. All I care about is him, being part of him again. That sense of completion I’ve only ever felt with him. I want him. Even if it’s only for a little while.

He stumbles while I continue to kiss his neck, pulling his earlobe between my teeth, his chest heaving with each ragged intake of breath. He falls back onto the couch, while I fall onto his lap, straddling him.

I look down between us––my underwear rendered transparent by the rain, his erection pushing against the nylon shorts––and a fresh shot of lust races through me. I’m so turned on I’m aching for him.

“Maren, I––”

“Don’t.” I place my fingers over his mouth, stopping him. “Let’s not complicate anything right now…I need you. Can that be enough for now?”

“You’re sure?”

“Never been more.” An irrepressible smile pries my lips apart. “And if you stop this time, I will dismember you and drop you into the tornado shelter. It’ll be years before they find you.”

His laughter is rusty. And still so freaking sexy. My favorite sound in the world. I used to claim he could make me come from his laugh alone.

It slowly fades. His eyes get heavy-lidded and he springs into action, pulling me up on my knees. His hips jackknife and he pushes down his shorts, kicking them clear across the room. They snag on the corner of a black and white artsy picture on the wall.

“Oh shit,” he whispers, both of us laughing as it almost crashes to the floor.

His erection pushes against my belly, and our mutual laughter dies down all at once. My gaze lowers to find his dick at attention, eager to please and more than ready to get the job done.

Thank you, dick fairy.

He cups my cheek, brushing his thumb across my jaw. His touch tender. The look on his face worshipful. There’s no question he wants this as much as I do. Whatever stopped him back at the lake is in the rearview mirror, no longer and issue.

He hooks his fingers into my underwear and pulls them down, slowly sliding them past one knee, then the other. Anticipation has never been both sweeter, and more excruciating.

“Christ,” he grunts at the discovery of the bare skin between my legs.

“You’re welcome, now stop dawdling.”

I hear a snort. With a wicked gleam in his brandy-colored eyes, he licks his lips and drags the pad of his thumb over my clit. I nearly jump out of my skin despite his unbreakable hold on me. Back and forth. Back and forth. In seconds I’m panting and squirming.

“Noah, hurry up!”

Smack. Four long and capable male fingers land on my swollen bits and I scream.

“Another word and I’ll make you wait forever.” A string of unladylike terms come to mind. “Did you say something?” he adds.

Torn between laughing and killing him, I squeak, “No,” for the sake of my aching privates.

My fingers thread through his black hair. I tug in encouragement and like a good boy he dives between my legs, pulling my clit between his lips. He hums against my ladybird and his short beard scrapes against the smooth, sensitive skin between my legs and I’m fairly certain I’m on the cusp of going into cardiac arrest from how good it feels.

A whole slew of gratitude tumbles out of me in one unintelligible sentence. Hot licks turn into soft sucks and I’m officially done, a goner, on the brink of exploding. Seconds from an O that could equal an Oklahoma earthquake, my slack body close to toppling over, he pulls his mouth away before I can celebrate.

“Noah!”

He chuckles. The burst of hot air against my poor clit is heavenly torture and legit grounds for homicide.

“I could feast on you all night––” he murmurs quietly. “But I have to feel you around my dick or I’m gonna lose what’s left of my fucking mind.”

My tank top gets yanked off. It hits the floor with a wet slap and his amusement fades, transforms into reverence and longing and something else, something I haven’t seen on his face in a long, long time––ownership.