Getting Dirty - Page 57

He’s so fucking hard, and I’m already wet at the sight and feel of him, my clit throbbing fiercely with the power I hold.

He rocks and I take him further, my fingers lifting to cup his balls. His sharp intake of breath tells me it’s what he wants, what he needs. And then I pull back slowly and release him with a pop, loving how his muscular frame flexes at the move and he drags in more air.

‘Lie down,’ I say softly.

He does just as I command, stepping out of his trousers and lying down beside me. All the while his eyes are locked in mine, lost in mine. I climb on top of him, one hand pumping his throbbing length, the other dipping between my legs, scooping up my wetness. I’m so ready for him, and I don’t want to wait a second more. I slide his cock back, use his head to separate my folds and then I sink down, taking his all.

‘Christ, Coco. Yes...’ His hands drop to my thighs, his fingers biting into my skin. ‘What I would give to wake up like this every morning...’

I undulate over him, hear his words chiming with my thoughts from seconds before. ‘Me too.’

I ride him faster, harder, dropping both hands to his chest as my movements become more jagged. And then he rises up, holds me tight against him as I rock, rock, rock... There’s that perfect hit of friction, his sheer size filling me, his body engulfing me, and then I’m gone, my head thrown back as I cry out.

I’m soaring, my body rigid and pulsating. And then he cries against me, shuddering with his own release, his forehead pressed against my clavicle, his mouth pressed into my skin. I feel so close to him in that moment, with his cock buried deep, his head so tight against me, his arms enclosing me. The need to cry is back, but it’s full of happiness.

I wet my lips, find my voice. ‘How’s that for a good morning?’

His breath moves down my front and he breaks away just enough to say, ‘The best.’

And then he’s pulling me back against him again, delivering a kiss to my skin before pressing his cheek to my chest.

We stay like that for what feels like for ever, and yet I’m still disappointed when he pulls back to look up at me, his hands raking through my hair.

‘Your breakfast will be cold.’

I sweep a kiss over his lips. ‘It’ll still be perfect.’

He laughs softly and lifts me away. Dutifully, I sit back against the headboard, give him the chance to disentangle himself from the covers, and then pull them up just enough to cover my breasts.

I give him a wicked grin. ‘I’m ready to be fed.’

‘You’ll be waiting a little while, then; a man needs to recharge.’

I laugh. ‘You know that’s not what I meant.’

‘That’s a shame.’ He rises off the bed and offers me the tray. ‘I’ll be back in a second—don’t eat it all without me.’

And then he pulls his lounge pants off the floor and heads into the bathroom. To clean himself up, I’m sure. But there’s a look on his face a split second before he turns away—that same pain I read in the underground garage.

He’s suffering too. And I don’t know why.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I ENTER THE BATHROOM, walk straight up to the cold tiled wall and press my head against it. I feel sick. I love her. I know I do. There’s no denying it now. I don’t want to wake up another morning without her here in my bed—our bed.

So much rides on the truth coming out and I’m scared. I haven’t been fucking scared in years. I haven’t felt the pain of loss in a decade, and I have no idea how I’ll come out of this in one piece if she rejects me.

I take a breath and push away from the tiles. Standing here isn’t going to help.

I clean up and pull on my bottoms. I take one last check in the mirror and then, happy that I don’t look like the fucked-up idiot I feel, I return to her.

She’s like a blushing bride, sitting up in bed after a night tangled in the sheets with her man, eagerly scoffing a piece of toast. And there goes my nausea again. Over a potential future that I want so badly and fear I can’t have. The kind of future I haven’t wanted since Jess upped and left.

‘This is so good.’

She has her mouth full as she says it and I feel a tickle dance over the fear. My laugh is giddy and light and everything I need in that moment.

‘I’m glad Her Ladyship approves enough to forget her finishing school manners.’

Tags: Rachael Stewart Romance
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