Hold On (Page 115)

He liked control. He wanted what he wanted and enjoyed dominating the situation so he’d get just that.

Most of the partners he’d had liked it too. But they were often hesitant or skittish, locked in their heads, hung up on shit that took time or training to get them past.

He didn’t mind the time or the training, but considering none of them were women he intended to keep, both were eventually a waste.

Cher let loose. Gave it all and gave it up readily. She was with him all the way from the start.

He wanted to spank her ass, she took it, pushed it, came hard for him. He wanted to finger her on his dining room table and watch, she kept her arms over her head and gave it to him. He wanted her to perform by riding him with her body on display, hands in her hair, she took his cock and gave him the best show he’d ever had.

His to toy with.

His to dominate.

Just his.

His.

On that thought, he felt that unease again sour his gut even as his arm around her tightened.

She lifted up her head and caught his eyes. “I’m good, honey.”

Looking into her face, sated, soft, happy, his hand drifted out of her hair to cup her jaw.

“Thanks for dinner,” she whispered.

Fuck, his brown-eyed girl.

The unease loosened when warmth started to invade.

“Stop thankin’ me for everything,” he ordered.

Her lips tipped up. “Thanks for a fuckin’ awesome orgasm.”

“You did all the work,” he pointed out.

She ignored that completely. “Thanks for bein’ shit-hot in bed.”

He shook his head on the pillow and felt his body start shaking too.

“Would suck, you bein’ tall, gorgeous, and knowin’ how to skim walls but a terrible lay,” she remarked.

His shaking turned to audible laughter.

Through it, he asked, “‘Knowin’ how to skim walls?’”

“That’s definitely big points on the guys-that-are-worth-it test.”

He kept laughing even as he asked, “Seriously?”

“Absolutely,” she answered through her smile. “Though, awesome orgasms are bigger points.” She pressed closer, tits to his chest, hips into his. “Much bigger.”

“Just to say,” he started, “wasn’t me who put on the show tonight, honey. You took yourself there. I was just along for the ride. Or I should say, I seriously got off on a great fuckin’ ride.”

She was still smiling, but he saw the pleasure of his compliment hit her eyes as she returned, “If you think straddlin’ you, ridin’ you, and watchin’ how much you like it didn’t have a part in takin’ me there, you think wrong.”

Automatically, his hips bucked slightly into hers as he growled, “Fuck. I’m forty-two, haven’t banged a woman minutes after a woman banged me since I was in my twenties, and now I’m gettin’ hard again when I didn’t even go soft.”

Her brows shot up. “Is this a complaint?”

“Fuck no,” he answered. “But it is me tellin’ you to get off my dick. I need to go to the john and get rid of this fuckin’ condom so I can bang you again.”

She grinned and took her time sliding off of him, which meant she took her time sliding him out of her.

Fuck.

Cher.

Spectacular.

He touched his mouth to hers, rolled off the bed, and headed to the bathroom.

When he hit his bedroom again, he saw she’d tangled herself in his sheets, leg and hip on display, most of her tits too, her hand up to her chest with the sheet barely covering them. All this on her side, body curved, head resting in her other hand, elbow in the pillow, eyes to him.

Or to his cock.

With his age and experience, it wasn’t lost on him that women appreciated what God and genetics had endowed him with.

It was just that Cher didn’t try to hide or be coy about the fact she particularly appreciated it.

He liked the confidence that showed. She was who she was. She liked what she liked. She didn’t fuck around communicating that.

He also liked the look of her tangled in his sheets in his bed.

He memorized that vision instead of standing there and savoring it, because he knew he’d like the feel of her tangled in his sheets and him even better. So Garrett’s dick lost her attention when he slid into bed and pulled her to him, tangling himself up in sheets and Cher.

When he captured her gaze, he asked, “Where we gotta be for me to ditch the condoms?”

She looked confused but answered readily, “Uh…right here, right now.”

“You on birth control?”

She nodded.

“Babe,” he started. “You had a dry spell. I didn’t. You sure you’re good with that?”

“You been careful?”

That was when he nodded.

“So, right here, right now,” she decreed.

She trusted him.

Completely.

Fuck…his girl.

“Sweetheart…” He gathered her closer. “How ’bout I have my annual physical a coupla months early and add a test?”

She made no response.

“Cher—”

She interrupted him with a whisper, her eyes dropping to his lips then his throat.

“Take care of me.”

Garrett didn’t know if that was an observation or a demand.

He again cupped her jaw and put light pressure there so she’d lift her gaze to his.

When she did, he felt no unease. No sour. No tightness.

Nothing but awe at what he saw in her eyes.

So much awe, his body went solid experiencing it, like he was locking it in so he’d never lose it.