Once Upon a Sure Thing (Page 31)

It’s the menu she made.

Once we step inside her home that evening, she hands it to me—a sheet of white paper, folded over. The front of the menu reads: Tonight’s specials.

I arch a brow as I open it then peruse the offerings.

Ally with ribbon

Ally undressed

Ally bent over the couch

Ally naked and under you in bed

Also, wine, Bananagrams, hot chocolate, Skittles, and more treats are available à la mode, as are crazy conversations; ab explorations; long, lingering kisses along your jawline; nibbles on your earlobe because that drives you crazy; and any combination of blow job, hand job, 69, or anything else upon request.

By the way, I recommend starting with an appetizer of hot, wet kisses.

I close the menu. “Get over here.”

She comes up to me, and I cup her cheeks, stare into her sapphire-blue eyes, and brush my thumb along her jawline.

“I’ll start with one order of hot, wet kisses.”

“Coming right up.”

I twist my fingers in her hair as our mouths collide, and she gives me the most delicious serving of my life. Our tongues skate together, and our lips seem to know precisely what the other wants. It’s a dizzying kiss, filling my brain with a static haze.

With my hands still in her hair, I walk backward with her to the bedroom. That’s where I want her, her breath coming fast, her skin flushed.

I disengage from her mouth when we reach the pristinely made bed. The red polka-dot ribbon I gave her snakes its way down the white comforter like an invitation. I grin wickedly as I flop down on the mattress, pulling her on top of me. Cupping her ass, I grind her against my hard-on. “Did you like being tied up yesterday?”

She nods, her eyes shining with desire. “So much.”

“Why?”

She wriggles against me as I kiss the curve of her neck. “I like the way you make me feel when you tie me up. I like giving you control.”

I groan and yank her closer, curling a hand around the back of her head because I can’t stop kissing her. First, the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, and at last I travel to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.

She murmurs as I go, her voice as soft as a feather. “But why are you so intent on tying me up?”

That’s a damn good question. I lick the shell of her ear as I contemplate the answer. Why do I want that so badly?

Because I want her . . . I want her all to myself, and probably some caveman part of me wants to make her mine. Because I feel so fucking much for her that sometimes tying her up is the only way to contain those feelings.

I flip her over and proceed to strip her, unzipping her jeans. “Because you’re so fucking beautiful when you let me do what I want to you,” I say, telling her a half-truth.

“Do what you want to me,” she whispers, and I nearly die of lust. Combust from it.

Tension rattles through me, hot and urgent. I want Ally to know when I touch her, when I kiss her, that I’m not like anyone else who’s come before.

I’m the kind of guy who’ll stay.

For her.

For her kid.

Only she’s not ready to hear that, so I’ll let my hands and mouth and desire do the talking.

We undress in a flurry, sweaters, shirts, jeans flying off. But when she’s down to her bra and panties, I slow my pace, stopping to admire her. I drag the tips of my fingers from her breasts down her soft belly, savoring the sight of her pink panties and matching pink bra.

“My Honey Lavender likes pink.” I nip her hipbone.

“I do, but I also like wearing nothing with you.”

I groan as a bolt of lust slams into me. She sits up, reaches for my hips, and slides down my briefs.

Another carnal moan escapes my throat as she wraps a fist around my length. This woman. Her hand. Her eager touch. I could have her every day and be happy.

I close my eyes and rock into her hand as she strokes my cock. She has a firm, tight grip as she moves her palm from tip to base. Yes, I could definitely be happy for all my life. I let my imagination wander—nights like this, days with her.

When she whispers my name, my eyes float open slowly. “Yeah?”

“I’m clean and on the pill. Can we go without a condom?”

My dick twitches, throbbing impossibly harder in her hands. “Same. I’m clean.”

She loops her hands around my shoulders and falls back on the bed, bringing me with her. I roam my gaze along her lovely frame, then my hands catalog her beauty. Rose-tipped nipples, a freckle on her belly, a scar from her appendectomy when she was ten, and the softest skin I’ve ever felt. When I spread her thighs open, lust charges through me as I see how wet she is.

How ready for me.

She lifts her fingers, running them over the musical notes on my hipbone.

I settle between her legs, rubbing the head of my cock against her heat. Arching her back, she whimpers, murmuring my name in a half-begging voice. She’s a live wire, and touching her is the best thing I’ve ever done.

I shudder at the thought of not doing this again.

But thought is drained from me when I push inside, sinking into her welcoming paradise. I still myself when I’m all the way in, my breath stuttering, my pulse skyrocketing.

Pleasure sparks along my skin, and my dick hums the happiest tune in the world. This is where we both want to be. Bracing myself on my elbows, I lock eyes with the woman who’s been by my side for the last several years.

My best friend.

My new lover.

It’s all too much, and not enough at the same time. She’s gazing right back at me, vulnerability etched in her blue eyes. And something new too.

I want that something new.

Surrendering to the feel of this kind of bliss, I move inside her, trying to say with my body what she means to me. That I love fucking her because I’m fucking the woman I’ve fallen in love with.

Some good it did trying to stay just friends. Maybe I was never just friends with her. Maybe I’ve always been racing to this. Toward flushed skin and urgent kisses. Toward arched backs and needy whimpers of yes and more and so good.

She laces her hands tighter around my neck, tugs me closer, and brings her lips to mine.

“Miller,” she whispers before she kisses me hungrily.

I’ve been racing toward her.

Toward my name on her lips as she chases the edge of desire. I want to take her there. I want to be the only one who ever does.

Swiveling my hips, I rock into her, every nerve ending in me crackling. She matches each stroke, and we move together. We kiss together. We say nothing together, and our silence speaks volumes.

We’re always talking. Joking. Laughing. Saying dirty things.

But if I open my mouth now, I’ll tell her how I feel.

I swallow the words, keeping them to myself till I know she can handle them. Till we can handle us.

I kiss her neck, then go deeper, so deep she’s writhing and begging, her breath speeding up, her eyes squeezing shut. She moans my name, and it’s never sounded as good as it does when Ally’s coming apart beneath me.

Relentless pleasure blares through me, a euphoria that signals my orgasm isn’t far enough away.

But I want more for her.

I want her too far gone. I grit my teeth and somehow stave off my own climax so I can flip her over to her hands and knees. She’s still trembling, still moaning softly as I push her palms toward the pillows. I grab the ribbon, wrap it around her wrists, and tie the ends to her headboard.

She looks at me, biting her lip. “Take me.”