Soaring (Magdalene #2)(86)
Author: Kristen Ashley

He was coming to me.

That made me happy.

I pressed even closer and replied, “Okay, honey.”

He bent in and touched his mouth to mine once before breaking contact and saying, “Go home and careful getting there.”

I nodded, got up on my toes, gave him my own lip touch and then pulled out of his hold and walked away on my silver pumps.

Even though I wanted to turn, wave, see him one more time, I felt his eyes following me, I hoped he liked what he saw, so I gave that to him and just kept walking.

* * * * *

Hazily I looked down at Mickey on his back in my bed, head to the pillows, while I rode his cock, shifting and angling my hips so every other stroke the head of it grazed the slick walls inside me, hopefully giving him something while I gave the same to me.

My hope was granted when he growled, “Fuck,” knifed up and wrapped an arm around my hips, jerking me and angling me himself as he pulled me up and down, forcing me to ride him faster and harder.

His other hand trailed up the silk of my nightie at my side and in, cupping my breast, his thumb dragging hard against my nipple, using the silk as added friction.

His touch shot through me, my hips bucked and I lifted my hands to the sides of his head, whispering, “Mickey.”

“Like your nighties, baby,” he told me and then pinched my nipple, keeping hold and twisting gently.

That sent my hips jolting. I gasped as my sex convulsed around him, lost my rhythm and started grinding.

“Ride, Amy,” he ordered gruffly, releasing my nipple but only to drag the silk and lace down, baring my breast and bowing his back to take it in his mouth and suck deep.

Oh.

Even better.

I rolled my hips and clenched my fingers on his head as I panted, “Oh my God,” stuck in feeling all he was making me feel and unable to do anything but grind.

His mouth released my breast and his head tipped back.

“Ride, Amy,” he demanded on a growl, his thumb dragging over the slick his mouth left at my nipple.

All I could do was glory in his cock buried deep, Mickey all around me, his thumb teasing my nipple so I didn’t do what I was told. I kept grinding and my head dropped back.

“Right,” he bit out and surged up, still connected, and I was on my back in the bed, Mickey on me, one hand clasped to the back of one knee, yanking it high, the other arm wound around me, holding me steady, as he drove into me.

“Oh God,” I breathed.

“Work your clit,” he ordered.

That clit contracted at the order.

His mouth came to mine. “Wanna feel you workin’ yourself as I fuck you. Do it. Now, baby.”

I shoved a hand between us and down and did it.

When I did, my heels dug into the backs of his thighs and my hips came off the bed. Not long after, my head dug into the duvet and my lips parted.

Because I went soaring.

I felt Mickey’s mouth at my throat until I righted my head and then I felt his mouth on mine, the invasion of his tongue, and I loved how much Mickey kissed while he made love to me.

He quit doing that when he normally quit doing that, and I cupped my hands on the back of his head to hold him to me so his grunt of release filled my mouth.

He rode me hard through his orgasm before he rode me soft and did it with the same kind of kiss.

When it left him, he ended the kiss, but gave me another one on my nose, then my chin before he slid out, saying gently, “Gotta get ready for work, darlin’.”

I held on, not clingy, just lightly, as he moved out of my arms.

I did this nodding.

It was Friday morning. My kids were going to be there after school. I would see them but I wouldn’t see Mickey until they were gone.

He pulled the bedclothes over my lower half before he exited the bed.

I twisted so I could watch him saunter to the bathroom.

I curled into myself as I heard the shower go on.

This was becoming our routine.

Mickey came to me after being at the firehouse. Had sex with me. Slept with me. Had sex with me in the morning. Showered at my place. Went to his, changed clothes and went out.

It was a routine that was working for me.

I looked to the clock.

It wasn’t even six thirty.

At that, I smiled a lazy smile, liking a whole lot how Mickey was making time for me.

With my lazy smile, I lazed in bed, listening to the shower. I continued to do it when Mickey came out, short hair wet, naked body moving around and becoming clothed.

When he’d accomplished that, he sat at the end of my bed, reached out a hand and cupped my cheek.

Through this, I didn’t move.

The soft way Mickey was looking at me, I knew he didn’t mind.

“Lookin’ forward to the kids?” he asked a question he knew the answer to.

“Definitely,” I gave him that answer.

“You get time, touch base with me.”

I turned my head slightly and pressed my cheek into his hand.

“Definitely,” I repeated.

“Gotta head out,” he said.

I nodded under his hand.

When he was about to move, I caught his wrist. He stilled and focused again on me.

I lifted up to my elbow and kept hold of his hand by his wrist, tucking it to my chest.

“I just want to say that it isn’t lost on me, the effort you’re making to spend time with me.”

He stared at me but said nothing.

“Mickey?” I called when this went on a while.

“Babe, you wear short, sexy nighties.”

That was when I stared at him.

“I’m sorry?” I asked when he didn’t elucidate.

“Silky ones that feel good.” He paused before he added, “With lace.”

“Well…” I drew that out but trailed off, still not certain what he was saying.

“Feel good,” he stated, his eyes locked to mine. “Look good. You run to the door in the middle of the night to open it for me. I get my mouth on you, that’s it. You put it right out there you can’t get enough of me. We fuck before we sleep. We fuck when we wake up. You’re a seriously good lay. And you made the boys brownies.”

“I—”

“Not a hardship,” he cut me off to say. “In fact, I’m a dumbfuck for not doin’ it before. Can’t do that shit when I got my kids. Still, lost a week.”

I grinned, his words again making my heart take flight.

“So don’t thank me for makin’ time to spend with you when I like spending time with you, Amy,” he finished on an order.

“Message received, Mickey,” I told him through my grin.