Page 51 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

“Mike, please,” I begged, my hips lifting on their own.

“What do you need, babe?” He looked down at me. Waiting. Patient.

If I hadn't felt him hard against my hip I would think him unaffected.

“I want you,” I replied.

“You have me. What do youneed?” he asked again.

He wasn't giving an inch. And I wanted every inch of him.

“I want...” I swallowed. Could I say it? Could I open myself up enough to share? “I need you to be in control.”

He grinned, and then leaned in for a soft kiss. “Then grab hold of the headboard and don't let go.”

I did as he told me not because I wanted him to be bossy, but because I wanted—needed—to forget about everything else in life and focus solely on being in bed with Mike. What his hands were doing. Where his mouth was. How he was going to be inside me, very soon.

I had too many browser tabs open on my computer-like mind. When he told me to hold on to the headboard, it was like shutting down all of them but one. Just Mike.

Gripping the cool wood between my fingers, I watched Mike's head lower to my breast, laving one through the lace and then the other until the tips were even tighter than before. Until my hips shifted shamelessly. I watched him go lower still, felt him kiss and nibble his way down my ribs, his fingers tugging atthe lacy sides of my panties, working them down over my hips, my legs, then off.

“You look amazing in these—” he held up the scrap of fabric, then stuck them in his jeans pocket “—but you look even better out.” He took in his fill of my body as he sat back on his heels. Had he just tucked my panties away like a souvenir? Holy shit.

Lowering his head, he nudged my legs wide with his shoulders before he put his mouth on me. It was a good thing everyone had left because I cried out. I couldn't be quiet with what he was doing. I let go of my hold, running my hands through his hair.

He lifted his head.

“What? Why'd you stop?” I asked, confused. Breathless in my need.

“You do what I want; I give you what you need. Put your hands back above your head. Besides, my hair got caught in that ring.” His tone meant he wasn't fooling around. He wanted me to grab the headboard. I needed him to make me come. He'd gotten me really close, amazingly fast, but I didn't do as he'd said and had let go of the headboard. So he stopped. It was cruel, complicated and incredibly arousing. I re-grabbed, hoping he'd re-start.

He did. Oh, he did. This whole control thing wastotallyworking for me. Mike was doing things to my body that might possibly be illegal in a few less progressive states. When my pleasure rushed over me like a tidal wave, I saw stars, the tips of my ears were numb and my fingers had a death grip on the headboard.

Once I recovered enough to glance down my body at Mike, he gave me that satisfied male look. Oh, how his skills had improved since we were eighteen.

“That's the one I owed you from graduation.”

Wow. He'd more than compensated me. Had I known it was going to be like that, I would have demanded payment sooner.

His hands raked up my body, over my breasts. I hissed out a breath at his potent touch. At the need rising in me once again. More? Could I handle more?

Mike stripped off his shirt, baring his solid chest, chiseled abs. The dusting of red hair was sexy as hell and I wanted to run my fingers through it. Wanted to touch him. Everywhere. Yeah, I could handle more. I whimpered. He ignored me. “Now, flip over, grab hold again.”

Oh. I'm glad he ignored me. I liked his words very,verymuch.

As I faced the wall up on my hands and knees, I heard his zipper, a foiled package crinkling. A second later, his body, hot to the touch, pressed into mine, one hand cupping a breast, fingers pulling on the sensitive nipple. His voice close to my ear. “I'm going to take you for a ride.”

Mike wasn't done with me quickly. Okay, maybe the first time, but the second was at a much slower pace, learning each other all over again. Discovering what made me cry out, what made him lose control. The third time, it was my turn to takehimfor a ride.

Three hours later,we were showered and making lunch in the kitchen. I wore Mike's T-shirt and he wore his jeans, low slung and with the button undone. Nothing else. My body felt soft and relaxed like pulled taffy, and I had no doubt I sported a goofy grin. Mike carried himself like a well-satisfied male. It felt good to know I made him that way. He might have had control over me, but it seemed I had the real power.

“So what's our plan for today? And don't say more sex.” I gave him a look that said 'hands off.'

The look he gave me back said just the opposite; he was thinking of wicked things to do to me. He came over to me, crowded me in, lifted me—very easily—up onto the counter so he stood between my spread legs.

“Okay. I won't say it. What if we just do it?”

“If we have any more sex, I won't be able to walk right for a week.”

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