Page 50 of Baby I'm Yours

“Good. My balance is getting better, I think. My tree pose…” I trail off as his hand settles on my lower back before smoothing slowly over my bottom, sending a ripple of awareness across my skin. I clear my throat. “See something you like, Mr. M?”

He rumbles thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on my backside. “Yes, very much. Your ass in silk… I’d write poetry about it if I were that sort of man.”

“And who says you can’t be?” I ask, pressing back against his hand, loving the way his expression sharpens with desire. “I think you can be anything you want to be. Including the kind of man who resists the urge to bend me over the bed and shove my skirt up from behind. If you do anything to put the integrity of this garment at risk, I will be very disappointed in you.”

He drags his gaze back to meet mine in the mirror, his lips hooking up on one side. “Fine. I’ll go jerk off in a cold shower instead.”

“Don’t you dare,” I call after him as he turns away, disappearing into the bathroom. “I could be in my fertile window in as little as five or six days. That sperm is mine, buddy. If you waste a drop, you’re going to be answering to me.”

He pops his head back in, heat in his gaze that makes my already taut nipples tingle. “Then you’d better get out of that dress and spread your legs, little girl. Right now. I’m hard as nails for you, and I need to come.”

Fuck…

He knows what he does to me when he talks like that. I’m instantly wet enough to put my dress in peril, anyway.

Still, I make a big show of slowly drawing down the zipper and stepping out of the garment before draping it gently over the padded chair in the corner of the closet, keenly aware of his eyes hot on me the entire time. With my back still turned, I flick open the hooks on my bra, letting it slide down my arms onto the carpet before turning back to him in nothing but my tiny black lace panties.

“Well, you’d better hurry,” I say, my voice husky with need. It grows huskier when I see that he’s already out of his clothes and idly stroking his swollen cock with one big hand. “We only have an hour before we need to pick your mother up for the theater.”

“Speed won’t be a problem,” he says, still stroking himself slowly as he nods toward the floor. “Down on the carpet, panties off, legs spread. I’m going to fuck you right here. I can’t wait the time it would take to get to the bedroom.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, teasing him with that phrase I know he secretly loves as I shimmy out of my panties. A beat later, I’m flat on my back on the carpet, holding his gaze as I spread my legs, then reach down to spread my inner lips wide, showing him how slick I already am.

“What a little slut you are,” he says, crossing the room in one big step. “A little slut who’s always wet for me and desperate for this cock.”

“Yes,” I agree, moaning as he moves over me, entering me in one deep, firm thrust.

I cry out, clinging to his shoulders as he fucks me hard, without foreplay or any of his usual attention to my clit.

But I don’t need it. By the time he warns, “I’m about to come. To come so deep in this pussy,” I’m already spiraling. As he groans and begins to pulse inside me, I dig my nails into the muscles of his ass and join him, rolling my hips in little circles that draw out the blissful contractions.

When I’m finally finished, I open my eyes to find Hunter watching me with a soft smile. “What?” I ask, still breathless.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just like watching you come for me.”

I smile. “Good. I like coming for you, so that works out.”

He bends to kiss my forehead, whispering, “I’m going to shower. I made you a latte after I got back from the gym. It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Thank you,” I say, touched by the gesture. I’m pretty much a master at the machine by now, but still…I love that he already knows that I like a second coffee after my new morning workout routine.

Five days of being his “real” girlfriend, and I’m still not entirely used to these moments of genuine sweetness from him. They catch me off guard every time, making my heart do little flips that I know I shouldn’t encourage.

But I can’t help it.

Everything about this week has been magical.

As I clean up with one of the body wipes under the sink, get re-dressed, and head into the kitchen to fetch my coffee before doing my makeup, I can’t help ticking through all the ways Hunter and I are proving to be perfect together.

The sex just keeps getting hotter, we laugh together all the time, and now that he’s stopped fighting it, the affection he feels for me is so obvious, I feel kind of dumb for not seeing it sooner. And it’s not just little gestures like the coffee. It’s the way he steps up and does his best to answer my hard questions, the way he reassures me when I’m getting overwhelmed by my “what comes next” dilemma, the way he holds me as we drift off to sleep like I’m something precious he doesn’t want to lose.

It’s hard to believe I’m really the first woman who’s been able to see the tender man beneath his brusque exterior. Even when he’s at his most dry and sarcastic, even when he’s annoyed by my mess or my stubbornness or my smart mouth, I can still tell how much he wants to be there for me.

To bewithme.

Even our arguments are kind of awesome.

Like at Coney Island, when he warned me to stop taking selfies of us because he hates having his picture taken. I refused, of course, seeing as I found the fact that he insisted on brooding in the background of every shot super entertaining.

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