Page 59 of Sweet Heat

“It didn’t!” I exclaim; guess we’re choosing deflection in the form of a toddler tantrum.

Nice going, idiot.

With a grunt, he swings me into his arms and starts walking into the living room.

“Put me down. I’m too heavy.” The outburst gives way too much away, and I wish I could take it back.

“Well, that’s news to me.” He sits on the big, squishy gray couch that takes up most of the space, keeping me firmly astride him as the soft material molds to our bodies. Miller’s hands rub along my thighs, but when I move to shift off him, they suddenly turn to iron grips, keeping me firmly in place. His cock presses against my core, rubbing against the seam of my jeans.

“You weren’t too heavy when I lifted you onto my shoulders and buried my face in your pussy,” he argues, voice deepening with every word and making me shiver.

“You weren’t too heavy when I made you sit on my lap for driving lessons.” He arches, thrusting against me to create the most delicious friction.

“Or when I carried you to bed.” I moan at the dirty reminders. “So, tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

His hands snake under the soft jersey, sliding until they reach the opening of my jeans. Doing my best to suck in my gut, I hold my body rigid, trying to keep the words from tumbling out.

“Tell me, Puff. I can’t make it better if you don’t talk to me.” Miller unsnaps the button deftly, making my core slick. The tines of the zipper are loud in the quiet space—each one a mini jolt that makes me wetter with anticipation. Our rapid breathing fills the room.

The words come unbidden to my lips—the last piece I need to complete the puzzle of our relationship. Knowing he doesn’t blame me for his parents’ death, doesn’t hate me for surviving when they died… Now that he’s made it clear I’m his scent match, his one true mate, only one question remains…

“Would you be attracted to me if… if we weren’t…” I swallow hard around the giant lump that’s formed in my throat, wishing I hadn’t asked. Miller is an honest man, a good man, and I know that I’ve just put him in a terrible spot. “There are millions of other women in the world… so much prettier… and the other day the de-scenter…”

His hand cracks against my ass, the noise surprising me more than the sting that barely pierces through the thick material of my jeans. My babbling cuts off, and I gape at Miller stupidly.

“Take your pants off, Puff,” he demands with a rumbly growl. I frown, unsure where this is going, but comply, scrambling offhis legs backward and nearly landing in a heap at his feet. Miller steadies me, making sure I’m all right before gesturing for me to continue. With shaking hands, I slide the jeans down my legs, letting them pool around my feet. Nervously, I straighten the jersey, making sure it’s covering as many of the dimples on my thighs as possible.

With our past couplings, it’s been all heat, lust, and low lights, but this slower burn has my heart thundering.

“Now, the panties.” Biting my lip, I do as he bids, letting the thick black underwear join my jeans. Miller gazes at me, his eyes hooded and darkened with desire. He lifts his hips from the couch, shoving his bottoms down and letting his dick spring free. The purple head slaps against his belly and he grips it tightly, staring at me as he strokes from root to tip.

“Look at what you do to me, Posie.” Pre-cum shines at the top, dribbling down his shaft.

“I’ve never gotten hard for another girl.” His hand flexes, gripping so much harder than I would.

“No one is prettier than you.” Unbidden, I step out of my clothing pile, placing one leg on either side of him and perching on his knees to get a better view. The tip of my tongue darts out, wetting my lips as I stare, completely transfixed, watching Miller fist his length.

And I get jealous of his hand.

With a hiss, I replace it with my own and trace the veins jutting along his shaft. He moans, and arousal slides down my legs. Miller grips my hips, sliding me forward until his cock parts my pussy lips.

“I don’t know what life would be like if you weren’t my match. Yes, I found out when we were still young, but that just means I never had to question if the perfect woman existed. I’ve always known you were meant for me.” Rising on my knees, I line his tip up with my entrance, and his face twists as though in pain. He locks his jaw, but I can see the control it takes for him not to force me down. Instead, he brings his fingers to the buttons of the jersey.

He pops the first one, and I slide him inside me just an inch, letting the stretch take my breath away.

Another button, another inch. We do this, gazing into each other’s eyes until he’s fully seated inside me, the stretch making me breathless. I’m so full that my heartbeat throbs in time with my pussy, making my bra-clad breasts heave.

“I love every part of you, Posie.” He pulls the cups down, giving my hard nipples relief as the cool air of the room hits them.

“These are stunning,” he says roughly, lifting them and giving each sensitive bud a sloppy kiss. “Just like every part of you.”

“But I have stretch marks,” I object, moaning when he rolls his hips while still deep inside me.

“Beautiful.” He tenderly floats his fingers over them.

“And freckles.”

“I can’t wait to count every. Fucking. One.” He punctuates each word with a tap to my clit that makes my legs quake.

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