Page 85 of Mr. Charming

“Expired would have been better.”

I place my hand on his thigh, and he weaves his fingers through mine, our gazes holding for a minute as if it sucks that we allowed all this time to pass while we were apart.

“Me on top?” He blows out a breath, deflecting the moment with humor. “My job is never done.”

“Oh my god, just fuck me already.”

He gives me a wicked grin and pushes open my legs. “I should make you ride me so I can suck on your tits.”

“Next time. After we fuck against the wall.”

He looks down at his dick. “Man, she’s already got a honey-do list for us.”

Then the humor fades as he moves over me. Leaning down, his lips brush along my collarbone, lingering for a moment before he moves lower. The softness of his lips on my bare skin feels like a secret he’s savoring and discovering. I inhale deeply, my fingers finding their way into his hair, gently pulling him closer, silently urging him on.

Tweetie kisses a path down my body, his touch tender and slow. I can’t help but melt under his attention. A shiver runs through me as his hands glide over my sides, moving with a steady rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart. He traces the tattoo of his name with one finger, and his gaze flicks up to meet mine. In his, I see nothing but the weight of the love that still lies between us.

He rises back just as slowly as he moved down until our faces are aligned. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

His fingers dance along my body, and a soft gasp escapes my lips. The way he touches me, so carefully, so deliberate, makes me feel as though I’m the only thing in the world that matters to him. With each kiss, each caress, I’m reminded of what we were together.

His tip pushes against my opening, and he slides in an inch before he kisses me and slides in another inch. Once he’s fully inside me, he gives me the moment I need to adjust.

“Take a minute, I know it’s a lot.”

“Tweetie!” I exclaim, and he laughs, sliding out and back in.

He doesn’t joke anymore as he falls into an easy rhythm in and out of me, casting kisses along my face, my neck, and my ears. His breath rattles in my ear, and I grip his shoulder blades, then lower until I grab his muscled ass and urge him to push into me harder.

He increases his pace, plunging inside me over and over. My breathing hitches when his mouth falls to my breast, taking my nipple into his hot mouth, and it’s all too much. Him, the sensations all over my body. My orgasm comes again, swiftly and without warning, but I hit a crescendo so far gone, I wonder if I’ll ever move away from this state of euphoria.

“God, I love watching you come. I love being the one to make you come.” He crashes his lips to mine, and I hold his chest to me, never wanting this moment to end.

He thrusts into me over and over, whispering sweet things about missing me, being lost without me, and how he finally feels found again until he stills inside me and comes on a curse.

His breathing is jagged as he comes down, laying his weight on me and kissing me languidly without any rush. Minutes later, he lifts his head.

“Thank you,” he says, laughing as he grows soft inside me. With a chaste kiss to my lips, he slides out of me and goes into the bathroom.

I follow him and wait for him to dispose of the condom and clean himself. He stands and waits for me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, waiting to go to the bathroom.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

“You to leave.” I motion toward the door.

His forehead wrinkles. “Why?”

“So I can go to the bathroom.”

He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Go.”

I walk over and turn him to face the door. “Yeah, we’re not there yet.”

“I’ve seen you pee plenty,” he fights me, walking forward.

I shut the door on him, flicking the lock. He laughs, and god, how I missed that sound so much. More than I’ve been able to admit to myself over the years.

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