Page 49 of Big & Bossy

His fingers slid beneath my ear, behind my neck, holding me. Too nice. Too much. I didn’t resist as he pulled me closer. His lips met mine, tentative and soft. I didn’t want to fight him anymore, I didn’t want to pull away from him. I wanted him, and that was okay. It had to be.

My heartbeat kicked into overdrive as I let myself feel what I wanted to. I kissed him back, eagerly and needy, bringing my bare and wet body flush against his. His free hand slid around my waist, holding me tight to him, not giving me an inch of space as he met my urgency and desperation. Lips against lips, teeth, and tongues; it was too much to put into words. We let our bodies do the talking instead.

Sex with him on his jet was nothing compared to how this felt. This was ten years of lost time. This was two people who should never have been separated. This was bleeding nails against a brick wall, trying to get to one another.

His lips moved, nipping and kissing my jaw, my neck as he rotated us. He lifted me up, out of the water, my ass landing solidly on the hard edge of the tub where it met solid marble. He slotted himself between my legs, the hard length of him laying flush against my wetness as his hands explored the rest of me.

His fingers cupped my breasts, his tongue soothing the little nip he’d left below my ear. “I want this, Mandy,” he breathed, his grip against my breasts turning just a little rougher, pulling a little moan from me. “I need it.”

My legs dangled in the water as he leaned me back enough to kiss his way down my chest, his lips locking around my left nipple. His tongue dragged across it, slowly, then quickly, causing more sounds to escape from my throat. “Take it, then,” I replied, my shoulders hitting marble, the biting cold of it making me gasp.

“This is more than last time?—”

“I know.” I gripped the back of his neck, forcing him to look at me.

He held my gaze as his fingers trailed down my body, slipping between my parted thighs. Featherlight, he ghosted across my bundle of nerves, slick already from too much passion and need. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” I breathed. His touch grew stronger, little circles around my clit as he positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance.

“Would you have said yes? If I’d asked you to marry me, if I’d never left, would you have said yes?”

My breath halted and he slid in halfway, my grip tightening on him as my body adjusted to his width. The knot in my throat returned with a vengeance, his question throwing me for a loop. I don’t know. I don’t?—

“Mandy.” He said sternly, drawing my attention back to him, back to his body, his cock inside of me. He slid in further, slowly, achingly, until his hips were flush against my own. “Answer the question, princess.”

“I…” Heat flushed my cheeks as he pushed my thighs up, giving himself a bit more room to sink even deeper. The sensation was unreal, better than before, too much and not enough. I needed more. I needed him. Always had, always would. “Yes. I would have said yes.”

He breathed out shakily as he lifted his mouth from my breast, eagerly finding my lips instead. His hips began to move, slowly at first, gentle little thrusts. My mind fogged as he kissed me, everything else falling to the wayside. The hangover, me chucking up on him, his question, my own questions. Ten years disappeared in the blink of an eye, and it was just us, nothing else but the water sloshing in the tub around his thighs as he made love to me.

I absolutely would have said yes. Had he not disappeared and we’d carried on the way we were, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. He was the closest thing I’d ever found to happiness, to a fulfilling relationship that didn’t end in violence or screaming. He was the only one I’d ever let get close enough.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his thrusting picking up the pace as his free hand interlocked with one of mine. “You’re perfect. So goddamn perfect.”

I could feel the pleasure building in my gut already, tempting me, baiting me. It was as if he remembered every curve of my body, every movement I liked. As if he’d stored it in his mind for ten years in some kind of time capsule, ready to go the moment he needed it. Perfect little movements with his fingers, the exact angle I needed for him to hit that spot inside of me that made me want to scream out in unabashed pleasure, exactly how I wanted to be touched and spoken to. It was too intense. Everything with him was.

His fingers squeezed my own. “Tell me what else you want,” he growled, his face contorting with pleasure with every thrust. “Anything, princess. I’ll give it to you.”

“Nothing.” I dragged my free hand down from his neck, right on top of the panda tattoo. I gripped him, digging my nails into his skin. “Just you.”

His eyes flared as they met mine, his thrusts harder, his fingers working faster. His pupils were wide enough that I could see myself reflected in them. “You already have me.”

My orgasm snuck up on me far too rapidly, my moans escalating with every touch, every thrust. I crashed over the edge, ecstasy ripping through my veins like a wildfire, nails in flesh and back arched. A cry tore from my throat, loud enough to hurt as my body locked and released, holding onto him, refusing to let him go.

He kissed me, coaxed me through it, his hips still moving, faster and more wanting. He groaned against my lips as he took my hands in his, holding them above my head. Sputtered grunts and desperation left him as he found his release, filling me so completely, warm liquid spilling down into the water below.

Our breathing ragged and strained, he held me as he kissed me. Wet flesh against wet flesh. The height of our orgasms still coursing through us, I’d lost any filter I had on my words, my thoughts. “I still love you.” My voice cracked, my eyes burned. I didn’t want this to end. I was giving him myself on a silver fucking platter again.

He pulled back, just an inch. He searched my eyes for any hint of deceit, any glimmer of the part of me that still hated him for everything. She wasn’t here. “And I still love you,” he muttered, his fingers squeezing mine.

Chapter 23

Jackson

“Mandy, please,” I begged, my eyes glued to her as she dragged the wand from her lipstick across her lower lip. Dark maroon, a bold choice to go with her fairly muted eye makeup. “We’re going to be late.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” I laughed, coming up behind her and shifting the long locks of curls over her shoulders. “We were on schedule until you fucking tempted me with that mouth of yours in the shower.”

---