Page 31 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

I moan at the way he asks me to give myself to him. Christ, yes. It’s all I ever wanted in the world.

“Spread your knees and touch yourself,” he orders. “Let me see you with that hand between your legs.”

I drop my hand to my thigh and slide it between them as I widen my knees. I’m aching, my skin so hot it burns, and my panties are soaked through where they cover my slit. I barely touch my sensitive flesh before his grip tightens on my hair. “Push your panties out of the way. I want to see your fingers covered in your wetness. Show me how much you want this.”

I do as he says, pushing the gusset of my lace panties out of the way and gliding my fingers into my entrance. A cry falls from my lips at how wet I am.

“Show me,” he demands, and I do. Taking my fingers from my pussy, I hold them up between us, so he can see the moisture on my fingers and the bead of wetness that slides down my digits. Nothing compares to the way he makes me feel.

He grips my chin, eyes blazing, and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Open your mouth for me. Show me how much you want me to fill it.”

I sit back on my heels and open for him, his cock almost grazing my lips. If I move an inch, I’ll taste the salt of his skin and the musk of his arousal. The corners of my mouth begin to burn while I hold myself wide open for his pleasure.

“Damn, Ash.” He groans longingly as he holds me still and eases into my mouth. His heavy cock scrapes against my lips like hot silk, pushing on my tongue and probing the back of my throat. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

I gag a little as he pulses deeper. Saliva fills my mouth and coats his erection, making it easier for him to slide between my lips. I place my palms on his thighs, gripping his powerful muscles as they contract and release with each thrust. Spit dribbles over my lips, forming strings from my mouth to the root of his dick that stretch each time he pulls back to push in. His pubic hair, trimmed short, tickles my nose as he takes my head firmly between both hands and makes me take him as far as I can. Tears glaze my eyes, as a mini climax rocks my core while I absorb the groans and growls of pleasure he makes. I could stay on my knees for as long as he asked me to. I want his cock in my mouth and his marks on me. I want to be his girl that he cherishes and uses all at the same time. I’m his filthy mess that he puts back together when no one else can.

Hot, bitter salt splashes on my tongue, rolling down my throat and dripping from the corners of my lips as his hands squeeze my head. Eyes glazed, he rocks his hips in decreasing movements and finally stills. He pulls himself from between my lips, leaving spatters of saliva dribbling down my chin while he pulls up his pants.

I wipe the wetness away.

“I could live for your mouth.” He offers me a hand and pulls me to my feet. Setting me against the sink edge, he grabs a washcloth and starts wiping my chin, working his way to my lips, and gently dabbing the corners. “You’ve always looked so sweet on your knees.”

A shadow crosses his eyes, and I grab the hand he holds near my face and squeeze. Is he recalling the tape, recalling me with someone other than him? We both know there have been other people over the years, but neither of us has ever flaunted it in the other’s face. This feels like I’ve betrayed him. It’s just another way I’ve hurt him. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“No.” He puts the cloth down beside the sink and grips my hip as he leans into me, his forehead resting on mine. “I don’t want you getting all caught up in things that are over and done with. Let’s focus on the here and now instead. You and me.”

It isn’t that easy. At least not for me. But Sam always was the better man in a world full of pretend love. That’s probably why I wanted him so much. It’s like I stepped off a cliff all those years ago, expecting the fall into his arms to be short and finding the abyss to be bottomless instead, and now I’m terrified of the crash. I’m scared that I’ll land so hard every fiber of my being will shatter like glass and pour through his fingers like water. I’m scared I’m not strong enough. Or that I won’t be what he needs. Or that I’ll be everything that destroys him. My lip trembles, and I scratch at the Formica countertop with a fingernail. “Okay.”

He walks to the door. “You should get dressed now. Summer’s waiting for us. I’ll be down in the kitchen making sure tonight will go smoothly while we’re out. Come down when you’re ready.”

I watch him leave. Can’t take my eyes off him. All I ever wanted to do was save him from the pain of loving me. Instead, I cut him more deeply each time I tried. How do I make that right? Go? Stay? Perhaps it would have been better if we never met.

But we did meet. Now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. What am I supposed to do with that? How do I fix things between us? Are we even fixable?

My phone vibrates on the counter beside me, making my heart jump into my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and grimace before picking it up and opening the text. What will it take for Luca to leave me alone? I scan the message before slamming the device back against the counter so hard for a second I’m worried I might have broken it. There are a million ways to say I’m screwed.

Here’s one: I am so fucked.

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