Page 93 of On the Line

“Shut the door all the way,” I say, nodding my chin toward the bedroom door. “Because I plan to make you scream.”

She’s off the bed and shutting the door so quickly I barely have time to fully sit up. On her way back to the bed, she pulls her T-shirt over her head then unties her flannel pajama pants and lets them drop to the ground. She’s standing in front of me in nothing but a thong.

“Is that one of the pairs I sent you?” I ask. I promised her ten pairs for the one I ruined in the car, but she hadn’t mentioned receiving them.

“The box must have come yesterday, but I didn’t see it until this morning. Thank you for these.”

“You can thank me by taking them off and letting me see you naked.”

She hooks her thumbs under the straps on her hips, slides the thong down her legs, and then walks toward me, asking, “Why do you still have clothes on?”

I reach behind me and pull my shirt over my head in one motion, then swing my legs over the edge of the bed and I stand, dropping my jeans. Lauren reaches out to palm me through my boxers, and I groan as she fists the length of me—it’s been days since I’ve come, and I’m so hard for her already. I need the sweet feel of her skin on mine, of her body taking me and making me a part of her.

I push my boxers off and watch the way she eyes my body appreciatively, then I sit back on the bed and pull her between my legs. “It’s been days, and I need you. So here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to sit on my face so I can taste you, and after I make you come, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming my name into a pillow so you don’t wake up the whole goddamn neighborhood.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise as I lie back, situating myself on the bed so my head is on the pillow. “You want me to ...”

“Get up here—one knee on either side of the pillow. I’ve missed the taste of you so fucking much.”

She puts one knee next to the pillow, then swings her other leg over, and holding onto the headboard with one hand, she slowly lowers herself toward my face. “Like this?”

I grab her hips, pulling her down toward me as I say, “I didn’t tell you to fucking hover, Lauren. Sit on my face so I can eat this pussy like it deserves.”

Her breath leaves her in a whoosh, like it often does when I say something unexpected and it’s turned her on, and then she’s sliding her hips forward and back so I can lick her clit. I slide my hands up her abdomen until I’ve got her breasts cupped in my hands and I can run my thumbs across her nipples, which has her bucking her hips faster.

The view from here, her breasts bouncing in my hands, her head thrown back so I only see her neck and chin, and her gripping the upholstered top of the headboard, has me aching to be inside of her. I increase the pressure with my tongue, sliding it faster and harder across her clit, and then she’s moaning out “fuuuck” and moving her hips in tight, small circles over my face.

When she’s just about to come, I slide my body out from beneath her and she whimpers in frustration, pushes off the headboard, and shoots me a look of pure rage over her shoulder. My dick jumps in response.

“I changed my mind,” I say, “I guess it does turn me on when you’re pissed off.”

“I hate you right now,” she grinds out between clenched teeth.

I kneel behind her. “I’m going to change your mind about that. Hold on to the headboard and try not to wake up the kids.”

I slide into her slowly, and it feels like coming home. After years of doing what’s best for everyone else, this relationship I have with Lauren is something that’s just for me. That epiphany is interrupted by the way she slams herself back so that I sink into her all the way.

“Don’t you dare fuck me slowly,” she says. “I need you to make me come.”

I rest one hand on the headboard next to hers, and lean down so my chest is pressed against her back as I use my other arm to anchor her hips so she can’t move.

“Ask. Nicely.”

She turns her head to the side and locks eyes with me. “Please, Jameson. Make. Me. Come.Now.”

I push into the deepest recesses of her body as she takes residence in the deepest recesses of my heart. And while she bounces her hips back into me, grunting out her pleasure, reaching one hand up and behind her and cupping the back of my neck, calling out my name as she tips over the edge to ecstasy, her body tells me what I already know. She is my endgame and always has been. She is the inevitable conclusion to my story.

CHAPTER27

LAUREN

Four Months Later

“What the hell are cremini mushrooms?” Jameson’s voice is bordering on annoyed as it carries through the phone, which is perfect—it means I’ve succeeded in sending him on a wild goose chase at the grocery store for “the last few items” I need for dinner tonight.

The man knows me inside and out and still believes that I am cooking him an elaborate birthday dinner—and I can’t stop laughing about it.

“If you can’t find them, you can just get baby bella mushrooms instead,” I say into the phone, thankful that he can’t see the way my whole body is shaking with laughter.

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