Page 174 of The Home Grown
I nod. “We’ll figure it out,” I say, gripping the back of his neck to steer his lips towards my mouth again.
And with that, his fingers fumble with the button of my jeans.
We’ve had ‘quickies’ before. Stolen moments of time before he needs to leave or before I have to meet a client—but this, in a stuffy room at the back of the rink … it seemsdirtiersomehow.
My breath catches in my throat when the pad of his middle finger brushes my clit, then he presses himself into me, tearing his mouth away so he can whisper into my ear.
“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?”
He knows I am.Iknow I am. But I’m frantically nodding, not wanting anything else right now—eagerly pushing into him.
He shimmies my jeans down and his fingers move down, right towards my pussy.
“I knew it,” he says, clearly feeling how wet I am. “Did you dream about me last night? Did you wake up aching for me?”
His confidence has been growing every time we do this. It’s in his voice, in the way his mouth moves over my skin—down, down, toward my collarbone—until I’m trembling, clutching at him, silently begging for more.
I spread my legs a little wider, giving him everything.
With a thumb circling my clit, he slips a finger inside me, and I moan, clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie.
I know what he’s doing before he’s doing it. Building me up … pushing me right towards the edge before pulling his hand away.
“Turn around,” he says.
But I don’t. I can’t.
I drop to my knees instead, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, gripping his boxers too as I tug downward, freeing him.
It juts out, hard and as impatient as I know he is.
I look up at him, locking eyes as I take him in my mouth.
One. Two. Three.
That’s all I manage before he’s pulling me to my feet and spinning me around to face the door, keeping my eyes on his as I look over my shoulder.
Then everything else melts away as we connect.
It’s just me and Mike.
His breath on my neck, his hands on my hips, rough and reverent.
I need more. I need him to?—
“Oh, my god,” I gasp.
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” he says, his thumb pushing into me—somewherenew.
But it’s?—
Everything feels?—
It’s too much, but it’s not enough at the same time.
He presses a little harder and I brace myself against the door, one hand slipping between my legs as he moves behind me, steady and strong and relentless.
Because every cell in my body is right there. On the edge.
