“Okay.”
He spins me around and unlaces the corset, slowly, pulling the laces through the loops until it falls forward into my arms. He reaches around and cups my breasts in his hands, massaging and soothing them from being bound so tightly, and I moan in appreciation.
“Feel good?” he asks.
“Mmm.”
“Oh, baby, the things I want to make you feel tonight.”
My breath catches at his words, my thighs tighten and I turn so I can kiss him again, bury my fingers in his hair and just hold on to him.
He lifts me and sits in a loveseat, right in the middle, and cradles me in his lap, kissing me deeply, his hands roaming all over my body, leaving a trail of fire behind them. I grip his face in my hands and hold his mouth to mine, and show him how much I love him.
Finally, I crawl off his lap, headed to kneel on the floor and suck him, but he stops me. “Wait.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you to do that tonight.”
“Why not?” I frown. I thought he liked it when I did that?
“Because tonight is all about you, my love.”
“Huh?” I tilt my head and look down at him, straddling him, in the moonlight. He places his palm flat on my chest between my breasts, and then glides it down my stomach.
“Let me just make love to you.”
“You always make love to me,” I whisper and kiss his cheek. “Remember?”
“I know, but,” he stops himself, a war raging on his face.
“What, babe?”
“You deserve so much. You should never, ever be on your knees.” He lifts me and lays me gently on my back along the couch, kneeling between my thighs, and covers me with his large body. I wrap my silk-covered legs around his hips, and he settles against me, his long, hard cock nestled in my wet folds. He teases my metal with the tip and I gasp.
“I fucking love that piercing,” he grins down at me and pushes his fingers into my hair, brushing the loosened tendrils back from my face.
“I’m glad.” I sigh as he runs the backs of his fingers down my face. “Will?”
“Yes, my love.” He runs his nose down along my own, nuzzling it.
“When I can say the words, when I can finally tell you how I feel, please don’t leave me.” The words are barely a whisper, spoken so softly at first I don’t know if he hears me. I run my hands down his back to his ass and up again, watching his face. Watching his eyes. They haven’t changed, but I can see the wheels turning in his handsome head.
“Megan, the thought of being without you destroys me,” he whispers, just as softly, and sinks into me, slowly, until he’s completely buried in me. He’s holding my head in his palms, his elbows braced on the couch under my shoulders, his face less than an inch from my own. “Just the thought of you not being in my life is my undoing. When you feel safe enough to say what I know you feel, it will be the best moment of my life.”
I cup his face in my hands as he starts to move inside me, gently, in long smooth strokes. Holding my head firmly, he lowers his lips to mine, and makes love to me, completely connecting his body to me, until in a slow-building crescendo, we both let go and come apart in each other’s arms.
And as we regain our senses, I hear him whisper, “Everything, Megan.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I just won a hundred bucks!” I exclaim and grin over at Samantha, who is sitting two machines down from me.
“I just lost two hundred. Jesus, why are we here again?” She scowls as she takes a long sip of her diet soda. “And why can’t I drink?”
“Because we’re the drivers tonight. They were our drivers last week, this week it’s our turn.”
“This sucks.” She mutters and feeds another hundred dollar bill into her machine.
“It probably sucked for them, too,” I laugh. We are at the casino north of Seattle on Monday night, waiting for the guys to need a ride home. Will has tomorrow off of training, so they decided tonight was the best night for a bachelor party. They’ve been up in the high roller room for a few hours now, most likely smoking cigars and drinking whiskey and playing poker. It’s all very Hollywood in my head as I imagine it.
But there’s no way in hell that I’m going up there. I just pray to God no one needs to be carried out to the van because these guys are big, and there’s no way that Sam and I can carry them.
They’ll have to sleep on the casino floor.
“You’re a bad fucking loser!” I twirl at the sound of our group, and sure enough, here they all come, tripping over each other, laughing, drunk as shit.
“I am not a bad loser,” Nate slurs. “But you took ten thousand fucking dollars. Do you know what I can do for your sister with that kind of money?”
“Yeah, probably buy her another pair of shoes she doesn’t need,” Matt responds happily, completely sober.
“Why are you sober?” I ask him.