I burst from my chair, and much like Alyssa did when Junior had won the fight before (except with less foul and suggestive language), I screamed, “Way to go, baby! You rock!”
Mickey’s glove held up in the air, still sweaty and fabulous, his eyes dropped to me.
That was when I got an easy grin.
Yes, very much like orgasming.
It was then I realized that having the kids on fight night was not that great of a thing.
And it was then I realized that next Saturday, he wouldn’t have his but I would have mine as Pippa already told me she was having Polly for a sleepover, and maybe another girlfriend. Further Auden had shared he and his buds were going to camp out in front of my big TV to watch football all day after he was done with conditioning.
With all those kids there, kids of two different sexes, they needed chaperoning, so I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave.
So when Mickey had his kids back, I’d have to either finagle his kids doing sleepovers somewhere else, the same with mine, or I’d have to wait for my real fight night to come and it might take weeks.
This was disappointing.
But it was helped when we went back to the locker rooms and I could give Mickey a lip brush before Cillian took over for his blow by blow with his dad about the fight.
This was cute because Cillian was excited and his blow by blow included much reenactment. This meant he did a lot of fake punching of his dad, who fake punched back, still sweaty but with his gloves off, his hands taped, warm in his boy’s excitement.
Though, in Mickey’s case it wasn’t cute. It was sweet-dad-cute—hot.
Alas, we separated in the parking lot. I had brought the kids there but Mickey, not having showered but in workout pants pulled over his boxing trunks and a zip up jacket, was taking them home.
And we were all going home to houses across the street from each other, me alone to my empty house, Mickey with his kids to his.
This was what we did and the whole way I tried to come up with ways to suggest he find sleepovers for his children when he had them again in two weeks.
I was in my nightie, standing by my nightstand, moisturizing, and I still had not come up with how I would suggest this to Mickey when my cell on my nightstand rang.
My pulse zinged when I saw it was Mickey.
I snatched it up, took the call and put it to my ear.
“Hey.” It came out as a breath.
“Door,” he growled.
My entire body zinged. I dropped the phone back to the nightstand without even disconnecting, and sprinted to the door.
I threw it open.
Mickey, still in his track pants and jacket, crowded me. His arm going around me, he backed me in, kicked the door closed and shifted me, backing me toward the dining room table.
“Tell me your kids didn’t decide to spend the night,” he ordered.
I shook my head. “No, baby. It’s just me.”
Then I was up right before I was down, ass to the table then back to it as Mickey leaned into me.
His mouth to mine, his eyes staring into mine through the shadows, he didn’t kiss me.
He just looked into my eyes as his hand yanked up my nightie then dove right in my panties.
My lips parted and my back arched.
His eyes flamed through the dark. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah, honey.”
He moved away only to tear my panties down my legs and I whimpered.
Then he came back, I felt him working at his pants between my legs and then he was inside me.
I pushed my hands up his jacket to touch him but ended up clawing at him as he fucked me hard and relentlessly, his mouth brushing mine, his eyes to mine, his breaths harsh and assaulting my lips, his eyes blazing.
He slid one hand up my side, my arm, pulling it from around him and wrapping his fingers around my wrist where he pinned it to the table over my head.
I shivered and pressed the insides of my thighs tighter to his sides in order to hold him to me and use him to lift me up so I could get more of him.
He groaned and drove deeper.
God, amazing.
“You like fight night?” he rumbled low.
“Oh yeah,” I gasped.
“You always gonna want your fight night fuck?”
“Absolutely,” I breathed.
He fucked me harder and took my mouth in a hot, deep, brutal kiss.
That was it for me.
Then again, I’d had three rounds of foreplay so that was all I needed.
I moaned my orgasm down his throat.
He kissed me through it and kept contact when he groaned his orgasm down mine.
He was still inside me and we were both still breathing heavily when he ordered thickly, “You leave the kids in their seats next fight. They can come back after I fuck you in the locker room.”
“Okay,” I agreed immediately.
He ground his hips into mine as indication he approved of my response and I mewed against his lips.
“Love you, Amy.”
I stilled completely.
He felt it.
“I don’t care if that’s too soon for you,” he announced. “You do with it what you want. Keep it and hold it to you and hope like fuck you give it back when you’re ready. But you gotta know, it’s yours.”
I stared at him through the dark.
“Now, I gotta get back to my kids,” he muttered, shifted to touch his mouth to my jaw then slid out gently.
He pulled me to my feet and held me while I got my legs solid under me. Then he bent and nabbed my panties. He kept a hand to me to steady me as I tugged them on.
After that, he grabbed my hand and led me to the door.
Without a word, he took me in his arms and gave me a long, soft, sweet kiss that went on forever and it was still too short.
He ended it and said, “Talk to you tomorrow, baby.”
He then set me back so he could open the door and he was through it before I called, “Mickey!”
He turned to me.
“You gotta know too,” I said.
He stood there, almost right where I’d first seen him, looking more beautiful than ever.
Because he was mine. All mine. Truly mine.
Every inch.
Straight down to his heart.
“You gotta know I love you too,” I went on. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, honey. A great dad. A good man.” I smiled. “The best neighbor ever.”
I watched his eyes dance at the last but I wasn’t done.
“There was no better day than the day Conrad showed up and started shouting at me, because it brought you to me.”
His lips curled up. “Only time I was glad some asshole was in a woman’s face.”
My lips curled up too.
Then they started trembling so I pressed them together.
“Right across the street,” Mickey whispered.
I pressed my lips together harder and nodded.
He gave me an easy grin, “Luck o’ the Irish.”
I started giggling.
His eyes kept dancing.
Then they warmed and he ordered, “Get inside, baby. Get warm. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Like I wasn’t already warm.
Through and through.
“Okay, Mickey. Goodnight.”
“’Night, babe.”
It was then I realized I didn’t mind “babe” at all. Or “darlin’.” Or “baby.”
I’d take anything from Mickey.
Because he meant it.