“More,” I demand. I’m greedy. I need everything I can get. The more I hear, the more I crumble in her arms. Very slowly, I lower us to the floor. She tells me his favorite color is red, followed closely by black, because they’re Forsaken’s colors. She tells me how she’s never hidden anything from him, that she doesn’t believe in babying children. She tells me all these little things about him that still aren’t enough. And when she takes a breath to think, I kiss her.
My lips slide against hers slowly. She nips at my lips hungrily. Her back is on the dirty floor now, and she’s bucking her hips into me. My already hard dick aches from behind the confines of my jeans. Everything about this moment feels right. Everything is perfect. Even in this dirty-ass room, it couldn’t be anything less than perfect. Using one arm to prop myself up, I slip a hand inside her yoga pants right under her panties. She’s natural—always has been—and it’s fucking glorious. I’m damn tired of the prissy bitches who are always so perfectly shaven or waxed. I always want to tell them that real men don’t give a fuck about that kind of shit. If your pussy’s wet and your legs are spread, we’ll hit it. And if we don’t, it’s not because you didn’t wax. But that would require me to talk to them, which tends to confuse things.
But not with Amber.
Never with Amber.
She bucks underneath me, greedy for more. I slide my fingers through her soft, curly hair, and finally, fucking finally make contact with her pussy. Fuck. I’ve missed this. She wets my fingers before I even part her gorgeous lips. I can’t see them—yet—but I know they’re wet and shining. Mugs has got this kind of switch that she can turn on at will it seems. My thumb parts her lips and slides up and down her hot pussy before I land on her clit.
“Tell me you missed me.” I rub slow, methodical circles over her swollen nub, just barely ghosting the skin with my thumb. Amber sucks in a shaky breath, her back arches, and she moans in need.
“I missed you,” she says. Feeling victorious, I press harder and take her mouth again. I pace myself, not wanting this to be over too soon. It’s been three years since I’ve been here with her. Three long years of feeling like a thirsty man in a desert, desperate for a little water. And even then all I got was a sip. Not nearly enough.
One finger—one lucky fucking finger—slides inside of her. Three pumps and then another finger joins it. I watch her writhe beneath me, the walls of her pussy clamping down on my fingers. My lungs pull in a greedy breath as excitement courses through me. I lick my lips in anticipation. I don’t want this to end, but she won’t hold out for any longer. I can feel it in the way she grips me, in how her back arches, and she mewls softly. Her lips part, gooseflesh breaks out over her entire body, and she trembles. I readjust the angle of my fingers and curl them inside her, reaching that sensitive spot inside her that makes her lose herself every time.
She’s beautiful, falling apart like this. Absolutely glorious. Mugs is always so self-contained. Only here, underneath me, does she ever lose herself completely. My eyes are glued to the slack of her jaw, her bulging eyes, and the way her entire body shakes. When it’s over and she’s coming down, I mourn it. There’s so much between us, that only here, like this, are we close to what we used to be.
“Thanks, babe.” Amber’s voice is stronger than it should be. She should be breathless and wanton, but instead, she’s clear-eyed and back to shielding herself with that hard-ass shell she wears to protect herself with. She pulls my stunned face down to hers and licks the corner of my mouth. She kisses me the way she used to—all fire and vulnerability. A quiet, beautiful neediness that has always awakened the pathetic little boy in me who just wants to love and be loved in return. It’s every fucking thing I’ve ever wanted.
CHAPTER 9
Just as I come down from the best orgasm I’ve had in years, my brain finally clears from the lust-ridden fog I’d been in.
I did it again.
I completely lost myself in Wyatt, submitting to him in every way, right down to telling him that I’ve missed him. It doesn’t matter that it’s true. It doesn’t matter that being with him never feels anything but absolutely right. Only two things matter in this world anymore, and their names are Zander and Piper.