OGs: Deep Down (25 page)

She held his gaze, seeing all the hunger in it, feeling his ragged breath on her mouth, and after finding the string, she pulled at it.

The second the tampon was out, liquid heat rushed down, and she gasped, stiffening. “Oh God.”

“Shh. It’s all good, sweetheart. All good,” Mike said and took her mouth deep and hard while she managed to toss the tampon into the trash bin beside them before totally losing her mind.

She was so aroused she wasn’t sure if that was blood or her juices, but she didn’t have time for being embarrassed, because she felt the head of his cock nudging at her swollen folds. And the cold metal balls.

Mike groaned. “Fuck, baby. You’re killing me. So fucking hot,” he said, slowly pushing inside her. “You’re burning me alive.”

She was shaking, tremors tensing her legs as he stretched her, his big cock parting her pussy walls, the metal beads cold and hard against them. He was not even halfway in, but her inner muscles were extra sensitive from her period, and before she realized what was happening, she was orgasming.

She gripped him with arms and legs, hard, and bit his shoulder while her pussy spasmed around him.

When she floated back, she opened her eyes and stared at his baby blues. “That was…”

“Incredible,” he finished, his expression awed. “You blew my head off.”

She leaned her forehead on his, a smile on her lips. “I think it was me the one blowing off. Didn’t make it to the shower.” Heck, he didn’t make it all the way in before she went off.

He chuckled softly and nuzzled her mouth. “No, we didn’t, but don’t worry, love.” He pushed an inch inside her, and she whimpered, her swollen flesh yielding to him. “I’ve wanted to fuck you on your period for over a decade. I’m not ready to leave the sweetest, tightest, hottest pussy I’ve ever been in. We’ll make it to the shower for the next couple of times.”

* * * *

Propped on his elbow, Mike lay in bed and stared at Kyra. She was wearing the cutest pink underwear, a smiley face on the crotch. The cotton sports bra, pink too, had a winky face on top of each nipple. Fucking adorable.

She’d never been one for fancy underwear, and he was glad she hadn’t changed. Since her, he’d had many women dressed in bed to kill: transparent nighties, lacy straps of almost nothingness. Garter belts, thigh highs, crotchless panties. Fuck-me heels. Still, nothing ever had beaten the sheer sensuality Kyra conveyed in her simple, comfortable underwear. Probably because sex appeal was something she herself had, not something she needed to put on.

She had her eyes closed, her lips red and swollen from his rough kisses. Her breathing was deep, and her hair was still wet from their shower.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, baby.”

She smiled, not opening her lids. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Mike. I’m turning twenty-nine. And I had a baby. Yes, I kept in shape because of my dancing, but my boobs aren’t what they used to be, and I have stretch marks.”

“What your boobs used to be?”

Kyra pondered for a second. “Perky?”

Mike laughed. Kyra had always been very well-endowed, even for a dancer. Big breasts. Gorgeous ass. Sexy hips. “Your breasts are perfect. But now that you mention it, there are some things I don’t like about your body.”

Kyra stiffened. She opened her eyes. “And what might those be?”

He nuzzled her stomach, feeling tension rolling off her. “That I didn’t get to see those stretch marks appearing. Your breasts swelling. I would have loved to see you pregnant, getting round with Sam. Giving birth to her. Breast-feeding her.”

He would love seeing her pregnant with his baby, getting new stretch marks, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure how she would react to his admission. Hell, he had trouble swallowing it. Owning up to his feelings without freaking the fuck out.

He hadn’t stopped loving Kyra when she’d refused to marry him. Hadn’t stopped loving her when she’d married that scumbag and come back to Alden with that beautiful baby he’d wished with all his heart was his. He hadn’t stopped loving her then; he wouldn’t be able to stop now.

James had been right. She was going to leave, and he was going to be a fucking mess for so long he wasn’t sure he’d get over it. Yet he couldn’t get off this ride.

He felt her stance softening as he kissed the faint stretch marks.

“I was nothing to write home about. My body sort of exploded while I was carrying Sam.”

“I’m sure you were gorgeous. What’s this, baby?” he asked, brushing his fingers over a small scar on her lower abdomen.

“Cesarean mark,” she mumbled. “Sam was in a rush to get out and greet the world, and my body couldn’t keep up. Her heart rate became erratic, and the doctors opted for a cesarean.”

“That must have been scary.” He traced the mark, flicking his tongue over it.

“It was, but in hindsight, trying to get a cab in a not so nice part of New York to make it to the hospital was much scarier. At the hospital there were doctors who knew what to do. In the street I was alone.”

“Alone,” Mike repeated through clenched teeth. He’d hated to think Drake had been the one holding her hand during such a bonding moment as childbirth. Now he was seething with fury that the asshole hadn’t and she’d had no one.

“Alone.” She caressed his hair, the closed expression on her face telling him she didn’t want to elaborate. “It was worth it. I got Sam.”

Doing his damnedest to tamp his anger, he blocked those thoughts and trailed up to her face, taking her lips in a deep, sweet kiss as he ran his fingers over her jaw, her collarbone.

He caressed a small raised scar on her inner left arm. Before he could ask about it, she provided, “Contraceptive implant. After what happened while I was on the pill, I wasn’t taking risks. Not that I’ve needed it these past four years, but I renewed it anyway. It supposedly helps with painful periods by making them lighter. As you have seen firsthand, it doesn’t. Still, next time I get pregnant, it’s going to be on my own terms. No more surprises.”

Yeah, Mike figured she would want complete control on that matter. Especially as she had her dancing career to look after.

Shaking off those thoughts, he moved to her breasts, teasing her already pebbled nipples, scrapping his teeth over them, feeling how they throbbed against his tongue, until she groaned and squirmed and he could think of nothing but taking her again.

“Mike,” she let out in a ragged moan, arching into him. “Can’t move.”

He’d had her in the shower, twice. Against the wall, hard and fast, before he’d calmed enough to see to her and give her a shower. He’d intended to lather her up and wash her, soothing her muscles, but ended up fucking her from behind. She hadn’t complained, giving it all to him, making him burn higher and higher, exploding around him and dragging him along with her.

“Your nipples say otherwise. Your body and flushed face too. Besides, I can do all the work. You just have to spread for me and concentrate on coming. Nothing more is required of you,” he suggested

Kyra laughed, covering her face with her hands. “My nipples have a mind of their own while I’m on my period. They are oversensitive.”

“Only your nipples?” She looked embarrassed. She shouldn’t be; he’d never seen anyone sexier in his whole damn life. The way she’d wrapped herself around him in the shower, panting and asking for more, her pussy hotter than ever, gripping him so hard he had trouble breathing. How she could clutched his cock and cut his breathing, he didn’t know, but she sure as hell did.

She was blushing. “Well, my pussy is oversensitive too, but I swear to God, I can’t move. I don’t understand how you can still be hard.”

The shrug was automatic. “I’m always hard around you.” And he had seven years to make up for too.

Hell, he could fuck her all night long and still have problems going down.

“I could take care of you,” she offered, reaching for him.

“No.”

“Why not? You used to enjoy coming in my mouth, deep in my throat, yet you’ve stopped me every time I’ve tried to go down on you.” At his forbidding stare, she faltered for a second but then added, “Shall we discuss your tattoo?”

He chuckled. “Which tattoo, babe? I have plenty.”

“The one on your lower abdomen almost touching your groin. The intricate tribal one with my name threaded in the artwork.”

So she’d noticed it.

“Yes I’ve noticed,” she said reading his face perfectly. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about it. Obviously it’s not going to happen.”

“Not up for discussion,” he said in a clipped tone.

“Is that why you don’t let me go down on you?” she asked, turning on her side and running her fingers along his cock.

Nope, he didn’t let her suck him because he wasn’t ready for her to have his pleasure in her hands. He didn’t want her to see him vulnerable. Having her notice the name was bad enough.

There was something very powerful in watching someone come. Holding her while she was in the throes of passion. One couldn’t pretend or lie. And he wasn’t ready to give that much power to Kyra.

Actually, he hadn’t given it to anyone since her. Besides, what was the point? Any girl could blow his cock. Only Kyra blew his mind. And she didn’t have to touch his dick for that. She could blow his mind with a smile and a soft kiss.

She seemed to have resigned herself to not hearing an explanation about the tattoo, because she didn’t insist any more, but she hadn’t let go the matter of the blowjob. She grabbed him and stroked him hard, the way he liked it. “I have to admit I have no experience with pierced cocks, but I can learn.”

“If you keep talking about my junk, I’m going to yank the tampon out of you and fuck you again. In this bed, on these white sheets. Blood doesn’t scare me.”

She chuckled softly. “Nothing scares you.”

He hid his face in her neck. Man, she was so wrong. Many things scared him.

Every single one of them had to do with her.

She scooted down and took him in her mouth. He couldn’t push her away.

“Fuck, baby, I said—”

The next word died in his throat as she raked her teeth on the tip and then lapped at his slit. She held him from the base and started working him with her sweet mouth.

Fuck, he wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t let the walls totally down, and that was what would happen if she continued sucking him. He’d come, the walls would crumble, and she’d see too much.

She couldn’t bring him deep in her throat because of his size and the apa, but she began stroking his shaft roughly while she fondled his balls with the other hand and sucked the crown.

That did it. He grabbed her waist and hauled her out of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Back to the shower, kitten.”

Chapter Twelve

Kyra hurried to the park in the outskirts of Alden, dodging everyone on the road. Today they were having the foam party Sam had been talking about nonstop for the past few days, and Kyra was horribly late. Kendall and the other girls had asked her to go with them to Boston to hunt in thrift shops for their outfits, and they had hit traffic on their way back. She’d been convinced her car was going to overheat and leave them high and dry in the middle of the highway, but surprisingly enough, it hadn’t. Her rusty marshmallow had been coughing much less lately. Not that she had been using it much, with Mike insisting in driving her around.

Before heading to Boston, she’d left Sam with Rebecca, and they were going to go to the gym, so Kyra had called there and told Sara, who was manning the front desk, to tell Sam she was on her way but was going to be a bit late. After a couple of minutes Sara had called back, telling her not to worry and to go straight to the park whenever she made it to Alden. Still, Kyra was fretting. Sam got shy in new situations, especially if they included other kids.

Finally in the park, she moved through the crowd until she reached the thick of the action and scanned all the children who were being blasted by the foam cannon. God, how on earth was she going to find Sam among all those foam-covered kids? And calling her name was useless; the music was too damn loud. Then she looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Mike was standing there, almost in front of the cannon, bare-chested and clad in jeans, Sam sitting on his shoulders. They both wore sunglasses, had their arms lifted to the skies, and were screaming and laughing while they were being sprayed with foam.

Mike was the only adult there; most parents were sitting in the terraces around.

Her legs buckled. She stood there for the longest time, watching Mike and Sam enjoying themselves, laughing together.

As Mike turned around and spotted her, he moved toward her.

“Mommy!” Sam screamed over the music, swiping her little hand over her mouth.

“Hi, honey. Having fun?” That was a rhetorical question. Even with Sam’s face and head covered in foam, Kyra could see her kid was having a blast. Mike was smiling too.

He held his hand out, and before she knew what his intentions were, he’d pulled her against him, messing her clothes up. Her face stayed foam-free for an instant, until he leaned to kiss her. Then he held the back of her head, and that took care of messing up her hair.

“Mike!” she tried protesting, but he brought her mouth to his again and deepened his kiss, tightened his embrace, and like always, she melted into him.

He took his glasses off and put them on her.

“Come on,” he said against her lips, and tugging at her hand, he walked backward to where the foam was up to his thighs. “Your clothes are ruined. You may as well make the best of it and have some fun.”

She was going to scowl at him since he was the main reason her clothes were messed up, but couldn’t bring herself to.

He lifted her hands and made her twirl around until the foam cannon had gotten her good and Sam was laughing so hard she was in danger of falling from Mike’s shoulders. Kyra reached for her daughter, but Mike was faster and grabbed Sam’s arm to steady her. With the other arm he encircled Kyra’s waist and brought her to him. Full contact. She didn’t resist; she hugged him tight, as tight as she could.