Page 52 of Their Stormy Reunion

“No, but she’s a sound sleeper.”

“Oh, have you had sex here in your bedroom before?” He raised a brow and I shoved a hand in my mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Smartass,” I finally mumbled.

He prowled back to the bed as I shimmied off my pajama top. He stopped and stared.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Could I?”

“Oh yeah,” he breathed as he came down on top of me. When his chest met mine, I felt his rough hair rasp against my nipples and I cried out.

“Baby, you’ve got to be quiet,” he whispered.

“I don’t think I can.”

His gray eyes searched my face. “Ah, fuck it. Who gives a shit what they hear.” He drifted down and took my nipple into his mouth. I shoved my fist into my mouth as I revelled in the pleasure he was giving me.

As he licked and sucked my nub I clutched at his back, my nails digging deep. When I could trust myself, I removed my fist from my mouth and started to encourage him. “Yes, just like that, Michael.”

He sucked my nipple deeper into the hot depths of his mouth. “Perfection,” I hissed out the word. When he scraped the tip with his teeth, I slapped my hand over my mouth again to supress my scream. Then the bastard had the nerve to change tactics and move to my other breast and I wasn’t going to survive!

I don’t know how long he pleasured me, savored me, tortured me while I savored every long minute; all I did know is that I never wanted to leave his embrace. When Michael started to lick downward, I knew I was going to lose every ounce of control, and I needed to wrest some away from him.

I knew just how to do it.

“Wait, Michael,” I breathed.

“Why?” I could tell he wasn’t listening. His fingers were tracing the elastic band of my pajama shorts. Every touch lit flickers of heat straight to my core.

“I need to see your cock. I need to taste it. It’s been so long.”

His head shot up. Shocked silver eyes locked with mine and I wasn’t able to keep the wicked grin off my face.

“Fallon—” His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips.

“You can’t have it all your way, big guy. I’ve dreamed of you… a lot. There you were flaunting yourself in my backyard, showing off your muscles, slick with sweat, and all I could think about was licking you up.”

“When did you turn into a dirty talker?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. And I didn’t. “You bring out the worst in me.”

“I’m thinking I bring out the best in you,” he growled, his eyes alight with glee.

“Whatever. All I know is that if you don’t strip out of your sweats, I’m about to shout down the house. Dad might be sick, but he still owns a gun and he’ll come running.”

I watched with bated breath as Michael got up and stood by the side of the bed. He pushed down his sweats. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath them, so his cock bobbed up, swollen and proud. My heart began to pound. I reached out and encircled his girth the best I could, loving the feel of the warm skin covering such hard strength. I could feel his heartbeat.

“Fallon, stop.”

I forced my eyes away from his penis to look up at his face. “Stop what?”

“Stop stroking me. I won’t be able to last.”

I looked down and realized I was stroking him from tip to base, again and again and again. Each stroke felt like petting a tiger, dangerous and addictive.

“Fallon, stop,” he commanded again.