Chapter 9

Bounding out of bed the next morning, Tyson headed for the shower with a smile on his face.

Last night had been good.

Hell, it had been more than good.

It had been great.

Funny, heartwarming. Most of all, entertaining.

He and Birdie had always been on the same kind of level, and it stunned him that that hadn’t changed. They'd spent so many years apart, that that connection should have changed… But it hadn't.

It meant that even the most basic things were entertaining - like today, they were going to teach her how to ski. He knew that was going to be fucking hilarious. Anybody else, it would be irritating. He felt no shame in admitting this, but he'd have left any date with the ski instructor and gone off to the harder peaks to do his own thing.

Did that make him a selfish bastard? Maybe. But that was the point.

Birdie made him a better person. She made him more. She always had.

Watching her learn to ski, was probably going to be better entertainment than stand-up. She’d always been too smart for her own good. One of those people who could do pretty much anything they set their mind to.

Except when it came to sports.

He was a practiced skier himself. He didn’t just visit Aspen for business, but for the slopes too. But he wouldn’t mind the bunny runs just to watch his Birdie take flight.

In fact, it was going to be fucking hilarious watching her try and fail to ski.

Not that he was wishing bad on her, he just knew she’d find it hard.

Coordination had never been one of her strong points.

He remembered one winter when they'd gone ice-skating. She'd spent more time with her ass on the ice than the skates, and all the while, she'd been shaking her head at him as he took to it like a duck to water.

Speaking of…

The water was close to scorching as it cascaded down over his shoulders, warming him up from the inside out.

It was hot in the suite, freezing outside. But having stripped off for the shower, he’d felt the nip in the air, and it was nice to be blasted with a torrent of heat.

A gust of a breeze curled around him, making him frown. Turning around to make sure he’d shut the shower door properly, he nearly had a fucking heart attack when he saw Karen was there in the cubicle with him.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, his heart beating so damn hard he had to bend over, prop his hands on his knees just to get some semblance of control back. The sight of his girlfriend would, at one time, have heralded excitement. Now? Her presence was more than just annoying, it was disturbing. “You scared the shit out of me,” he accused with a yell, not even bothering to look at her.

Karen’s problem was she was beautiful. And she thought that beauty was the solution to everything.

There she was, standing naked as the day she was born, and she’d expect no recriminations for having followed him across the country, stalking him to the hotel he was staying in, somehow managing to get a key to his room, then stepping into the shower with him like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Funny how if she’d done that back in the early days, he wouldn’t have cared. Would have grabbed her and fucked her raw.

Now, he was freaked out.

How the fuck had she found out where he was, and how creepy was it that she’d stalked him here? Because it was most definitely stalking to have gone to this extent.

While he was on business, no less.

“You canceled our date,” she said with a pout, reaching forward with a red-tipped hand to curl her fingers about his shoulder.

“I had a business meeting,” he stated, his breath under control once more but his heart was still racing. He shrugged off her hand, gently smacking it away again when she tried again to touch him.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Karen?” he demanded, irritated when she just batted her baby blues at him and pouted harder.

Amazing how that would once have had his cock hardening, but now, it just made him want to push her out of the shower.

“It was Sunday. We always spend that together. You know that.”

“And like I said,” he repeated slowly, like she was a moron — because something here was definitely not computing. “I had a business meeting. It cropped up out of nowhere.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

He figured she was sensing him pulling away from her, and that this was her way of trying to stop that from happening. But not only was that not going to work because he was tired of the relationship and her clinginess, this was all just one step too far.

What if it wasn't Birdie? An old friend, but a potential new client? She could have ruined the deal by showing up like this.

“Who’s the woman in the other bedroom?”

Her question hit him out of the blue. “How did you know there’s a woman in the suite with me?” Concern flushed through him. Had she spoken to Birdie?

“I walked into her bedroom first by accident.”

Like that made perfect fucking sense. By accident, his ass.

He shook his head. “Who gave you a passkey?”

Her smile was slow, seductive. Irritating. “I have my ways.”

He clenched his jaw. “She’s an old friend.”

Karen blinked. “Oh. Well, she won’t mind us spending the day together, will she?”

His mouth worked, and then his anger swept over him. “Get out of the shower, Karen.”

She blinked. “But why? I wanted to say 'hi' properly.” In what he supposed was a seductive move, she licked her lips slowly, but he wasn't affected.

“No. Get out. I’ll join you in the bedroom in a minute.”

Her mouth worked in astonishment, but though she frowned, she backed away, curling a towel she grabbed from the console around her nakedness once she’d opened the door and had slipped out of the stall.

He eyed her grimly. What was it with him and the psychos?

Quickly soaping up and rinsing off, he made it out of the shower in record time. Feeling a little more in control now, he wrapped the towel around his waist and strode into the bedroom.

She’d dressed, which came as a surprise. A welcome one. He'd expected her to be on the bed naked, touching herself or doing something in an attempt to entice him. Instead, she was perched on the edge of the bed, staring at him warily.

“I just wanted to be spontaneous,” she told him softly, and the misery in her voice had him grimacing and blowing out a breath. Maybe she didn't realize how creepy this all was.

“Look, Karen, I wanted to talk to you yesterday, and things were messed up because I genuinely did get called in for a business meeting.”

She seemed to relax at that - her inability to trust him once again grated. Why the hell would he have lied to her about something like that?

Maybe an ex had done so in the past, but he wasn’t her ex, and he’d never lied to her. Not once in the eight months they’d been dating.

He wasn’t about to start now either. That wasn’t how he’d been raised, nor how he wanted to lead his life.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked softly, crossing her legs, and pointing her toe. The move should have been a natural one, but he knew it was to delineate the muscles in her calves. She was like that. Always trying to look seductive and sexy.

She wore a slimline dress that clung to all her curves. She was slim but with large breasts, and he’d admit he’d fallen for those first, then her, but now? He just wanted this to be over with.

The urgency wasn’t new. He’d felt it this week when she’d questioned where he was and who he was with. But he’d admit, that urgency had turbocharged into the stratosphere thanks to Birdie’s reappearance in his life.

Why that was, he wasn’t willing to evaluate yet.

Her heels were diamond sharp and hooker high, and they did beautiful things to her calves, but he wasn’t entranced by those things anymore. The outer packaging in no way made up for the inner core of jealous bitterness.

He’d had enough, and it was time she knew that.

“I wanted to speak to you yesterday because I think it’s time we broke things off.”

She blinked at him, then giggled a little. “Silly, what did you really want to talk to me about?”

He frowned at her, then stacked his hands on his hips. “That, Karen. I mean it. I think we should split up.”

Her mouth popped open in astonishment. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why can’t I?” he asked, perplexed. “You don’t trust me, Karen. You’re always asking where I am and who I’m with. I’ve never given you any reason not to trust in me, and yet you do it time and time again. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“But I can change that,” she whined, her eyes huge in her pale face.

“You can’t, Karen. It’s just who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not for me. You’re not for me.”

“And that fat bitch in the other room is?” she snarled, leaping to her feet. “I saw her in there this morning. She wears flannel pajamas, Tyson. Flannel!”

She spat the word like it was poison. “So?”

“So? Do you realize how much money I’ve spent at La Perla to keep you interested?”

His mouth worked, and he had to really stop himself from laughing at her outrage.

Trust her to be more upset about her bank balance than anything else.

Shaking his head at her, he murmured, “Karen, you’ll find someone who can put up with your crazy shit. And for the record, Bernadette isn’t fat. Nor is she my girlfriend.”

“Because you have a habit of taking old friends to five-star hotels in Aspen? Out of the blue too, when I had to nearly fucking beg you to take two days off to go down to California.”

“I told you if you wanted to go to Coachella, you could do it alone.”

“I wanted my boyfriend with me, dammit. Is that so hard to understand?”

Tyson shook his head. “We’re just not compatible, Karen.”

“You just stopped caring, that’s all,” she snapped.

Wasn’t that a given? Wasn't that why people split up all the time?

The thought made him feel like a bastard. “Look, sometimes things just don’t work out, while others do. There’s no recriminations here on either part. We just have to accept that this is over, then we can both move on.”

Her nostrils flared, and without a second glance, she leapt to her feet in a slick move that would have stunned Jackie Chan - especially in those heels - and stormed out of the bedroom.

He watched her go, then headed to the door so he could make sure she left. As he looked, he saw Birdie peek around her bedroom door to watch Karen stride off like she was on the catwalk at Paris Fashion Week.

Karen sneered at Birdie as she passed her on the way out. “You’ll have to lose twenty pounds if you even want to think about holding his attention for more than a week.” With that parting shot, her nose went straight into the air.

But hearing it, Tyson roared, “You bitch. That was totally unnecessary.”

Karen spun around, flipped him the bird, then went back on her merry way toward the exit. When the door slammed closed behind her, relief flooded him. Then guilt.

He turned to Birdie whose eyes were wide.

With hurt?

The thought had his gut twisting. “She’s a bitch, Bernadette. She didn’t mean it. And even if she did, it doesn't matter. The woman exists on oxygen, she's hardly the perfect advert for good health.”

"Sure, she meant it,” came the rather chirpy retort. “And don’t worry, I’m used to worse from my mom.” She frowned at him then. “Your…. Ex?”

He nodded.

Bernadette bit her lip. “You just broke up with her?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I’d intended to split up with her yesterday. We were due to go on a date, but I got called in, so I had to reschedule… That crazy bitch followed me here and sneaked around to get into our suite.” He shuddered. “I should have known she was a stalker. I always seem to get the creepy ones.”

Bernadette snorted. “If your ego gets any larger, it won’t fit in this bedroom.”

He huffed. “You think I’m lying? I’m not.”

“Want to talk about it over breakfast?” she said in a cooing voice, more to mock him, he thought, than anything else.

It was ridiculous for a grown man to pout, but her lack of sympathy had his lips forming a moue. “Only if it’s pancakes.”

She lifted her hands in the air. “Why not? Let’s have a ‘death by carbs’ day.”

He chuckled despite himself. “Meet you out here in ten minutes?”

She grunted. “Should I take that as a compliment that you think it only takes me ten minutes to make myself beautiful?”

His eyes softened as he took her in - flannel pjs and all. He didn't care what Karen had to say, Birdie suited flannel. Shit, she even suited dancing penguins, if his eyes weren't deceiving him, that is, and the pattern on her PJs was indeed tangoing birds. “You look beautiful now. Don’t embellish what’s already gorgeous.”

With that, he turned on his heel, not waiting for her to reply, and headed back into his room. Tyson didn't want to see her reaction to his compliment. He just wanted her to know that he spoke the truth - Bernadette was a beautiful woman. She'd been a pretty girl, but she'd definitely blossomed over the years. And if nobody else had spotted that, then they were blind.

The instant he closed the door to his room, he grimaced at Karen’s scent. The crazy bitch left a lasting memory wherever she went with that cloying perfume.

How the hell had he endured months of that?

She sprayed it everywhere too. Even her crotch.

He grimaced at the memory of going down on her and getting a mouthful of expensive essential oils, then tugged out some of the clothes he’d hurriedly packed yesterday. After they’d gone to Birdie’s office, they’d made quick stops at their respective apartments, and had then headed for the airport and the earliest flight out.

The flight had been delayed so it had meant waiting in one of the airport coffee lounges, but it had been worth it. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized…

What?

What did he realize? Tyson asked himself, pausing as he tugged on a pair of pants.

“She’s always been special to me,” he mumbled under his breath, then, thoroughly confused, scratched his chin.

Striding over to the balcony where the majestic mountains loomed in the distance, he had the misfortune of hearing a car door slam down on the road.

Considering it was busy outside, hearing that at all was a testament to how damn hard the door had been slammed.

When he peered out, he saw it was Karen climbing into a taxi.

Spoiled brat, he thought to himself, relieved when she drove off into the distance.

He’d have to see her when he returned to Seattle. He’d tried not to leave things at her place, but she’d dumped stuff at his apartment like the worst litter rat. He’d have to give her her things back, and hopefully, that would be the last of it.

Hearing a door close in the suite, he swore under his breath when he realized he was still half naked and Birdie was obviously ready to go.

Quickly shrugging into a thin tee and a sweater, he toed on some loafers, reached for his wallet, and shoved it in his back pocket.

That done, he headed out after raking his hands through his hair, trying to comb it into some semblance of respectability.

He didn’t look his usual sparkling self, but with Birdie, it didn’t matter.

Not because he didn’t want to look good for her, but if he was a little rough around the edges, she wouldn’t pester him until he was polished to perfection.

He blinked at the thought, hating that Karen had managed to find ways of controlling him after all. Every time they'd gone out together, if he hadn't been dressed for a press launch, looking slicker than a model ready for the catwalk, it had almost triggered World War Three.

Of course, his irritation bled away at the sight of Birdie in a simple pair of yoga pants decorated with colorful cartoon cats, and a baggy white tee that managed to enhance the creamy goodness of her skin. She had a peach colored jacket over it, and a pair of flip flops on her feet. As Tyson stood there, raking her with his gaze, she was glowering at the screen on his cell, which gave him the chance to study all of her.

Like how her lush hips were hugged in those yoga pants, and how her tits were like ripe fucking melons in the shirt.

Feeling his cock harden, he gritted out, “You look cute.”

Her head reared back in surprise at his voice. “I do?” Birdie peered down at herself.

“You didn’t intend on it?” he asked, amused at her lack of self-awareness.

Sure, she looked casual. Probably far too casual for a place like this, if he was being honest, but that in itself spoke of wealth.

Only women like Karen, seekers of wealth, looked down their nose at people. Bernadette could buy and sell the hotel three times over, he thought ruefully. She didn’t have to give a damn about appearances.

“I just went for comfort. We’re having carbs after all.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Those aren’t carb-indulging pants.”

He snorted. “They’re comfortable. They’re only jeans.”

“Jeans don’t expand. Trust me. I’m a woman. I know.”

He chuckled. “I promise. I could eat a hundred pancakes and I’d be fine.”

She grimaced, and grumbled, “You always could eat a horse and never gain weight. Do you remember that summer when coach wanted you to gain ten pounds and you used to bitch about how much you had to eat? And there was me, trying to exist on lettuce leaves and vinegar.”

“I was having about ten protein shakes a day, plus everything else,” he immediately protested. “That summer sucked.”

“Worked though, didn’t it? You made a fab tight end.” Her eyes sparkled at that, and he had to hide a grin at what was obviously meant as a double entendre.

He turned around, patted his ass. “Still as tight,” he teased her, peering over his shoulder. “Want to squeeze?”

She stunned him by staring at his ass and licking her lips. Actually licking her goddamn lips! Damn, did the woman not know what that would do to him?

His nostrils flared, and awareness that his teasing had soared out of nowhere into a different stratosphere had him striding toward her with an urgency that had appeared out of the blue.

But for all its spontaneity, it was overwhelming in its power.

Birdie stood there, watching him. Her eyes heavily lidded, passion and need flowing from her in ways that had his cock hardening.

He didn’t stop, didn’t wait for her to speak. Just wrapped his arms around her and dragged her into his chest.

She didn’t fight it, didn’t even argue, just tilted her head back and waited.

A groan escaped him at that single show of submission. In this, she was letting him take charge, and he fucking loved it.

This strong, powerful, courageous woman was waiting for him to take the lead.

His cock, already throbbing, throbbed harder as wonder flushed through him. With one arm, he wrapped it around her shoulder and held her close. With the other, he pressed into the small of her back and held her closer to him, not stopping until she could feel every inch of what she did to him.

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, and that was when he pounced.

When she saw him for him. When there could be no mistaking him for anyone else. At that moment, she was his in a way no other had been. But more than that, he was hers as he'd never been with another woman.

His lips clashed with hers, their tongues tangling from the start as they tasted each other, ripping into one another’s mouths to explore the other from the bottom up.

She tasted like fire, burned so hotly in his arms that his senses mistook her for flames too. But he loved it. Gloried in the raging heat that swelled and soared between them like a tidal wave gaining strength and power before it slammed into the coast.

She moaned and went onto tiptoe, making the soft curve of her stomach better cushion his cock. She rocked her hips as her own hands came up to cup his chin. Holding him close, she sampled everything he had to give, and gave it back in response.

With a moan, he pulled away and bit down on her bottom lip, tugging the morsel away from her teeth.

She stared at him, those gorgeous eyes blinking dazedly as she tried to absorb the enormity of what was happening.

But that was the last thing Tyson wanted.

He didn’t want her to doubt or to process. He just wanted to live for the moment. For her to live through him, and for him to live through her.

He reached down and hauled her up high against his chest. Her knees naturally parted and pinned themselves to his hips as he carried her through to her bedroom.

The last thing he wanted was her being reminded of Karen’s unfortunate presence thanks to her vile perfume, so his bedroom was definitely out.

Although, he guessed he should be grateful for Karen's weird ass stalking. It meant he could do this, be with Birdie, and in good conscience.

The thought had him bowing his head and sweeping her along in another kiss that had her nails scraping against his scalp as she moaned into his mouth. He swallowed each one, gloried in each one, loving the freedom she made him feel. A freedom that found a home in the naturalness of her responses.

There was no artifice here. No trying to look good. She was as overwhelmed as he was by the rightness of this, and she didn’t care if it showed on her face, in the lines of her body.

He stumbled through the door to her room, righted himself when she clung harder to him for support - but she never let go. Had total faith in him, that he’d keep her safe.

He loved that. God, he’d loved her for so long that this felt like a natural extension of everything they’d ever had together.

The rightness had his eyes burning with tears, but now wasn’t the time for that.

Now was the time to make her his.

He pressed her into the sheets, loving that she’d left the bed a burrowed, rumpled mess for the cleaner. She fit so neatly among the linen, her creaminess perfectly complimented by the hints of gold in the comforter.

He didn’t give her a chance to question this. Didn't want her to change her mind. He carried on kissing her, and his hands were now free to explore to his heart’s content.

He molded her curves with his fingers, loving the suppleness of her softness, adoring the ripeness of her form.

Birdie wasn’t skinny like most of his exes. She wasn’t bony or anything like that. She was lush, fuller figured and gorgeous with it.

His cock was insistent, and he rocked his hips, practically fucking humping her as he shaped her, teased himself with the feel of her through her clothes. All the while, they kissed, eating at each other’s mouths like that was all that mattered in this life.

And fuck, that wasn’t exactly wrong.

He shuddered, pulled away from her. Her hands came up to reach for him, but he avoided them, and immediately let his fingers trail along her curves before they came to a halt at her waistband.

He tugged the yoga pants down, not stopping until her calves were bared, and the fabric rolled round her ankles. With satisfaction, he threw them to the ground, then grabbing her hands, he helped prop her upright while he stripped her of her jacket and tee, leaving her in simple, white cotton panties and bra with the CK logo blazoned everywhere. The simplicity was a delight.

Karen had definitely spent a fortune on lingerie. But nothing could compare to this. To Birdie.

He shuddered at the sight of her, then helped roll up the bra over her head. When she was naked, save for her panties, he could sense her discomfort and quickly tugged his sweater off.

She moaned at the sight of him, and her fingers splayed across his chest, the tips exploring the pads of muscle that corded along his torso. He reached for his fly, unbuttoned it, and lowered his jeans around his hips. When his cock hung loose, finally freed from its cage, he let out a sigh of relief, then dropped down onto her, letting her have all his weight again.

She whimpered, and her fingers went back to exploring his back this time. She massaged him with the digits, discovering all of him and loving him with her touch.

He felt it to his core and loved her more for it. She worshipped him as he worshipped her, and the moment was so empowering he could do nothing less than cup her face, hold her still, and take her mouth again. This was so much more than just sex. This was their connection blossoming in a way he feared should have happened years ago.

But now was not the time to think such thoughts. Not when she was intent on blowing his mind.

They groaned and moaned into each other’s lips as they rocked hard against one another. The innocent bump and grind made not so innocent thanks to their nudity. But it was perfect, and of course, his thoughts went where they should have feared to tread...

This was exactly what they should have done all those years ago.

Had he been fucking blind or what?

Still, the thoughts led to confusion, and he wanted nothing clouding the issue at hand here. Which was Birdie, and all her beauty.

He murmured against her lips, “I want you, Birdie. I want you so bad.”

She let out a deep sigh. “I want you too. In me, Tyson. Please. In me.”

The breath he released was shuddery, and she whimpered when he pulled away and grabbed her panties, then dragged them off her, baring the last and most vulnerable part of her to his gaze.

He wanted to devour her bareness, wanted to sample the ripe curves of her sex with his mouth, but instead, he let his fingers do the talking.

First things first.

She was wet. So fucking wet his cock started twitching again. She rocked into his hand as he thrust two fingers into her, then with his other, he focused on her clit, rubbing her, trying to figure out what drove her wild.

Her thighs clamped hard around his hands, and he let her, let her enjoy what he wanted her to feel at his touch. She lifted an arm and covered her eyes with her hand.

The move stunned him, and he vowed to take away any discomfort or embarrassment she felt. But not now. Now he wanted her to relax. He wanted her to come.

Quickly, he dragged her to the peak and pushed her over. Loving how her back arched, her ripe tits jiggled and swayed with the motion, and how her entire body went through the glory of the moment. Every part of her was tense with release, and he watched her explode with a joy he’d never felt before.

When she whimpered, the tension in her muscles fading a little, he grabbed her legs, spread them, and settled between them once more.

He couldn’t seem to escape the urge driving him. That he should have been her first, and that he needed to imprint his face over every other lover she’d ever had.

Maybe it was a jerk-off move, maybe it was stupid and unfair, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. He was thinking with his cock, and God help him, his confused heart.

He pulled her pussy lips apart, loving the glistening sheen of her juicy ripeness. His move had her shrieking, rearing into a sitting position. Her belly contracted as she covered her sex. “What are you doing?” she shrieked.

He grinned at her thoroughly flustered self. “What’s it look like, baby girl?”

She licked her lips, and the haunted vulnerability in his eyes almost had him pulling back. Well, it did, until he saw a bone deep need that about knifed him in the gut.

“Do you know how pretty you look down here?” he asked her, his voice more of a low hum than anything else. Her hands covered his still, but he dipped his thumb into her core and whispered, “You’ve such a pretty pussy, Birdie. I want to lap it all up. All that creamy goodness, that’s mine. All mine.”

Her whimper had his cock twitching, and he had no choice but to palm himself, to grab a swift and fierce hold of his shaft and squeeze. It wasn’t enough. Would never be enough, not when he needed inside her like he needed his next fucking breath.

But this wasn’t about him.

A revelation that nearly floored him.

This was about her. About making this her everything.

Her tits were luscious mounds, heaving with each breath. Her nipples danced and swayed, half hidden by the hair that curled and unfurled about her curves. He saw the confusion in her eyes as she asked, “You really want to?”

Jesus, what ass-hat lovers had she had in the past if she thought oral sex was something special?

As much of a dick as he’d been with some of his exes, oral was fucking standard. What was the point in doing something if you weren’t going to do the job right?

If a chick didn’t come, then that was boring as hell. The challenge, he’d found, was getting more than one out of her. Making her scream and cry until she was whimpering in a ball of pleasure pain.

Still, thoughts of exes - his and hers - wasn’t doing much for him. His cock, already urgent, throbbed harder with the need to make her forget any other dick that had been inside her.

It was ridiculous and possessive, but he couldn’t help it.

Maybe if he kept on using that excuse, throw in a token ‘I plead the Fifth’, he could stop feeling like he was losing his fucking mind.

“I really want to,” he whispered on a growl. “In fact, you don’t have a choice. I’m going to taste your sweet pussy, Birdie. And you’re going to love it.”

Her eyes widened, flaring at his harshly bitten off command. It surprised him when she staggered back into the bed, falling onto an elbow where she kept her gaze glued on his.

“Move your hand,” he ordered.

She bit her lip, but did as he asked. Her peach-tipped nails dragged over her most intimate part in a way that had him wishing those same fingers were wrapped around his dick.

Shuddering, he watched as a thick droplet of her cream slid out of her gate and trailed down to her butt. His jaw clenched at the sight of her need, and he knew she’d be so warm and slick when he got inside her, Tyson had to ask himself why he was doing this. Why was he intent on driving himself to the brink of insanity by not getting inside her as soon as he was physically able?

Because she was ready. More than ready.

And yet, it seemed, he was a masochist.

When he pressed his lips to her clit, he realized why he’d prolonged his own agony. The taste of her was sweeter than honey, and her flesh, so succulent and juicy, slipped between his lips, filling his mouth with the pure essence of her that he thought he could dine on her forever and never go hungry.

At first, he explored her outer lips, tracing the folds of her cleft with the tip of his tongue. All the while, she watched him, and he kept their gazes connected as he worked his magic on her. With every stroke, and every lick, her eyes grew heavier, the irises drowned out by her pupils as she studied him dragging her to the brink.

He stuck his tongue inside her, fluttering the tensile muscle about a second, and her head flew back as a result. The momentum had her collapsing against the sheets, and he stopped his torment to say, “Nuhuh, you’ve got to watch everything I do to you, baby girl.”

A mewl escaped her. “You’re killing me, Ty,” she said on a whimper.

“We’ll both die happily then,” came his unyielding retort. He flexed his tongue over her clit, to remind her exactly what she was missing by failing to obey him. “No more of that until you sit up and watch,” he directed as she moaned.

With another mewl, she sat up again, her torso quivering, making her nipples dance like cherries on jelly. She shivered and shook though, like her arms weren’t strong enough to support her. The thought pleased him, and he decided to make it harder on her.

Murmuring, “Open yourself with your fingers,” he studied her response and wasn’t disappointed.

Those pupils of hers seemed impossibly wide as she complied, spreading her sex. With one hand, he kept his fingers tight around his cock. He refused to come anywhere other than inside her. With the other, he pressed a digit to her entrance and trailed it around the slit.

Her flesh tremored in response, then he blew out a breath, tracing air up and down her sex. She whimpered again, “Please, Ty. Please. I can’t stand it.”

“Sure, you can,” he growled, his tongue coming out and fluttering against her clit. He flicked it back and forth quickly. Making keening sounds that came close to pain explode from her lips as he dragged her to an edge he knew no one else had taken her to before.

Pride filled him, as well as the need to keep her second guessing.

He pushed a finger inside her, making her thighs tighten about his shoulders. She wailed, as he fucked her, curling his finger along her inner wall. Raking along those nerve-dense endings as he pursed his lips about her clit and sucked down hard.

“Oh, my God!” she screamed, her head flying back once more as she began to judder atop the sheets. The muscles in her body spasming as she rode the wave he forced her to surf.

Her feet clambered on the sheets as she sought purchase, and her toes curled into the supple linen as her hips shot in the air, bucking her pussy away from his mouth.

But he didn’t let her go for long.

Within five seconds, he’d followed her. His arms clamped around her hips, his mouth glued to her clit like he’d placed Gorilla glue on his lips. He sucked her hard and wetly, feeling her juices coat his chin as he tormented her past a brink that spoke of her complete surrender.

She wasn’t thinking about covering her eyes now, he thought triumphantly. She couldn’t cover her face and not support herself. Instead, he saw her every reaction. Saw every flicker and flutter of her expression as climax roared through her.

And still, his finger fucked her, taking that second orgasm of hers into a third that had her mindlessly crying out on the sheets. That third time, he let her sink back, let her fall into the sheets. Her muscles weren’t working properly, he saw, and from those keening whimpers, he knew he’d dragged her beyond the limits she’d subconsciously set herself.

“Are you ready for my cock?” he asked, his words vibrating against her pussy.

A gulp escaped her, and she gasped, “Oh, God. Please. I’m so empty, Ty. I need you. Please. Please.”

Her begging got to him ways nothing else could. With those few breathy pleas, she turned the tables on him.

He got to his feet, clambering upright, almost ashamed at how unsteady he was. But that was her power over him, he guessed. This craziness worked both ways. He lifted her thighs, spreading them as he pulled her down the bed so their sexes were brushing.

When his cock was pressed against her wetness, he felt like fucking weeping.

Jesus, her gate was so hot. So fucking slick.

He grunted as he pressed the tip of his shaft to her slit, then carefully, so fucking carefully, guided himself into her.

Her hands slammed to the bed, bouncing in momentum, as she stared at him in utter wonder as he filled her. Their eyes held the connection as he began to rock his hips, slowing taking her, slowing thrusting before his own needs ramped up his urges, demanding he take her, demanding he give her everything that was him.

She whimpered, but her hands clutched at his shoulders. Her nails dug in, clawing at his muscles, and he’d wear the scratches with pride because she felt like heaven in his arms.

Low grunts escaped him as he fucked her like she was made to be fucked. Then, out of nowhere, her pussy clutched around him, her head flew back, and she cried out in release.

He hadn’t expected that, had expected to be able to glory in her a few moments longer, but she’d always been impatient.

Why should fifteen years or so have changed that?

It was a first, but as he climaxed, he was grinning.

The muscles around his cock were more perfect than any he’d ever known, and they clutched at him so beautifully, he felt certain they’d been made to milk his cock. To drag every ounce of cum out of him. And him alone.

The possessive thought should have stunned the crap out of him. At least knocked him off his feet. But it was so right, so perfect, and so fitting, that he couldn’t even find it in himself to be freaked out.

She wriggled and writhed on the sheets. Her orgasms making her dance before him. Though he kept on thrusting, the circling of her hips was almost as fucking good as the thrusts. He felt his cum blast out of him, swallowed whole by her depths, her greedy, greedy depths.

The ecstasy he experienced at that moment was enough to drive him to the brink of another climax. How could this feel so good? Ty demanded of himself. Trying to reason something that was impossible to explain.

But it did. This, her, she felt like heaven.

He let out a roar as he reveled in the wonder that was this crazy woman. Adoring everything she was in that moment, and so fucking grateful for what she made him feel.

Like Tyson.

Like she wanted no one else but him.

It made him feel like a fucking King, and when he slumped against her, sweaty, sore, and so goddamn replete he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to move again, he loved that she clung to him.

That she wrapped him up tight in her arms like she'd never let go of him again.

That she gave everything back to him that he’d given to her. In spades.