I can't bring myself to care as I pop my thumb in my mouth to get a taste of her.
I don't know what I did right in my life. Maybe it was putting violent assholes behind bars where they belong. Maybe it was all those prayers I said on my knees beside my bed when I was a little boy. Maybe it was the last few years of celibacy. I don't know…but I definitely did something right in my life because Miranda tastes like nothing I've ever had before. She's sweet like sugar, tart like apple, and juicy like a peach. She's sweet ambrosia, nectar of the gods.
There's no way she's going anywhere with douche Richard tonight. If he gets even a hint of what she's hiding between her legs, I'm going to have to kill him. Hiding bodies is a lot of work. I should know. I've spent the last ten years of my life dealing with the assholes who hide them. Hell, I've gone and helped dig up a few of them.
"Jason!" Miranda shouts when I bury my face in her throat, attacking her with my lips and teeth and tongue. I can't help it. If I don't distract myself, I'm going to eat her. And then I'm going to fuck her. And then she's really going to be upset with me.
I slip my hand between our bodies again, zeroing in on her clit. I snarl and snap my teeth like a man possessed, growling against her throat as I play with her, trying to get her off before I lose it. She practically rides my hand, mindless with need.
"Jason, Jason," she chants, her head thumping against the wall. "Don't stop. Please. Please."
I'm not sure what is worse: the ache in my balls or the vise around my heart. Cum leaks into my boxers in a steady stream. And my heart. My god. I've never felt anything like the way it pounds now as pure love and abject fucking misery both war for dominion.
I love this precious, beautiful girl. I think I loved her before she ever smiled at me.
But she isn't mine yet…and that is not fucking okay.
I won't rest until she is. Until she trusts me with her heart like she does her body. Until she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'd crawl across hot coals just to worship at her feet. I'm not afraid of her fortune. Maybe other men are intimidated by it, or by the fact that they'll never be able to give this woman physical, tangible things better than she can herself. I'm not.
I can provide for her in other ways. It'll be my cock she rides when she aches, my name she calls when she comes. My house she fills with laughter and babies. I'll be the one she seeks out when she's happy or when she's sad. When she needs to be held and reminded that she's a badass, I'll be the one giving her the pep talk. When she needs protection, I'll be the blade at her back, ready to kill in her name.
I'm going to be her obsession, just like she's mine.
I slip a finger into her and discover heaven and hell in the same breath. Heaven because she's tight, hot perfection. Hell because it's going to take a literal miracle to get my cock in this perfect pussy. Her inner muscles clamp around my finger like they're trying to pull me deeper. And I know. This is Heaven. This is definitely heaven.
As soon as I breach that entrance and jiggle her clit at the same time, she does what she couldn't do last night. She throws her head back and cries my name until it echoes in the corners of her office, ringing out around us like an aria to God. Her sweet voice breaks on my name, a full body orgasm ripping through her. Her body seizes her, her eyes rolling back in her head. A flood of her sweet juices soaks my hand.
She's Erato and Euterpe, Polyhymnia, and Terpsichore. A muse. A goddess. The very vision of all that's right and good in this world. I've never seen a sight more beautiful or a woman more exquisite than Miranda when she's coming.
I bury my face in her throat again, kissing her everywhere I can reach as fierce possession and reverent awe course through me at once. I work her through her orgasm, coaxing out every last shake and tremble. Every last moan.
She goes limp in my arms, sated.
I cuddle her like the precious gift she is, defending her little bubble of bliss while she comes back to herself. My legs shake, my own need unrelenting and merciless. But somehow, I manage to scrape together the last few vestiges of restraint I have and forge them into something resembling willpower. It's not whole or complete, but it's enough. I manage to ignore how badly I want to be inside her.
And I tell her the truth. "You've broken me, pretty baby."
She peels her eyes open to focus on me through melted pools of chocolate. Her lips lift into a smirk that's so full of contentment, so full of joy, that I fall a little deeper into love with her.
"Good," she says. "Because I cancelled my date."
Chapter Five
Miranda
"Where are you taking me?" I ask Jason, turning to look at him from the passenger seat of his truck. My body feels fuzzy and detached, like I'm dreaming. I think I might be because there's no way the gorgeous man beside me is real. He's too incredible, too perfect to exist in a world that's anything but.
I'm still buzzing from the orgasm he gave me, but not enough to keep me from wanting another one as he turns his head toward me and grins. If I'm not careful, he's going to make me greedy. I can already see it happening, feel my earlier obsession planting seeds that sprout rapidly.
I'm in love with him. Not because he made me come, but because of him. Because he's sweet and kind, yet fierce and powerful. He loves his mama and adores his sister. He's gentle and patient. He was willing to let me go out with another man, just to prove to me that I could trust him with my big secret and my heart.
I cancelled my date because no part of me wanted to go. No part of me wanted to hurt Jason like that…and I know it would have hurt him, even if he never admitted it. I think going would have hurt me too. The only man I want to eat dinner with is Jason.
Cancelling was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.
As soon as I told Richard I wouldn't be going out with him tonight or ever, a weight lifted from my shoulders. The little pinprick of pain in my heart that grew bigger and bigger all afternoon vanished too. I felt nothing but relief. I was going to find Jason to tell him, but he found me first, blowing into my office like a hurricane.
He was unraveling at the seams, completely undone. Steely eyes on fire, panting like he ran the whole way to my office. He was sex on legs, fierce in his need.
"Depends, pretty baby," he says, that worn-leather tone setting a little flame to dance low in my belly. He sounds so gruff and stern. There's no mistaking that he's someone with power, someone used to giving the orders. But there's a gentleness in his voice when he speaks to me, especially when he calls me pretty baby or Minnie. That same softness blazes in his eyes when he looks at me. His lips curve into a smile every time, melting me like hot wax.
God, he's beautiful…if a man like him can be beautiful. I'm not sure. But handsome isn't a strong enough classification. Neither is hot. He's both, in spades, but there's some combination of dark and light in him that catapults him into a level of radiance that eclipses everything I know.
I love it. I love him.
How do I make him love me too?
I'm not sure. I've never set out to make a man fall in love with me before. But I'm kind of hoping that being myself will be enough. That he'll see who I am instead of the way I was raised. It's all I've got to work with.