“I’m . . . not sure what I need,” she lied.
“I have some fresh raspberry sorbet in the freezer. It’s been calling to me for the last few hours.”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
Mick headed into the kitchen, and Allie got up and went to the bookcase against one wall—an old, heavy Spanish-looking piece. On it were a few photographs of his family among the books. She ran her fingers over the spines, peering at the titles. Books on martial arts, which didn’t surprise her, more on shibari rope bondage, which was even less of a surprise. Mixed in were a few fiction titles—thrillers, mostly—a small book of the Tao, which did surprise her, as well as some books on Buddhism by Thich Nhat Hanh. Strange reading for an Irish Catholic, fallen though he may be. But it opened a small window into the man he was today—the man she yearned to know better, and who seemed to be refusing to let her.
Mick returned with the promised sorbet in its carton and two spoons, and she joined him back on the sofa. He handed her one of the spoons.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he said.
Not looking forward to seeing her.
Was she simply feeling sorry for herself? Or was that a realistic expectation? She hated that she had to doubt herself so much.
They sat eating the sorbet for a few minutes in silence.
“I really do think you need to talk to them again,” Mick said.
“I will. You’re probably right.”
“And I do like to be right.” He grinned at her, but she swore some of his usual natural charm was missing.
“Yes, you do.” She smiled, trying to lighten the moment.
She felt desperate suddenly to find a way back to those intimate moments. To find their connection, despite the unspoken issues hanging in the air—or maybe more so because of them.
She stuck her spoon into the middle of the sorbet left in the carton, pulled Mick’s spoon from between his lips and did the same with it. He watched her, an eyebrow raised in question. She set the carton on the big coffee table, then climbed onto him, straddling his lap.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” he asked softly as she settled her arms around his neck.
He wasn’t touching her, no hands on her waist.
She had to remind herself about Marie Dawn’s stupidity ruling.
“Mick, you’re going to kiss me. And touch me. And we’re going to have sex.”
“Okay . . .”
“And we’re going to find a way to reconnect. Because I can’t figure out any other way at the moment, and I can’t stand how distant things are between us right now.”
He had the grace to look a bit sheepish, but only for a moment.
“You know I prefer to be the one calling the shots. Usually I demand it.”
“Believe me, I know. But tonight I don’t want any bondage or pain play. I think it just needs to be . . . us. Just us here, without all the fancy window dressing, you know?”
He was quiet a few moments, simply looking up at her. She didn’t have a clue what was going through his mind, and it was making her uncomfortable as hell. She was sitting on his lap, and he still hadn’t put his hands on her.
“Mick,” she whispered as she leaned forward, bringing her mouth within inches of his. “I need you to kiss me. I need you to touch me. Don’t argue it. Just do it.”
“Bossy girl.”
“Yes. Just . . . for now. Just for now, stop talking and kiss me. Kiss me hard. Make me remember it.”
He blinked up at her, then his shadowed eyes lost their darkness and began to gleam, a pure, crystalline gray.
“I need to remember, too,” he said quietly.
The energy between them shifted and so did he, grasping her hips and bringing her pelvis in until it was seated hard up against his. Then he grabbed her face and kissed her. He pressed his lips to hers, hard, harder. Just the urgent press of his lips until she could barely breathe, his hands loosening their tight hold on her cheeks, going gentle. Then his mouth gentled, too, and it was a pure, sensual fire between them, his tongue sliding into her mouth, so sweet and soft she wanted to cry for everything she felt in his kiss.
It was too much—too much to feel. She took his face in her hands and deepened the kiss, pressed her pelvis into his. Everything changed in an instant. He kissed her harder, taking her mouth. His kiss was primal, wild, taking command. He always would, one way or another, and she was fine with that. More than fine—she loved it. Her body was coming alive, every nerve ending on fire. She ground her hips against him, felt the solid ridge of his erection through his jeans and hers. Wanted—needed—more.
She broke from the kiss long enough to strip her tank top over her head. As she started on his he helped her, then he bent to kiss her breasts roughly. She let her head fall back as he gathered her breasts in his hands and pushed them together, used his thumbs to work his way over the still-dark bite marks, past the lacy edge of her bra to find her nipples. They were already hard. His circling thumbs only made them harder.
Pleasure suffused her, washing the worry away. This was exactly what she needed—to lose herself in body to body, lips to lips, pleasure to pleasure.
Mick unsnapped her bra and tore it off, then he started to unbutton her jeans. She went for his at the same time—and was rewarded by the hard, golden head of his bare cock as she pulled his jeans open. She stroked him, her fingers curling around the tip, and he groaned.
“Ah, Allie.”
“Come on, Mick.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice, baby.”
He stood and set her on her feet, stripped her out of her jeans and panties in mere seconds, then tore his jeans off.
“Damn it. Condom. Hang on.”
She watched his finely molded ass as he strode toward his bedroom, noticed that he was limping a little. The trip must have been hard on him. Seconds later he was coming at her, a string of condom packets in his hand, his beautifully erect cock leading the way.
God, the man was really something.
He sat back down on the sofa, wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her on top of him, seating her against him the way he had earlier, with her straddling his lap—only this time, naked. His cock was pressed against her mound, the ridge of it hitting her swollen clit. Immediately she grabbed the back of the sofa to steady herself and began a slow, sinuous grind against him.
“Christ,” he groaned. “You’re gonna kill me with that thing, Allie girl.”
“Oh, I intend to,” she said, sliding her wet pussy up and down the length of him, every stroke sending desire shivering into her system.
She moved faster, the slip and slide of their bodies hitting her in all the right places, and pleasure rose higher, built like a tight knot deep in her sex.
“Ahhhh,” Mick groaned, driving her on.
She arched her hips, really grinding into him, wanting release, needing it now.
“Allie, slow down, baby.”
“No,” she growled.
She let go of the sofa cushions and grabbed his shoulders, dug her nails into the heavy muscle there. He moaned, arched up against her.
“Oh, yes . . .”
He buried his face between her breasts, kissing and licking at the skin there. “Need to fuck you,” he murmured. “Need to fuck you so hard.”
“Not yet.”
“You are . . . fucking sexy when . . . you’re toppy,” Mick told her between gasping breaths.
She sighed as she slid along the length of his shaft, up, then down, making the pressure just right. He grabbed her ass and helped her move her arching hips, holding her tight against him, making his cock press harder against her. Pleasure spiraled, crested, and finally erupted like a burst of thunder deep in her body.