Play (Stage Dive, #2)(73)

“Ticklish?” I asked, grinning up at him.

“I’m too manly to be ticklish.”

“Ah.” I dragged the soap over the hard length of his thighs, back and forth. Damned if he wouldn’t be the cleanest, sparkliest rock ‘n’ roll drummer in the whole wide world. Water slid over his body, highlighting all the ridges and dips, the curve of his pecs and the satin of his skin. I should just call him cake and eat him with a spoon.

“You going higher?” Desire deepened his voice.

“Eventually.” I soaped up my hands and put the bar of soap aside. “Why?”

“No reason.”

The “no reason” was pointing right at me all large and demanding. I held it aside with one hand, slipping the other between his legs. His hard dick warmed the palm of my hand. A woman with more patience wouldn’t have curved her fingers around it, squeezed tight. I was so crap at waiting.

Mal sucked in a breath, his six-pack contracting sharply.

“I love your ass.” I said, tracing soapy fingers along the crack before cradling his balls. Every part of him was sublime, body and soul. The good and the bad and the difficult. The times I wanted him to be serious and the times I didn’t have a f*cking clue where he was at. He always made me want more while making me profoundly thankful for what I had at the same time.

Because I had him, it was right there in his eyes.

“No idea how I got so lucky.” I nuzzled his hip bone, sliding my fingers over the smooth skin of his cock.

“You love my ass that much?”

“No, it’s more of an all-of-you kind of thing.”

I gave his cock another squeeze and his eyes went hazy in the way I liked so much. Things had definitely woken up between my legs, but this was all about him. The tips of his fingers drifted over the sides of my face, his touch gentle, reverent.

Enough playing around.

I guided the head of his cock into my mouth and sucked hard. Hands dug into my wet hair, holding on tight. My tongue flicked over the top of him, teasing the sensitive rim before dipping below to rub against his sweet spot. I took him in deeper, sucking hard, again and again. His hips shifted, pressing him farther into my mouth. I’d never perfected the art of deep throating, sorry. Mal made me want to learn. Something told me he wouldn’t be adverse to some practice time. With one hand I cradled his balls, massaging. The other stayed wrapped tight around the root of his penis, stopping him from going too far and gagging me. But I took him as far as I could, pulling back to lavish him with attention from my tongue. Tracing the thick veins and toying with the slit.

The fingers in my hair drew tight, stinging ever so slightly. But it was fine. It was all good. I f*cking loved being able to do this to him.

I drew him in deep and sucked hard, working him. He came with a shout, pumping into my mouth as far as my hand would let him. I swallowed.

And they said romance was dead.

He stood, panting, arms hanging slack and eyes closed. Fuck, he was perfect. I slowly stood, my numb knees shaky. After oral, there always seemed to be this moment of shyness. Maybe I should have been smug, thrown in some swagger. There wasn’t really the space for it in the shower, however.

Mal opened his eyes and stared at me, his arms going around my shoulders. He drew me in, placing soft kisses on my face.

“Thanks,” he said, the word muffled against my skin.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry about your parents, pumpkin. So f*cking sorry.”

My fingers tightened on his hips, involuntarily. One day, I’d stop reacting like that and I’d let it go. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed my arms briskly, smooched the top of my head. “We need to think happy thoughts. And order a shitload of bacon and eggs. And waffles too. You like waffles?”

“Who doesn’t like waffles?”

“Exactly. Anyone who doesn’t like waffles should be put in the f*cking penal system. Lock ’em up and throw away the key.”

“Absolutely.”

“No more sad stuff today,” he said, voice gruff.

He picked up the soap and started washing me, paying particular attention to my breasts.

“There’s just one more thing I think we should talk about,” I said, as he worked hard at rubbing some imaginary spot from my left nipple. It felt rather nice, truth be told.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Well, about what you said last night when we got back here. About starting a family.”

His hand paused, covering my right breast. “Starting a family?”

“Yes. You said you were really serious about it. You even threw all the condoms out the window and flushed my pill down the toilet.”

“That’s pretty damn serious. Did we f*ck?”

I batted my eyelashes at him and gave him an innocent, if somewhat evil, look. “No. Of course not.”

The whites of his eyes blazed bright. “God … you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” I kissed his chest. “You did throw all of your condoms out the window. You couldn’t find where I kept my pills, though. Then you lay down and proceeded to name all of our children.”

“All of them?”

“I take it we’re no longer having a brood of lucky thirteen?”