Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(122)
“Just to say,” he started, “wasn’t me who put on the show tonight, honey. You took yourself there. I was just along for the ride. Or I should say, I seriously got off on a great f*ckin’ ride.”
She was still smiling, but he saw the pleasure of his compliment hit her eyes as she returned, “If you think straddlin’ you, ridin’ you, and watchin’ how much you like it didn’t have a part in takin’ me there, you think wrong.”
Automatically, his hips bucked slightly into hers as he growled, “Fuck. I’m forty-two, haven’t banged a woman minutes after a woman banged me since I was in my twenties, and now I’m gettin’ hard again when I didn’t even go soft.”
Her brows shot up. “Is this a complaint?”
“Fuck no,” he answered. “But it is me tellin’ you to get off my dick. I need to go to the john and get rid of this f*ckin’ condom so I can bang you again.”
She grinned and took her time sliding off of him, which meant she took her time sliding him out of her.
Fuck.
Cher.
Spectacular.
He touched his mouth to hers, rolled off the bed, and headed to the bathroom.
When he hit his bedroom again, he saw she’d tangled herself in his sheets, leg and hip on display, most of her tits too, her hand up to her chest with the sheet barely covering them. All this on her side, body curved, head resting in her other hand, elbow in the pillow, eyes to him.
Or to his cock.
With his age and experience, it wasn’t lost on him that women appreciated what God and genetics had endowed him with.
It was just that Cher didn’t try to hide or be coy about the fact she particularly appreciated it.
He liked the confidence that showed. She was who she was. She liked what she liked. She didn’t f*ck around communicating that.
He also liked the look of her tangled in his sheets in his bed.
He memorized that vision instead of standing there and savoring it, because he knew he’d like the feel of her tangled in his sheets and him even better. So Garrett’s dick lost her attention when he slid into bed and pulled her to him, tangling himself up in sheets and Cher.
When he captured her gaze, he asked, “Where we gotta be for me to ditch the condoms?”
She looked confused but answered readily, “Uh…right here, right now.”
“You on birth control?”
She nodded.
“Babe,” he started. “You had a dry spell. I didn’t. You sure you’re good with that?”
“You been careful?”
That was when he nodded.
“So, right here, right now,” she decreed.
She trusted him.
Completely.
Fuck…his girl.
“Sweetheart…” He gathered her closer. “How ’bout I have my annual physical a coupla months early and add a test?”
She made no response.
“Cher—”
She interrupted him with a whisper, her eyes dropping to his lips then his throat.
“Take care of me.”
Garrett didn’t know if that was an observation or a demand.
He again cupped her jaw and put light pressure there so she’d lift her gaze to his.
When she did, he felt no unease. No sour. No tightness.
Nothing but awe at what he saw in her eyes.
So much awe, his body went solid experiencing it, like he was locking it in so he’d never lose it.
“Thank you.”
She was still whispering.
“For what, Cherie?” he whispered back.
“For making me happy.”
Fuck.
His brown-eyed girl.
He slid his fingers back into her hair, grunting, “You’re killin’ me, baby.”
“I’ll stop,” she returned instantly. “If I kill you, you can’t bang me again.”
He smiled as he rolled into her, giving her his weight, moving his hands on her, and gave it to her straight. “Makes me happy to make you happy.”
“Good.”
Since she deserved it and he needed to let it loose, he kept giving it to her straight. “And it scares the f*ckin’ shit outta me.”
She slid her hands along his sides, to his back and down to curl her fingers in his ass, all as she held his eyes.
“I’m holdin’ on.”
He felt his mouth quirk. “Yeah. To my ass.”
He watched her eyes heat even as her lips curved up, and she did both as she opened her legs, his hips fell through, and she wound her calves around his thighs.
“Better?” she asked.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured, his attention shifting to her mouth.
She dug the fingers of one hand in his ass as she moved the other, gliding it up his spine, asking, “You gonna do me or what?”
Garrett dropped his head, trailing his lips from the corner of hers across her cheek to her ear.
“Yeah, I’m gonna do you,” he whispered there.
“Well, get on with it, boss.”
He slid a hand over her hip, along her thigh, and hitched her leg up so it was curled around his ass, instructing, “You better hold on tighter, Cherie.”
“Goodie,” she breathed, running her nose along his jaw.
Garrett grinned.