Soaring (Magdalene #2)(128)

It again became Mickey and me connecting in every way this could be, becoming what was always but always perfect between Mickey and me, and I begged, “Yes, baby, f*ck me.”

He f*cked me harder.

“God, yes, Mickey. Fuck me,” I moaned.

I was there again, nearly soaring, when he pulled out and whipped me back around so I was on my belly. He lifted me up with an arm wrapped around the chest, walked us forward on our knees and let me go to grip me tight on the inside upper thighs at either side of my sex.

He pulled me up, I tilted my hips, he drove back in and I grasped onto the headboard with both hands.

He shifted a finger and tweaked my clit.

That was it, taking his cock, feeling that touch, experiencing the power of Mickey, my body started spasming as I cried, “Mickey!” and then I took flight.

His grunts filled the room as he went at me harder, faster, his finger still pressing my clit and rolling.

“Baby,” I panted, still coming.

He kept at me.

“Mickey,” I pleaded, not knowing why and still coming.

His grunts became physical things against the skin of my neck and my body started shuddering.

I was still coming as he spoke.

“You had it this good?” he growled in my ear.

“No,” I gasped.

“You ever had it this good, Amy?”

His question was about more than our f*cking.

I gave him the truth.

“Never, Mickey,” I rasped.

His finger at my clit moved, his hand sliding up so he could wrap his arm around my belly, he drove me down on his cock and groaned against my neck, “Fuckin’ right, Amy.”

I kept coming through his orgasm because he had it grinding into me. Finally I started gliding, soft pants whispering past my lips and I felt Mickey coming down with me.

I shifted and he surprised me by ordering roughly, “Don’t move.”

I stilled.

He slid his knees between my legs, settled me in his lap, still connected, and lifted his arm to wrap it around my chest, holding me to him there and at my belly, his breath warm on the skin of my shoulder.

“I can’t give you much, but I can give you this,” he stated thickly.

“Mickey, no—” I started, his words cutting deep, their meaning that all he had to give was good orgasms very much not sitting well with me.

“Shut it, baby, and listen,” he said and since his tone was tender, I let the words slide and did as he asked.

“I made the decision to be my own man a long time ago but that man is based on the man my father taught me to be. I’m a provider. And it isn’t lost on you that I’m strugglin’ with the fact that I’ll never be in a position to provide for you.”

Oh God.

“Mi—”

His arms gave me a squeeze. “Amy, shut it.”

I closed my mouth.

“But I can give you this,” he said.

“You’re more than just a f*ck, Mickey,” I snapped.

“Baby,” he shoved his face in my neck and tightened his arms around me, “feel.”

I felt Mickey holding me, Mickey all around me, Mickey inside me.

I still didn’t get it.

“Honey—”

He again cut me off, “Tonight, you gonna sleep alone?”

I closed my eyes and relaxed in his hold.

I got it.

He felt it.

“Yeah, Amy. This is what I got to give. This progresses, your money, we’re gonna have to have ground rules. But whatever those are, however we work it out, the way this feels with you even after I f*cked up, forced a stupid fight, hurt your feelings, what we got, you can only get it from me. Even disconnected, we connected. Even upset, you opened your door to me. Twice. Means what we got means somethin’ to you and no matter what obstacles we face or put up ourselves, you’re gonna work on it with me. I just gotta come to terms with the fact that all I’d want to give you, I can’t give. But you got something from me that you want and you can only get it from me.”

Suddenly, a future with Mickey struck me with blinding clarity.

I had Cliff Blue. I’d paid for it in cash. I’d made it all me.

But Mickey lived in his childhood home he worked hard to keep. It was older, more worn, more lived in, friendlier, more welcoming. It was a family home in a very good neighborhood.

My home was a multi-million dollar show home that I’d made suitable for a family.

If this worked, if we had a future, the decision would have to be made and Mickey wouldn’t want to give up his home, where he grew up, a home he worked a job he hated to provide for his children, and then move them all in with me.

That was just the beginning. Life was life but some of the ways life could sock it to you, I would never feel.

If I had a leak in my roof, I’d hire someone to fix it. If a storm washed half of Cliff Blue into the sea (God forbid), I wouldn’t blink at rebuilding in so far as flying Prentice Cameron from Scotland to oversee it was done correctly.

There were birthdays and Christmases and special occasions where I’d have to curb my generosity and my ability to give it. And if we blended families, this would not only be for him and his children, but to keep things fair, my children as well.

And each time, he’d know. He’d feel it. He’d understand to keep an even keel, my kids would feel it.