Make You Miss Me by B. Celeste

CHAPTER THIRTY

Fletcher delivers his promise like he always does, stripping me in record time until I’m in nothing but skin and makeup. I’m not even angry that I spent so much time on my appearance because the way the man hovering over me is touching me slowly between my legs makes it impossible to think about much of anything.

Squirming for more as his thick fingers make passes along my wet seam, I pant and arch when his trimmed beard scrapes against my bare breast, taking the rosy nipple between his lips and sucking. My hand curls around the back of his neck, fingertips tightening and massaging the flesh there as he switches between the hard, pebbled nubs and enters me with one of his fingers. Moving in and out slowly to build me up, he inserts a second finger and hooks them until he hits the perfect spot that has my back lifting off the bed with each thrust.

His lower body rolls against the mattress to get friction against the steel tenting his briefs as he works me over. “You’re dripping down my fingers, baby,” he groans, moving his mouth from my nipples to my lips as the wet sounds pick up the quicker his hand flicks and moves between our bodies.

Sucking his tongue between my lips, I sneak a hand between us, taking my time to take in his impressive chest with my fingertips, and then dip my palm into the elastic of his briefs and wrap it around the base of his hard cock until I feel the bristles of coarse hair there as I give him a gentle squeeze. He lets out a primal noise that breaks our kiss as I begin stroking him from base to tip and back down again, making him falter with his own movements.

“Please, Fletcher,” I plead against his lips, moving my hips to match the rhythm he creates with his fingers.

He gives me another kiss, a peck on the jaw, the cheek, before nipping my earlobe and sucking it between his lips. “Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

My knuckles brush his hot skin as I work his shaft, tightening my hold and squeezing below the tip before trailing back down until I can feel him leaking.

When his fingers leave me, I want to cry, but he repositions himself to yank down his briefs until that very impressive, very hard, hot organ is free at last and looking even more massive than I remember from the many other times I’ve seen it over the past month.

Every time we had to wait, to reschedule, has led to this, making us even needier than the first time.

“Fletcher,” I say when he’s settled back between my legs, one of his palms guiding my leg up and around his waist as his cock nudges my entrance.

This time when he whispers my name in his heated, low tone, I don’t freak out.

This time, when he pushes in, first one inch, then another, I don’t lock up.

He works slowly as his lips pay attention to every inch of my face. First pressing against my cheek, then the other. My nose. One corner of my lips. The opposite side. One eyelid, then the second.

My fingers trail down his back, stroking up and down his spine as my leg hooks tighter around his waist. Then, finally, I lift up and feel him seat himself fully inside of me, causing both of us to groan when our pelvises meet. He pauses for a moment or two to kiss me, taking my top lip into his mouth, then the bottom, before parting my lips and teasing my tongue with his own. The kiss is slow, exploring every part of my mouth, my tongue, swiping my teeth, tracing my lips, all while he twitches inside of me.

“Please,” I whisper, my lips trailing down the underside of his jaw, then to his throat and biting down on the damp skin there.

That’s when he moves.

He withdraws until only his tip is still inside me before pushing back in, filling me in one hard thrust.

Then he does it again.

And again.

Faster, harder, each time until our skin slaps together in a delicious harmony.

Our breaths, tongues, and teeth clatter together as he makes love to me with everything he has. The noises that mix between us make my body feel worshipped—the sounds in the air, the scent thick with sex and passion as he grabs my other thigh and lifts it until both legs are wrapped around him. The angle hits me deeper as he rises on his knees, feeling like nothing I’ve experienced in the past.

I feel cherished.

Loved.

“God, baby,” he breathes, his hands gripping my hips as he slams into me. “You have no idea—” His voice cuts off as I lift my hips to meet his movements making him cuss and bend down to capture my lips again.

Teeth biting down on his lip, I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “Fuck me.”

Two words.

Words I’d never spoken before.

Words I’ve always wanted to but felt too ashamed to because of the partner who’d made me feel that way from the start.

This is how it’s supposed to be.

Love.

Making love.

Fucking.

It’s all the same when it’s with the right person. Not dirty, but right. Perfectly right.

The words unleash the soldier inside Fletcher that’s been dormant since his retirement. If it’s possible, a version of him that I could never have in even in my wildest, dirtiest fantasies picture takes complete control of my body.

Of my breasts.

My hips.

My pussy that tightens and clenches around him as he goes harder, jackknifing as his arm ropes around my lower back and picks me up until I’m straddling his lap with my legs on either side of his body.

“Oh God,” I moan as he lifts me up and drops me down onto him, using my body to fuck himself until we’re both panting. Each movement brings a sting of delicious pain between my legs, and I have no doubt I’ll need medicine tomorrow if I want to walk. “God, Fletcher. I can’t—” I shake my head and tighten my arms around him, burying my face into the crook of his sweaty neck as I try matching the rhythm he’s creating.

It’s too much.

Too fast.

Too hard.

Too everything.

But I love the uncontrollable nature he’s showing me, giving me, because he can’t help himself. Can’t stop himself.

The only thing that gets me to look him in the eyes is when he says, “I love you, Stevie,” as both his arms hold me to him, pressing our naked. sweaty chests together so nothing can get between us.

My eyes are wide as I stare at the piercing eyes he’s watching me with, my breath catching in my throat.

He kisses me, holding my lips against his, breathing me in, tasting me, still moving his hips upward and filling me methodically slow. “I’m not saying that because it’s the heat of the moment. I mean it, honey. I love you so much it hurts my chest, fills my head every goddam day. It drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

He holds my stare, making this moment that much stronger. I nearly come undone from his firm statement alone, but then he says, “I love you so much that I hope to fucking God your birth control fails tonight.”

I lose it, clenching him as I come harder than I’ve ever come in my entire life. Blackness takes over, and white spots dot my eyes as I tip my head back and feel him twitch inside me and then enter me one more time before burying himself deep and pulsing until I can feel the hot warmth fill me as he groans loudly into my neck.

Sweaty, sated and feeling on the verge of passing out, I let him lay us down, still connected as intimately as we can be. He brushes his fingers through my damp, ruined hair, kisses me once, twice, a third time, before pulling me into him and hugging me against his chiseled body.

“I love you too,” I whisper, voice hoarse.

“You’re everything I’ve ever needed,” is how he replies before pulling out, grabbing a wet washcloth, and carefully cleaning me before pressing a kiss on my overly sensitive clit, and then crawling back in bed.

That’s how we fall asleep.

Until he wakes me up for round two by whispering in my ear, “Need to fuck you from behind, baby girl.”

And I let him.

Twice.