Havoc:Mayhem Series #4(60)

"I need you inside me," I whimper as he drives my body to the edge. I'm  teetering on a cliff, clinging to him even as I beg him to push me off  it.

Mike presses soft, warm kisses below my ear as he continues priming me,  and I can't help the sounds I make for him. Desperate moans, tiny  whimpers, sharp gasps of pleasure. His tongue traces down to the hollow  of my collarbone, and my eyes roll back in my head, my muscles aching  with tension.

"Not yet," he says when I'm close to coming. He pulls away and shifts  between my legs, raking both hands up my body to strip me of my  oversized shirt. He tosses it onto the floor, and then he sits back,  letting his hungry eyes rove over my flushed face, my pert breasts, my  smooth stomach, my bare sex. When his eyes find mine again, they are  full of heat that makes me want to cover my breasts-or play with them.                       
       
           



       

"You are so fucking sexy," he says, his fingertips drawing feather-light patterns over the tops of my thighs.

Encouraged by his words, I slide my hands to my breasts, and I fondle  them with him watching. I glance at the bulge straining in his jeans,  and I bite my lip between my teeth as I pinch my nipples between my  fingers, teasing him.

Mike's voice is rough with lust when he says, "I planned to kiss every  single inch of your body when I came home from touring. But I don't  think we have time." He leans down and kisses my fingertips, coaxing  them away from my breasts. "So I think I'll have to settle for  everything from here"-he wraps his soft lips around my nipple, lavishing  me with his tongue-"and here"-he slowly drags wet kisses to my other  breast, drawing it into his scorching mouth. "To here," he finishes,  meeting my sex with his fingers and applying electric tension. Every  nerve in my body sizzles to life as I thread my fingers into his hair,  encouraging his mouth to continue exploring my body.

Mike carries through with his promise, spoiling every inch of me from my  breasts to the junction of my thighs. He watches me watch him as he  strokes his tongue over my sex, nibbling and kissing and suckling until  I'm nothing but a whimpering mess of need on his bed. When I think I can  take no more, he pulls away from me to kick off his jeans and boxers,  and I force myself to be coherent enough to watch as he pulls off his  T-shirt.

My eyes feast on his chiseled biceps, his sculpted shoulders, his hard  chest, his flat stomach, and then he's settling over me and I can feel  him between my legs. He kisses me feverishly while his swollen head  presses against my sex, and when I'm moaning against his mouth and  arcing against him, he finally begins pushing inside me.

It isn't like last time-he didn't enter me with his fingers first, so  there's nothing to prepare me. The only help he offers now is the way he  kisses me-ravenously, without giving me time to think. He devours me  with his lips and with his hands, and it all helps distract me from the  way my body stretches around him as he pushes his sex inside of me.

"Oh my God," Mike groans, struggling to keep his composure as he enters  me, and I wrap my legs behind him, slowly pulling him the rest of the  way inside my body.

When he's sunken fully inside me, I pulse around him, and his cock  throbs in answer. Mike rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed,  and I plant soft kisses against his closed lips. When he opens his  eyes, there is so much love in them, I almost start crying again.

"You undo me, Hailey," he says, and a tear slips out of the corner of my eye.

"I love you," I tell him, and he wipes my tear away, smiling. It's the  first time I've told him in person, and the words feel healing-freeing.

"I love you too," he says, kissing me as he begins moving inside me  again. His kiss isn't fire or torture or teasing-it's love. I feel it in  my chest, in the way my heart beats against his while he makes me  remember how perfectly we fit together.

It's like he was made for me. Just for me.

Mike makes love to me until I shatter around him, and then he releases  inside me and tells me over and over again how much he loves me, how  much he missed me, how much he needs me. I say it all back, and I mean  every word.

I love him. I missed him. I need him.

It's still dark outside when he tugs me against his chest and wraps his  arms around me. I smile contentedly as I play the little spoon to his  big spoon, and eventually, my eyelids grow heavy.

"Get some sleep," Mike orders when my body jerks to fight off sleep for the fifth or sixth time.

"I don't want to," I argue, my groggy voice betraying me.

Mike hugs me tighter, his breathing steady against my back. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"But you're leaving soon. I don't want to waste the time we have."

"This isn't wasting it," he says, linking his fingers with mine and hugging our arms tight against my body.

"We should talk," I counter, feeling a peacefulness I shouldn't.  Danica's threat is still looming over us. But right now, it feels so far  away.                       
       
           



       

"What do you want to talk about?" Mike rubs his thumb over my hand,  since his hands can never be still, and I smile against our pillow.

"I don't know . . ."

"Good talk, baby. Now get some sleep."

I chuckle and try to think. "Uh, how was your flight?"

"Long."

"Was it worth it?" I ask, and within seconds, I get my answer in the  form of a growing erection that Mike presses against my ass.

"I suggest you talk about something else unless you seriously don't want to get any sleep."

I let out a soft chuckle and nibble my bottom lip, tempted. "Sorry."

Mike's hand lifts to my mouth, and even though he's behind me and can't see me, he frees my lip from my teeth. "Liar."

I laugh, and he snuggles me closer. The hard length pressing against my  body is starting to direct my thoughts to a very dirty place, so I force  myself to change the subject. "Where was your favorite place on tour?"

"Probably the market in Seoul," Mike answers after thinking about it for  a while. "The food was amazing and the vendors were really friendly. It  was kind of like Chinatown in New York, but so much better."

I have no basis for comparison, since I've never been to Chinatown . . . or New York . . . "That sounds really cool."

Mike rubs his thumb over my hand again. "Bali was really beautiful  though. We made a stop at this one beach . . . It was a private little  cove surrounded by massive rocks covered in the greenest plants you've  ever seen. The sand was like powder, it was so soft. And the water was  as warm as bathwater."

"It sounds gorgeous," I say, wishing I could have seen it with him.

"I'll take you there someday," Mike promises with his chin resting on my  shoulder. "There are tons of resorts all over the island. Even those  kinds with the little wooden huts that sit out on the water. We can  spend our honeymoon in one of them."

Mike stiffens at the same time I do-right when he says the word  honeymoon. We're quiet for a while, and his thumb starts drumming  against my hand.

"Are you planning on proposing to me?" I tease, butterflies soaring wildly inside my stomach.

"Maybe in Australia . . ." Mike answers. "In the Capella Sunflower Fields in Queensland."

"Did you go there?" I ask, and all of Mike's fingers begin twitching, drumming against the top of my hand. He shakes his head.

I swallow, realizing what he's not telling me. He didn't go there-he looked it up.

"Would I get to hug a koala afterward?" I ask to lighten the conversation, and he shakes his head again.

"Nope. We'd hug one before."

"Why before?"

"It'd guarantee a yes," he says, and my whole body relaxes with a laugh.

"You think I'm that easy?"

"Okay," Mike dramatically relents. "Two koalas."

I laugh again and elbow him playfully, and he sighs contentedly as he  pulls me tighter against his body. Every inch of me is squeezed against  every inch of him, and I close my eyes and smile against the pillow.

"I'd buy you a house with a white picket fence," Mike says, and my smile widens.

"What would the house look like?"

"Pretty. Lots of trees and flowers. Window boxes on every single window.  A big deck for me to grill out back. A place for you to grow banana  peppers in the yard. Like . . . seven bedrooms."

"Why so many bedrooms?"

"For the six kids we're going to have."

I bark out a laugh. "No way."

"Five," he amends.

"Two."

"Four."

"Two."

"Ten," he argues, and I laugh hard. He presses a kiss against my neck  before nuzzling his chin back in the crook of my shoulder. "Two," he  agrees softly, and I smile in spite of the butterflies wreaking havoc  inside my stomach.