Soaring(106)

I felt a tingle elsewhere at that and the tingle traveled north to my nipples when I caught the look in his eyes that told me how much he wanted to give that to me.

And how much he wanted me to give it back.

I liked that. I wanted more.

It was frightening but I couldn’t deny that, from the moment I saw him, I wanted it all from Mickey.

But in getting, I had to give.

“I appreciate you being so sweet about all this, honey,” I said softly. “But I’ll still try to be more patient and get that you have a lot on your plate.”

“That’d be good, darlin’,” he replied softly. “But I’ll repeat, I get in my head or in my life and I’m not givin’ you what you need, you let me know. We both got hot heads. We get into it, we do.” His lips twitched. “Just as long as we make up.”

I liked the variety of ways Mickey was showing that he could make up, so I shoved more wonton in my mouth and smiled at him with my eyes.

“One thing,” he stated.

I swallowed and asked, “Yeah?”

“I’m not him.”

I stilled and forced my mouth to say, “Mickey.”

“I get he scarred you. I get that might take time to sort your head about. But I’m not him. Told you I’d never do that shit to a woman, and it’s arguable, but with the one I had, I actually had cause to go lookin’. I didn’t. If you need to work that out with your girls, or me, you do it. I’m here. I’m gonna make time for you, for us, because that’s important. I’ll definitely make time for that. Us startin’ out, both of us got a lot going on, I know I’m already askin’ a lot of you. But that’s not gonna stop me from askin’ that. I can’t promise I’m gonna do everything right, and it sucks but you already know that with how we got right here.” He dipped his chin to indicate us eating Chinese on my couch. “But I’d never do that to you and you gotta get that.”

“Okay, Mickey,” I whispered.

“Okay,” he replied. “Now come here and give me a kiss.”

I balanced my plate, avoided sweet and sour sauce, and leaned toward him to give him my kiss. He helped by leaning into me and lifting a hand to cup the back of my head.

It was a quick touch but I liked it very much.

I didn’t move very far away before he stated, “Spendin’ the night, Amy.”

“Okay, Mickey,” I repeated my whisper.

He leaned and touched my mouth again, let me go and settled back.

I settled back too, finished my wonton and reached for the soup.

* * * * *

“Mickey,” I breathed and went flying.

He let me.

Then he kissed me as he kept taking me.

I descended but kept gliding as I felt him move inside me. Listened to his noises. Took him in with fingers and mouth. Moved my hips with his increasing rhythm. And helped coax him there until he slid a hand up my forearm, pushing it up over my head, linking his fingers with mine and pressing our hands into the pillow.

He squeezed hard as he thrust deep and groaned loud.

My heart took flight.

I gave that to Mickey too.

How was it that his weight was on me, his body connected to mine, and it felt like I was floating?

I knew he recovered when his hips stopped spasming between mine, he tweaked my nose with the tip of his then took my mouth in a slow, deep, tender kiss.

He ended it, brushing his lips along my jaw, as he gently slid out of me, rolled off but pulled the covers over me before he got out of bed and sauntered naked to my bathroom.

I watched, my first view of his sculpted behind a vision I enjoyed greatly, before I shifted to sitting on the side of the bed. I reached and grabbed his tee from the floor, tugged it on and straightened off the bed, nabbing my panties.

I had them up and was walking to the bathroom as he was walking out.

Mickey, naked in my bedroom, full-frontal view.

He had a great ass, an amazing back.

But his chest and other attributes were better.

He stopped to bend his neck as I stopped and got on tiptoes. My hand was light to his flat stomach as I touched my mouth to his.

He lifted away and I walked into the bathroom going direct to the drawers in my walk-in closet.

I exchanged Mickey’s tee for a short, satin nightie in a dusky rose with deep edges of delicate oyster lace and thin spaghetti straps that crisscrossed at the back.

I walked out holding Mickey’s tee, turned out the lights of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom.

There I saw Mickey Donovan in my bed, under my duvet, on his side, head in his hand, elbow resting in the pillow, long legs partially visible but totally tangled in my sheets, eyes on me. Eyes now telling me he really liked my nightie.

I took him in.

I had that. I’d had that.