Mace’s arm wound around my middle and he pul ed me deep into him.
“Feel better?” he murmured into my hair, knowing how I needed my music.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
He kissed the back of my neck.
“I missed that too,” he told me, talking about me playing and singing and him watching and I felt a shiver slide across my skin.
I knew not only did he mean to say that out loud, he meant to say what he said earlier out loud too.
And I didn’t know what to make of that at al .
* * * * *
I woke up with his hand under my tank top, not just under it but honing in on my breast. “Mace –” I said, sounding sleepy.
His hand cupped my breast, the rough pad of his thumb slid across my nipple then back.
“Mace –” I said again, stil sounding sleepy but my voice had dipped lower.
His thumb was joined by a finger, there was a gentle squeeze then a rol .
Pleasant happy tingles shot everywhere, a goodly number of them directed themselves straight between my legs.
Oh lordy be.
I twisted my head to him, my intent to say something, to protest but he pul ed up, leaned in and kissed my open mouth. The kiss was deep, hot and he pressed his h*ps into my bottom at the same time he did another squeeze then swipe of this thumb. I felt his hardness against my behind and more pleasant tingles, far more intense, scored a path through every nerve.
I kissed him back, I couldn’t help it, I didn’t try.
We kept kissing then his mouth moved along my cheek, to my ear, his tongue traced its curve. His hand left my breast and trailed down, over my bel y, between my legs then he cupped me there.
“Tel me what you want,” he murmured in my ear, his deep voice already rough.
“Touch me,” I whispered.
He touched me, his fingers pressing in, finding me immediately. I moaned and started to breathe heavily, my mouth open, Mace’s lips and tongue at my neck.
I pressed my h*ps into his lap and nuzzled. He made a noise that came deep from his throat and vibrated against my neck.
I twisted my head again and we kissed, hotter, deeper, his fingers playing me over my undies. I quit kissing and started panting.
His fingers moved away.
“What do you want?” he asked against my mouth.
I didn’t delay, I couldn’t and I didn’t try.
“I want you inside me.”
His thumb went into the side of my panties, pul ing them up over my bandage and yanking them down to just above my knees. He positioned and entered me.
God, it was beautiful.
My neck twisted the whole time so I was facing him, his hand came back to my breast, his thumb and finger teasing my nipple, our mouths together, alternately kissing and breathing, my h*ps pressed into his as he thrust into me.
I got close but held back.
“Kitten,” he muttered. He felt it, he knew it, he didn’t like it.
He never did, he always wanted me to let go.
I always wanted to wait for him.
“Are you close?” I breathed.
He didn’t answer, instead he demanded, “Stop holdin’
back.”
“I want it to happen with you,” I told him.
His hand left my breast, went between my legs, his fingers pressed and circled.
I gasped his name, his mouth ground down on mine and he drove into me deep right before I came.
I was dazed and stil coming down when, mouth stil on mine, his strokes going deeper, faster, I knew he was close, his voice now hoarse, he said, “Christ, you feel sweet. No one f**kin’ sweeter.”
It was again something I suspected he didn’t mean to say out loud but I was beginning to think Mace didn’t do anything he didn’t mean to do. A different kind of warmth spread over me in a thick layer on top of my happy post-orgasm-Mace-stil -inside-me feel.
Then his breath caught, he shoved his face in my neck, he slammed in deep and I heard and felt him let out a heavy sigh.
When he was done, he settled behind me, his arm wrapped around my bel y and he didn’t pul out.
I blinked slowly.
Then I realized it had happened again.
Shitsofuckit!
What was I thinking?
When was I going to start thinking?
“You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded my head.
His hand drifted to my bandage, his fingers running His hand drifted to my bandage, his fingers running whisper-soft along its edges.
“I hurt you?”
I shook my head.
His arm wrapped around my middle again.
My mind was racing to form a plan to get me out of my newest muddle. I mean, I was angry at him. He told my now ex-boyfriend he’d f**ked me, doing it with a frankness that was just not nice, for Eric or for me. He wasn’t listening to me when I told him we weren’t together and he didn’t leave when I kicked him out.
This couldn’t go on.
Of course, I was lying with him in my bed, a bed I joined him in last night without a peep, a bed where I was lying, my panties at my knees, Mace stil inside me.
Perhaps I was giving him mixed signals.
Ya think? My brain asked.
“Babe?” he cal ed.
“What?” I replied, having stil not formed a plan.
“What’s with black?” he asked.
This question confused me and I forgot al about forming a plan.
“Excuse me?”
“Your songs. ‘Blackbird’, ‘Black Water’, ‘Black Velvet’,
‘Black Betty’, a lot of the songs you sing have the word
‘black’.”
His question surprised me. He’d never asked me anything personal and he’d definitely never asked about my music, the most personal thing of al .
I knew he enjoyed it. He came to a lot of my gigs, I saw him standing in the dark, fingers around the neck of a beer bottle, his eyes on me and only me. And, just like last night, when we were at my place, even if he was doing something, on a phone cal , reading a book, if I started to play he’d always stop and watch and, I knew, he’d listen and I knew further, he liked it.
After he came to a gig, we had the best sex ever (which put our sex off-the-charts) because I was high from the gig and, I suspected, so was he.
Any time I played when we were alone, after I’d finish, he’d make love to me. I knew it was that because it was sweeter, slower, less energetic, al about giving, always about Mace giving to me.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
His arm tightened. “Tel me.”
I sighed and tilted my chin forward. His head came with me. I could feel his breath on my neck.
I didn’t want to get into this with him. It was none of his business.