Page 39 of Dating Mr. Right A Collection
In my building, we step into the lift and don’t even bother to wait. “There’s just something about elevators,” I say as I kiss her again.
“They’re not sweet and innocent. They’re naughty and dirty.”
“Are you naughty and dirty, Macy?”
“I want to be with you.”
Holy shit. This is too much. This is a dream. A crazy, fevered dream because Macy wants the same things I do.
Macy’s eyes light up. “Would you want to be like that with me?”
Lust sizzles through my body and I rasp out, “Yes.”
We make it to my apartment, and before the door slams shut, I kiss her harder and more passionately than before. My hands find their way up her shirt, where I cup the red satin of her bra.
I lift her shirt and tug it off, and holy cupid. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
She nibbles on her lip. “I bought it for you. I wore it for you. It’s all for you.”
I slide a hand between her legs, cupping her through her jeans. I can feel the heat. I undo the zipper and slide my hand inside.
“That’s why I like Valentine’s Day.” She trembles as I touch her where she wants. “Because it’s sexy. Because it’s hot. Because I don’t just like you.” She stares at me with lust in her irises. “I want you to fuck me, Kirby. I want you to fuck me today and tomorrow and the next day. I want you to do all sorts of crazy things to me.”
Hallelujah. This is absolutely the best day ever.
I admire the red lingerie. “I no longer hate red,” I say.
“I’m glad because I have all sorts of pretty lingerie. Red, pink, white, all those colors you think you don’t like.”
“Oh, I love them now,” I tell her as her hands dart out to tug at my shirt and pull it over my head, and then to unfasten the zipper on my jeans.
I strip off her jeans and push her against the door. “So you like it spicy,” I say in her ear. “Want me to fuck you up against the wall?”
“Please, yes.”
I find a condom from my wallet as she shoves down my boxer briefs and grabs my cock. I shudder as she grips me, her fist sliding up and down my flesh. I roll the protection on, hitch up her leg, and slide inside.
It’s incredible. It’s intoxicating. It’s mind-bending as pleasure rolls through me at the feel of being inside this woman—the woman I’ve been lusting after, liking, crushing on, wanting for the last few years.
As I take her against the door, she wraps her arms around my neck, tugging me as close as possible, whispering in my ear, “I love it like this. I want it like this. Do it harder.”
And I do, listening to her every request and fulfilling them as I go deeper and she starts to lose control, shaking and shuddering, murmuring in my ear, groaning my name, and then soon enough, she’s coming on my cock.
Pleasure spirals in me, coils tighter, until I follow her to the other side of pleasure.
* * *
After a glass of wine, Macy’s ready for another round.
I back her up against the kitchen counter. “I bet you’re wet and hot again,” I whisper.
She trembles. “Find out.”
I dip my hand between her legs, feeling her slick heat. “Look at you. So hot for the bad luck guy.”
“It’s not bad luck anymore.”
I glide my fingers across her core, and she shudders, pushing against me. “Does the sweet dirty girl want to be fucked with my fingers?”
“I do,” she says on a pant.
She’s so fucking wet, so slippery against my hand as I slide a finger inside, then another. She grinds down, and I push deeper, hooking my fingers just so.
“Oh God,” she says.
The way she lets go, the way she owns her pleasure, is the most erotic thing. I’m no longer finger-fucking her. She’s fucking my hand. She’s grinding down on me, her breath uneven, her lids squeezed shut, her lips parted, as she shamelessly chases her pleasure.
“Fuck, Macy. You’re so sexy.”
“More. Give me more.”
I slide my finger toward her ass, and she groans wildly. I press against her, and she cries out. “You like that, dirty girl?”
She nods savagely. She can’t form words.
But she doesn’t need to. Her body makes her wishes clear. My sweet Macy likes ass play. And I’d like to play with her ass. With two fingers in her pussy, I push one more against her ass.
A little more.
A little farther.
She yelps, but it turns into a carnal, guttural moan as I slide my finger into her. And she goes wild, fucking and humping and coming like a goddamn rock star.
When she comes down from her high, I ease out of her, step to the sink, and wash my hands. Picking her up, I toss her over my shoulder and carry her to my bedroom.
