Once his top half was bare, I let myself drink all of him in. Sure, I had seen him topless in his promos, and definitely during our drunken tryst, but this was different. I was one hundred percent sober and pinned under him, able to feel his muscle and weight so intensely. I had never craved someone so thoroughly, and I found myself impatiently wanting to get to the good part, but also never let go of each other.
Freedom from his shirt seemed to be a signal to him to escalate, because suddenly he was gripping my leggings and yanking them down my thighs. I had never been so grateful that I had shaved for the wedding, only a slight bit of stubble covering my legs.
They resisted his grip at first, and for a second, I cursed how sweaty I got when I sparred or worked out, but Mickey didn’t seem to mind the challenge. His muscles went taut, and I hungrily looked at the striations until finally, he got me free of my pants and I was only in my underwear before him.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He murmured, voice low and dripping honey. I could feel myself thrum at the praise, wanting to hear more. “All these curves. All this soft skin.” He seemed mesmerized as his hands gripped my sides, squeezing gently. His thick, calloused fingers sank into my fat, but instead of looking disgusted, he seemed absolutely enraptured.
While I wasn’t a shy person by any means, there was always that slight flicker of insecurity whenever I bared all of myself to a partner. But with the way that Mickey looked at me, there wasn’t a shred of trepidation. I felt like I was Aphrodite herself, born out of the sea only to end up under Mickey’s strong thighs.
“Please,” I practically whined, trying to arch up into him. But his hands held me fast, pinning me to the floor and his eyes continued to rove over me. I was never a beggar in bed, but something about the strength of him, the way he took charge of everything, made me thirst for him in a way I never thought possible.
“Please what?”
“Kiss me.” I drew in a shaking breath. “Touch me. Take me.”
I pulled him down to me again, but our lips only pressed together for a moment while his fingers went to work on the clasp of my bra. As soon as he released the fastening, he pulled it from my arms and sat up yet again.
“God, so perfect for me, baby.”
I barely heard him as his hands slid up from my side to cup my freed breasts, gathering them up and caressing them like they were holy. I moaned, far too loud, and I was reminded that our only privacy was the tent around us and there was an entire commercial being set up around us.
God, this was so unprofessional. Any moment someone could walk in and ruin everything, but then his fingers ghosted over one of my pink buds, pulling another keening whine from me.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low rumble that dripped of dominance and pride. “Tell me how much you like it, baby. Let me hear you.”
“Can’t,” I whispered, a bit of panic at the danger of it all rising in me. But instead of dampening the pleasure, it made everything sharper. More intense. Like someone had placed a magnifying glass on all of the sensations swamping me.
“Yes, you can. Just trust me. I’ll take care of you, baby.”
Those words were like a catalyst inside of me and I full-body shuddered in his hold. My breathing picked up speed in my surrender, and when his lips encircled one pert nipple, I thought I might just up and explode right then and there.
Suddenly the tension in my middle released, and my adrenaline began flowing in earnest. What I had previously thought was the ceiling of all the ecstasy I could feel turned out to only be the floor to another level.
“Oh God, Mickey!”
I could feel him smile into my soft skin as his tongue worked me over mercilessly. Just when I thought he reached the pinnacle, one of his hands came up, fingers encircling my neglected breast to give it the same treatment.
Thoughts all blended together in an unchecked frenzy, and I thought I might go mad if I wasn’t already. Moans were flowing from my mouth like I was a lead with a whole monologue instead of a behind the scenes worker.
I couldn’t say how long he worked me over, my bare back pressed into the plasticky surface of the mat below us, but I was sure that I had to be imagining everything. Nobody could be this good. Surely, if he was this mind blowing, I would have remembered it from our first time.