She tugged the edges of his light jacket and pulled him close. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, her tongue darting inside for a brief foray into his mouth. He tasted the sweetness of the orange juice and the bite of gin, along with the after dinner mint she had slipped in her mouth as they left the restaurant. He dipped his head further, sliding a hand around her waist, when she wiggled out of his embrace.
“Later, cowboy.” She ducked in the car, laughing at him.
He groaned and raced around the car, eager to get home.
They barely made in the door of Miranda’s condo when she launched herself at him, wrapping arms and legs around him, fusing her lips to his. He unzipped her dress while not breaking the kiss and slid if off her shoulders, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity of the end table. She kicked off her shoes and tore at his shirt, undoing buttons, loosening a few in her haste to get to skin.
He lifted his head, breathing coming hard and fast. “Wait, not here.”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her along the hallway to the bed room. He didn’t turn on the lights. Enough light shone through the windows from the moon and street lights to let him clearly see her. She tried to grab him again but he neatly caged her hands in his and laid her down on the bed, holding her wrists above her head, brushing the headboard.
“Don’t move them or I’ll have to tie you up.”
She shivered at his words, clearly excited, and he wished he had time to explore that little fantasy. Maybe next time. If there was a next time. He banished those thoughts from his head and focused on Miranda, on this moment. Be damned the future.
He lowered his head, brushing her lips with his. When she opened her mouth for a deeper kiss, he pulled back, and traced the edges of her jaw with his tongue and little nips. She moaned and turned her head but he lifted again and traced the other side, avoiding her lips. He trailed kisses down her throat, stopping to tongue the notch at the base. She shuddered and threw her head back, arching into his lips. He chuckled against her skin, feeling her pulse beat rapidly in a staccato beat.
He cupped her swollen breast, rubbing the taut peak with his thumb. She jerked and sucked in a deep breath. He tweaked a nipple with his fingers and sucked the other in his mouth, alternating lashing it with his tongue then pulling it deep. He played with her breasts for a time until she was crying out, begging him for relief.
He glanced up. Her hands remained where he told her to, but they trembled with the effort. With one last lick, he moved down further, placing light, butterfly kisses on the smooth skin of her stomach until he reach the apex of her thighs. She was tense under him, muscles quivering, as she waited his next move.
His fingers swept over her center, and plunged deep into her channel, wringing a cry from her lips. She lifted her hips in time with his action. He curved them slightly to hit the perfect spot deep inside and within moments she was coming, hard. He spread her legs and placed a kiss on her still quivering flesh, avoiding her sensitive clit until her muscles had relaxed. He licked a path up to the tiny button engorged with blood, flicking it with his tongue. He sucked her deep, and she writhed, keening her pleasure. Another climax hit her hard and she screamed.
While she calmed, he grabbed a condom and sheathed himself. He came over her and waited until she opened her eyes. She was boneless beneath him, and her eyes were dazed and unfocused. He kissed her and she blinked. He positioned himself at her entrance and buried himself deep inside. Her channel pulsed with her recent climax, squeezing him tight, pulling him deeper.
“You can move your arms,” he murmured while placing gentle kisses on her lips.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. All too quickly he was swept away by his own passion and he came with a shout. Miranda followed right after him. After, he rolled to the side not to crush her, breathing harshly, a sheen of sweat on his skin. She panted next to him.
“Oh, my God. Where did that come from? It was supposed to be your birthday.” She gasped.
“And I got exactly what I wanted.” He sounded smug and he didn’t care.
“When I catch my breath, I’ll give you your present.”
“No hurry.” He huffed. “I can’t move anyway.”
“Not that, silly.” With a groan, she rolled off the bed. “I think you killed me.”
“What a way to go.”
She laughed and headed for the door. He propped himself on his elbows. “Where are you going?”
“Hang on!” She called over her shoulder.
Within moments, she came back in the bedroom and handed him a wrapped box. She climbed onto the bed next to him and sat cross-legged. “Open it.”
He eyed her nervously. It had been years since he had received a birthday present. Yes, he got cards from his siblings and mother, with a gift card or something inside. But a present? He couldn’t recall the last time, maybe before his father had died. He ripped open the paper, watching Miranda almost bouncing in excitement. He lifted the cover of the box. A Knights jersey was folded inside.
“Take it out,” she demanded.
He shook it out and turned it over. The wordWainrightwas spelled out in big letters along with a number two.
“You’re part of the family now.”
Her words hit him like a sucker punch to the groin. He stared at it, eyes prickling.
“Don’t you like it?” she asked, doubt in her tone.
He swallowed thickly. “I love it. Thank you. This has been the best birthday.”
“Good.” She smiled satisfied. “Now for your other present.”
She pushed him down and proceeded to have her way with him.
Much later, as she lay snuggled against his side, snoring lightly, he stared at the shirt.
How could he ever tell her the truth?