The fact that I was about to meet his parents, though, wasn’t much better.

In fact, the nausea was back full force at the thought of meeting them.

I’d met parents before, but I never knew what to say.

I wasn’t a very outgoing person.

I could talk to someone, of course, but I always said or did something to make myself look stupid.

“We’ll be there on time, I think. Unless something with the team comes up,” Michael said, lifting his arms high above his head to rest on the lip of the porch’s roof.

His way too short shirt rode up exposing his taut belly, and my mouth started to water.

His belly was covered with tattoos, but I could still see the defined ridges of his abdominals peeking out.

The man was seriously ripped.

And it never hurt to see his tattoos. Something which made me so happy to see on display since they were made for people to see.

Not that he agreed with me.

It’d been the subject of many discussions, and I’d finally decided to just let it be.

He could do what he wanted to do, and I’d be there to support him.

“Well, it’s not like you have any control of when you get a SWAT callout. It is what it is,” she said, waving her arm at the idea that he’d be late for that. “Mom will get over it.”

I sensed that this was also a sore subject, him being on the SWAT team, and I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Alright, Hannah. I’ve got to run. We’ve got a lunch with the boys, but I’ll see you later this afternoon,” he said to his sister.

Hannah walked forward and hugged him, effectively getting him muddy once again, but not nearly as much as he’d been before.

He scrunched her hair and kissed her forehead before he let her go.

“Be careful,” he whispered to her.

Hannah nodded. “I will.”

Then, before I could think or say anything to the contrary, I was picked up.

One of his arms swept my legs out from under me, and the other went behind my shoulders to catch me as I fell.

I squealed and looped my arms around his shoulders, hanging on for dear life, even though I knew he’d never drop me.

“I’m too heavy!” I protested.

He snorted.

“You’re not heavy. You’re petite. Which is the opposite of too heavy,” he said with that annoyingly sweet tone of his.

I could hear the way his feet sank into the mud with each step, and I couldn’t help but object.

“Michael, my feet are already covered in mud. Why are you carrying me?” I asked.

He laughed.

I leaned my head down to rest against his neck.

“Whatever,” I said teasingly.

He squeezed me tighter, and I’d never felt safer or more content in my life.

Chapter 13

Don’t put off tomorrow what you should’ve done today. Maybe I will…tomorrow.

-Fact of life

Nikki

“Michael!” I gasped, my head going back as he roughly pulled my hair, exposing my neck to his mouth.

He ran his tongue from my collarbone all the way to my ear lobe, which he sucked into his mouth, running his tongue along the outer shell.

“We’re going to be late,” I said desperately.

He wasn’t listening, though.

He was already pulling my jeans down my thighs, pushing them down with both hands as he bent me over the side of the bed.

“I’ll be quick,” he rumbled deeply, making my eyes roll back in my head when his bearded cheeks ran down my slit as he traced the length of my sex with his tongue.

“God,” I breathed, pushing back involuntarily as he thrust his tongue into my waiting pussy.

The scratchy beard covering his chin dug deliciously into my clit, and I was on the verge of coming when he pulled back so abruptly that I cried out in frustration.

“Alright, we can go now,” he said sternly.

I looked over my shoulder at him, saw the gleam in his eyes, and knew he was joking.

Narrowing my eyes I gave him the stink eye. “You’ve already got me on the brink. How about you just finish the job?” I asked, wiggling my ass for effect.

He grinned and slowly worked the zipper of his jeans down, unbuttoned them, then lowered his pants from around his hips just enough that he could free his erection without much maneuvering.

I licked my lips causing him to grin at me.

He knew how much he affected me, and I didn’t care one bit.

“Michael,” I urged, pushing my hips back against him.

His eyes darkened, and he lined his cock up with my entrance before slowly easing inside.

I gasped and threw my head back.

My hair flipped over my back, and Michael caught it, fisting it into his hands as he pulled back his hips.

Then he sank back inside, pulling my hair to urge me to move back against him at the same time.

I obliged, throwing my hips back so hard that a loud smack filled the room where our hips collided.

He grunted.

“That’s the way you want to do this?” He asked casually, as if he wasn’t driving me crazy with his slow movements.

“Yes!” I screamed.

He obliged that, too.

Pulling his hips back until the meaty head of his cock stayed notched in my entrance, he rammed back inside of me so hard that my knees lifted from the bed.

“Ahhh,” I moaned, lightening coursing through my veins as the erotic staccato of his movements lit me up like a firecracker.

Pleasure was building in my core.

My previous orgasm barreling back towards the finish line as he slammed into me, harder and harder until the only thing I anticipated was the delicious pain that shot through me each time he sank inside of me.

His free hand, that wasn’t pulling back on my hair, found a home on my ass, squeezing it tighter and tighter until I was sure he’d pull my ass off.

But soon I didn’t care because I was coming.

The erotic pain, the pure pleasure, and the excitement smashed through me all at once, and I spontaneously combusted.

Or so it felt like.

Maybe it was an orgasm.

But I wouldn’t call what I had with Michael ‘normal.’

What we had was fan-fucking-tastic.

“I’m coming,” I gasped. “Please!”

He knew what I wanted.

His hand left my hair, and the other left my hip.

One traveled to my clit while the other went to one of my breasts: pulling, plucking, and tickling.

My personal bottle rocket exploded into a full blown fireworks finale as I clamped down on him so hard I heard him curse and pump his hips impossibly faster.

“Jesus,” he grunted.

Then I felt the hot splash of his come pouring into me, filling me up, and marking me as his.

He pushed forward one final time and stayed planted, panting with exertion.

“You know,” he said. “I don’t even muster up this much sweat when I run.”

I groaned.

“I can’t complain.”

And I couldn’t.

If I had to deal with the sweat to get the pleasure I just had, then I’d take it every day of the week and twice on Sundays.

He pulled out of me, leaving me feeling bereft.

I was on my belly on the bed, and I could feel his essence leaking out of me in a gush.

Yet I didn’t have the energy to care at that moment.

“Get up, woman,” Michael slapped my ass.

I flipped him off, no doubt leaking come all over the bed.

I’d change the sheets when we got home.

There was no way I could move right now.

Well, that is unless Michael were to pick me up.

Which he did only seconds later, wrapping his big hands around my waist and standing me up.

“Clean up, pull up your pants, and let’s go. I can just hear my mom screeching now,” Michael teased.

Horror filled me.

“What?” I said frantically. “Are we late?”

Of course we were late.

We’d just had sex when we should’ve been leaving, Nikki Pena!

“Gah!” I said hurriedly, placing the palm of my hand between my legs to catch any stray drops that might leak out as I hobbled to the bathroom, my pants still around my ankles from where he’d left them earlier.