blew out a puff of air, but it did nothing to ease the pressure in her lungs or cool her off. She pushed her hair off her hot neck and strode past him to collect the baby monitor on the coffee table. ‘Follow me.’
It had been almost a year since she brought a man home. When Eddie was first brought into the world as a screaming, red-faced thing that needed near-constant attention, she and Juliet had been forced to develop a schedule: on even days Juliet had full baby-duty while Miranda had her turn on odd days. Sundays were designated no-sex days. As Eddie got older and they moved from a cramped apartment into the house, he went into his own room and there was no need for a routine as long as there was a baby monitor for the odd times he would squawk awake.
Yet with Juliet going back to the band exclusively in the evenings and Miranda’s new job, Miranda’s social life – and her sex life – was limited to the occasional hook-up after brunch, and never at the house when the baby was up and on the move. Since moving into the house, she’d been on hiatus.
As if breaking her bedroom’s cherry wasn’t exciting enough, the thought of doing it with Simon made the ascent up the creaking stairs deliciously obscene.
She turned at the threshold of her room and offered him a saucy look. He kept coming, bullying her back into her bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
One quick look around as she set the baby monitor on the dresser seemed to satisfy him. One hot look in her direction pushed her down on the bed, hands flat on the bedding behind her. Neither spoke a word while he pulled off his blazer. As she removed her shorts for the second time that night, Miranda was rapt at the lightning-quick movements of his hands and fingers taking his uniform apart a piece at a time. Buttons were freed from their stranglehold and when he opened his shirt she scrunched the bedding into her fists at the unveiling of hair-speckled skin.
He wasn’t her usual type, that’s for sure. Like Juliet, she liked them scruffy and lean. Simon Reeve was no muscled Adonis, but he was definitely a step up from the skin-and-bones arts boys Miranda usually hooked up with. There was definition that hinted at a man who had been trimmer once, hard thighs that reminded her of a footballer’s, and shoulders that rolled on and on, but the thickness around his middle suggested he had either given up a rigid regimen or age had taken over.
Still, her type or not, he was a sight to behold, bristling with masculine aggression as he loomed over her. Slipping out of her shoes and letting them drop with twin thumps to the floor, Miranda started to scuttle back on the bed.
Simon caught her ankles and pulled her back into place. ‘Not so fast. I like you right here.’
‘I thought you wanted to lie back and enjoy,’ she teased, thrilling herself with the prospect of looking up at him, his head lolling on her pillow while she gorged herself on him.
‘I’ll admit, I’ve got a thing for being at a woman’s mercy, but for tonight anyway I’d rather have the balance shifted in my favour.’ He rubbed his hand along the protruding front of his jockeys and tugged her shirt with the other hand. ‘Your turn.’
‘You’re not done yet,’ she reminded him with a lilt in her voice, then reached out and gave his waistband a snap. ‘I haven’t had a good look at you either.’
He raised his arms and Miranda hooked the elastic in her thumbs. She wished she could have been as fluid as he had been undressing himself. Having to wrangle him out of those skin-tight shorts only frustrated her. She pressed her tongue against her teeth to suppress a growl as she tugged and pulled, then let it out as she freed him at last.
A few of her skinny lads had been well endowed, but they had none of Simon’s virility.
As she reached for him, he caught her wrists and held out her arms. ‘Take it off.’
Miranda shook free but raised her arms higher. ‘Take it off for me, if you want it so badly.’
He dragged the T-shirt up and wrangled her bra off. Before her clothes hit her bedroom floor, he pressed his knee on the bed and pushed forward, forcing her back. She nudged back at him, but just as he had done in the car he took charge as soon as he had her where he clearly wanted her. She wrapped her arms around his wonderfully broad shoulders and sank back as he made a hungry trail from the curve of her shoulder to her lips.
She turned her face away as he tried to capture her mouth, and the weight of his body crushed her as he pushed down against her rebellion.
‘Either fuck me or let me suck you,’ she growled, yanking his hair until he snapped up.
The demonic look he gave her matched the devilry that raged inside her. The cheap Swedish bed creaked as they warred against one another, until his strong thighs pushing hers apart made it impossible for her to gain any mobility. He ground down, his cock butting insistently against the thin membrane of her panties.
‘Where do you want me the most, your mouth or your pussy?’ he whispered, his voice all velvet and smoke.
She gave his hair another twist. ‘I want you in my mouth.’
He jerked his head out of her grip and pushed up onto his arms. ‘You make me come in your mouth and you’ll be in for a bit of a wait.’
‘Do I look worried?’ she teased as he rolled away from her. ‘You seem like the type of guy who could come up with list as long as my arm of ways to keep yourself occupied.’
‘You have no idea.’
She prompted him along the length of the bed, his mussed blond head squashed into her plush pink pillows. He threw his arms up, crossing his wrists over each other and spreading his legs out around her. His expression was as challenging as it was eager.
As she sank between his legs, Miranda gave him a smug look. ‘So how do you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Make all the girls want to get on their knees and get their mouthful?’
He flashed her a Cheshire Cat smile and drummed his knuckles against her headboard. ‘Pucker up and maybe I’ll let you in on my secret.’
Miranda ran her hands from his ankles to his thighs and watched the hairs stand up in her wake. It thrilled her to see him sprawled across her bed, taking up so much space that she had only the nook between his legs. He was so out of place, so mountainous and masculine, and – she realised as she followed the trail of light hair from his chest to his abdomen – a little intimidating.
Feeling him pressing through his clothing had been one thing. Seeing him fully erect, cock dark and arching away from heavy balls, was another. Puckering up became as daunting as it was enticing.
Yet as she wrapped both hands around him, her mouth watered and she drew her tongue across her lips.
His cock instantly jumped between her palms. She glanced up at him. The amusement on his face had been replaced by nothing but pure and beautiful need.
She bowed and, just like he’d asked, she closed her lips around him and sucked the smooth crest into her mouth. The tang of precome hit her taste buds and filled her mouth as she took another inch. She took him slowly and quietly admonished herself for doubting that she could take him, as she sucked in the entire fleshy length.
Around her shoulders, Simon drew his knees up and made a shelter for her. He opened and closed his fingers against his palms, and his abs clenched, hinting at the definition they had once had.
For Miranda, sucking him became a treat, as he emitted desperate, throaty sounds. She quickly discovered just how to unlock them from the back of his throat: she dragged her tongue back and forth through the groove, then lashed him with it until his ass rose off of the bed.
‘Hey,’ he said, so softly she would have missed it if he hadn’t reached out and brushed her hair out of the way. She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze as his hand came to rest on the back of her neck. ‘Why don’t you get your panties off and come on up here?’
She rose to her knees and pulled