Law Man

Chapter Twenty-Two Oatmeal for Lunch

“Back health is very important.”

Yes, this was what came out of my mouth after Mitch denied my exit from his bed.

His arm got tighter and he murmured, “What?”

“Lumbar support in mattresses, your mattress is very comfortable but you need more lumbar support. You have an active lifestyle but everyone needs to take care of their back.”

Mitch was silent. Then I felt his body start shaking. Then I felt my body moving and that was because Mitch was turning it to face him. Then I was facing him. Then I was feeling his arms around me and his hands moving on me over my nightie but I was too busy staring at his handsome face, his smiling lips and his somewhat sleepy and way more than somewhat hot eyes to pay attention to his hands.

“You gonna set me up with a good mattress, baby?” he asked, his voice still slightly growly with sleep and way hot. So hot I felt it seven places and those would be my scalp tingling, my breasts swelling, my chest getting warm, between my legs getting wet and all my toes on both feet curling.

“Uh…” I mumbled, he grinned and rolled so he was mostly on top of me. That was when I whispered, “Mitch.”

And that was when his lips hit mine, his eyes held mine and he whispered, “Let’s see if I can tear that cocoon wide open and let my Mara fly.”

Then his head slanted and he kissed me.

His kiss was not sleepy. It was sweet, warm, gentle and wet. Then it got sweeter, warmer and wetter but not gentler. I realized my hands were on his sleek, warm skin and his sleek, warm skin felt really freaking good and my hands wanted to explore. So I let them. Then I realized his hands over my nightie were exploring too and I liked it, a lot. About this time his kiss got even sweeter, even warmer, a whole lot wetter and way deeper and I liked that even better. So much, I kissed him back the same way.

Then his hand glided up my side, in and over my breast and, immediately, his thumb swept hard against my tight nipple and I liked that most of all. So much, my body arched and I planted a foot in the bed, rolling Mitch but going with him. Once I had him on his back with his long, powerful body under mine I suddenly found I needed to discover to its fullest extent his sleek skin and hard muscle and to do this, my discovery needed to be multi-sensory.

So my hands moved on his chest, his ribs, his belly, his sides as my lips moved to his stubble-rough jaw, his neck, his throat, across his collarbone and down. Then my lips, tongue and hands moved everywhere, touching, sweeping, tasting. I added teeth and there was nipping and it was not only hot, it was beautiful. Everywhere I touched, tasted, nipped, how his muscles would jump. The way his arm around my shoulders would tighten. The short growl that would surge up his throat. The way the fingers of his other hand glided into the hair at one side of my head to cup it at the back. I loved it, all if it, every inch, every reaction, everything.

Then I went down, tracing the contours of his abs with my tongue as the fingers of one hand slid up his side, the other one went to the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. I tugged. He growled again, his fingers flexing against my head and that gorgeous sound shot straight between my legs. My lips swept to the side then down and I trailed my tongue along the line of muscle that curved inward from his hip down to his groin. Suddenly his hand in my hair was gone, both of his hands were in my armpits and he was hauling me up his body.

Then he was kissing me, his arm tight around me, his other hand fisted in my hair. He knifed to sitting without our mouths disengaging, our tongues tangled and my knees were forced to slide up so I was straddling him. When I settled, I felt his cock hard beneath me and in that instant, I knew I needed it. Needed it.

I needed Mitch.

My mouth broke from his as my arm around him squeezed tight, my hips ground down, rubbing myself against him and my neck arched back.

Mitch’s hands went into my nightie, up, swoosh, and it was gone. He tossed it aside and didn’t delay with wrapping one arm tight around my waist, the other hand going to my breast, lifting it. My head tipped down and I watched him guide it to his mouth then his lips closed around my nipple and he sucked hard.

My hips bucked in his lap and he growled against my nipple which felt so good, God, so damned good, I whimpered, both my hands slid into his hair and I watched Mitch work my nipple, my hips rolling. Yes, God, yes, watching the beauty that was his face, feeling what his mouth was doing, I needed him.

“Honey,” I called, my voice trembling but he didn’t respond.

His hand left my breast and that arm wrapped around my waist as his other hand went to my other breast and he repeated what he did to the first while I again watched.

My hips bucked again as the suction came then they bucked again with an added low, desperate moan that tore from my throat as his tongue circled.

“Mitch,” I tried again, my voice throaty. “Honey,” I called, my fingers fisting in his hair and his head tipped back, his eyes searing me with the fire burning in them and my mouth went instantly to his, not to kiss him, to whisper, “I need you, honey.”

I watched up close as his eyes flashed in a seriously, seriously hot way and both his arms wrapped tight around me.

“You sayin’ you’re ready, baby?” he whispered against my lips, his voice gruff and so, so beautiful.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Sure?”

God, God, he was such a good guy.

My arms circled his shoulders tight and my hips rolled again in his lap and my breathy, “Yes,” was sharper, impatient, more demanding.

And obviously convincing.

He heard it. I knew it because I was suddenly on my back and Mitch’s torso was heavy on mine, his long arm stretched out to the nightstand.

I slid my leg out from between his hips, his head jerked down to look at me but I just lifted my knees as I hooked my thumbs in my panties and tugged them up my thighs. That was when his head jerked down to my legs then it went back to the nightstand. I freed my panties from my ankles, tossed them aside and barely let them loose before Mitch moved fully over me at the same time rolling his hips as a demand for me to open my legs.

I did and his hips fell through.

Okay, God, God.

Damn but he felt good there.

My eyes went to his face to see him tearing a condom packet with his even, white teeth (which was hot too!) and his eyes were on me. Then the packet disappeared and I felt his hand working between us as his eyes held mine captive and my breath escalated so I was near panting with anticipation.

This was happening. This was going to happen.

And I could not wait.

“You on the pill, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I answered impatiently, lifting my hips a smidgeon to make my point and his lips twitched.

“Doctor’s appointment, priority,” he ordered.

“’Kay,” I agreed.

Then I felt him and my lips parted. It was just the tip of him, the promise of him but already it was perfect.

His hands moved to my hips, gliding down my thighs, hooking behind my knees, he pulled my legs up and then swung them in so they circled him. One of his arms lifted, he planted his forearm in the bed by my shoulder, his fingers in my hair while the other hand stayed at my leg, gliding down, oh so slowly, down, down, as his beautiful, fathomless, soulful, burning, dark brown eyes held mine, his handsome face close and his cock slowly, oh so slowly, glided inside.

His fingers at my leg moved in and down and curled around the cheek of my behind just as he seated himself full inside me.

Mitch was inside me, connected to me, holding my eyes, his breath mingled with mine and I was wrapped around him in every way I could wrap myself around him.

I hadn’t had a lot of beauty in my life but I knew, in that moment, feeling him filling me, his long fingers in my hair, his eyes staring into mine, gentle, warm, beautiful, telling me without words he really liked where he was and that was with me, that even if I had a life filled with beauty, no moment would be more beautiful than that.

And that was why my arms pulled him even closer, my legs tightened around him and tears filled my eyes.

He saw them and when he did, he groaned, his head dipped, his nose slid along mine and his lips whispered against mine, “My Mara, so fuckin’ sweet.”

Then he started moving.

And that was even more beautiful.

He did it like he kissed me on the couch, gentle, sweet, unhurried, kissing me tender but deep sometimes, his mouth and tongue working my neck other times and I knew he paid attention, he listened, he felt and he went faster, harder but only when I was ready. I was holding him close, tight, my hand in his hair, his tongue in my mouth, his cock driving deep, when it started to come over me. Shock pierced my system as it occurred to me I was about to have an orgasm just with a man moving inside me.

Then it happened, my head shot back, my limbs convulsed and my lips whispered, “Mitch, baby,” and I had an orgasm just with a man moving inside me and that man being Mitch, it was the best, sweetest, longest orgasm in my life.

Oh God.

God.

Perfect.

My neck righted and I felt him still moving inside me, fast, hard, deep, God, gorgeous, as my eyes opened and I saw his on me. His face was dark, his eyes intense, his breath labored. His forearm moved up an inch so his fingers drove into my hair then fisted, pushing up, so my head went up and his mouth crushed down on mine just as his hand at my ass pulled up hard. He drove deeper, harder, faster and I whimpered into his mouth as his tongue worked mine and his cock worked me.

He stopped kissing me and growled against my lips, “If it’s too much, baby, you gotta –”

“Don’t stop,” I begged because my limbs were tensing, my sex was spasming. “Don’t stop, Mitch, baby, please.”

He didn’t stop, his mouth crushed down on mine again, his hand at my ass hauled me up further to take him even deeper. It was then that I had the second best, sweetest, far more intense (but not as long) orgasm in my life. It was beyond perfect because, as I cried out into Mitch’s mouth, he groaned into mine as he buried himself to the root and stayed planted.

It took some time to come down because I didn’t push it. I did it savoring his weight, his fingers in my hair, his lips moving tenderly on mine, his hand at my ass gliding up and becoming an arm wrapped possessively around the top of my hips.

His lips slid across my cheek and to my ear and his arm around my hips gave me a squeeze when he asked in a whisper, “How’s the real world feel this mornin’, baby?”

My arms and legs tensed, his head came up and I saw his unbelievably sexy, satisfied face and his eyes warmer and gentler and more beautiful than I’d ever seen them (and that was saying something).

Seeing that, I answered, I did it openly, honestly, exposing everything and I did it by grinning.

He grinned back.

He dipped his head, touched his mouth to mine in a light kiss then said against it, “Don’t move.”

After that, he carefully slid out, rolled off me and out of bed, flicking the covers over me and I blinked at the ceiling as I closed my legs. I turned to my side pulling my knees up, tucking my hands under my cheek on the pillow. I caught just a glimpse of his contoured back and his beautiful behind in his pajama bottoms before he disappeared in the bathroom.

Unlike what everyone thought of me in Iowa, I left that small town a virgin. It wasn’t until I was twenty and after three months of dating a guy in Denver that I gave it up.

This did not go well mostly because sex was messed up in my head due to my mother’s antics, her fuck buddies trying it on with me and the boys in high school being jerks. Unfortunately, my boyfriend at the time was also young. He was very good-looking (definite Ten material, looks-wise, I would find out after giving him my virginity that he was more like a One Point Five otherwise). He’d also invested three months in his score and to say he was disappointed and insensitive would have been an understatement. He was pissed, he said some not very nice things while still in my bed, he left and I never heard from him again.

Needless to say, after that, I wasn’t fired up to jump in the sack again and it wasn’t until Destry that I gave it another go.

Destry was, at first, very patient and this was one of the reasons I stayed with him even though, most other times, he was a jerk. He was older than my first boyfriend and seemed to enjoy coaxing a response from me. Considering my first experience was shit, it took him even longer to get me into his bed (four and a half months). Once there, he again was patient, seemingly understanding and seemingly enjoyed being my teacher which was another reason why I stayed with him. I was hesitant to the point of shy but that didn’t mean I didn’t learn from Destry or enjoy what we did. I did. I just didn’t learn fast enough.

Therefore, he lost patience with being my teacher when my responses didn’t satisfy him or I wasn’t up for trying new things that made me uncomfortable.

He broke up with me before he broke through.

After that, I never thought about it much. It wasn’t that sex freaked me out it was just that I didn’t have anyone in my life so I didn’t need to think about it.

It was now I knew why my responses to Destry weren’t satisfactory.

Because Destry was not only not a good teacher, he was shit in bed.

And I knew this because Mitch was not shit in bed. Mitch was gentle and intuitive. Mitch didn’t put effort into sex, he just naturally guided the flow and where he guided it was freaking sensational.

Which meant he didn’t even have to try to teach me. I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to try. With Mitch guiding me, obviously, it came effortlessly and I knew this because I came effortlessly.

Twice.

Twice!

All this meant what we just shared was amazing. It was beautiful. And it was perfect.

It was so amazing, beautiful and perfect, for the first time in my life, I got stuck in the real world, stuck in Mitch’s World. I liked it there a whole lot so I closed my eyes and grinned.

Then my eyes flew open and my grin faded.

My first boyfriend, I made him wait three months. Destry, four and a half.

Mitch…

I counted it down.

Oh God!

We’d only had our first bona fide, official date the night before.

And I’d given it up the next day!

Ohmigod!

Despair surged through me, washing out my after great sex with Mitch glow and I heard the toilet flush as I rolled, reached and tagged my nightie off the floor. I was sitting up and struggling with pulling it on when I felt the bed move because Mitch was climbing in it.

Oh God.

I had my back to him and was pulling my nightie down to my waist when his arm hooked around that waist and I was going backwards.

I collided with the hard wall of his chest, his mouth went to my ear and he fell to the side, taking me with him while saying, “Waste of time, sweetheart. I got the day off, Penny’s takin’ the kids to school. We have until we pick them up to have fun and we’re gonna take that time to have fun and, as cute as that nightie is, it no longer factors.” We’d hit the mattress and pillows and his other arm curved around me, his teeth nipped my shoulder gently before his face went back into my neck and he finished, “Though, I’ll let you have oatmeal to keep up your stamina but if you have to eat it wearin’ somethin’, you wear my shirt.”

Belly whoosh.

“Mitch –”

“Also, you gotta know, we’re eatin’ it in bed.”

Belly whoosh part two!

Shit.

“Mitch!”

He slid away, rolled me to my back and then slid right back in, smiling down at me.

God, he was beautiful.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m not easy,” I declared, his smile faded a little and he blinked.

Then he repeated, “What?”

“I’m not easy,” I also repeated. “I know it seems that way since we had our first date last night and we, uh…did it just now but I’m not easy. I’ve had two lovers. The first, we dated for three months before, um…you know…and with Destry, since the other guy was kind of, um…a jerk, we dated for four and a half. I don’t know what happened with us but you need to know, I’m not easy.”

Mitch was up on a forearm and his other arm was across me, hand resting on the bed and he didn’t move nor did his eyes move from me even after I stopped talking.

So I kept talking and to show I was sincere, I lifted a hand, placed it on his chest and got up on the other elbow before I whispered, “I need you to know that.”

He said nothing and didn’t move.

“It’s important you know that,” I kept going.

Not a move, not a noise. His eyes were on me and he looked like he was thinking. About what, I had no clue since he was doing it without speaking but whatever it was, it was important.

But so was what I was saying so my hand slid up to his neck and my fingers curled around and, still whispering, I semi-repeated, “It’s important.”

Finally, he spoke and when he did it was to say, “Sweetheart, shut up.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “What?”

“Shut up.”

“Shut up?”

“Yeah.”

I felt my brows draw together. “I’m telling you something important to me and you’re telling me to shut up?”

“Yeah.”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out because Mitch finally moved. And how he moved was both his arms locked around me, he rolled to his back, me going with him then sat up so I was again forced to straddle him. His arms unlocked only for one to clamp low on my hips and the other one to glide up so his fingers were wrapped around the back of my neck with three of them up in my hair and he tilted my face down to his.

Then he spoke.

“Okay, I gotta get this right so it penetrates without you twisting it like somehow you managed to twist it in your head that I’d think for one fuckin’ second you’re easy, so here we go.”

Uh-oh.

Now I knew what he was thinking that looked so important.

Before I could commit to my burgeoning freak out, Mitch kept talking.

“Taking out the time I watched you with that moron but still wanted you, we’re talkin’ two years, Mara, two…fuckin’…years it took me to get you naked on your back in my bed. Sweetheart, I think you can rest assured that’s pretty much the definition of ‘not easy’.”

I stared at him thinking this was true.

Kind of.

“But, we –”

He shook his head and his arm squeezed as did his fingers so I stopped talking.

“You ran away from me on our first date. You stood me up our second. You gave me attitude the first time your ass was in my truck. You gave me my marching orders in the breezeway before I even got close to getting in there. Billie interrupted me the first time I got to second base. I slept in my bed with you and a six year old twice before I even got you out on a date. And I had to promise my sister she could decorate your apartment when you got your insurance check to get her to babysit so I could actually finally fuckin’ take you out on that date,” he recounted then finished with, “Honey, trust me, that is not easy.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “You promised Penny she could decorate my apartment?”

“Yeah, and don’t fight her. She’ll listen to you and she’s good but mostly she’s determined. Do yourself and me a favor and just let her do it.”

“But, Mitch, her stuff costs –”

He pulled my face even closer and grinned before he said, “Baby, the markup is outrageous. Wholesale, her stuff costs the same as normal furniture.”

Wow.

That meant I could afford Design Fusion stuff in my apartment.

That was cool!

“Mara,” Mitch called into my thoughts which were right then centered on how I wanted the sofa I saw in Penny’s shop window in my living room and I focused on him to see he was no longer grinning but looked very serious.

Therefore, I braced.

This was good because the second I did, in a low voice heavy with meaning and his fingers at my neck tensing to drive his point home, he stated firmly, “You are not Melbamae Hanover. You are not a skank. You are not easy. You are so far from trailer trash it isn’t funny. You are not what those kids and parents and your mother’s fuck buddies took you to be. You’re Mara, you’re sweet, you’re beautiful and I will not forget until the day I die how beautiful it felt to slide inside you with you wrapped around me, see your eyes get wet and know straight in my gut that you felt how beautiful it was too.”

My eyes got wet right then listening to his words and my arms slid around his shoulders as those words seeped into me, deep into me, straight and true in a way even I, who had a special talent with doing it, could not twist them even if I tried.

But I wasn’t going to try.

“Mitch,” I whispered then said no more because I couldn’t since my throat was closing but also because I didn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t done and I knew this when he pulled me close, dropped back and rolled so he was on top of me, his hips between my legs and his face close when he whispered, “You’re hair was softer than I expected it to be, more beautiful when it’s down than I expected it to be. You’re sweeter than I expected you to be, funnier, more loyal and I expected all that to be phenomenal so, I gotta tell you, baby, it pleases me no fuckin’ end to learn the reality is off-the-charts. Better than that, when you get pissed, I gotta fight against goin’ hard. When you smile, I gotta fight against goin’ hard. And when you look deep into my eyes and see whatever the fuck you see and I know how much you like it because it’s written all over your face, I gotta fight against goin’ hard. But even with the promise of that, finally havin’ you is another reality that’s off-the-charts. My guess?” he asked then didn’t wait for me to answer. “Your mother hated you because she knew you were better than her and every day you were a reminder that you would be exactly what you are. So she tried to undermine it. Bring you down by bein’ a serious, fuckin’ bitch and, honest to God, I’ve seen a lot, heard even more but she’s in contention for the worst fuckin’ Mom in history. And still, you beat her because you are all that is you. And, sweetheart, there is a lot that is you and it isn’t only me who sees that all of it is good. It’s just now only me who gets all of it and, after waitin’ years for you, to say that, too, pleases me no fuckin’ end is one serious fuckin’ understatement.”

“You have to stop talking,” I whispered back, my heart swelling so big, it felt like it would explode out of my chest. A chest that was so warm, it was burning, hot and fierce.

“I’m not gonna stop talkin’ until I know you get what I’m sayin’ to you and don’t sweep it aside, determined to believe what that bitch wanted you to believe.”

“You have to stop talking,” I repeated in a whisper.

“Mara, I’m not –”

My hand went from his shoulder to press my fingers against his lips.

Then I told him quietly, “I’m not sweeping it aside.” I slid my fingers from his lips across his cheek and back into his hair as I lifted up and replaced my fingers with my mouth and whispered, “I get what you’re saying to me.” I brushed my lips against his and kept whispering when I said, “Now, you have to make me oatmeal. Because my estimate is we have eight hours for you to convince me I’m the Mara of your world before everything crashes back in on us, I get scared and/or freak out and/or panic and/or another calamity happens I’m certain I won’t survive. Until I survive it with, obviously, your help and all you said to me is less easy to believe.”

I stopped talking (finally), bearing my soul (finally) and held my breath as Mitch’s fathomless eyes stared deep into mine.

Then he asked, “Eight hours?”

“Until we pick up the kids,” I answered.

His neck twisted, his eyes going to his alarm clock then they came back to me and when they did I liked the teasing light in them because it was mixed with something way sexy.

“That’s gonna take a lot of work,” he whispered.

God, I hoped so.

I smiled at him, lifted up again and brushed my lips against his before I said softly, “That’s why we need oatmeal.”

His weight hit me and my head hit the pillows when he muttered against my mouth, “I’ll get it in a minute.”

“I need stamina,” I muttered back.

His hands glided up my sides, taking my nightie with it as he kept muttering, “I’ll get it for you in a minute, baby.”

“But –” He rolled his hips which were between my legs and I felt why he needed a minute which meant, suddenly, I needed a minute so I gave in, “’Kay, we’ll get it in a minute.”

He smiled against my mouth. I smiled against his.

Then he kissed me.

Then he did a lot of other things to me while I did things to him.

In the end, we had oatmeal for lunch.