Crossroads: Book 1

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Chapter 96

**WARNING: A couple of explicit sex scenes in this chapter. If you want to skip it, go more towards the end of the chapter. Thank you :) **


Sitting on the couch with Mike while we manage our way through fighting for our fictional characters’ lives in the Walking Dead from getting eaten alive, I can’t help but watch Mike in my peripheral. Every once in a while, as we play any type of game, his tongue will poke out at the corner of his mouth as he concentrates. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

When the level ends, Mike tosses the controller on the coffee table then leans back with his hands behind his head and sighs. “Remind me to reign you in to help me fight when the zombie apocalypse ever comes,” he jokes.

I slap him playfully on his bicep. “That’s like saying, you wouldn’t reign me in if I wouldn’t be able to fight them off.” He innocently shrugs his shoulders then laughs. I slap him again with my mouth agape at the fact that he didn’t deny the statement. “Wow, I feel the love,” I tease with an eye roll.

Before I know it, he lunges and tackles me to my back, pressing me into the leather sofa. “You better count your lucky stars then, since you show yourself to be worthy in the game. Otherwise, I’d have to leave you to fend for yourself,” he nips at my earlobe.

I gasp, “Hey!” I try to playfully fight his hold but fail immensely.

His head comes back up from sweetly assaulting my ear and neck then says, “Don’t worry, babe, I’d still keep you around even after you turn.” A mischievous grin flirts on his lips as I give him my best evil eye.

Mike chuckles, and I can feel his stomach flex on mine. He leans down and kisses me. A light feather touch that consumes me in the flavor of his twice-baked potato with a touch of the ranch dressing he had with it. The kiss slowly deepens as one hand gets comfortable behind my head, and the other focuses on my breast over the shirt he gave me.

More articles of clothing from him.

In the moment where he lets me breathe, I take the opportunity to remind him that we still have dessert.

“You’re my dessert,” he rasps at the base of my neck.

My fingers lock into his thick hair to gently pull his head up from the roots to encourage eye contact. “But I made a the shape of a heart, and there’s also a surprise for you.” I watch him watch me as I bite my bottom lip, he licks his in response.

With dark hooded eyes, he says, “Two-course dessert. I think I can handle that. A little bit of the brownie...a little bit of you.” He smirks while showing me that dimple.

I really am a sucker for those dimples.

In the kitchen, I cut him a piece of the brownie, and we each take a bite. “Mmm, girl, this is good,” Mike sings as he takes another bite. Watching him consume the brownie that I made ignites a spark of joy within me. I love this man so much, and I’m over the moon delighted at how I’m able to make him so happy with something so simple as a good brownie.

“Do you want your surprise?” I ask him with my hands behind my back and twist side to side like a little girl asking the question bashfully.

He nods his head, so I reach for the basket on the counter. The ice pack I had in there still kept the canister of whip cream and the strawberries cool. With the canister in one hand and the strawberry container in the other, I slowly turn around and pray that he can’t see the heat rising up my neck.

The smile he returns is sinfully dangerous. There’s a glint of lust sparkling in his dark green eyes, and I’m thrilled beyond all get-out to see where this goes.

“You sure about that?” he teases as he steps forward to crowd me against the counter.

With a shaky breath, I say, “I’m curious about what you meant, you know, that time in the auto shop...” I trail off while he takes the items from me.

He backs away and nods his head towards the bedroom with a wicked grin. Dutifully, I follow him to the bed.

Mike puts the items on the nightstand and tugs me flush against him. He kisses me with a primal need, almost as if he is hungry for me, and he never ate the wonderful home-cooked steak meal that he made.

“You look so fucking hot in my clothes,” he growls against my lips between kisses.

My fingers paw at his chest in trying to unbutton the small buttons of his shirt. “Mmm,” is all I’m coherently able to say with a lick of my lips.

He fists the sides of the shirt he gave me and slowly lifts it over my head; then, he reaches behind me and unclasps the black lace bra with one hand. It falls to the floor by our feet, and I’m able to undo only four lousy buttons of his dress shirt.

He doesn’t waste any time; he just rips the shirt off, popping a few buttons to the floor, and shoves it off his arms. Mike reaches for the sweats then pulls them down with my panties.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he groans, devouring my mouth again while I wrap my arms around his strong neck. His rough hands softly roam over my body. He handles the curves expertly. It doesn’t surprise me; he is a biker after all. The coarseness of his touch glides its way to cup my bottom where he squeezes without any remorse. With each hand, he directs me closer to him so that I can feel his hard length against my stomach through his dress pants.

My hands shake as I try to undo his belt and the zipper of his jeans while he kisses me. I’m feeling so dizzy; I feel myself getting lost in the haze that is Michael Gilbert. The effect he has on me is unreal. Almost as if all of this is too good to be true. He is too good to be true.

Mike removes his hands from my bottom to help me with his pants. As soon as they’re at his ankles, he picks me up over his shoulder - the surprise rips a yelp out from my throat followed by a giggle, then he throws me playfully on the bed. The giggling stops as soon as his hands slowly spread my legs apart. He crawls up and holds himself over me; my hands rake through his hair while he plants sweet kisses on each cheek, on my throat, my lips, and finally, a quick peck on my nose.

“You sure you want to find out why strawberries and cream are my favorite?” he whispers.

I nod, then he warns, “It may be a little too dirty for you.” He smirks that devilish grin, and I know he’s playing, trying to get a rise out of me.

“I want to know,” I stagger in and out a shaky breath. I’m a bit nervous. Not sure what he’s going to do, but I trust him, and it could be a lot of fun...whatever it is.

He kisses my forehead. “Alright, hang on,” he says as he reaches for the whipped cream. As he sits between my legs on his knees, he shakes the canister and takes the top off. “Open your mouth,” he instructs. I do as he says, then he presses the nozzle to the side, so whip cream fills my mouth.

Those lips curl into a grin as those eyes of his darken while watching me swallow the cool fluffy cream. “Mm, good. But that is hardly dirty,” I snicker.

Without warning, he puts whip cream along my neck, causing me to gasp. He lunges forward and slowly laps it up with his tongue. The combination of the cold cream, his warm mouth, and the scruff of his short beard is enough to send me to the moon.

Next, he sprays the whipped cream into a funnel shape on each of my breasts and draws a small circle around my belly button. The coolness from the cream gives me goosebumps, so I fist the sheets to keep my body busy.

He reaches for a strawberry and dips it into one of the funnels then offers me a bite. Keeping my eyes on him, I sink my teeth into the cold juicy fruit. He reaches for another one and dips it into the same funnel, then brings it to his mouth. When he finishes, he lowers himself to feast on the cream that’s left on my body. He maneuvers his tongue and mouth, sinfully slow to relish the taste. When he gets to the circle around my belly button, he traces it inch by inch while locking his eyes on mine.

Who knew food could be sexy? I’m sure Mike could lick just about anything off my body, and it would cause the exact same sensation I have right now between my thighs.

“Okay, I understand why it’s your favorite,” I say between pants of breath. I haven’t even done anything but lay here and watch him feast on me, and I already feel like I ran a marathon.

My boyfriend, whom I love, just smiles at me.

Right now, at this moment, I feel it. As he kisses me gently on the lips, there’s a sensation taking over my insides, spreading warmth from my chest throughout the rest of my body. He cradles me in his arms as he begins to kiss me deeply. Nothing but his lips on mine, our tongues warring for dominance, and the feeling of his hot skin against me are the only thoughts on my mind.

This man has always been there for me when I needed him. He’s protected me, soothed me, spent time with me, and listened to me for hours while I talked about my adventures with Rachel from back in Detroit. I know this man, and I trust him. I love him with my whole heart.

“I want you,” I whisper against his lips. He pulls away to study me.

“Kitten, do you know what that means?” he checks, a little taken back.

Thinking about it, I nod my head. “I want you, Mike.”

“Elena, sweetheart, are you sure?”


“Baby, I’m not sure we should-”

I place a finger softly over his mouth. “I want to. Please, Mike?”

“But there’s something that I need to tell you–”

“Are you not clean?” I’m a stranger to sexual intercourse, but not so much with the dangers of STDs. I have had Sex Ed.

His brows pull together. “What? No. I mean yes, I am clean, but that wasn’t –”

“Mike, please?” I nearly beg. I don’t want him to change my mind. I’m ready. I want it to be him.

The love of my life takes a moment to scan over my face, then finally, he kisses me before he reaches for the drawer of the nightstand. He pulls out a small golden square package and asks, “Are you sure?”

I look up into those eyes and know. “Yes,” I tell him, more confidently. He rips the package apart with his teeth and takes out the flesh-colored condom.

Curiosity strikes me. “Can I?” I ask.

A hint of a smile rises at the corner of his mouth as he stands up to remove his dark blue Hanes boxers. “Sure,” he says.

As soon as the boxers leave his waist, I gulp. The smile on him widens a bit from my reaction to how large he is; he hands me the condom. “Here, we’ll do it together,” he tells me, his tone is sincere and guiding.

I reach for his hand, and he guides me through the process. When the slippery rubber rolls on his hard flesh, he kisses me while guiding us back to lay on the bed. Mike positions himself between my legs once more. He kisses me on the lips again, moves to my jaw, then to my neck. He cups a breast then teases me with his teeth.

“Mike,” I moan into the room.

He resurfaces to kiss me some more while moving a hand between our bodies. His finger swipes along me until I squirm beneath him from the wound-up spring building inside me. When it finally bursts apart, I literally uncoil at his touch, falling over the edge in his arms.

I gasp and moan into the room while he watches me. Then he lets me feel him as he strokes himself against me for the first time.

There must have been something written on my face because he asks if I’m okay. If I want him to stop.

Shaking my head, I reply, “Don’t stop. I just... I don’t think that thing is going to fit.” Heat surges its way up my neck and onto my cheeks. With his other hand, he brushes my hair off to the side of my face.

“Not gonna lie to ya darlin’. You are really tight. It may take a bit, but it’ll fit.” His voice is deep and sure. “If at any time you want me to stop, you tell me. I’ll be as gentle and slow as I can be, alright?”

I nod my head adamantly.

Using the hand that’s already between us, he spreads my one leg a bit further then tells me to hang onto him. I do as I’m told as he holds himself above me, careful as not to crush my body with his weight.

“Will it hurt?” I ask while he lines himself up.

His brows furrow as he frowns. “It might, but I promise the pain won’t last long.”

“I trust you,” I say with confidence as I cling to his broad inked shoulders to brace myself.

With a small thrust of his body, he enters mine. I gasp as I adjust to his size; he distracts me with kisses and nips along my jawline, to my neck, and on my lips. He even teases the spot behind my ear. A grunt escapes him as he pushes himself a bit further, and there it is. The pressure from him causes a sting that forces a cry to fall from my lips. I don’t mean to, but I dig my nails into his flesh enough to leave half-moons from the sudden feeling.

He stops immediately to look at me, both his hands find my face. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

After controlling my breathing, I tell him that I’m okay. “Just, go slow?” I ask of him as the pain starts to subside, and my fingers relent from puncturing his skin.

He nods his head and resumes kissing me. He slowly continues, claiming me as he pauses intermittently so my body can adjust to the alien feeling.

“Damn, Elena. You feel so good,” he groans against my ear. “You’re doing so great, baby.”

As he feels my body relax, he removes himself a little and then continues the motion nice and slow. The feeling is starting to feel amazing, the more he does it. My body is responding in ways that I’ve never felt before or thought possible, and it’s unbelievable to be able to share this first time with a man like him. A man who I know will cherish this as much as I am right now.

“Mike,” I moan aloud as I feel myself start to lose control.

“Elena, I can’t hold on, baby. You feel too good,” he grunts above me. I place my hand on his forehead to sweep hair and a little sweat out from around his eyes. He leans his face against my hand, and with those eyes looking back at me, I lose it completely. My back arches off the mattress, and he groans as I mewl into the space between us after being pushed over the edge yet again. I have never felt so high, so alive.

So in love.

He drops his head against mine as we both try to make our back down to earth from shooting up to the stars. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist and hold his warm, sweaty body snug against me. He pants hot breaths along my skin while he sobers from not only giving me the best night of my life but also from possibly making love for the first time in his.

After he gathers himself, he carefully pulls out and discards the condom. “Are you okay? Are you sore?”

I wince a little when he tenderly places his hand there. “I am a little bit. But that was amazing,” I tell him. “Is it always like that?”

He chuckles once. “It gets better. Come here.” Mike starts to pick me up in his arms, and that’s when I see it. Blood. My virginal blood on his perfectly white sheets.

Covering my mortified face with a hand, I apologize to Mike, “I’m so sorry.” The embarrassment I feel is ten-fold.

“Hey, sweetheart, don’t worry. I’m sure it will come out. If not, I have plenty of sheets. It’s okay,” he soothes as he removes my hand, kisses my nose, then proceeds on carrying me like a bride.

In the bathroom, he sets me down next to the tub. Pulling my dress off to pull the curtain aside, he turns on the shower then winks at me. “Now that I got ya all dirty, I gotta clean you up.”

I just roll my eyes and smile—what a line.

With my dress in hand, he places it on a hook at the back of the bathroom door. When he says the water is warm enough, he takes my hand to lead me under the hot waterfall. I back into it, close my eyes and allow it to beat and relax my sore shoulder muscles from carrying my heavy books at school all week.

Mike takes me into his arms, and then he swipes my hair over one shoulder as he reaches for something behind my back. Moments later, I feel a loofah graze itself across my shoulder blades, down my spine, and around my bottom. I feel the trickle of suds and heavy water run down my legs as it funnels its way down to the drain. The smell of spice fills the air with the steam clouding us in our own special world.

He encourages me to slowly spin around so he can wrap his arms over the front of me. With my slick back against his chest, he removes my hair from one shoulder, so it’s hanging down between my back and his front. With his hand, he drags the soapy loofah over my breasts, around my stomach, then between my thighs. I wince at the connection from the soft sponge against the tenderness, but it doesn’t stop me from leaning my head against him as he holds me up in his arms.

Hanging the loofah back up, he removes the showerhead and swipes it over my body nice and slow, starting at the top of my head. His hands glide over my wet slippery skin, tracing the flow of the water. As he travels further down my stomach, he says against my ear, “I’m sorry you’re sore. I imagine this can help it.”

Then, the force of the hot water sprays to the area he claimed earlier. The jetting of the water feels like a massage. It does help. When I least expect it, a calloused finger plays with me while his other hand is busy massaging me with the showerhead.

“Mike,” I sigh, contently into the steam.

“Come for me. One more time, baby,” he rasps low in my ear. “Please?”

I lean into him and moan, “Mike.” My body is already feeling like Jell-O; I’m not sure there’s anything left in me.

“You just look so damn beautiful when you do,” he coaxes me, as one hand grasp around his arm, and the other flies up to cling to his neck. I’m starting to feel that tight coil deep inside me again. At any moment, I’ll break in his arms.

“You’re getting close; I know you are. Come on, sweetheart. Just let go.” Mike’s encouragement does it. My moans fill the bathroom with the touch of his magic hand. My legs begin to give, so he stops and holds me tight while still holding the showerhead between my legs.

The combination of it all did help. I’m not feeling as tender at the moment. I spin in his arms and lock my hands behind his neck. “You are amazing.” I shamelessly stroke his ego.

He grins and kisses my nose. “Well, I’m glad you think that. Otherwise, this would be a little awkward.” We chuckle into the steam together as he hugs me.

After turning off the water, he reaches for a towel and wraps me up like a burrito, then offers his hand to help me out of the tub. Once I’m out, he reaches for his own towel and wraps it around himself. “You can...uh. You can stay here for the night if you’d like.” He seems a little nervous with the way his voice shakes.

“Really?” I wouldn’t dream of passing this opportunity up. “You want me to?”

He nods his head. “After what we just did, I would like to wake up in the morning, holding you.”

My heart leaps. “I would like that.”

He insists on coming with me to my house to pack a few essentials and drop off my dress. I did lose the argument of not needing pajamas because, apparently, I’ll be wearing his clothes to bed. There wasn’t much of a fight from me, really, but I didn’t just want to assume that I’d be wearing his clothes to bed.

Back at his house, he takes the stained sheets and carries them to the washer in his garage. I apologize again for what happened.

“Sweetheart, like I said, it’s nothing. I’m not upset at all.” He walks up to me in his doorway of the garage and swipes my hair behind my ear. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You have nothing to feel ashamed of or embarrassed about, okay?” The man who owns my heart places a kiss on my cheek then tucks me into his side to lead us back to his room.

We crawl under a new pair of white sheets that surround me with the smell of fresh cotton mixed with jasmine. I automatically snuggle right up next to him. As soon as my head lands on his shoulder, I faintly hear him say, “I love you, Elena,” as I feel myself drift away into a dark, wonderful world of rest.

My goodness! It finally happened. Elena is so in love with Mike.

Now, what do you think will happen?

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