"I want you right now," I said against his soft skin, and he groaned and then picked me up, carrying me down the hall while I squealed and kicked in his arms. I was finally going to get some. From the guy of my dreams. God, I loved it.
"Where's your room?"
I laughed. I was loving this being carried thing, which surprised me since normally when you made me feel small I got fierce. But with Jake, I delighted in his arms, feeling protected, dominated, cared for. And thrilled. This beautiful man would be mine.
"No, this one, there." I pointed at my door when he almost went into Rob's room.
Then he stepped inside and looked around.
My room looked like the day after Christmas at Macy's.
His eyes widened as he took in my room.
"I kind of didn't know what to wear." I winced in embarrassment.
Shaking his head, he chuckled. "Lucy. You are wonderful."
He set me down. With a swoosh of my arms, I swept all of the clothes strewn across my bed onto the floor and pulled Jake on top of me. But as he headed down, he slipped on a silky dress on the floor and grabbed me, twisting. We both fell to the floor, me on top of him, laughing.
"Get this off of you," he said, tugging at my skirt hem, feeling my booty, "I can't wait to touch you. After that class today? Fuck me."
"That's what I want to do." I giggled. God, yes please. Finally. A man not thrown off by my son.
"Up," he commanded. "Take it off."
I got up and pulled off my sequined top, exposing my lacy black bra.
I may have chosen my underwear specifically with the knowledge that it would be viewed. Lying on the floor, shirtless, shoeless, propped up on his elbows, his eyes were on me, focused.
So I took my time, enjoying the tease. I reached behind me, unzipped my pencil skirt, and wiggled it off of my hips, leaving my strappy five minute only shoes on.
He seemed to like the way I looked in lingerie and stilettos, judging by the way he didn't look anywhere else. With athletic grace, he stood up, pants tented, which distracted me. I leaned down as he got up and we knocked foreheads.
"Sorry," we both said at the same time. He gently kissed my forehead, and then I kissed his.
He started walking me backwards to my bed, kissing my neck, insistently, running his fingers down my side. The back of my knees hit the bed, and I fell back. He fell on me, his hot, athletic body feeling so, so good on mine, settling between my legs.
He traced his fingers down my arms. "I drew this curve today." He moved to my fingers. "And this one." Back up the underside of my arms. "And this one." Then his fingers traced down my side. "I drew this curve." And over my hip. "And this one is especially beautiful."
Even though I was comfortable with my body, I felt shy with the attention that he gave me. No one had ever touched me this way. He affectionately caressed the curves of my upper thighs, my hip bones, and my belly button. I grabbed his ass, pressing his erection into me, feeling the hard muscle against me, making me wet.
I reached down to unzip his pants and he stood up, slipping again on the pile of clothes on the floor. He unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing classic chambray boxer shorts that made him look like a hot model in a catalogue.
"I have a confession," he said, standing, staring at me, his hard cock at attention, barely constrained by his boxers.
"What?"
"It's been a long while for me. I don't think I'll last."
My heart melted. "The workaholic hasn't gotten some in a while?"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's closer to the truth than I care to admit."
Since he was brave, so was I. "Me neither."
Now he looked surprised. "The romance novelist hasn't gotten some in a while?" I shook my head.
"A really long while," I whispered.
Then he said, "So. Your turn first."
And then my heart stopped.
I'd previously written lines about a heroine almost coming from words alone and it was bullshit, right? But I almost came from his words alone.
He leaned over and unbuckled one of my shoes and then the other. Gently, sensuously, he traced his fingers up my legs, which was not a far journey, and hooked his index fingers into my lacy panties, tugging them off, exposing my neatly waxed landing strip. And his eyes got even bigger, which was adorable. I reached behind me and unhooked my bra and he pulled the straps off of my shoulders.
So, I reflected, he was the hottest guy that I had ever had in my bed. And, almost the only guy I'd ever had in my bed. He was definitely the hottest guy that I'd ever seen in real life. And here he was, nestling between my legs now, his neck bent, head down, sucking my neck, kissing my collarbone, playing with my nipples, running his tongue over first one then the other.
He looked up at me, a glint in his blue eyes, and he trailed his nose down the middle of my torso. "I want to draw you, again, Lucy, I want to paint you, but this time, with my tongue." And he dipped his tongue in my belly button and then ran it down to my pussy, where he took a lick and I moaned.
Jake flattened his tongue and ran it along the whole area, and I could feel myself swelling, reacting to his touch. It felt so fucking good to have him down there, hot, giving. "You gotta tell me where, honey, where do you like it?" His tongue darted and licked, sucked and explored. "Here? Here? I can't read your mind, tell me. Tell me what you really think."
I writhed on the bed, thinking that it all felt pretty damn wonderful, and he held me firmly by my hips. "How about here?" He took one hand off of my hip and put two fingers into me, licking my clit at the same time. Rubbing and stroking, everything wet, looking down at his shoulders between my knees, I came quickly, quicker than I'd ever made myself come before, and I came hard, my body clenching and shuddering, satisfying the hunger.
"You ready?" he asked after I came down and back to life, and the next thing I knew, his boxers were off and he was holding a condom.
I nodded, unable to think properly, but whispering, "I can't wait anymore, come here, guapo."
After a moment to adjust, condom on, he climbed up and nestled between my legs. Jake hovered over me, broad shoulders over my shoulders, his large, pretty cock between my legs. He scooted back and slid into me, and my body received him gratefully. Time expanded. We looked at each other, him hovering over me, connected at the root, me relaxed from an orgasm and wildly turned on for the prospect of another.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, although they barely made it around, and he began to move, very slowly and carefully. He would pull out almost the entire way, then ease in. A blessing.
He was being gentle.
He was taking his time.
He was making love to me.
Over and over again, he thrust into me, slowly, but with a rhythm that was all him. Focused, devoted to me, his eyes on mine. And then I could see his eyes twitch and I could feel his cock swell. He was going to come, I just knew it. I could tell that he was holding it back, trying not to.
I was so close to another orgasm, but maybe not.
"It's okay, nene, come," I whispered, and with a gorgeous shuddering over me, he released and collapsed on me, breathing hard.
I'll admit that I felt disappointed and slightly greedy. The first orgasm was so good. I wanted to come again.
After a moment, he asked, "Did I leave you hanging?"
I nodded.
"I was afraid of that. Sorry. Here, I'll finish you off. Let's try this." And he pulled out of me, then gently grasped my hips and flipped me over. "Hang on a second."
He stood up, got a Kleenex, discarded the condom, and came back. Then he traced his finger down my spine. "This curve, Lucy. This curve." He ran his finger down my ass to my pussy, and pulled my hips back so that my ass was in the air and I was on all fours. With his artist's hands that I'd admired from the start, he massaged my ass, made his way down, and went between my legs. Like I'd wanted him to do when we first met.
"Head down, honey. Ass up." So, face down, on my knees, with my head in my pillow, he proceeded to finger fuck me to another orgasm.
And this one was glorious. It built and built, and I tensed-all of the muscles in my pelvic floor and my hips and my ass and my shoulders and my arms all clenched, Jake chasing my orgasm with his fingers, rolling and making me shake until I came, hard, and collapsed my hips to the bed.
Okay, that was much better.
After a moment, he slapped my ass, just a little sting, then flopped down next to me and I curled up next to him, thinking that it was wonderful to be with a guy who talked and who communicated. He wasn't my perfect romance hero. He didn't do everything exactly right.
But it was really, really fantastic anyway.
"What made you start writing novels?"
Later that night, Jake, chambray boxer-clad, no shirt, enveloped me in his arms. I couldn't get enough of him, enough of feeling his skin, enough of smelling his clean, spicy scent, of feeling his stubble against my cheek, my shoulder, my back. I'd slipped on a cami and pajama pants, and spooned against his big body, my face clean and makeup-free.