Six of Hearts(54)
Fifteen
When I wake up, I find that I’ve slipped off Jay and am cuddling into his side. My face is still in his neck, and his face seems to be in my hair. Oh, yeah, and I’m straddling his leg. Glancing down at our intertwined bodies, my eyes bug out when I notice his “evening wood.”
I can’t stop looking at it. And now I know the answer as to whether or not Jay has a big dick. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say it’s the good answer. Breathing in, I soak up the smell of him, a hint of sweat, a hint of cologne, and something that’s just him. I love how his smell is all over me right now.
Who’d have thought I’d finally go on my first ever Internet date and then come home and sleep with another man? It sounds quite adventurous when worded like that.
Jay groans. “Quit moving around, Matilda.”
His hand goes to my arm and grips it, seemingly to stop me from fidgeting. The heat from his hand makes me melt.
“I should go.”
He opens his eyes and frowns. “Why?”
“Because this is weird.”
“It’s not weird. We’re bonding. Lots of animals sleep together in order to bond. Don’t you ever watch the Discovery Channel?”
“We’re not animals.”
He gives me a devilish grin. “Speak for yourself.”
Moving his face to my hair again, he takes in a deep breath. Is he smelling me? Do I smell good or bad? I showered earlier, so I must at least smell okay. He moves his knee that’s between my thighs, and I let out a tiny gasp at the friction. The movement awakens something inside me, something centred right between my legs, and none of us need to have gotten an A in biology to figure out what that something is. His eyes travel quickly to mine, staring intensely when he moves his knee a second time. Sharp pleasure takes hold as I clench my thighs. He does it again, and I whimper. He stares at me, mouth hanging open slightly, eating up the sound.
Just like earlier, he grips my body and rolls us, but this time he’s the one who ends up on top. Using his thighs, he makes short work of parting my legs and situating himself between them. Still with our gazes connected, he slowly thrusts forward, his hard cock in his lounge pants pushing flush against my sex.
His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “Yeah, this is definitely going to be a problem.” He says it so low it feels like he’s talking to himself.
My voice is breathy, more air than sound, when I say, “Jay.”
His hands come up to cup either side of my face as he rocks his hips forward again. “Matilda.”
He builds up a rhythm now, becoming frenzied. I hold onto his big arms, recalling the times I’ve seen him out in the garden doing body weight exercises. He had virtually no equipment, but managed to do so many things using just his body, like a prison workout. I wonder what other things he can do with it.
I lick my lips. What does this mean? Is he just horny again, like when he’d suggested going down on me? Or does he really want this?
He growls and leans down, taking the bottom lip I just licked into his mouth and biting it — hard. It doesn’t hurt. It feels incredible. Electric. I want him to kiss me now, so badly. Then the front door opens and shuts loudly, my dad’s trademark walk clipping down the hall.
Jay goes still as a statue, releasing my lip and pulling back.
“Matilda? Are you home?” Dad calls, and my breath leaves me in a rush.
“I really should go now,” I whisper, feeling mortified at what I’m doing with my parent just downstairs. It was like I was lost in a dream for a few blissful moments. My dad’s door slamming is what woke me up, and I feel stupid for falling into horny Jay’s trap.
He rolls over onto his back, and I get up, slipping my shoes on and hurrying to the door. When I reach it, I glance back at him one last time. He’s lying there, his eyes dark as he watches me, chest heaving, his arousal still blatantly evident through his pants.
With great effort I walk out the door, shutting it behind me and calling back to Dad, “Yeah, I’m home.”
***
The next morning is different from usual. Jay’s not around, and my breakfast isn’t ready for me like it has been every day since he moved in. In fact, when I pass by his room, I see his bed has been made and he’s nowhere to be found. He must have gone out early.
Dad’s sitting at the table, eating toast and drinking coffee, reading the newspaper as always. I grab a yogurt and some fruit, and sit beside him. When I notice the paper he’s reading is The Daily Post, I give a little tut of disapproval.
“Jay wouldn’t be happy about you reading that,” I say, opening my yogurt.