The Learning Hours(57)
He’s getting there.
I’m patient, waiting him out.
“Je veux te baiser.” He nuzzles my neck, mouth on my pulse. “I want to fuck you.”
Holy shit, he did not just say that.
I have the biggest lady boner right now and do my best to nod my agreement without my legs giving out on me. “Yes.”
“Really?” He pulls back to study my face. “Just like that, we get to leave and have sex because I asked for it?”
“Yes,” I repeat, hands clasping around the back of his neck.
“Huh, how fucking cool is that?” he muses. “It’s really that easy?”
My laugh is light, arms still around his neck. “I’m your girlfriend now—of course I want you to take me home and…you know…” I hope my voice sounds sultry and that it hits his cerebellum in just the right spot. “Fuck me.”
“Jesus, now I’m hard.”
“I know,” I purr. “I can feel it.”
“What if I can’t wait ’til we get home?”
“You mean, like—do it in the Jeep?”
“Yeah.”
“All right.”
He grabs my hand, pulling. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Laurel
The last time I was in this bedroom, Rhett was leaving for a wrestling meet. Kissing my shoulder and telling me goodbye after a morning quickie.
The comforter is undone, a small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. He kicks them to the closet so they’re out of the way, slides his jacket off and hangs it on his desk chair. Pulls off his hat and runs a figure through his trimmed-up hair. Stands in his navy shirt, a blue button-down with a collar.
“I love that you dressed up for me tonight.” I float across the room, immediately toying with the top button. Pluck it open. Then another, and another. “You look so handsome.”
Three buttons.
Four more and my hands are skimming across his warm, bare skin, parting the shirt and slipping it down his biceps. Rhett’s chocolate-colored eyes are a storm of desire, nostrils flaring. Lips parted, a small puff of pent-up air escapes when my palms breeze over his pecs. His beautiful, firm pecs.
I glide my fingers along his collarbone, rising to kiss his bare skin, sliding my hands around his neck. Our lips fuse in a perfect combination of desperation and calm, Rhett’s hands tugging my shirt up my stomach, lifting. Dragging it up my torso until I’m raising my arms so he can lift it over my head. I shake my hair when he tosses it to his desk, shimmy out of my pants.
Fumble with the buckle on his jeans, unzip them and shove them down his hips. By the time he steps out of them and kicks them aside, I’m already on the bed, working the clasp of my bra.
He climbs up next to me, naked, palms drifting along my smooth legs. Tip of his nose caressing the inside of my thigh. Mouth kissing the apex of my legs. Sucking. Licking my belly button, ribcage, nipples.
I lie there, letting his mouth explore my body, watching as he goes, eyes drifting closed, each sensation greater than the last.
I stroke his hair while he suckles, hovering above me, braced by his bulging arms. Big, strong, and gentle, he murmurs to me when he threads his fingers through my red hair, mouth at my temple. My body stiffens at his words.
“Je t’aime.”
We both gasp.
Gasp again when he moves his hips.
I cling to him as he begins a gentle thrust, rocking back and forth, braced on his elbows. Whispering into my ear. Rotating his hips, pelvis pressed into mine, deep as he can go.
In silence we make love, mattress and bed groaning under our weight in the sexiest possible way.
“I love you so much.” I kiss his neck, the throbbing inside me swelling. “Oh, Rhett.”
He buries his face in my neck, short puffs of air as he pumps his hips into me. Slowly. Up and down. Lazy circles. Lips on the skin under my ear, latching on. Kissing me there. My shoulder. My jaw and the corner of my lips.
Sucking on my bottom lip, moaning into my mouth.
Up and down, up and down.
Lazy circles.
My head tips back when he goes deeper still, hands burying under my ass, lifting. Lips sucking. Tongues rolling. Twirling.
Tingles.
A spark.
Quivers.
My thighs begin to shake, head tipped back when he breathes my name. The tip of his dick finds my g-spot, penetrating in just the right—
“Uhhhhhhh, that feels g-goo-d,” I moan, lips parted. Sweat dampens my brow as I gasp again. “G-God I love you.”
“Je t’aime aussi,” comes his guttural reply. “Je t’aime bébé.”
His words are too much; I can’t say anything else, it just all feels…way t-too damn g-good.
I-Indescribable.
Oh God, oh G-God…
His hips drive into me once. Twice. Jerk, glutes stiffening, pumping and pulsating into me. When I feel his warm come, my own orgasm hits home, long and hard and intense.
My toes curl.
Mouth opens.
Throat moans.
Hands pull at his ass, gripping it, pulling him in.
Rhett’s still shaking, pelvis spasming every few seconds, our breathing labored.
We lie like this for I don’t know how long, wrapped in each other’s arms, my head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his racing heart.
His beautiful heart belongs to me.
And mine belongs to him.
Rhett
Six months later
“Babe.” Laurel’s head sticks out of the kitchen, where she’s been unpacking cooking utensils into the drawer next to the stove. “Gunderson and Oz are here with the couch—can you get the door?”
“On it.”
Down in the yard, Oz Osborne and Rex Gunderson are in the process of backing into the yard with Oz’s big black pickup truck, an oversized blue couch strapped down in the back.
My hands flag them in, directing them straight. To the left. Straight.
“Stop.”
We make short order of jamming that fucker through the front door, settling it in the exact spot against the wall where Laurel told me she wants it. “Let’s not put it in front of the window,” she reasoned. “What if we have sex on it? I don’t want anyone to see me riding you—we don’t have curtains yet…”
Fair enough.
“Babe.” Her voice interrupts my musings, walking into the living room, flaming red hair parted into two French braids. She’s holding a toaster box. “Where should we put this toaster your mom sent us? Now we have two.”
“Give it to me,” Gunderson responds, holding his arms out. “Me want.”
“Get your own damn toaster.” I smack his hand down. “We’re not fucking givin’ you ours.”
Laurel laughs at our bickering. “Maybe I can take it back and exchange it?”
“Yeah, let’s do that. I think I could use some stuff for the bedroom.”
Bedroom.
I flush at the word and all the things we’re going to do in there, night after night. Alone.
She grins. “Whatever you want, baby.”
“Baby?” Oz snorts. “Jesus, even Jameson doesn’t call me that.”
Gunderson rolls his eyes. “That’s because she calls you babe and sweetie. Gag.”
Oz shoves him so he falls backward onto the couch. “Shut up fuckwit, I love being called sweetie. It’s my favorite.”
Laurel interrupts their arguing. “Hey guys, I hate to intrude on your love fest, but is the couch the last of our stuff?”
“Yup, this is it,” I say. “We don’t have much.”
“Maybe not.” She sidles up to me, sliding an arm around my waist and hugging me. “But it’s ours.”
“Can I vomit now?” Gunderson snorts. “I can’t fucking believe you’re living together.”
“Hey,” Oz says. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. In case you fucking forgot, New Guy here gets to have sex twenty-four hours a day while you’re at home waiting for your one-nighter-a-week to try to score.”
“Is the bed already set up? I could use a nap,” Gunderson huffs.
It is, and has already been broken in—twice. “You’re not takin’ a nap in our house. Get the fuck out.”
He rises, smacking Oz on the way to the door. “Is this the thanks I get for moving you into your new place?”
“You moved one couch, and didn’t even help load it.”
“Fine, but I get some credit for moral support.”
Oz nudges him in the stomach. “No you don’t.” Gives him a shove onto the porch. “Let’s go, I have to pick Jameson up. We’re going to dinner and I need a shower so I can trim my balls.”
“Dude, that’s way too much information.”
“How? I’m telling you, it makes my dick look bigger when I trim my ball fro.”
“Sorry about that.” I shut the door behind them. Lean against it. “I don’t know what Gunderson is going to do when Osborne and Daniels graduate at semester.”
My girlfriend’s russet eyebrow quirks. “I can tell you what he’s going to do: he’s going to follow you around like a puppy dog instead until you’re the one graduating.”
Two semesters that once seemed like they were taking an eternity to get here are now flying by too fast.
“God I hope not.”
I flop down on the couch, exhausted, legs spread, hands on my thighs.
My dad might not have been thrilled when I announced I was moving in with my girlfriend after only dating her for six months, but my mother was—sent us a few hundred bucks cash so we could swing a new mattress and couch.