CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
Time and space ceased to exist as I fell deeper and deeper into his mattress. It wasn’t until he stopped for a second and cleared his throat, that I realized this very well could have been going on for an hour—or more.
“You okay?” I asked, glancing down my body at him as the heat of embarrassment burned my cheeks.
“Si.”
“I’m sorry I’m taking forever.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“Then I am happy.” He closed his eyes and flicked his tongue against my clit again.
“Oh! Do that again.” I settled back into the bed.
He flicked my clit again, this time up and down, and slow. Then he started with long, sweeping motions of the entire flat of his tongue across my clit at the same time he withdrew his fingers from inside me, almost all the way out, only to push them back in at the same, lax speed as his tongue.
I was set to combust.
Every time his tongue dragged across my clit, I scaled fifty more rungs on this ladder to heaven.
I could see the clouds, hear the angels, and smell the sex in the air.
He pushed his fingers in one more time and pressed up.
I don’t know why that intensified everything so much, or made me feel like I needed to pee, but I ignored that and just let the pleasure take over.
My lower belly tingled, my pussy throbbed, and on the next tongue sweep, I let go.
Entirely.
Completely.
And with zero abandon.
He didn’t stop what he was doing and just let me ride the wave.
He kept going. He continued to press up inside me with his fingers, and went back to sucking on my clit as wave after wave of ecstasy rocked me from head to toe and back again.
Everything pulsed, a roaring sensation filled my ears, and those starbursts behind my eyes turned into a never-ending display of fireworks.
I wasn’t sure how long that orgasm lasted for, or if I was even still alive, but at this point, I didn’t even care. If that was death, then I was okay with it being my time. What a way to go.
He released my clit with a wet pop and gently pulled his fingers from my pussy. I peeled one eye open and met his gaze. His silver facial hair was damp from my arousal, and his lips were puffy. But the hooded, pleased expression in his eyes was what did me in.
“Scusi,” he said before climbing off the bed and walking to the en suite bathroom. The sink ran and a moment later he returned, a very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “You come so beautifully, bella. And taste so sweet.”
I turned my head and broke our eye contact.
Climbing back onto the bed, but rather beside me than between my legs, he tipped my chin up with his finger. “My honesty makes you uncomfortable?”
“Yes … and … no,” I said with a slight whine to my voice. “It’s just not something I’m used to hearing. And I don’t know how to respond.”
He nodded in understanding. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Prego. But I must also thank you.”
“Do you … um … do you still want to …?” My lips twisted.
Ugh!
Why was this so hard to say out loud?
“Do you still want to?” he asked.
“Yes … please,” I sighed. “I do.” Boldly, I turned onto my side and moved my hand down to the button and zipper of his jeans. I unfastened them and with my stomach in my throat, moved my hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs where heat and soft, wiry hair met my fingers. “Should I …?”
Should I, what?
I had no idea what to do here. I was basically a virgin. Yes, my ex-husband climbed on top of me and stuck his unwashed dick into my body more times than I ever cared to remember, and I had a child out of that, but apart from the fundamentals, I was a total noob.
Our wedding night consisted of Rufus pushing up my nightgown, pushing up his—because he slept in one of those long, white, old man sleeping dress things—and forcing himself inside of me.
That was how I first had sex, and that was how I had sex every time after.
Until I left him.
Until Gabrielle turned her husband and mine into the police, and I was able to finally get away from that hell—with the baby I didn’t know was in my belly.
Tom’s finger on my chin again pulled me from those terrible memories. “Bella, where’d you go?”
“Sorry. I’m just …” I rolled back over onto my back. “I’ve never done this. I don’t know what to do next.” I sighed. “Can you just get naked?”
Huffing an amused laugh, he stood up next to the bed. “Remove my clothes for me, Danica.”
“But I—”
“It will help. Trust me. Take off my clothes. Touch me wherever you’d like. You will not break me.”
That bit prompted me to glance up at him, and he smirked.
Helping me to my knees on the bed in front of him, he reached for my hands and brought them to rest on his chest, his pectoral muscles hard and defined beneath my fingertips.
I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat and inched forward on my knees, running my hands over his torso and growing more brazen with each pass until I reached the bottom hem of his T-shirt and helped him peel it off.
He lifted his arms, exposing dark underarm hair.
Why did that turn me on the way it did? Why did I want to press my nose there and inhale?
Was that a fetish? Did I have kinks?
With the shirt gone, I was left with his beautiful, olive-toned skin with the chiseled muscles, the faint scars and the twin Mariana trenches on either side of his hipbones leading beneath his jeans.
Okay, those I wanted to lick like an ice cream cone on the Fourth of July. Those were magnificent.
I continued to run my hands over his soft skin, with the light dusting of chest hair, speckled with silver strands. I brushed my fingers across his nipples a few times and noticed that, by the third pass, they were harder, tighter.
Leaning forward, I pressed my mouth over his heart, then peppered kisses, slow and gentle, across his chest. Brazenly, I flicked a nipple with my tongue, and the deep, barely audible groan that rumbled in his chest prompted me to move to the other one and do the same.
My hands made their way to his hipbones, and I pushed his already open jeans down. Light-gray boxer briefs did very little to hide what the good Lord had blessed him with, and the damp patch of what I assume was precum just below the black elastic waistband made my mouth get a little dry.
“Would you, uh … would you like me to reciprocate?”
He shook his head. “No, bella. Not today.”
I’d never actually given a blowjob before.
Rufus had very vanilla, very linear ideas when it came to sex.
Missionary, clothes on, and as quick as possible.
As horrible a person as he was, I had to at least be grateful for that.
He could have had some really sick kinks and been into long, exhausting, painful sex.
When it came to living with such a horrible creature, I had to look for every silver lining I could find.
“How do we … ?”
Oh god!
Even though I was basically a born-again virgin, I knew about safe sex.
And I had absolutely no hormonal birth control in my body.
Because why would I? My periods were relatively normal, and I hadn’t had sex in over ten years.
And had no inclination to until a week or so ago.
While it took us longer to conceive Sam, that didn’t necessarily mean it had something to do with me. I could be a Fertile Myrtle.
“Where’d you go again?” he asked.
“Do you have condoms? I don’t have an IUD or … I’m not on birth control. And I don’t have condoms. Oh god.”
“Danica,” he said patiently as I started to freak out.
Mostly because without any birth control I worried that we’d decide to stop, and I absolutely did not want to stop.
“I had a vasectomy when I turned forty-five. I didn’t think I’d find someone again, and forty-five—in my personal opinion—is too old to start a new family.
I have not been with another woman since Erin. I am clean.”
“And I haven’t been with anybody since Rufus. And I made sure to get tested after I left him. I’m clean too.”
“So we can … how you say, raw dog it and be fine. Si?”
That made me snort. “You sure know how to be romantic, huh?”
“I will do and say anything I can to help you relax and get out of your head. Today is for you.”
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I wedged my fingers beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs again and wrapped my hand around his cock. He moaned a little, and that made me smile.
“I want to feel what it’s supposed to be like. Please.”
With a single head bob of a nod, he kicked out of his jeans and climbed back on the bed, covering me, his arms on either side of my shoulders as he brought his mouth to mine and kissed me like a starved man getting his first taste of bread after two weeks roaming the desert.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I raked my nails down the sides of his back, loving the shiver he gave, and the way his kisses deepened. His cock pressed hard and eager against my pubic bone, and I spread my legs wider for him.
When my fingers grazed the top of his boxers, I pushed them down, desperate to get him free and inside me.
He took the cue and sat back on his heels, pulling his boxer shorts down. I gaped a little at the size when his cock thwacked against his belly, another dewy bead of precum on the tip.
Did I dare do what I ached to?
With one hand on his thigh, I held him there, hinged forward, and flicked my tongue over the dark-purple crown. He sucked in a breath.
It was salty, and definitely not the best tasting thing, but it wasn’t terrible either.
With a soft growl, he cupped the side of my face with one hand and kissed me hard, passionately, and with less “care” for my comfort than before.
And I liked it. I liked the more aggressive side, to be honest. It was raw and possessive and made me feel desired.
He could no longer contain his composure, and like a wild animal, just had to have me.