Chapter 25
Start a Flame
JOHANNA
Same time, same place, same position.
For yet another morning, I wake curled into the curve of Corin’s body, small spoon to his big.
His warm cedar scent fills my every breath.
With the sun rising later and later, we’re wrapped in the shadows of pre-dawn—or pre-pre-dawn.
There’s only enough ambient light to make out general shapes in the distance, but the deep gray of morning twilight rouses the horny side of me.
This morning, the alignment of our bodies differs slightly from previous nights.
His arm curves along my waist, hand cupping the lower edge of my belly, his little finger almost brushing my mound while his morning erection presses against my buttocks.
My silky thigh-length nightgown has ridden up almost to my waist, so only a single layer of cloth separates us as his well-worn cotton pajama pants tent over his cock.
All very well and nice, but both too tantalizing and not enough, especially after the truths we exchanged last night.
With Max, I’d usually wait until he was up and out of bed, elsewhere in the house, then indulge in a round of morning self-cultivation to start the day off right: touches here, pinches there, maybe a few minutes with a vibrator—a visceral reminder of what will come when the time is right to really let go.
We’re in Corin’s room. Likely no vibrators or sex toys conveniently stashed in the bedside table drawer or anywhere his daughters might accidentally discover them, though one would hope they don’t snoop here as often as they did when they were younger. Back then, they were terrors.
Plus, for the first time in decades—outside of Max’s heats—I have a warm, living body to play with. My breath catches a little. Last night’s talk only scratched the surface, there’s so much still to discuss and everything at stake.
We barely kissed.
But I’m here, he’s here, and the alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and he’s almost in the right position to start my day off right—and we’ve agreed we care about each other and our love isn’t platonic, even if it was in the past.
So I do what any self-respecting sexual person would under the circumstances: wiggle just enough to rearrange things to my satisfaction. I slip his hand down easily enough to press against my mound and clit, but getting his cock aligned proves tricky. His pants are in the way.
Corin laughs, his chest rocking against my back. His hand clenches on my mound, sending tiny bolts of lightning through my bloodstream. Face tucked close to my neck, he turns and rubs his nose on my cheek, marking me with warm, tangy cedar.
“Just what are you trying to do?” His voice is low and growly with the last dregs of sleep.
“Can’t you guess?” I turn my head in hopes of a kiss, but our noses brush instead.
“We’ve only got”—he glances at the clock and his eyebrows lift, darker shadows just visible against the paler expanse of his face—“a half-hour. I want more than that for our first time.”
“Fine, fine, but surely we can indulge some, start a flame to feed just enough over the day.” I grab his hand and adjust it to press directly on my clit. “Anticipation heightens the pleasure.”
“You did mention liking edging.” He sounds thoughtful. Next moment, he pulls his hand away and slaps my bottom lightly. His whole body draws back. I roll flat on my back, not having realized how heavily I’d been leaning against him.
He looms over me, pulling away the covers and nudging my legs wide enough to kneel between.
Without his warmth, chills ripple across my skin.
Silky nightgowns are for sleeping next to sexy bodies—teasing, seducing—not for keeping warm.
My nipples crinkle as much from that as arousal.
I cross my arms over my chest to warm them as I frown up at him.
“A chilly, horny Johanna equals a grumpy Johanna.”
He laughs. “What would you like to do before the alarm goes off? Be as detailed as you want, but anything you don’t specify, I’ll feel free to make up as I go along.”
Thirty minutes and no orgasms, given his desire to wait—just pleasure for the sake of pleasure.
Problem is, we don’t know enough about each other yet to really ride the edge together. For all we’ve been friends and family for years, our awareness of each other hasn’t focused on sex. Acknowledging the attraction between us is just the first step.
We’re each truly uncharted territory.
I shift and adjust my nightgown so it covers what it would if I were standing, or almost. I can’t pull the hem all the way down with Corin sitting there.
“Divide it in half. Fifteen minutes each to map each other and seek hidden treasure. You can go first.” Generously, I lay back, ready to be explored.
Another warm rush of cedar rolls off him. His teeth flash in a hungry smile, visible despite the shadows. He wraps a hand around his pajama-covered cock and squeezes. Then, he sets his hands to either side of my head and hovers, his chest just brushing the tips of my breasts.
Talk about hidden treasure! I hadn’t realized how much strength lurks in his upper body. I lick my lips, anticipating where to touch and press when my turn arrives.
“How about a different division. I map you with my hands, followed by kisses?”
My gaze inevitably goes to his well-shaped mouth. He’s already learned one way to my heart. Much as I want to explore his body, fifteen minutes of kissing is a great way to start the day. “Deal.”
“No other requests?”
“No. Though if I say no or to stop doing something, I mean it.” I wouldn’t mind the kissing coming first or lasting longer, but I’m also eager to learn how he uses his hands.
“Got it.” He sits back, smile twisting to one side. Leaning over, he turns on the bedside lamp and angles it so that most of my body lies within the warm aura of light. Then, he shuffles back, pulling the covers the rest of the way off.
Only my silky nightie covers me, offering little warmth, but blood rushes through my veins.
He waits an interminable amount of time—at least a minute—devouring me with his eyes. This wasn’t the bargain.
“Hey—hands, then kissing. You didn’t ask for minutes of mapping with eyes.” I might pout, and most definitely arch my back slightly. My breasts sag to either side thanks to gravity, but they’re topped with furled nipples.
A satisfied growl vibrates in his chest, and somehow my breasts resonate, growing tauter, nipples peaking higher.
He sets his hands on my ankles, and that’s all I need to begin riding the edge of arousal.
He’s unpredictable in the best way. Each touch, each stroke is deliberate but varied, always testing.
One moment, he smooths the skin along my calf, but the next, he presses hard at the edge of my kneecap.
Spots of pleasure-pain bloom, making my breath catch at the sudden shock and glory of a mini-release when he lets go.
His eyes light at that, but he doesn’t speak. His touch glides around my thighs in twisting curves as he presses, strokes, pushes, and pulls.
I’m panting as he reaches my torso. A thin sheen of sweat covers me, making the silk cling to my skin.
Rather than dipping under my hem, he slides over the silk and spreads his hands on the lines where legs meet hips. Leans in a little. Cool should rush in as he inches his over to my hips, but his touch creates so much heat, it lingers.
He spends several moments on my hips, cupping, pressing, and lifting. Then moves up my sides after a glance at the clock.
The farther up my body he moves, the more I drink in of his pleasure in caressing me. I memorize the way his mouth curves and tightens, the better to recall later when I’m busy exploring him and can’t see his face.
Apart from drawing light lines around the edges of my breasts, he keeps away. That’s when I realize he stayed equally away from my clitoris and pussy. Keeping them for last? Or seeking out other, less obvious places that make me sigh or start?
The latter, likely. A passing touch at a particular spot where shoulder meets neck sends lightning bolts of pleasure in every direction.
I gasp, my clit throbs, and my pussy clenches on nothing.
He pauses, noticing, then backtracks to find the exact spot.
He still kneels, but has inched just far enough up that his knees press against the inside of my thighs, and his balls occasionally brush my core.
My chest’s heaving by the time he moves on. Down my arms rather than up to my face—how much time has passed? Too much and not enough.
He sits back. Hands slide along the underside of my legs, urging them to fold up toward my chest.
“Roll over.”
“What about kissing?” I manage despite my heaving chest.
“I’ve still got a couple minutes before kisses. Move.”
He moves me, and I don’t fight. Despite the lust burning through my blood, my skin cools.
He doesn’t drag me back to the warm spot where I’d lain or let me scoot there on my own.
My legs stretch out in a single thick line below me, his thighs to either side of mine.
He’s not sitting on me—he’s too big and too gentle for that—but he could.
I’ve always known Corin as a dominant alpha, but there’s knowing, and knowing.
New appreciation settles in my bones as he leans forward and rests against me.
Covers me. His forearms press into the mattress beside my shoulders, making it dip under his weight, but he’s close enough that his chest hair brushes my upper back.
Heat pours off him, driving every mote of chill away, even in my toes.
I’m not made to unilaterally submit, but I don’t resist his power because this is his turn. I will get mine, and turnabout is the kind of play I enjoy to the hilt. Every caress he’s unleashed to give me pleasure I will return in some measure.
Yet I’m also limp and gasping, awash in the delight he’s building in my body.
His nose nuzzles the back of my neck. Traces a path through my hair. His breath warms my ear as he whispers, “Time for kisses.”
But instead of heading for my mouth, the teasing louse presses his lips against the nape of my neck.
From there, he shifts to kiss his way across my shoulders and down my back.
Each kiss differs slightly, from tight smacks of lips against skin to open mouth and a brush of tongue to biting kisses that sting but dig no deeper. Desire pulses in me with each caress.
Along with irritation.
“You said spend the last half kissing.” I push up on my elbows and twist around to glare at him as he nips the base of my spine. My back arches as he shifts to a licking kiss along the crevice where thigh meets pussy.
“We agreed I’d explore your body with my hands, then map it with kisses.” He lifts his head just enough to reveal a darkly amused expression. “If you wanted the kisses to be only on your lips, you should have said that when I asked.”
Again, he skips my pussy and heads down my legs, tracing a swirling pattern of kisses from one to the other and back. Lovely tingles lurk under my skin wherever he passes.
Apparently, Corin’s a trickster in bed. I enjoy the fruits of his trickery—how each kiss pushes me a little higher—but plot a multi-step revenge.
Reaching my feet, he lavishes sucking kisses on my toes that electrify my legs as delight races along my nerves. I twist and moan in ecstasy, all real with maybe a hair of overacting.
“Ohh!” I push up onto my knees, back arching and arms lifting high which has the effect of making my breasts rounder, nipples more prominent.
He can’t resist a second glance, and in that instant, I fall sideways onto the mattress and roll into him. Body to body, face to face. Cupping his cheeks, I give him the big endless kiss I expected to get ages earlier.
After a moment of surprise, he gives in and kisses me back. He doesn’t surrender completely, instead taking charge of how our mouths mesh. Slips his tongue between my lips to provide a foretaste of joys yet to come.
I melt against him, content to be lead so long as we’re pressed close together exchanging breaths and drinking sighs.
Then, the bloody alarm goes off.
We try to ignore it—at least I do. I lick the inside of his lips one last time before he pulls away.
Chests heaving, we stay face to face. Sweat covers my skin, cooling me quickly without his body against mine. He’s little better off, bangs clinging to his forehead in thick, damp chunks as he pants.
He bats at the alarm without turning around, missing widely as the annoying sound increases in volume. With a muttered curse, he rolls away. Sitting up, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and manages to press the off button.
“Time.” Corin shakes his head, droplets flying from his brow, then stands and takes a deep breath. Before long, he’s calm, cool—chilly—and collected.
For my part, I’m only chilly. Despite the goosebumps forming on my legs and arms, I fall back and let him take a good look at me.
Nightgown rumpled and marked by his sweaty hands, the hem flutters just at the apex of my thighs.
Taut, crinkled nipples press against the shiny fabric, raised high despite the pull of gravity, full, plump breasts still aching for his touch.
His pajama pants hang low, except where they tent over a thick ridge in the front. Calm and collected he may be, but certainly not unaffected.
“Don’t go taking care of that during the day.” I raise up on my elbows, nodding at his erection. “If I’m in the mood, I might consider doing something about it tonight.”
“Sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose, my dear.” With a low chuckle, he smirks and bends over to give me a hand up. Then runs a finger down the length of my nose. “To be continued.”