Chapter Eighteen #2
They were nearing the end of the movie when she stretched her legs across his lap. He slid his hands along her silky-smooth calves. When he reached her knee, she winced. He turned on the lamp to take a better look. She had a small cut above her shin. “Did you get that in the parking lot?”
“Yes.”
“You really committed.”
“I always do,” she said quietly.
He retrieved a bandage, rubbing alcohol and a washcloth from the bathroom.
While he was in there, he noted that he’d left his pain-relief patches in the medicine cabinet.
The sight of his personal belongings mixed with hers was oddly appealing and undeniably intimate.
Paul avoided his reflection as he closed the mirrored cabinet.
He didn’t want to confront his own feelings, or to consider the wisdom of continuing this fraught relationship.
When he returned, he knelt by the couch. After wiping both of her knees gently with the damp washcloth, he dabbed the cut with rubbing alcohol. Then he dried the affected area by blowing on it and kissed it better.
“You just put germs on it again,” she said.
He murmured an agreement, affixed the bandage, and brushed his lips over the top of it.
Then he kissed his way down to her toes and back up.
By the time he reached her mouth, she was panting, exploring the muscles in his back.
She tasted like oranges, and summer, and smoky heat.
Her skin was fragrant with womanly mystique.
He imagined her in the shower, lathering herself with honey-scented soap.
The simple eroticism of this mental picture staggered him. He wanted her wet, hot, naked, now.
Two hours had elapsed since they’d left the restaurant.
She was clear-headed enough to make decisions about what she wanted, and they’d done this dance before.
When she unbuttoned his shirt, he let her.
He moved to a sitting position so she could push the fabric off his shoulders.
She tugged her own T-shirt over her head.
Paul had been staring at her tits all night, but he was still awestruck by the sight of her topless.
She straddled his lap and twined her arms around his neck.
He groaned at the skin-to-skin contact, which he’d wanted more of during that frantic quickie next door.
He hadn’t removed all of his clothes during their last encounter.
He needed the full experience this time.
More sensation, more positions, more orgasms, more pleasure.
Their lips reconnected and heat flared between them.
She felt so good in his arms. He was fully aroused and aching with it.
He couldn’t get enough of her sweet mouth and lush body.
He cupped her breasts, and her ass, and her breasts again.
God help him, she was grinding on his erection.
He broke the kiss to suck on her nipples while she pumped her hips.
She cradled his head to her breasts for a few seconds, maybe to slow him down.
He panted against her neck and counted to ten slowly.
They were both overexcited, or maybe it was just him.
His pulse pounded and his cock throbbed.
After a short pause, she climbed off his lap and sank to her knees on the carpet.
He stared, transfixed, as she replayed the erotic scene from earlier tonight.
She unbuttoned his fly, lowered his zipper, and released him.
His erection filled her hand and then some.
He watched in desperate anticipation as she stroked him up and down.
“This kind of swelling can be dangerous, if left untreated. Luckily, I’m a trained professional.”
“You’re killing me,” he grated.
Her glossy, pink-painted fingernails played across his taut skin.
She rubbed her thumb over the tip, where a bead of semen had gathered.
Then she bent her head to him and licked delicately, just like she’d done to the strawberry.
He drew in a sharp breath as she covered his cock with soft, sucking kisses.
When she finally opened her mouth to take him deeper, he felt his eyes roll back into his head.
God.
She was good at this, which didn’t surprise him. She was a sensual woman, uninhibited about her body and pleasures of the flesh. She wasn’t shy about letting him go down on her. Why would she be shy about going down on him?
She sucked and stroked him avidly, using her hand, getting him slippery with her saliva. She relaxed her throat to take him deeper, and he had to bite back a strangled cry. He was so close to climax that he almost couldn’t stop it. He threaded his hands through her hair and forced himself to calm.
“Wait,” he said, tugging her head up. “Wait.”
She made a sound of protest as he lifted her into his lap.
Then he kissed her with reverence. He worshipped her beautiful mouth, probing the silky depths with hot thrusts of his tongue.
He thought he might come just from kissing her.
He was that primed to explode. Breathing hard, he waited for the moment to pass.
She smiled at his attempt to regain control.
“Let’s go to your bedroom,” he rasped.
She rose to her feet without argument. Before she walked away, she pushed her shorts and panties down her hips.
With a coy glance over her shoulder, she continued down the hall.
Paul bolted upright to follow her. Although it wasn’t easy to hustle with his pants falling off, he managed to catch her in the doorway.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her against him.
They fell on the bed together, with his chest pressed to her back.
She extended her arms overhead, her breath catching.
He used one of his hands to trap both of her wrists and slid the other between her legs.
She was very wet. He teased her slippery folds, parting and stroking.
When she squirmed against his hold, he released her wrists and trailed kisses down the center of her back.
She fisted her hands in the sheets. Her bottom was heart-shaped and luscious, with faint tan lines that captivated him.
He bit gently on the soft, pale skin of one cheek.
Then he rolled her over to do the front.
She opened her legs in sultry invitation. Though he’d seen this part of her before, and he’d acquainted himself fully with her taste, he just looked. He savored the sight of her pretty, glistening flesh.
“Will you get on with it?” she panted.
“Touch yourself,” he said, kissing her inner thigh.
She groaned and slid one finger into her wetness. She pumped it in and out while he watched. When she removed her finger, he sucked on it. Her taste flooded his tongue, tangy and sweet, like salted honey.
She continued petting and stroking, for his visual enjoyment and her own pleasure.
Her clit plumped at her touch. She circled that spot, her breasts jigging, until he moved her hand aside to take over.
He pinched the swollen bud, making her gasp.
Then he soothed her with his tongue. She clutched his hair and held him against her.
He licked at her delicate flesh tenderly.
He tried to make it last, but he couldn’t hold off her orgasm.
She cried out, her hips jerking. He kept sucking, and she kept coming, sobbing uncontrollably.
Then she quieted, her body relaxing in a languid heap.
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His cock pointed the same direction, hard as stone and weeping for attention. This was no time for serious thoughts, but serious thoughts struck him nonetheless.
He was in love with her.
Goddamn it. He was in love with her, and she didn’t even know his real name. This was a train wreck of epic proportions, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to stop it. He didn’t want to do anything except this.
He fumbled for the condom in his wallet, his hands shaking.
After he put it on, he hesitated. He wouldn’t last a minute on top of her, despite his sore shoulder.
She seemed to notice his reticence, because she climbed astride.
She braced her palms on his chest and stared into his eyes.
He imagined all of his feelings reflected there, including naked lust, as she enveloped him.
Yes.
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, as if the sensation was too much to bear. She was incredibly hot and slippery-wet. Her body stretched to accommodate him. He gripped her hips and gritted his teeth in ecstasy.
She moved up and down on him, over and over again.
She met him with soft cries, her mouth open.
Tears slid down her cheeks. He kissed them away, his chest aching with tenderness.
He put everything he had into her. Every inch of himself, every part he could give.
He lifted her, rocked her, thrust into her, loved her.
He filled her, slow and hard and deep. Perspiration sheened her skin and her breaths became ragged.
After drawing her pleasure out with light touches, he made her come again, his fingers stroking until she flew apart.
This time, he went with her, his body quaking from the power of his release.
When it was over, he disposed of the condom and curled up next to her. He didn’t even consider leaving.