Chapter 27
CARMEN
Slanting tongues, teeth nipping at lips, frantic touching, desperate grasping—the second my front door closes, Jamie and I are a whirlwind of worked-up energy, articles of clothing falling by the wayside as we stumble to my bed.
Arousal fills my blood when we fall onto my mattress.
Slick warmth gathers between my legs. A knot of anticipation tugs deep in my core, remembering the rumble of Jamie’s words against my ear.
Jamie made it sound like going down on me was something he actually wanted to do, rather than a chore to finish as quickly as possible, which is how I’ve experienced it before.
Even though this is something Jamie’s never done before, I can sense that he’s eager to make me feel good, and that’s sexy on its own.
Although my own anticipation ratchets up after we’re lying on my mattress, I sense a sort of trepidation winding through Jamie’s body. His hands are more hesitant, not roaming over me like they were a moment ago, and he’s pulled back on the intensity of his kiss.
He’s nervous.
It’s cute, honestly. But I’m horny, so I give him some encouragement to keep this moving in the direction we came here for. I take his right hand and guide it underneath my shirt.
Sparks scatter over me in a hot wave when his hand contacts my skin. His muscles pull tight, and he gasps against my mouth. His hand burns a path up my belly, past my ribcage. Heat blasts between my legs when he slides it underneath the cup of my bra and palms my breast.
“Fuck.” The word is a ragged rasp against my lips, pulled from Jamie’s throat as he pauses, like he needs to savor the feeling of touching me.
The pad of his thumb brushes against my nipple. Pleasure rolls through me, and I arch my back. “Jamie,” his name ghosts from my lips.
Something shifts in Jamie. Suddenly, he’s a man possessed.
A tsunami of desire smashes through his apprehension, and he’s all over me.
In seconds, our clothes are on the floor next to my bed.
I’m in nothing but my bra and panties, Jamie in nothing but his tight boxer-briefs, and his hands and mouth are on a mission to feel every inch of me.
He crawls lower so his lips can rake against my body, the outline of my ribcage, my belly button, the soft expanse of skin between my hipbones. He inches back up, his mouth scorching my skin the entire way, to kiss my shoulders and my neck, sending a shudder racing through me.
The heat and intensity notches up moment by moment … until Jamie fumbles with my bra, unable to unhook it, and he buries his face into the crook of my neck with a frustrated laugh.
Warmth slides through me. It’s a cute, intimate moment. Jamie lifts his head, and the embarrassed flush on his face is somehow incredibly sexy and downright adorable at the same time.
“Need some help?” I wear a teasing grin.
“Don’t make me beg,” he answers, not at all disguising the fact that he would.
I unhook my bra, letting it fall. Jamie’s gaze drops to my bare tits. The hungry gleam that flashes in them takes my breath away. No one’s ever looked at me like that. The look in Jamie’s eyes is beyond appreciation; it’s like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
Jamie takes my tit in his hand, closing his mouth around it. His hot tongue flicks against my firm nipple. Electricity races up my spine, pleasure coiling in my center.
Jamie lavishes my tits with his touch. His tongue curling around my nipples, his warm mouth covering them, his rough and powerful hands palming them with reverence. With every sound he makes, with every movement, the sense of how much he loves my body radiates from Jamie.
Seeing—feeling—how much I’m turning on a man like Jamie pushes my arousal higher, and an insistent pang of want starts to throb between my legs.
“Jamie,” I urge. My voice is a needy whine. I plant my hands on his broad, rock-like shoulders and push down, indicating where I want him to go. He talked a big game back at the bowling alley, and I’m ready for him to back it up. Dying for him to back it up.
His eyes catch mine again. His cheeks are flushed, and a bashful smile slants his mouth. His hair is disheveled from my hands raking through it. His lips are swollen from the force of our kisses. He looks hesitant and eager at the same time. The combination makes my heart swoop.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he says.
His smile tugs higher, even as the bashful look on his face deepens.
A guy telling you he doesn’t know what he’s doing isn’t a stereotypical turn-on, but it’s the sincerity radiating from Jamie that makes his moment feel intimate. Special. “Don’t be too hard on me.”
I giggle, feeling light and flooded with endorphins. “I’ll try not to.”
“Don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m doing something wrong. Or to give directions. I don’t have an ego.”
That’s hot, too: Jamie making it clear that I don’t need to tiptoe around telling him what I like, that I don’t need to worry he’ll take it the wrong way, that it’ll damage his fragile masculinity.
He slides my panties off my legs, and I spread myself for him. When he sees me bare, his eyes turn dark. Intensity sharpens the lines of his face. The muscles tighten and arc at the sides of his broad jaw.
He shakes his head slowly, as if in disbelief. “Fucking hell. Carmen. Do you have any idea how perfect you look?”
Confidence and satisfaction beat behind my chest. More heat and wetness gather right where Jamie’s eyes are pointed.
He nestles his head between my thighs, and the point of his tongue drags up the length of my slit.
Pleasure pulses through my body. Jamie moans with gratification, like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. Then his mouth is all over me, lips and tongue sliding across my slickness, swelling my body with bliss.
Jamie isn’t doing bad for his first time. Not bad at all. I start to moan, getting into it, as pleasure bursts through me in hot liquid throbs. But then I gasp, pulling my hips back from his mouth when he gets too overzealous.
“Not so hard,” I say in response to how he lashed his tongue against my clit. “It can be too sensitive.”
Jamie nods, humming in acknowledgement, and returns to what I liked. The next time he makes contact with my clit, it’s a much lighter touch. It feels good, but I want more.
“A little firmer than that,” I instruct. Then, when he circles the tight nub with just the right force, I feel like I’m melting. “Yes,” I moan, “just like that.”
My hips start to rock. The rumble from Jamie’s appreciative groans against my wetness is a sensation I’ve never experienced before.
I grab onto the slabs of muscle on his forearms, curling my grip, my fingertips pressing hard into the dense thickness.
A coil of hot tension is pulling tight between my hips, the first hints of my release licking at me like flames.
Jamie pushes a finger inside me. The sensation of being filled with the big, sturdy digit brings me close to the edge; and when he curls it, brushing against a part of me that no one’s ever touched before, I fall over it.
My orgasm crashes through me. The sensation is overwhelming, the intensity of it scrambling my brain. Spasms of bliss wrack my body, and between my legs, Jamie laps up every drop that my release wrings from me.
When I come down, and I can see straight, I realize I was gripping Jamie’s forearms so hard that my fingernails broke skin. The sight of the marks I left on him fills me with an erotic thrill, clearing away some of my post-orgasm brain fog.
From between my legs, Jamie looks at me, my wetness coating his mouth, his hair even messier than before, and a drugged look in his eyes. “Carmen … that was amazing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You think it was amazing? I’m the one who came.”
He smiles, coy but self-conscious. “Well, about that …”
Jamie stands up … revealing a patch of sticky wetness spread across the front of his boxer-briefs.
My jaw drops. “Jamie.” I laugh. “You came in your pants again?”
It’s funny, but it’s still hot as hell for some reason.
There’s not even any shame in his eyes. The look he angles at me is like he’s asking, how could I not? “Feeling you come with your thighs wrapped around my neck was way too fucking hot. What can I say?”
After speaking those words, the outline of his growing cock presses against the sticky spot on his underwear. My jaw drops. Is he kidding me? After blowing his load moments ago, he’s already hard again?
Heat sparks across me. I can’t have him coming in his pants a third time, can I? After he’s given me two orgasms, that would just be selfish. I pull him back onto the bed, onto his back, and sink my fingertips under the waistband of his underwear.
His sharply cut abs dance along his torso as his muscles tighten. “Think you can come again?” I ask slyly.
Lust glints in his eyes. He nods. I think his throat is too clogged to speak. It makes me feel powerful.
I feel the anxious twitching of his muscles as I drag his boxers down the long, muscular columns of his legs.
His cock is … well, fuck it, there’s no other word: it’s breathtaking. Long, thick. The swollen pink head perfectly proportioned. I wrap my hand around the solid base. His length is slick from his own cum, making it easy for me to run my grip up and down his shaft.
My eyes marvel at the way his muscles ripple as I work him. His breathing is ragged, desperate, and when I glide my grip around his swollen tip, grazing my thumb against his opening, he lets out a moan that’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
His hands curl into my sheets. My mouth waters at the sight of his balls tightening.
“I … I …” he’s trying to tell me something, but his choppy breathing keeps him from forming words. Instead, an incoherent jumble of sounds pulls from his throat. But there’s little doubt of what he’s trying to communicate—and with one more slide of my hand up his slick length, it’s confirmed.
He groans, his muscles stiffen, and a strong jet of cum shoots from his cock. It’s hard to believe that after coming just minutes ago, he still has this much left to give, but the irrefutable evidence is covering his abs, my hand, and my sheets.
Part of my motivation for this arrangement was to find out what I like. Well, I liked everything we did tonight. A lot.
I just wonder if that’s because of who I did it with. And I wonder if that should worry me.