Chapter Three #3
The question, combined with the way he was looking at me, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. I was still sensitive from our first time, but I wanted more. Wanted to explore everything with him.
"Everywhere?" I suggested.
His grin was downright wicked. "I like how you think."
He warmed the oil in his hands, then started at my shoulders, working it into my skin with firm strokes. The peppermint scent filled the air, and the warming sensation spread across my skin.
"That feels amazing."
He worked lower, over my collarbones, across my chest. When he massaged the oil into my breasts, the warming sensation combined with his touch made me moan.
"Sensitive here," he noted, circling my nipples. Then he leaned down and licked one.
"Oh God."
"You're right. Tastes like candy cane." He did it again, and pleasure shot straight between my legs. "Sweet and minty."
He continued his exploration, oil-slicked hands learning every curve, every dip. When he reached my thighs, he pushed them apart.
"Here too?" His fingers hovered near my center.
"Yes."
Instead of his hand, he dripped the oil directly onto my clit. The warming sensation was immediate and intense, and I gasped.
"Too much?"
"No. Just... intense."
He leaned down, his tongue following the path of the oil, licking and sucking until I was writhing beneath him.
"Sweet," he murmured against me. "Like Christmas candy."
His fingers slipped inside me while his mouth worked my clit, and I was so sensitive, so ready, that I came apart almost immediately.
"That's three," he said when I could breathe again, kissing his way back up my body.
I was satisfied, but there was something else I wanted to try. Something I'd been too shy to suggest but couldn't stop thinking about.
"Can I..." I bit my lip, gathering courage. "I want to try... what you did for me. With my mouth."
His eyes went dark. "You want to go down on me?"
"I don't really know how, but I want to try." I looked up at him. "Will you teach me?"
"Christ, Flannery." He cupped my face. "Yeah. I'll teach you."
He sat on the floor, back against the counter, and I knelt between his legs. Up close, he looked even bigger, and I had no idea where to start.
I reached for the edible oil, still warm from before. "Can I use this?"
"Fuck. Yes."
I dripped some onto him, watching it slide down his length, then leaned forward and licked. The combination of peppermint and salt and him was intoxicating.
"Just like that," he groaned, his hand tangling in my hair. "Use your hand too."
I wrapped my hand around the base of him, then took him into my mouth, trying to remember everything I'd read in those romance novels. Hollow my cheeks. Use my tongue. Watch my teeth.
"Fuck—" His hips jerked slightly. "That's so good. Take what you can, don't force it."
I found a rhythm, using my hand where my mouth couldn't reach, swirling my tongue around the head. The oil made everything slick and sweet, and his reactions guided me—when he groaned, when his grip tightened in my hair, when his breathing changed.
"Flannery—" His voice was strained. "I'm close. You don't have to—"
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "I want to."
"Jesus." His head fell back. "Okay, but if you change your mind—"
I took him back in my mouth, working him faster, and felt him tense.
"Fuck—Flannery—I'm gonna—"
He came with a groan, and I tasted salt and heat and peppermint. It wasn't unpleasant, just different, and the sounds he made—the way he looked at me after like I'd given him something precious—made it worth it.
"Come here," he said roughly, pulling me into his lap. He kissed me deeply, thoroughly. "You're incredible."
We stayed like that for a while, catching our breath. He was softening against my thigh, clearly spent, but I wasn't quite ready to stop exploring.
"There's one more thing I want to try," I said.
He laughed, breathless. "You're gonna need to give me a few minutes, sweetheart. I'm not twenty anymore."
I reached for the small vibrator I'd been too embarrassed to look at closely during inventory. "What if I tried this? While you... recover?"
Interest sparked in his eyes despite his exhaustion. "You want me to watch?"
"I want you to use it on me."
"Fuck." He shifted, getting more comfortable. "Yeah. I can do that."
He turned on the vibrator to the lowest setting, the buzz filling the quiet shop. "Lie back."
I did, spreading out on the blanket, and he settled between my legs, looking at me with an intensity that made me shiver.
"You're so beautiful like this," he said, pressing the vibrator to my inner thigh. "Flushed. Wanting. Tell me where you want it."
"Everywhere," I breathed.
He teased me with it, trailing it up my thigh, across my hip, circling my breasts. When he finally pressed it against my clit, I gasped.
"Too much?"
"No. Perfect."
He worked me with the vibrator, finding the rhythm that made me writhe, while his other hand stroked my breast, pinched my nipple. The combination was overwhelming.
"That's it," he murmured, watching my face. "Show me how good it feels."
The orgasm built fast, concentrated, intense. When it hit, I cried out, my back arching off the floor.
"Beautiful," he said, clicking off the vibrator. "Absolutely beautiful."
I was shaking, thoroughly satisfied, and then I noticed—watching me had affected him. He was hard again, his cock jutting toward me with renewed interest.
"Looks like you recovered," I said, my voice husky.
He glanced down, then back at me with a wicked grin. "Can't help it. Watching you come does things to me."
"Good things?"
"Very good things." He reached for another condom. "You up for one more round?"
"What if we used the vibrator during?" I suggested. "Together?"
His eyes went dark. "You trying to kill me?"
"Maybe."
He rolled on the condom, then pulled me onto his lap, guiding me down onto him. The angle was different, deeper, and I gasped.
"You all right?"
"Yeah. It's just... different."
"Move how you want," he said. "Find what feels good."
I experimented, rocking my hips, finding a rhythm. He let me lead, his hands on my waist, guiding but not controlling.
Then he turned on the vibrator to the lowest setting and pressed it between us, right against my clit.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. I gasped, my rhythm faltering.
"Too much?"
"No. Just... intense."
"Keep moving," he murmured. "Take what you need."
I did, riding him while the vibrator buzzed against my clit, and the combination was incredible. Different from before. More intense.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Use me. Take your pleasure."
The orgasm built fast, concentrated, overwhelming. When it hit, I cried out his name, clenching around him.
He groaned, his hips bucking up into me. "One more time, Flannery. Give me one more."
"I can't—"
"You can." He increased the vibrator's intensity slightly, and pleasure sparked through my oversensitized nerves.
The final orgasm tore through me, sharp and almost too much, and he followed right behind, his whole body tensing as he came with a groan that was half my name, half curse.
"Absolutely beautiful," he said, clicking off the vibrator.
I collapsed against his chest, shaking and thoroughly wrung out. He gathered me close, both of us breathing hard.
"No more," I managed. "I really can't—"
"Shh. We're done. You were amazing."
He found a blanket somewhere—probably from the employee area—and wrapped it around both of us. We settled on the floor behind the counter, me in his lap, both of us exhausted and thoroughly satisfied.
For a long time, we just sat there in silence. His hand stroked my back in lazy circles. The heating system hummed. Outside, the storm was finally easing—the wind dying down, the snow falling more gently instead of the violent swirls from before.
Reality was starting to creep in at the edges.
I'd just had sex. Multiple times. With Shepherd Starr. The single dad whose son I read to every Thursday. The man who'd probably walk out of here in a few hours and go back to his normal life while I went back to mine.
What did this mean? Was it just the storm, the proximity, the strange intimacy of being trapped together? Would he regret it when morning came and he had to pick up Dash, go back to being the responsible rancher and father?
Would I be just another story—the shy librarian who worked at the sex shop, the virgin he'd taken pity on during a blizzard?
My chest tightened with uncertainty.
"Hey." His hand tilted my chin up. "Where'd you go?"
"Just thinking."
"About?"
I couldn't ask. Couldn't voice the fear that this was just tonight, just the moment, just the storm.
"Nothing," I whispered. "Just tired."
He studied my face, and I wondered if he could see right through me. But he just kissed my forehead and pulled me closer.
"Get some rest," he said softly. "Storm should be over by morning."
By morning.
When the roads would be clear.
When we'd have to leave this bubble and face the real world.
When I'd find out if tonight meant everything or nothing at all.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what would happen when the sun came up.