Chapter 3
Wendy Ann
T his is happening.
It’s really happening, and God, I want it to keep happening.
The way he squeezes my backside as he kisses me, the way his tongue curls around my nipple, sending shock waves of hunger coursing across every inch of my skin…he makes me want him like I’ve never wanted anything or anyone before.
But the way he kisses me is also the sweetest, sexiest, most honest kiss I’ve ever experienced. And the way he checks in with me every few minutes to make sure I’m still on-board with what we’re doing goes straight to my heart. This man is a truly good man, and as such, he deserves the same goodness and honesty from me.
So, even though I want to let his hand continue its journey down the front of my panties without saying a word, I force myself to whisper, “Dark matter.”
To his further credit, he pulls his hand away and lifts it into the air almost instantly. “Too much?”
I shake my head, my entire body protesting the fact that he isn’t touching me anymore. “No, it’s just that… There’s something I should tell you before this goes any further.”
His breath rushes out as he nods. “Sure. Of course. What’s on your mind?”
“I…” I bite my bottom lip, feeling ridiculous, but if he’s really the man I think he is, he won’t judge me for being the oldest virgin in Minnesota. “I’ve never had sex before.”
He blinks. “What?”
“I’ve never had sex before.’
He blinks again. “You mean on the first date?”
“No, I mean ever,” my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’ve had boyfriends and made out with those boyfriends, but our clothes never came off and I never…” I clear my throat, wincing at the stunned expression on his face. “I know. It’s weird. I’m weird.”
“You’re not, I just…” He shakes his head. “I just… I can’t…” He swallows with obvious effort. “You’re so fucking sexy, Wendy Ann. And once we started kissing, you seemed so comfortable, I never would have guessed.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Really? I’m not doing it all wrong?”
His eyes widen. “No. Hell, no. You’re…” His gaze skims down to my bare breasts and back up again. “You’re amazing, and I want to keep touching you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.”
“Then touch me,” I say, reaching for his hand and guiding it back to the top of my panties.
“I want to, believe me, but…I think we should wait,” he says, even as his fingers slip beneath my waistband, making my breath come faster. “That way you can take some time, think it over without all the hormones clouding your thoughts. And if you still want me to be your first tomorrow night…”
“Then you’ll ravage me properly?” I ask, arching into his touch with a moan as he slips a finger inside me. “Oh God, Connor, that feels so good.”
“So good,” he agrees, gliding in and out, stretching my inner walls in a way that makes me ache for him even more.
“We can keep going,” I say, rocking into his touch. “I’m on the pill and I have a condom in my purse.”
“Tomorrow. I just want to know you’re sure, and then I’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, beautiful,” he promises, kissing me hard and deep, as he continues to move his fingers inside me, deeper, harder, until I’m trembling and clinging to his shoulders.
“This doesn’t feel like stopping,” I breathe. “Not that I’m complaining but?—”
“I just want to make you come first,” he says, hunger in his voice again. “I want to feel you coming all over my fingers, Wendy Ann. I want to hear the sounds you make when you lose control.”
“I don’t think…” I gasp, nails digging into his muscles as his thumb begins to circle my clit in time with his thrusts. “I don’t think I m-make sounds.”
“No?” he asks, kissing a searing trail down my throat. “You don’t think?”
“I never have before,” I say, the words ending in a moan as his mouth locks around my nipple. “Oh God. That feels…”
“Good?” he asks as he kisses his way over to my other breast.
“So good,” I pant, my hands flitting from his face to his shoulders to his strong chest, not sure where to land.
“That was a sound, by the way,” he says, flicking his tongue over my sensitized skin, summoning a soft choked noise from the back of my throat. “And there was another.”
“Trying to make me sing?” I ask, the feeble attempt at a joke ending in a whimper as he adds a second finger and the tension rising inside becomes a storm rushing toward shore.
“To make you scream,” he whispers, and then, with just a few more talented thrusts of his hand, he does.
I come clawing at his skin and crying out his name, writhing beneath him like a wild creature totally in tune with her body, her pleasure. The waves wrench on and on, clenching and releasing, vibrating into every cell until I’m boneless and spent.
Afterward, I lie beneath him, catching my breath, as he presses a soft kiss to my forehead that warms me all over again.
“I’m not a brain in a jar, after all,” I murmur, making him exhale a soft laugh as he pulls back, gazing down at me in the semi-darkness.
“A brain in a jar?”
“That’s what my sister calls me,” I tell him. “Binx says I’m a brain in a jar, divorced from feelings and sensation.”
He frowns. “That’s…unkind.”
I give a weary shake of my head, amazed that even my always-tight neck feels loose and relaxed. “No, it’s not. She says it with love.” I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “And besides, it’s true. Or…it was true.” I let my fingers glide up his shoulders to loop around his neck. “That was amazing.”
He smiles. “It was my pleasure. You’re beautiful when you’re coming for me.”
I nibble my bottom lip, suddenly shy, but also…determined. Because I bet he’ll be beautiful when he’s coming for me, too.
I reach down, letting one hand curl around the hard, molten length of him. The skin covering his erection is velvety soft and delightful against my fingertips, but not nearly as delightful as the thought of him losing control because of me.
Because of the way I make him ache and burn…
“You don’t have to,” he whispers, but his breath is already coming faster and the fond look in his eyes is growing hungry again.
“I know, I don’t,” I whisper back. “I want to.” I tighten my grip a little, giving his length an experimental stroke from base to tip. “I want to hear your sounds.”
He emits a soft groan. “Your touch feels so good.”
“Good?” I ask, studying his handsome face as I stroke him again. “I want to give you more than good. Show me how to make it great?”
“I don’t have to show you, you?—”
“Yes, you do,” I cut in. “I’m a late bloomer, remember?”
His eyes widen slightly. “You’ve never done this, either?”
I shake my head. “No. I told you, clothes never came off with my other boyfriends. Yours is the first one I’ve seen in real life.” I fight a grin before adding, “But I’m already pretty sure he’s the best.”
“And he’s already pretty sure he’s madly in love with you. Come here,” he says, making me giggle as we roll across the bed.
Soon, he’s on his back and I’m hovering above him, watching his face do wonderfully sexy things as he teaches me how to work his body the way he worked mine. Turns out, I can grip him much more firmly than I anticipated.
Firmer and faster…
I work him up and down, gathering the slickness from the tip of him to keep the friction from becoming too much, shocked to find that touching him is nearly as arousing as being touched. My breath speeds and my nervous system lights up as his hips buck into the air, thrusting once more into my slick grip before coming with sharp pulses that feel delicious beneath my hand. Even the hot fluid that slides down his stomach to coat my knuckles is more erotic than I expected.
It’s not a mess, it’s?—
Well, it is a mess, but it’s…
“It’s a sexy mess,” I murmur, running a fingertip through his release, smearing it around his firm abs.
He laugh-sighs as he brushes his hair back from his forehead. “Glad you think so. I certainly think your mess is pretty sexy.”
The words make my cheeks heat as I become very aware of the slickness hot on my thighs. A part of me wants to ask if it’s normal to get turned on by giving him pleasure, but decide it’s a silly question.
Who cares if it’s normal? It’s wonderful.
This entire night has been wonderful.
“I think you’re sexy,” he adds, reaching up to cup my face in his hand. “I’m already looking forward to tomorrow night.”
“Me, too,” I say, leaning down to steal a kiss, finding his lips somehow even more delightful than they were a few minutes ago. I just feel so…close to him. And I only want to get closer.
“Think you might want to sleep over?” he murmurs as he smooths my hair from my face. “I could make a fancy breakfast in the morning. For a man who spent over a decade eating cafeteria food, I’m a decent cook.”
I let out a soft sigh against his lips. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Beat you at chess?” he says. “I’ve been thinking about the board, and you’re right. You’re going to beat me in two.”
I pull back, laughing. “You were thinking about chess while we were in bed?”
He looks adorably guilty. “No, not the entire time. Just during the last part, to try to make it last longer. You were just so gorgeous, hovering over me like a sexy angel of mercy, I had to do something, or I wouldn’t have lasted five seconds.”
I shake my head, but I’m still grinning as I say, “Fine, but you still have to finish the game. It’s no fun unless I get to physically move my queen in for the slaughter.”
He hums low in his throat. “Slaughter? I wouldn’t say it was a bloodbath, woman. I held my own, and I’ll beat you next time. No doubt in my mind.”
I slide out of bed, heading for the bathroom to wash my hands, feeling strangely unselfconscious about being completely nude in front of a man for the first time.
But then, the way Connor looks at me makes it clear he thinks I look just fine without any clothes on. Better than fine. He looks at me like I’m the sexiest, most captivating thing he’s ever seen, and for the first time in my life, I understand why women waste so much time fussing with their hair and makeup.
As I wash up, I think maybe I’ll ask Mel to help me with my makeup tomorrow night, too, before our second date. Though I have a feeling Connor wouldn’t care if I showed up in my usual summer overalls and a swipe of cherry lip gloss. He enjoys more about me than my looks, a fact he proves by talking me into another game of chess, clearly as reluctant for the night to end as I am.
We end up playing two more games, chatting nonstop about our favorite philosophers, the modern crisis of attention, and what the word “attention” really means. Is attention a cup we hold between us for the things we love and value, waiting for it to be filled, or a force we exert upon the outside world to prove we’re autonomous beings in control of our destiny?
By the time we’ve delved deep into our various thoughts on the subject, I’m not sure what I think about attention anymore, but I’m positive that I love giving my attention to this man.
And that I wish I could give him more.
More of my attention.
More of my time.
More of my body and my kisses and the sighs I’ve only ever made for him.
But we only have another…sixty hours before he leaves.
As I make my way up the path to my apartment building after Connor drops me off far later than I expected to be out, even on a wedding night, I vow to make the most of those hours.
Every single one.