7. 7
7
Dexter
I honestly didn’t think she’d call.
Those blue eyes, even with the thin glaze of desire, had been wary and skeptical. I could tell dating didn’t come easily for her, and a man coming on to her wasn’t something she was used to.
I don’t understand why not for either.
And I want to understand.
I should just want to fuck her, because that’s what this will be—one night where we both get to enjoy ourselves, no strings. Not anything else.
The first time I slept with a woman who I’d just met was a strange experience. Physically, it was great—truly amazing, since she had been the most uninhibited woman I’d ever been with—but emotionally, I was left with an emptiness I didn’t understand. I’d been with plenty of women before, and while there had been times when I wasn’t able to share the closeness after making love, there at least had been intimacy. There had been a kiss goodbye, a long hug, a promise to see them soon.
There was an emotional attachment.
One-night stands don’t have that. Hookups are just that—hooking up to relieve the physical release.
Maybe I read too much romantic literature to be satisfied with just the physical.
I should be fine with it, but it’s been a while since I’ve had more than one night and I miss the strings.
She—Tilly—texted about thirty minutes after she left, after I’d just paid our bar tab and Max was finishing the last of the pitcher. I’m glad she did because I’ve been hard since I touched her, which isn’t a good thing when you’re having beers with your friend.
I don’t say anything to Max about where I’m going, since I’m not one for kissing and telling.
Usually because the women I’m kissing are students and telling more people who already know will undoubtedly land me in hot water.
But this one—Tilly—is older. Definitely not a student.
Her place isn’t too far away from the bar.
“Would you like a drink?” Tilly asks after she lets me into her apartment. It’s bigger than mine, neat and tidy with neutral walls and furniture livened up with colourful pillows and paintings. There are a lot of books.
I like books. I take that as a good sign.
Her place looks like her.
There is evidence of children—pictures of two blonde girls on the shelves, a pair of small-sized slippers beside a chair, an art set with a Tupperware full of pencil crayons on the dining room table.
I don’t know how I feel about that. I’ve never dated a woman with children before.
And then I remind myself this isn’t dating. I’m here for sex.
She called me for sex.
I wonder how old she is? Where are her kids? There are enough pictures of the girls with Tilly to suggest that she was telling the truth, and there is no husband around.
The older one looks like her—same blue eyes, same smile. The younger one has her soft expression, like she’s a little timid about the world.
“Sure. Thanks.” I suspect getting me a drink will give Tilly something to do because she looks like she’s about to jump out of her skin. And it’s making me even more nervous than I already am.
Guys get nervous about sex, too.
Tilly is still wearing the blue dress, but her blonde hair is pulled back like she was about to wash her face. I watch her hips move under her dress as she heads to the kitchen.
This is the awkward part.
Do we just go at it? Should I talk to her first, ask her about herself? What about kissing? What about protection? Should I take off my clothes while she’s in the kitchen?
I am so bad at this.
Tilly returns with a beer. In a glass. She hands it to me, being careful that our hands don’t touch, and then she puts a coaster on the coffee table.
“I don’t drink a lot of beer,” she admits, sounding more apologetic than the situation calls for. “I don’t know if you like that kind.”
“Beer is beer,” I tell her before I take a mouthful. It takes like Stella, so I take another.
“Like sex is sex,” Tilly says, and I almost spit out my mouthful. “I don’t know why I said that.” Her cheeks are flushed and the film of desire I saw in her eyes at the bar has vanished.
This might not work out the way I hoped it would.
“It’s always good to talk about sex,” I manage.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Tilly confesses. “Inviting you here. I’ve never done that before. I don’t do that. I don’t…” She fists her hands, staring at the floor.
“That’s cool.” I drain half of the beer and set the glass on the coaster. “I don’t either.”
“You do so,” she accuses. “You practically seduced me in the hallway outside the bathroom, feet away from the guy I was on a date with.”
“That was a first for me.” I drift closer, not wanting to frighten her even more, but the pull toward her is pretty intense, despite her uneasiness. “Usually, I go into the bathroom to my seducing.”
Tilly stares at me, her lips parting. Her lipstick has been wiped clean, or maybe it’s been kissed off by that guy—
No. She wouldn’t do that with him, and then me. Besides, I saw her leave, and he was still sitting at the table, so no kissing. “That was a joke.”
She hunches her shoulders. “See? I’m so bad at this.”
I take a step closer, grateful that she doesn’t move away, and reach around and pull the clip from her hair, letting it tumble around her shoulders. “Pretty.” I take a few strands between my fingers. “Tilly. Is that short for something?”
She’s still staring. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to make you comfortable enough to kiss me.”
Tilly presses her lips together like they’re about to betray her. “Is that it?”
“It’s whatever you want. This is your call. I’m just here to… worship.”
Her eyes darken and there it is—the lust I saw earlier. The desire. I let my hand fall onto her shoulder, stroking the soft skin.
She closes her eyes with a shiver.
“Is that what you want?” I ask in a quiet voice. “For me to worship you? To do whatever I like to make you happy?”
The tip of her tongue peeks out and she runs it over her bottom lip. I follow its trail with my finger. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
A nod; quick and eager.
“Or do you want me to kiss somewhere else?”
Her eyes flash open with surprise. A pause, and she nods again. That’s all the encouragement—or consent—that I need. “Whatever you want,” I tell her as I drop to my knees on the carpet.
There’s a gasp, but she’s not stopping me.
I’ve been with women who need me to take the lead. I’d rather be the one to call the shots. But I will always respect a woman’s decision, even when I’m so hard that all I can think about is getting inside her.
I bunch up the hem of Tilly’s dress and guide her hand to it. “Hold this, please.” And then I’m faced with pink satin covering heaven on Earth.
I kiss her through the satin, wetting the fabric with my tongue. Her scent is intoxicating—sweet and musky. “I need to taste you,” I mutter.
When I glance up, Tilly’s eyes are half-closed and she’s nodding. I wonder, whoever her husband was, if he knew how to treat her like she deserved.
Gently… but only until she asks for more.
I peel Tilly’s panties down her hips, down her legs, and help her step out of them.
Every woman has her own shape. Hips that flare out, or so narrow that she seems breakable. Breasts are always different. A woman’s ass isn’t like any other woman’s ass.
My hands are on Tilly’s ass as I slide my tongue through her folds.
I don’t understand men who don’t want to do this all day, every day. Touching a woman like this—touching Tilly—in her most intimate spot is a heady experience. Hearing her breath catch in her throat, pants turning to soft moans, cries of pleasure—
Tilly isn’t making any noise at all.
The room is silent, other than the soft sounds of my tongue moving against her. I groan, and Tilly shudders.
I glance up again, keeping my tongue pressed against her—I do have an above-average length tongue, or so I’ve been told. Tilly’s eyes are closed, her lips pressed tightly together.
“I want to hear you.”
Her eyes fly open and she looks down, almost as if she can’t believe I’m still there. I squeeze her ass—it’s as glorious as I hoped it would be.
My cock hardens with every taste of her. Her breath deepens as I slowly circle that nub of sensations; her hand moves to clutch at my hair as I flick my tongue against her as quick as I can, frantic to give her more.
As I kiss and lick and suck, a breathless, “Yes,” escapes, sounding nothing like Tilly’s voice.
“Is this what you like?” I demand, my mouth still pressed against her. “Tell me.”
I draw my tongue against her, circling again, before taking her in my mouth to suck.
She gasps.
I do it again, and again, and Tilly’s hips press forward as she shudders.
I think she’s close.
Her legs begin to shake as she rocks her hips against my mouth. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, yes, yes…”
I growl deep in my throat, one hand on her ass, the other gripping her hip to keep her pressed against me. My cock is so hard it’s painful.
Another suck and Tilly grips my hair with a whimper, just as she comes into my mouth.
I stay where I am until the shaking stops. When I finally lean back, I see the expression of bewilderment on her face.
I stand and lift her into my arms. “Bedroom,” I demand.
I need more of this.
More of her.