Chapter Twenty-Two Getaway #2
He carefully put his hand inside my jeans.
I didn’t need to say anything. He could tell I wasn’t that hard.
It was embarrassing, actually. With women, whenever it was go time, I was fully ready.
I wanted him so badly too, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but the trip, the stress, the exhaustion from working long hours, and knowing he’d never seen that part of me before were all too much. I closed my eyes.
He didn’t seem to take it personally. He started feeling me up, stroking me slowly, and it felt fucking amazing, and I realized he didn’t expect me to do anything but relax and enjoy it.
“Okay, Craig?”
“Yeah.”
I felt his tongue roll over the head of my dick, slowly.
He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and suddenly, I didn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings because he was giving me the best head I’d ever gotten.
And not just because it was him, but also, yeah, because it was him.
I reached for his hand and held it. He put his mouth around me and started working his tongue, and I tried to hold on, but I didn’t last long.
I wasn’t quiet either, and he knew, and he took me all the way in, and I squeezed his hand so hard when I shot.
His other hand was holding my waist, and he stroked me with his thumb all through the comedown, and I was making these stupid little sounds and shaking. I couldn’t help it.
Then he slipped off me, smooth and slow, his mouth tight enough for me to feel it. I pulled on his hand, and he got up and straddled me, and then he kissed me, and I held onto him, and that felt even better than getting blown by him.
“Fuck. That was the best blow I ever had.”
“Thanks,” he said. “You’re a pretty easy blow.”
“It didn’t feel like work?”
“No.”
––––––––
I didn’t sleep much that night. I was too excited.
This time tomorrow, we’d be engaged. I kept running the proposal speech through my head.
I’d destroyed the only copy so he wouldn’t accidentally find it, which made me freak out, because if I forgot part of it, I’d be stuck.
I kept nodding off and dreaming I was proposing, and in the middle of my speech, I forgot what I was going to say, and I woke up in a panic.
Finally, it started to get light. I eased away from him carefully so I wouldn’t wake him, and I had a shower and put on my new jeans and went to the kitchen to cook us breakfast. I was tired, but not so tired I didn’t know where my spatula was.
I made bacon and fried bread. The smell probably woke him up, because a couple minutes after the pan started sizzling, he came into the kitchen, looking groggy and fucking hot.
“Hey, honey kid.” I put the spatula down, pulled him into a hug, and kissed him. I kept holding him. He was all warm and rumpled from bed.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“Couldn’t sleep. I was too excited for the trip. Everything’s ready. We just need to eat, then you can hop in the shower, and we can go.”
I let him go and picked up my spatula. He sat at the table.
“Are those new jeans?” he said.
I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t act for shit. “Yeah, I got them for the trip.”
“You look hot in them.”
Then I blushed, which was fucking embarrassing, so I pretended to be focused on putting bacon onto a plate, which meant he was staring at my ass, which made me even more self-conscious.
“That a new shirt too?” he said.
“It’s old new. I haven’t worn it since we started seeing each other. I found it in the back of the closet when I was packing.”
It was a long-sleeve, black-and-white shirt. One of my ex-girlfriends bought it for me because she thought I looked cute in black and white. Guess she wasn’t the only one.
I filled the plate with bacon and bread, brought it to the table, and sat down.
I’d just put the plate down when he leaned over and put his hand on my thigh.
I wasn’t expecting that. I laughed. He didn’t.
Then he leaned in and kissed me, which I was up for.
He moved his hand up and cupped me, and I nearly jumped out of my chair.
“You don’t want to shoot in those brand-new jeans do you?” he said with a calculating smile.
I tried to say “no,” but it came out sounding funny, and the next thing I knew, he’d unzipped me and got down between my legs. And then, right there in the kitchen, he blew me.
I tried to hold on longer this time. Pride, you know? I wasn’t doing it to make it harder for him. I did it so I wouldn’t seem so pathetically easy. I had to hold on to the kitchen table, and I tried to keep quiet, but I’m only human.
He held me in his mouth for a long time afterward, and I stroked his cheek, rasping with stubble. Have you ever felt almost crippled from loving someone so much?
When he let me go, I slumped back in my chair. I felt weak everywhere. He stood up, and he held me, and I rested my head on his stomach.
“Two blow jobs in two days,” I said. “You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve it.”
“How come?”
“For making breakfast. For those jeans, that shirt, that haircut.” He nudged me back and looked into my eyes. “For being so fucking sexy.”
Then he kissed me, and I laughed into his mouth, because I was so happy.
Then we ate breakfast. Afterward, while he was in the shower, I gathered the tin of brownies and yesterday’s leftovers from the fridge to take to the car.
For the twentieth time, I checked that the ring was still zipped into my coat pocket.
He came out of the bathroom dressed, with his hair still wet. He put on his jacket and backpack.
“You got a hat and gloves?” I said, because I’d never seen him wear any.
“No.”
“It’s gonna be cold. You’ll need them. I have extras.” I got a knitted beanie and a pair of gloves out of my bedroom closet and handed them to him. “Bet I sound like your mother.”
“You don’t sound like my mother. You actually give a fuck.”
“Then who made sure you were warm enough in the winter when you were a kid?”
“I just got cold.”
I thought I knew him, but I kept tripping over things I didn’t know. I pictured him as a little kid shivering outside with nobody caring, and I felt so angry at his parents. I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight. “You’re never gonna be cold again, honey kid. Not on my watch.”
“Sure,” he said, patting my back lightly.
I went through the apartment, dropped some slow-release fish food into the aquarium, checked that the lights were off and the windows locked, then double-checked the front door lock as we went out.
In the parking garage, I gave him the food to hold and got in on the driver’s side, because no way was he going to drive. I looked for some music to play.
“Not ‘Jackpot’,” he said. “Please.”
“What’s wrong with ‘Jackpot’?”
“You play it all the time when you tap.”
“If we’re making Road Rules, no distracting the driver when we’re on the road.”
“What about when he’s in the parking garage?”
“That’s perfectly fine.”
We looked at each other, and next thing, we were kissing. He unfastened his seatbelt and leaned into me, and I slid my hands inside his jacket and felt him up. Things were getting heated, plus, we were in a parking garage. I made myself let him go.
“We should stop. Or we’re both gonna need a cleanup in aisle D, if you know what I mean.” I did not want to have to have another shower.
His hands were still on me, though. “I don’t want to stop yet.”
“Okay. One more kiss.”
That kiss lasted a couple of minutes. If we’d been back in the apartment, no way we would have stopped there, but I had to pull back.
“We really have to go now. When we get to the cottage, we can fuck.”
When I said it, I realized it was going to happen, and I freaked out.
I’d been so focused on packing and proposing I hadn’t had time to get nervous until now.
I put my seatbelt back on and started the car.
My heart was pounding. I was holding the steering wheel, but I could still feel him in my hands.
When I glanced at him, he was looking at me with that knowing expression.
“Shit,” I said. “I forgot to buy condoms.” I’d remembered everything else. How could I have forgotten that?
“Got some in my backpack,” he said. “And lube.”
“We’re really gonna do this, huh?”
“You excited?”
“Yeah. But nervous too, actually.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I figured we’d do it at the cottage, so ever since you planned this trip, it’s been fucking distracting me.”
“What’s it like?”
“Imagine the best sex you’ve ever had.”
“Like my first time with you?”
“Yeah, only I’ll be inside you.”
“Fuck.” I hadn’t thought in terms of enjoying it. More like doing something so I could be with him in a different, more serious way.
“Don’t go off the road,” he said.
“I won’t go off the road. I might go off if you keep talking like that, though.”
“You started it,” he said.
“And you picked it up and ran with it.”
“I didn’t get off this morning. Am I supposed to sit next to you in this car and not think about fucking you? How much longer till we get there?”
“Three hours. Then we gotta get groceries.”
Without taking my eyes off the road, I reached over, found his hand, and held it.
“Want me to drive?” he said.
“You’re in charge at the cottage. I’m in charge in the car.”
“Whatever you want,” he said.
“I like the way you hold hands.” I wiggled my thumb between his fingers. “I never met anyone who held hands like that.”
“I thought that was a you thing,” he said.
“No, it’s not a me thing.”
He shrugged. “Guess it’s just the way we hold hands.”
I smiled. “So, it’s an us thing.”
He squeezed my thumb.
I focused on driving, but after a while, I noticed he’d gone quiet.
“You okay?” I said.