16. Super Chill
SUPER CHILL
brETT
Oh, shit.
Okay. This is obviously a trick question because it doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to have sex, but I can handle this.
Don’t ruin all the good decision making you did just because you’re getting a hard-on.
Chelsea worries that plump bottom lip of hers between her teeth, and I take a step back from temptation.
“I guess I thought…” She blows out a breath. “I mean, I might have misread the subtext, but I guess I thought this was kind of a Netflix and chill situation.”
Blood surges to my cock at the realization that she wants me.
“But the Netflix ended over an hour ago, and I’ve been waiting for the and chill to kick in. But you haven’t made a move. And now you’re leaving. So I was just wondering…”
She licks her lips. It’s more nervous than sexy, but it goes straight to my gut anyway.
“Was it the sweatpants? Because I considered ditching them before I came in with the popcorn, but I totally chickened out. I thought it might be too... blatant.”
That’s it. The exact moment all my good intentions take a direct hit. Dead on impact. I’m a goner.
And I’m about to get laid.
“Actually, ditching the sweatpants would have helped. Drawstrings are tricky and I’m working with an injured hand.”
In a shameless sympathy grab, I hold it out so she can see my roughed-up knuckles.
She doesn’t disappoint, cradling my hand in both of hers, and the skin-on-skin contact jacks up my heart rate.
“I’m not sure if the highlight reel fully captured the epicness of the battle, but the guy I was fighting slammed his face into my fist several times.”
When she looks up from my hand, her blue eyes sparkle with fake compassion. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, it stings pretty bad.”
Her sympathetic moue is a nice touch, and I bite back a smile.
“A lot of guys in my position would have opted for a Band-Aid, maybe two.”
“You’re so brave.” Chelsea lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles, and even though we’re kidding around, it makes me realize just how long it’s been since I had someone to share my day with.
She shimmies her sweatpants down the thighs that have been haunting my dreams. Her panties are red. “If only there was something I could do to make you feel better.”
“Funny you should mention that, because I’ve got a couple ideas. I’m probably gonna need some help with my tie though.”
Chelsea steps close, reaching for the loosened Windsor knot, biting her lip with concentration and driving me wild as she tugs it off.
“And my shirt.”
When she starts on the buttons, I’m lost. She holds the power to completely undo me, and for some reason, I can’t help but let her.
Before I know it, I’m sitting naked on her couch, hard as a pike and trying not to come as she rolls a condom over my cock.
“How’s that hand doing?”
I stare up at her, standing mostly clothed between my legs. “Still sore.”
She shoots me a shy smile as she inches her panties down over her hips.
This Chelsea is a revelation to me. Still sweet and sexy, but with none of the bravado of our previous encounter. I like that she’s dropped the act almost as much as I like that she’s wearing nothing but a Wolfpack T-shirt.
“And I’m cured. You’re a great nurse,” I compliment, grabbing her hand and tugging her forward until she’s straddling me on the couch.
“I took a first aid course once. And practice makes perfect.”
I wrap my hands around the backs of her thighs, jerking her forward so the soft, wet heat of her pussy is snug against my cock. We both moan at the contact.
“Well, if there’s a chance in hell this can get more perfect, feel free to practice all over me.”
She’s laughing when I catch her mouth with mine. I kiss her deep and slow until Chelsea tightens her arms around my neck and melts into me. When we finally come up for air, she looks as dazed as I feel.
“I’ve been waiting all night for you to kiss me,” she confesses softly, in direct contrast to how hard her words make me.
Jesus. I can’t get enough of her.
I run my hands up under her shirt, tracing the soft, smooth skin of her back inch by inch—I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra—until I have her all the way naked.
“God, I want you,” I growl, abs tight with need as I lean forward to press a kiss between her gorgeous tits.
She makes a move to get off my lap, to lie back on the couch, but I shake my head and grab her hips, anchoring her right where she is and grinding against her. It’s so good it hurts, and I’m not even inside her yet.
“I want you over top of me so I can watch your face while you come.”
I shift so I’m the one on my back, pulling her with me.
Everything’s perfect. The gentle sway of her breasts as she settles her knees on either side of my hips, the pressure of her palms as she braces them on my chest, her hair falling around her face as her body exerts the most mind-blowing pressure against my cock.
My lungs burn with the effort of holding back, but before I can slip inside her, she says, “You have a beautiful body.”
Her words still me.
“I could kind of tell in the bar, but when I finally got your clothes off? You were just so perfect. Your arms, your chest, your abs. Your thighs.” She scrapes her nails over each part of my anatomy as she names it.
“I’ve never been with anyone so physical before. It’s really sexy.”
The topic of conversation, though flattering, is so beyond my comprehension that I forget about my raging erection for a minute.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry, should I not have said that?” She looks down at me, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just… wanted to tell you that I think you’re gorgeous. That your body turns me on.”
I run a hand down my face, unable to suppress an embarrassed chuckle, hoping to God I’m not blushing. “You know I’m a sure thing, right? You don’t have to say nice stuff to get in my pants when my pants are already on the floor.”
She tips her head to the side. “You don’t like when women give you compliments?”
Truth is, women never do. Not the women I usually hang out with, anyway.
Aside from the bullshit sex stuff—“That’s right, baby, you’re so big and hard.
You fill me up so good,”—but I never deluded myself into believing that was anything but porn talk, the kind of shit people say when they’re fucking a stranger.
“You make me feel sexy. It wasn’t like this with... before.”
Like my mind isn’t already blown, she reaches between us, and if I thought the grip of her hand was good, it’s eclipsed by the tight, wet heat of her as she sinks down my length.
The kind of flawless friction that has me cursing the condom and fighting for control.
There’s a seriousness to the moment I’ve never experienced before as we stare at each other.
“I wanted you in that alcove. Part of me didn’t even care if we got caught. And that’s not like me. I do the right thing. The thing that’s expected of me. But you make me want to take risks.”
They’re not the sex words I’m used to, but they have me as hard as steel because they’re for me, not words that she says to anyone.
She starts to move, working her hips in a sensual rhythm that has me on the edge in seconds. I just want to explode inside her, but my pride won’t let me go over without her. Not after everything she just...
No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. Not like that. Not like it meant something. Like I meant something.
I reach forward, pressing my thumb against her clit while she rides me, vindicated by the stutter of her hips, the way my touch messes up her rhythm, overbalances her so she falls forward and has to brace her hands against my chest.
“Let me give you this.” I don’t know why I say it. Or why my voice sounds so... weird. Kind of like I’m begging? Definitely like there’s something in my throat.
I move my thumb again, and her gasp is about the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
It’s stupid, but it’s the only way I can think of to thank her. For tonight. The movie. The popcorn. The sex. The stuff she said. All of it.
She keeps her hands on me when she starts to rock, her fingers curling against my pecs as she finds a gear she likes. Her eyelids flutter shut as I set the movement of my thumb to complement her pace.
I can’t look away. The cascade of brown hair flirting with her bare shoulders, the sway of her breasts, the way she bites her lip as her hips grow restless—everything about her makes me ache.
“Brett.”
I swallow at the sheer perfection of hearing her say my name while I’m buried deep inside her. Our first time was hot, no doubt, but this time…
This time she’s with me.
I lift my pelvis, pushing deeper inside her and taking over the rhythm.
I can’t resist it—this need to be closer to her, deeper inside her—and she doesn’t seem to mind too much when I increase the pressure of my hand to match our new rhythm.
Her breath gets choppy, and I revel in her short, panting gasps.
She comes apart with a cry, her head thrown back, fingernails scraping my skin as she melts all over me like sugar in the rain. I can’t hold out a second longer. My hips buck and I come so hard, I’m not completely sure I don’t black out for a second.
I’m breathing like I just finished an end-to-end rush, and she’s panting just as hard, eyes still closed, like she’s savoring the moment. I am, too, trying to hold on to how good it all was, but there’s one thing missing.
I curl my hands around her thighs. “Hey, Chels?”
She looks at me, the smile curving her lips warm like sunshine, as though she likes it when I say her name. “Yeah?”
Maybe, just maybe, feelings aren’t so bad.
“Kiss me.”
I’m still inside her when she leans forward to oblige me, and I run my palms up her back, holding her close as her tongue teases mine and our legs tangle together.
And just like that, I’m right back to nice and happy to be there.