Chapter Thirteen November Fourteenth #2
“What... What are we doing?” I’ve read some new books this week, some steamier ones that Louisa at the library recommended, and I know what he’s doing. But I also don’t know how closely books mirror real life. My life and books never had any similarities, unless you count really depressing ones.
“I’m going to kiss every part of my beautiful bride-to-be. Oh. If that’s okay to call you. Wife works, too. Lover. Beautiful pink angel. Whatever makes you happy, baby,” he says, smiling up at me as he leaves a belt of kisses and licks from hipbone to hipbone, each one unhurried.
When his hands grip my bottom, he lifts me, and I cling onto him, falling forward so that I squeal, and then I’m spun in his arms to rest on his bed. He’s above me for a moment, bare chest to bare chest, lips on mine.
This is it. Now, he pushes himself inside of me. I lift my hips, aching inside, eager for this moment, but still a little nervous.
But that’s not what happens. He goes on his wandering trail of kisses again—and this time, he doesn’t just stop at my curls. He nuzzles and burrows my legs apart, kissing all over my folds, finding secret pieces that make me gasp with his roving tongue.
When his tongue touches the hard nub between my legs, I gasp and close my eyes. His fingers have felt so good there, but his tongue—for some reason it’s almost too much.
But I like it.
Artie pushes his glasses off and rests them on my stomach, which makes me laugh in the midst of his exploration. “Yummy,” he sighs, and I relax a little.
“You like?” I whisper.
“Absolutely. Do you?”
“Oh, God, yes. It’s.... It’s really good.
Different than your hand, but not better.
But it feels like—ohh!” I end abruptly when his tongue slides inside of me and his head begins to bounce lightly against me.
Penetrating me with his tongue. Fucking me with it.
It’s small and slippery, and feels like the most wicked pleasure.
When his tongue moves back to my nub, I gasp again, feeling his finger push inside of me.
SHE’S SO TIGHT. HER muscles grip my finger in a stranglehold, even though she’s leaking the sweetest, slightly salty nectar, turning me into a sloppy mess.
And I'm more turned on than I knew was possible. Seeing her all open and up close, pink on pink, spread and writhing on my finger, bucking against my tongue. “So gorgeous. I want to make you come, Imogene. I want to make this night so good for you.” I attack her clit again, sucking the prominent bulge, licking it hard and fast before taking a break to suck hard and deep. I read that it’s good if you give women variety, and that most of their erogenous zone nerve endings are actually external, or right inside the entrance, so that’s what I concentrate on.
Imogene whimpers in a good way when my finger presses in, nice and steady, finding its way home in her soaking heat.
I’m glad I’m just an average guy at the moment, as I think that my size won’t hurt her or even make her feel uncomfortable.
And hopefully, all I’m doing with my mouth and hands will make up for the fact that I’m just Mr. Average, not some huge minotaur or a vampire with no need to stop and take a breath.
“Still comfortable?” I whisper when my lips need a break.
“I want more of you.”
Break is over.
“No, no. Artie... I want to feel you inside of me, too. I’ve been dreaming about being with you like this, almost since I met you.
I’ve been reading books... I’ve been watching the romcoms on our ‘date nights’ this week.
It’s better than living alone in my head, building my imagination and having nothing to fill it with.
” Imogene sits up, my finger still inside of her.
I sit up, too, moving so that my finger keeps rubbing the sweet spot on the inside while my thumb gently rubs over her clit. I love the way her eyes roll back, then close, and for a second she bites her lip and smiles.
Her words don’t stop, just come out in a tone that’s deeper and more breathless. My cock, already rock hard, starts to leak at the sound.
“I never imagined someone like you. Someone so good, so sweet. Someone who would be my best friend. And more. I want to stop imagining. I want to make realities. Memories.” Her body stills, then quivers, and her breath comes out in short, sharp bursts.
I cheer internally, the shy nerd strutting around my head in happy disbelief.
I made this gorgeous goddess come. I made her want me.
Well, that sounds wrong. I want her, and the wanting is mutual?
I don’t know, I’m just elated. Mainly, because Imogene wants to keep going.
It didn’t hurt her. She feels safe with me.
I’m trying to think of how to put all this into words that don’t break the mood or make things awkward—and Imogene pushes me flat on my back. “Honey—”
“You tell me if I’m doing it wrong, okay?”
I don’t get a chance to say okay before my sweet, shy Imogene plants herself across my chest, my legs dangling off the bed, and wraps her mouth around my cock.
“Holy shit!” I gasp.
“No?” Imogene bobs up, panic in her voice.
“No! So good. Oh my God. Immy... I’ve never... The other person I was with did not do this. No one has ever—”
“Oh, but I wanted to! You don’t like it?” Imogene looks at me, and there’s the edge of a pout in her voice.
“I love it!”
“Good!”
She dives back down, mimicking what I was doing to her. Little laps. Big, long sucks. Trying to turn me into a fountain, trying to make my pelvis detach from my spine as my hips arch up on their own.
“I love you,” I moan, hand finding her glossy waves of hair.
“Mmm! I love you, too. And you’re delicious.” Immy lets out a happy sigh—and goes back to devouring.
“You keep doing that, and I’m going to come.”
“That’s good. I came.”
“Yeah, but you might end up with a mouthful.”
“And you can’t make more?”
“I can, I just... I didn’t want to do anything you don’t like. I want to be the person who always does things that make you happy.”
“Well... From the way you taste up here, kind of cocoa-coffee flavored—I think I'll be happy if you come for me.”
I taste like cocoa? And coffee? Man, I need to cut back on the caffeine.
But I can worry about my espresso intake later.
Right now, Imogene is bobbing her head hungrily, making guttural noises that sound not quite human, but all too erotic.
Her hand tightens around the base of my cock, and she drags her tongue up the pulsing vein that runs from balls to tip.
The third time she does it, I’m lost. I let out a muffled cry, remembering at the last minute that we have a baby down the hall, and pop against her tongue.
To my happy surprise, Imogene sucks on me like a straw. I’ve heard her make this noise before—the first time she ever had chocolate hazelnut spread on a waffle. “Good?” I whisper, mildly stunned.
I’ve never come like this in my life.
“Oh! You know what it’s like? Mint and cocoa. Like the hot cocoa mix you got me at the store?”
“There’s no way on earth it tastes like that, baby.”
“Does to me!”
“Then I’m happy. Oh, fuck, I’m so, so happy, Imogene. You have no idea...” I stop talking. Imogene is still sucking. “Honey. It’s empty. I think.”
“Yeah, but this is how I make it hard again, right?”
I’m going to marry this woman. No doubt in my mind. “Bring that pretty pussy up here, then. If you’re getting me ready, I’ll get you ready. Fair is fair.”
Imogene hesitates. “Really?”
“Really, what? Fair is fair? Yes! That’s what friendships and good marriages should be like, helping each other and working out things so that everyone has a fair share of work—or in this case, fun.”
“No, I mean, my p-pussy over your mouth?”
“Oh, hell, yes. In case you didn’t know this—the more of you I get, the closer up I get—the more I like it.”
I FEEL LIKE I’M LIVING out all the sexual fantasies I didn’t even know existed. Decadent, worshipful fantasies, where my lover and I are lost in each other.
My mouth goes everywhere, tasting, teasing, nibbling his hardness, tongue down the seam of his thighs, biting gently across his leg. What’s he doing to me?
I don’t think I’m supposed to sound like that. Like someone slurping up the best pudding in the universe. “I’m getting you all wet,” I whisper, suffering a sudden stab of self-consciousness.
In answer, Artie pushes two fingers inside of me, making my limbs stiffen as my body welcomes the new stretch, the delicious intrusion. “Ohhhh,” I let out a low moan, and begin to rock myself back against him.
Just as I’m comfortable—Artie withdraws. “Immy. Look at me.”
I look back over my shoulder in time to see him sucking the juice off his fingers, his eyes burning into mine.
I wasn’t aware that watching a man suck his fingers could make your insides throb, but it’s a night to learn new things.
“The wetter you are, the happier I am. And usually, wet means you’re happy, too. Right?” His fingers return, gently working and out, picking up the pace when I squeeze down, trying to capture the feelings he gives me. “Right?” Fingers move harder, faster, and I move with him.
“Yes. Oh, yes, Artie...” I move without thinking now, just moving the way my instincts tell me.
I don’t know if all women feel like that. Is it something... monstrous in me? Did I devour Artie in a way that wasn’t normal for human women? Am I prowling up him now, needier than a virgin should be?
Artie doesn’t make me doubt myself. He holds out his arms and cocoons me to his chest, our mouths fused, his hands on my back, and my body does the rest.
He pauses for a second to rip open the little square packet on the side, and his fist moves down his cock, once, twice, three times, and it's on.
I never thought I’d be jealous of Artie’s own hands, but I am. I want every inch of him, particularly those inches.
“It’s safe, babe,” he murmurs, moving his hand back to my side.
I slide my hips against his, and his hardness slides against my slipperiness until it pushes inside, wider than I’ve experienced, not wide enough to hurt.
The stretch is... divine. I almost come on the spot from the little sear of discomfort and then the thick fullness that locks us together. My walls clamp down, and I ride through the waves of stretching and not-quite-smooth friction.
“You’re not hurting me,” I whisper, knowing that’s why Artie’s keeping still.
“Am I making you do all the work? Should I be on top?”
“Do you want to be?” I ask, half-sitting up.
Artie’s eyes drink me in.
You know those cartoons where the pupils turn into hearts?
It’s that kind of look.
“I would stay here and look at this view forever,” Artie says with a gentle shake of his head.
“Same.” I smile down on him. At this angle, the angular features stand out more, and the eyes are more intense. The muscles in his chest are sharp on a thin frame.
“So handsome,” I whisper.
“No. You just love me.”
“No—it’s both.”
When he starts to move back against me, lifting his hips as mine scoot down, it all falls into place.
The pressures inside and outside build as our speed increases, and our kisses stop solely for the sake of my needing to moan and lock my jaw, clenching my teeth as a different kind of climax creeps up my legs and down from my belly, meeting in the middle.
“Fff-uck!” I finally splinter out the word as my body mirrors it, pleasure inside of me crashing and breaking around his cock, walls squeezing, and squeezing, until.... Bliss. An elusive, fleeting bolt of pleasure, and then little shocks that make me judder against him.
He’s right behind me, still moving, and then letting out a sharp grunt as he comes inside of me. None of his cum gets into me thanks to the condom, and I have a split second of regret.
The world needs more babies like Laurel. More dads like Artie. More families like ours.
And I didn’t get any more of the cocoa-and-mint cream Artie makes.
“Immy? Babe, you okay?”
“I didn’t know I could be this wonderful,” I suddenly giggle.
“Yeah?” Artie looks up, beaming as he wipes his forehead.
“I was thinking that you know you’re living a life that makes you truly happy when your brain nitpicks the little things.”
“Oh? Well, tell me. I’m learning, too.” Artie takes my hand, a serious expression taking away the glow of his grin.
“Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, Artie. I was just thinking that it’ll be nice when there’s nothing between us. And that I really, really want some more of that peppermint hot chocolate.”
“You stay there, I’ll make you some.”
“It’s late at night!”
“I don’t care. Nothing is too good for my Imogene.”
My Imogene.
“Stay with me. I like you better than cocoa,” I whisper. “My Artie.”