Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Aaron
When I get back into her room, lotion in hand, I freeze for a second, almost dropping the lotion at the sight of the expanse of bare skin laid out just for me.
Yes, it’s just her back, but we’ve only exchanged a few kisses before now.
While part of me wants to just rip the rest of her clothes off and get right to the main event, the other part of me—the part that’s in charge—wants to make sure this is good for both of us.
That we’re not rushing into anything we’re not ready for yet.
When she took off her sweater and froze, I could tell she was feeling uncertain, like she wasn’t sure how to get from where we were—making out in the kitchen—to the clear conclusion I thought we were both aiming for—naked in bed.
I don’t know if it’s that she needs more time to warm up, to feel connected, or if it’s just first-time-with-a-new-partner jitters. Or maybe she doesn’t normally have sex this quickly in a relationship.
I don’t know much about her relationship history other than the fact that her last boyfriend was kind of a dick and they were together for several years.
But based on her lack of comments about it, I get the feeling that she’s never had a casual hook-up or a one-night-stand.
Which tracks with the way she stopped once we got into her room.
Someone who’s had several hook-ups would probably have just started stripping before attacking me again—at least that’s been my experience in the past.
I’m good with taking this slow, though. If we don’t actually have sex today, I won’t be upset. Maybe a liiiiitttle disappointed, but that’s just because I’m so fucking turned on right now.
Hell, who wouldn’t be with a gorgeous woman waiting for you to give her a good rubdown?
She has her head pillowed on her hands, facing me as I come into the room.
Her dark hair spills around her shoulders, and she smiles softly when I pause in the doorway, just taking her in.
When she raises an eyebrow, I realize I’ve frozen in place for too long, and I cross to the bed, setting the lotion on the side table after pumping some into my hand.
Rubbing my hands together to warm up the lotion, I climb on the bed, realizing again that doing this from the side is not very comfortable. “Is it okay if I straddle you?” I ask, keeping my voice low, not wanting to break the relaxed atmosphere we’ve created.
“Yeah. Go for it,” she whispers back.
Carefully, I place a knee on either side of her, and she moves her legs as close together as she can to help me out.
The top of her leggings comes up to her natural waist, covering the lowest part of her back, meaning I won’t be able to get down as far as I’d like for a good massage.
But … I can broach that issue when I get there.
I settle shy of her ass and lean forward.
Starting at the bottom of her rib cage, I press my thumbs into the muscles on either side of her spine and smooth them up.
She lets out a groan, seeming to melt under my hands. “Oh, god,” she whispers when I reverse directions. “That feels so good.”
I sink into a rhythm, moving up and down, up and down, smoothing my hands over her skin, paying extra attention to places that feel particularly tense or that make her groan even louder.
The whole time, my dick’s growing impossibly harder, straining against my jeans. And her pert little ass is right. There. It would be so tempting to press myself into it, give myself just a little relief.
But I also know that sense of relief would be short-lived and only lead to craving more—more friction, more pressure, just … more. More of her. More of her skin. More of her body. More of that sassy mouth egging me on.
More moans.
God, those moans are going to be my undoing.
“Can you get down here?” she asks after a bit, pointing to her lower back.
I move to that area, careful to stay above the edge of the fabric, though my fingers dip beneath it a time or two.
“No,” she says. “Lower, please. Here.” She points to the area just above her ass, then hooks a thumb in the fabric and tugs it down.
When she takes her hand away, a little edge of emerald green lace pokes above the waistband of her leggings, and I hold my breath as I massage just above it, right where she asked, my eyes fixated on that tiny edge of fabric.
After another moment, her hand slips down and rests on my leg, just above my knee. “This was so good,” she murmurs. “I had no idea how tense I was. The last month or so must’ve caught up to me a while ago.”
“ChristmasFest hasn’t been going on that long.”
Grinning, she twists a bit to her side, one arm mostly covering her breasts, the other propping up her head.
“And you think my hard work started the day after Thanksgiving?” She shakes her head.
“I’ve been going flat out since the beginning of November—finalizing all the vendors, filling in gaps from the wait list when people dropped out, organizing all the decorations so that it could be put up quickly and easily on our workdays before Thanksgiving …
” Another shake of her head. “Even when I wasn’t officially at work, I was going over the plans and making adjustments at home. ”
Bending down, I prop myself over her and place a soft kiss on her lips.
She responds by twisting around more, her hands going to my back, sliding under my T-shirt as she kisses me back.
What I intended as a simple kiss, turns into something altogether more passionate, and I lower myself to my elbows, caging her in with my body as we kiss.
“Your hard work has paid off,” I whisper, trailing kisses down her neck. “The festival is fantastic. And it’s all thanks to you.”
She frames my face with her hands, and I follow her urging to lift my head, meeting her eyes. “Do you mean that?” The question is small and vulnerable.
I dip my head. “I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
Her eyes move back and forth between mine, and I hold her gaze, letting her make up her mind about my sincerity. “Thank you,” she breathes after a moment, her voice a little shaky. “That means …” She clears her throat, though she’s still whispering. “That means a lot.”
Once again it hits me how hard she’s worked and how unappreciated she’s felt.
The incident she told me, about those women calling her a Grinch, floats through my mind.
“It’s obvious how much you care to anyone who’s paying attention.
” The problem is, so many of us weren’t paying attention.
Or were only paying attention to ourselves, me included.
“I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel otherwise,” I whisper, wrapping my arms beneath her and gathering her against me.
“And I’m doubly sorry that I contributed to that.
I didn’t really give you a chance, at first. And now that I have, I see what I missed all along. ”
Her hands run through my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp, a tiny smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “You’ve already apologized. More than once. You don’t have to keep doing it.”
I lift one shoulder. “I can’t help it. I feel like an ass.”
That makes her chuckle. “Well, I don’t think an ass would give me an amazing massage.” Her brow puckers in a frown. “It doesn’t seem fair that you still have a shirt on, though, and I don’t.”
Grinning, I pull my arms out from under her, reach behind my neck and pull my T-shirt off in one motion, wadding it up and tossing it away.
And for the first time, I let myself look at her front from the waist up, unable to resist touching her again, my fingertips trailing up the side of her ribcage.
She runs a hand up my arm. “C’mere,” she whispers, and I don’t need to be told twice.
Gathering her to me again, I revel in the feeling of her skin against mine as I kiss her. She squirms under me, pulling one leg up, and I realize she wants them out from between my knees.
We adjust until her thighs bracket mine, her feet planted, her knees against my hips. And when I lower my body over hers, I can’t help grinding against her the way I’ve been wanting to for what feels like ages.
She gasps, letting out a soft moan, and this time it’s not from food or a massage, it’s from the same deep need that has me pressing into her and her pressing back into me, her arms wrapping more firmly around my neck as I kiss her deeply.
Instinct takes over for both of us. We kiss and grope—I kiss my way down her neck again, this time not stopping at her collarbone, working my way down until I can roll her sweet nipple between my lips, toying with it with my tongue.
She moans and writhes, and I give the other nipple the same treatment. Rearing back, I hook my fingers in her leggings, meeting her eyes for a second to check in, pulling them off at her nod, taking her underwear with them at the same time until she’s stripped bare before me.
Cognizant of her earlier claim of unfairness, I immediately yank open the button and zipper on my jeans and shove them off along with my underwear, pausing only to fish the condoms out of my pocket.
“Someone’s prepared, I see,” she murmurs when I toss them on the bedside table.
“Boy Scout,” I answer, spreading myself over her again, letting out my own moan at the feel of her soft skin against my dick. “I didn’t want to assume, but I also didn’t want to regret not bringing them.”
“Better to have and not need than need and not have?” she asks, a smile on her lips, her fingers coming up to caress my cheek as I slide an arm under her again.
“Exactly,” I murmur, kissing her. Lifting my head, I study her face, her heavy-lidded eyes, her hair spread on the bed, her swollen lips. “Do we need them?” I want to be sure we’re on the same page.
Her eyebrows pop up her forehead. “No glove, no love, mister,” she quips.
Grinning, I shake my head. Then nod. “I mean, yeah, that’s my philosophy too. I just mean, we don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want to.”
She presses up against me. “I definitely want to,” she whispers.
I kiss her again, groaning into her mouth at her confirmation. Thank Christ. I’d say it out loud, but my mouth is busy on hers, and after that first impulse, I’m more concerned with making her feel good than anything else.
Reaching for the condoms, I tear one off the small strip I brought, rip it open, and roll it on, wanting to be prepared when the moment comes. After tossing aside the wrapper, I find her watching me with rapt attention, and when my eyes meet hers, her lips curl up. “I like you,” she murmurs.
I grin back. “I like you too. A lot, actually.”
She holds her arms out to me, and I slip into her embrace, settling myself between her thighs. “That’s good. I kinda figured, but it’s nice to hear it. I like you a lot too.”
“I’m glad,” I murmur before kissing her again. Our kisses grow more passionate, our bodies moving against each other, and my hips start rocking almost of their own accord, rubbing against her.
She groans into my mouth, so I do it again, this time on purpose. And again, and again, until I pull back far enough that I slip inside her.
We moan together as I press in, and her breath hitches when my hips meet hers.
I hold still, letting her have time to adjust if she needs it, but if she needs any time, it’s not much.
Almost immediately, she’s pressing up against me, her hips rocking, and I match the slow rhythm she sets, wanting to make sure she gets what she needs.
In reality, the slow pace is probably best for me too.
The condom helps me last longer, of course, and the fact I jerked off first thing this morning will make a difference too, but it’s been long enough since I’ve been with a woman, and I’ve been turned on for so long now, that I don’t think I’ll last long if we go too fast too soon.
Both her knees come up to my ribs, pressing into my side, and she gasps on my next stroke, and again on the next one, and I know I’ve hit the jackpot.
I keep us in this position, maintaining a steady pace until her hand starts trying to creep between us, and she gasps out, “More.”
I move faster, and she groans, her hand going slack on her belly.
I want to kiss her, to suck on her nipple, to do something else, but I’m afraid to ruin our angle when she’s obviously getting close.
So I stay where I am, picking up the pace again when her hand starts moving down her torso once more.
This time, she doesn’t stop, and I feel her fingers moving against me right above where we’re joined. Her breathing gets faster, shallower, hitching every so often, and I know she’s getting close.
Which is amazing, since I’m right there with her.
My whole body’s tingling, my balls drawing up tight, and I’m fighting to hold onto the edge before I let go, wanting to keep going until she gets there.
Her mouth opens, her knees press into me even harder, her fingers move faster, and then she lets out a sound that’s almost a sob, her inner muscles squeezing me hard, and I let myself go, leaning into her shuddering form and losing all sense of rhythm, holding her close until I lose my grip on reality, my world reduced only to the way she feels against me, under me, around me.
Lightning zips down my spine, everything in me contracting as I empty myself inside her.
Rolling to the side, I take her with me, placing gentle kisses on any part of her I can reach. For her part, she feels boneless, and I can’t help my self-satisfied grin at having reduced her to jelly.