18. Joey
18
Joey
I could kiss him forever. It feels so right, like this is the moment I’ve been waiting for to let go of my inhibitions. My body is burning, hotter than it had on the plane. I want all of him, though his teasing comment about size worries me. Surely he can’t be that big in reality. I laugh inwardly at my gullibility. Of course he isn’t.
Pushing it out of my mind, I bring my hands to his wide shoulders and run them down his heavily muscled back. My breasts ache so I rub them against his chest to ease the pressure. My tight nipples brush his and he hisses. So I do it again.
He groans and abandons my mouth, kissing his way down my body. I gasp and try to catch my breath, but with every new area he touches, I lose it again. He worships me as he explores every inch. By the time he reaches my sex, I’m too far gone for more than a flicker of embarrassment. There’s no room for anything but how he makes me feel.
“Oh God, Brent!” The first lick shocks me to my core, literally. My fingers dig into his shoulders. “That feels so good!”
When he lifts his head, I am amazed by the reverence on his face. He’s gazing at me as if I am the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. He brings his attention back to the task at hand when I squirm against him, needing his tongue back on me. I am dying for him to ease the throbbing need that is centered where his mouth is, to fill the void that only he will be able to fill.
His tongue does wicked things to me, tightening the coil of desire to a single pinpoint until I can’t bear it anymore. I grab his hair and go flying over the edge with a keening cry of ecstasy, only his hands and mouth keeping me from levitating off the bed.
My body shakes with tremors for long moments while he eases me down again with slow licks and gentle kisses. When my fingers slip from his head to lie limply at my sides, he moves up my torso, placing light pecks along the path to my mouth. I gasp at the wicked eroticism of tasting myself when he parts my lips and entangles his tongue with mine.
“You’re amazing, Joey,” Brent whispers, gazing into my eyes.
I laugh in nervous embarrassment. “Yeah, um, I think that’s my line. Wow. You’re…” I break off as he adjusts himself so that his erection lines up between my thighs. When did he remove his boxers and put on a condom? In the next instant, I’m can’t think of anything but what he’s doing. His hot, hard length slides against me in a slow rhythm that has me panting, wanting more. Needing more.
“Are you ready, baby? I want to be inside you so badly.”
I barely finish whispering “yes” before he’s pressed against my entrance.
We both moan when he pushes an inch into me. He’s prepared me well, in more ways than one, with his endless patience. He feels so good. I want more.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Please. Keep going.”
Keeping his gaze on mine, he presses himself in a little farther. It’s not as painful as I thought it would be, but it burns a little. He’s big and it’s a tight fit. Every time I wince, he pauses, murmuring “Good girl. You’re doing so good,” against my mouth, waiting for me to move in encouragement before resuming his measured shallow strokes.
His jaw is tight with the effort it must be costing to go slow, and sweat is beading on his forehead. I stroke my hands over the taut muscles of his back as he continues to take his time, letting me get used to him. Soon my hips are meeting his, and my breathing quickens to gasps every time he pushes deep inside me. I keep my hands on his buttocks, gripping his muscles as they clench and release each time he drives into me, harder and faster, making me emit soft sounds of pleasure that grow louder with every thrust.
The pressure builds unbearably as I reach for that pinnacle. So close. I try to keep my eyes open to his, but they go blind and flutter closed when I go flying over the edge. I tighten and convulse around him, crying out in ecstatic rapture.
He places both hands under my hips while he continues to drive into me. His desperation comes through his fingers digging into my flesh. In awe of this moment, I open my eyes. His gaze is fixed on me, and something undefinable connects us in that brief moment before he slams his mouth over mine for a wet, open-mouthed kiss. I return it with equal passion, my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, holding onto him and the sensations swirling through my body. He pushes into me one last time and lets go, groaning against my mouth. I hold his head and kiss him, circling my hips against him, another mini-explosion bursting deep inside me.
For several long minutes, we lie still, holding on to each other as our breathing slows and our hearts stop racing. When he finally raises his head, he moves his hands to cup my face, back to where they were when we started.
“Hey,” he whispers.
I glance at him briefly, then down to focus on his chin. I’m filled with shyness again, which is silly considering he’s still buried inside me. “Hey,” I reply.
“You okay?” he asks, then kisses my forehead.
I nod.
“Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. When I don’t say anything, he gently pulls away, causing me to hiss at the burning between my legs.
“I’ll be right back.”
He walks away, buck naked. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but right then I wish I knew how to paint or sculpt so I could capture that beauty and power. He’s like the sculptures I’ve seen in the Ancient Greece section of the art museum. The proverbial Adonis. No, a gladiator.
I jolt out of my thoughts when I realize I’m still lying with my legs open, naked. I barely have time to put my feet under the covers before he’s back. He sits next to me on the bed, trapping the sheet so I can’t cover myself completely.
“Open,” he orders. I’m not sure what he means until he lifts a washcloth to my field of vision, which I’m making sure to keep away from his…lap.
Mortified, I squeeze my thighs—and eyes—together and shake my head. After climbing over to lie beside me, he slides one arm under my shoulders. He presses a gentle kiss on the top of my head, then the tip of my nose, the dent in my chin, and finally, my mouth. I’ve forgotten all about the washcloth by the time he nibbles on my bottom lip and sweeps his tongue inside.
When the damp cloth slides between my thighs, I realize he purposely distracted me. The coolness of the cloth eases the sting, so I allow him to continue to minister to me. I do my best to block out his actions and focus instead on his amazingly talented mouth on mine. When he’s done, he turns the light off and settles next to me, pulling me close. We’re lying on our sides, chests pressed together, legs entangled.
“I’ve always wondered how far your blush went. Now I know,” he says.
I bury my face in his neck. “I’d like you to remember what it was like after your first time and how long it was before you stopped blushing!”
“Fair point. But how do you know when—”
“Oh please!” I lift my head to look at him. “Charlie said Becca bragged about it to the entire cheerleading squad and anyone else who would listen. And she told me how you’d stammer and your face would be all red whenever Becca called the house afterward.”
“Jesus! Okay. Charlie’s got a big mouth.”
He nudges my head down, and I snuggle back into him. I ignore the fact that he’s semi-erect against my stomach.
He smooths his hand up and down my back and buttocks as he begins to kiss me tenderly along my hairline. Wanting to explore his powerful body, I let my own hand rove over his huge, rock-hard bicep and shoulder.
The darkness giving me courage, I brush my mouth along his jaw, down his neck to the hollow in his throat. I trace my fingers over his bicep where the tattoo honoring his father is inked. A second one on his other arm memorializes his brother. “Dad” and “RJ” are imprinted over his heart. I kiss his chest, remembering their laughter and the innate goodness in both of them that I recognized even at a young age.
Brent shifts slightly, inadvertently placing his nipple under my lips. I press a quick, shy kiss on it, then linger when the tip hardens, flicking my tongue over the tight nub.
“Behave,” he admonishes. “Unless you’re ready for round two.”
Round two. I like the sound of that.
But I burrow against him, relishing the feel of his big strong body, wrapped around me. He makes me feel feminine and safe and cared for…
A sudden surge of emotion wells up in me. I bury my face deeper in the hollow of his neck. He pulls away to peer at me in the dark, the moon providing just enough light to outline shadowy shapes.
“Hey, what’s this? Why are you crying?” he asks with concern.
I hadn’t realized the depths of my feelings had overflowed and released as tears.
Thankful for the dark so he can’t see me clearly, I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Just…thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better first experience. It was perfect.”
I bring him back for a kiss before he can say anything. But he whispers against my mouth anyway.
“It’s not over yet, sweetheart.”
Long moments later, my limbs loosen and slide off his body. I am completely devoid of energy, and I lie beneath Brent like a limp noodle, utterly boneless. He’s heavy, but I don’t care as long as I can breathe. At this point, even that’s optional. If I die in this moment, I’d die in bliss, a thoroughly satisfied woman.