Chapter Seven #3
mine out of my hand and did the same, then pulled me out of the couch.
Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me up the
stairs.
“Snap!” I snapped.
He turned and I nearly collided with him but stopped because
his hands came up, framed my face, and he bent low from his step above me to
put his face in mine.
“You just gave yourself to me, Rosie, so I’m havin’ you now and I don’t give a shit the naan is never as
good after it’s microwaved.”
I was wrong.
The fireplace was okay for setting a romantic mood.
But the best romance in the world was standing with your
man’s hands on you in the curve of a spiral staircase talking about microwaving
naan bread.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to throw my arms around him. I
wanted to go up on my toes and press my lips hard to his.
I’d found the man who was perfect for me and he was mine.
I didn’t get a shot to do any of that.
He dropped his head farther and kissed me.
It didn’t even start sweet.
It started wet and hot and stayed that way until Snapper
broke the kiss, let go of my face, but again grabbed my hand and pulled me up
the rest of the stairs.
When we got up there, I was ready to yank off all my
clothes, all his clothes, and go at it fast and furious.
But Snapper had other ideas.
Sure, he walked direct to the bed.
And sure, he got right on it.
That was, sitting on it and pulling me in his lap with both
my legs to the side (not even any straddle action!).
He reached out, turned on the light, and came back to me.
“Snapper,” I whispered, curling the fingers of one hand
around the side of his neck.
“Rosalie,” he whispered back, sliding his hand up my spine.
When his fingers made it into my hair and he didn’t pull me
down to his lips, I shared, “Mom and I bought condoms at Walgreens.”
His eyes flashed. “Love a girl who’s prepared.”
“I’m not usually prepared.”
“Strike that. Love my Rosalie was in the headspace to know
this was gonna happen and she prepared for me. But
just to say, baby, you never need to worry. I’ll have that covered for us.”
I had no doubt.
I stroked his whiskered jaw with my thumb and asked, “Are
you gonna kiss me?”
“In a sec,” he answered, his fingers in my hair, the tips of
them stroking the edge of my hairline behind my ear.
It felt crazy-nice.
His tongue in my mouth on the stairs had felt better.
He did this for a while, staring up into my eyes, and I
shifted in his lap.
“Honey—” I began to prompt.
“This is gonna be our first time,
Rosie, so we’re gonna remember it, and I want it to
be worth remembering.”
Oh God.
How much more perfect could he be?
“’Kay,” I muttered. “Take your time.”
He grinned.
And it got that much more perfect.
“Love you,” he whispered.
And much, much more perfect.
“Love you too,” I whispered back.
His hand fisted in my hair. “Yeah. And thank you for loving
me.”
Oh God.
And now he was even more perfect.
“I think that’s my line,” I retorted.
“Waited for you awhile, Rosie. So you’d be wrong.”
I couldn’t take anymore.
I dipped closer, sliding my hand up to cup his jaw.
“If you don’t kiss me soon, I’m gonna
go crazy,” I told him in all honesty.
“Your ribs—” he began.
I cut him off. “I’ll deal.”
His expression started changing. “No you won’t.”
“Baby,” I hissed, putting my lips almost on top of his,
“shut up and kiss me.”
He shut up.
And then he whipped me to my back on the bed, curling over
me, and he kissed me.
He did not tear my clothes off.
I did not tear his off.
We kissed and we touched and we stroked over clothes, then
under them.
After a while we kissed harder and deeper and we touched
more and I pulled off his thermal. He drew away to yank off his boots and
socks.
He came back and we kissed hotter and wilder and we touched
hungrier. But I got the better end of that deal because his smooth, sleek, warm
skin was under my hands, I could feel the power of the muscle underneath that
heated silk, and with all the kissing and touching and that, suddenly
I was all about making this something to remember and going at it hot and
heavy.
And fast.
So I pushed up with my hips to roll him to his back,
straddled him, sat up, and pulled off my thermal and cami.
Astride him in nothing up top but my bra, Snapper just
wrapped his fingers around the skin at my waist and slowly slid them up.
I felt him straining against his fly between my legs but he
took his time.
“Baby,” I whispered.
He sat up, touched his mouth to mine, wrapped an arm around
me then glided his free hand up to my breast.
He held the weight in his palm over my bra but did nothing
else.
“Snapper, honey,” I breathed, pressing and swirling my hips
into his hardness.
“Rosie,” he whispered back, his sweet baritone drifting all
over me.
He used his arm at my waist to pull me back and dropped his
head to my chest.
Unhurried, he slid it to the breast he was not holding, over
the swell, then back again, this time tracing the edge of the lace with his
tongue.
Now we were getting somewhere.
But he was still going slow.
Restlessly, I churned against his hips, stroking his hair,
his back, arching into his touch.
“I’m not real sure I can do slow,” I told him breathlessly
on the backward glide of his tongue.
“No?” he asked my skin.
“No,” I murmured.
“Hmm…” he hummed against my skin.
God!
He was driving me crazy!
I ground into him, bunching his hair in my fingers, my mouth
opening to say something (maybe whine, maybe beg, I was up for anything that
might work at that point) when suddenly he tore the cup of the bra down and
honed in with thumb and forefinger, twisting gently, just as he sucked my other
nipple into his mouth over the bra.
The awesomeness of that tore through me. I jerked in his
hold and he held me to him before he switched nipples and hands and then he was
mouth-to-mouth on me.
Way.
More.
Awesome.
“Snapper,” I moaned.
He sucked. He swirled. He rubbed me with the front of his
teeth. And I rolled in his lap, pressing into his cock, doing all I could to
stroke it with the crotch of my jeans.
He let my nipple go, pulled my mouth down to his, and kissed
me hot and wet before he broke it and ordered gruffly, “Baby, get on your
feet.”
I didn’t want to get on my feet.
I wanted to get him in me.
But I got on my feet.
I’d barely got my trembling legs to support me before his
hands went to my fly.
Okay, this was good. I was happy to be on my feet for this.
The zip went down then my jeans went down.
My panties, thankfully, went down with them.
I stepped out of them hurriedly.
Snap surged up out of the bed.
“No!” I cried, landing both hands on his broad, bared
shoulders and pressing down. “We’re both getting farther away from where we’re
supposed to be.”
He gave me a look that would melt asphalt at the same time
it was filled with humor that I decided in an instant I utterly adored
before his fingers went to the button on his jeans.
He grabbed his wallet before he shoved them down.
He stepped out of them, opened his wallet, pulled out a
condom, and tossed his wallet to the nightstand.
“Hurry,” I urged, not caring that I did it staring greedily
at the perfection of the cock that had sprung free from his jeans and was now
standing full and hard and proud, reaching toward me.
“Babe, hurrying a condom is a bad thing,” he muttered,
sounding growly turned on and amused, and I utterly adored that too.
I reached out and spread my hands across his pecs, touching
him and watching him roll the condom on his beautiful, thick cock, all the way
down to the root, dancing lightly on my feet with anticipation, salivating,
running my thumbs hard over his nipples.
Snap latched onto my hips and sank back down on the bed,
pulling me into his lap, this time not with my legs to one side, but a knee to
either side.
Now we were talking.
“I’ll give you a foreplay blowjob our second go,” I offered,
aiming myself at that goodness.
“Foreplay for me with you essentially involves you lookin’ at me, so that’s unnecessary, but I’m not gonna say no,” he replied, guiding me to his goodness but
doing it way too damned slow.
“Snapper, hurry,” I rushed.
Laugher in his tone now. “Rosie, it isn’t going anywhere.”
I grasped either side of his head and looked into his eyes.
“I want you,” I whispered.
With a rumble I felt from scalp to toes, he pulled me down
and filled me.
Snapper was finally inside me.
My head fell back, my hands slid down to clench his neck,
and I started moving.
“Fuck…me,” he groaned.
He didn’t mean it that way, but all I could think was, gladly.
“Oh my God, you feel…” I started on an upward glide, “beautiful,”
I ended on a puff of breath on a downward one.
He held me steady, arched away from him, riding his cock,
with an arm slanted along my back and alternately played with my nipples and
sucked them while I rode.
Which made me ride faster.
“Careful, honey,” he murmured.
He was worried about my ribs, but…
No fucking way.
We were making this one to remember and we were going to do
it in a way we’d never, ever forget.
I went faster.
“Jesus, Rosie,” he grunted.
“God,” I pushed out, loving the heft of him inside me, the
support of his arm around me, the smell of him all around me, feeling it build
in me.
I went faster.
“Jesus, fuck, Rosie.”
From every word he said it dripped that I was building it in
him too.
And I loved that.
I snapped forward, my hair going everywhere, all around me,
all around his face and shoulders, and I took his mouth in a hard kiss.
Then I gasped down his throat as he clamped an arm around my
hips. Keeping me full of him, he shot up to his feet then turned and we were
down and he was the one taking the ride.
I wouldn’t have believed it, but this was even better.
I wound my legs around him, one at his waist, one at his
thigh, and lifted my hips to take him as deep as he could go.
His hand went between us, his finger hit the spot, and I
moved my hands to his hair, clutched both into the length and whimpered, “Snap.”
“Rosie,” came his guttural reply.
And with that I was gone, flying, soaring, reaching for the
stars, feeling Snap take his weight fully into his forearms on either side of
me so all I took of him was him bucking between my legs. I heard his sharp
grunts followed by a long groan and I felt him touching the heavens right there
with me.
He stayed deep and I’d wrapped everything I had around him,
holding him to me, when I came down, feeling his breaths hot and hard against
the skin of my neck.
“That was awesome,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Totally awesome,” I decreed.
On a small lurch of his body that told me he thought I was
funny, he repeated in a voice that shared the same thing, “Yeah.”
“Snapper?” I called.
He lifted his head, adjusted an arm so he could stroke my
neck with his thumb, and looked me in the eyes.
“Yeah, baby?”
“It worked out in the end,” I told him.
“What?” he asked.
“I found the one who was perfect for me.”
He didn’t seem sated or amused or anything right then.
He stared down at me under him, his body connected with
mine, and he looked at me in a way that I knew that earlier, he had not lied.
I was his world.
So yeah.
Definitely.
Perfect for me.
Then he spoke, and as was Everett “Snapper” Kavanaugh’s
wont, he made it even better.
“I know the feeling.”