Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Ari
I didn’t plan for this.
But it feels like someone orchestrated the situation to put Foster and me together for this project. The name of that possible someone -- Maddie? Maddie Who? -- escapes me at the moment, because Foster’s beard feels sweetly comforting against my chin. His full lips scramble my thoughts.
And who has time to think about my scheming best friend when I’m being kissed so well?
I had thought about it. I’d thought that Foster’s beard would be scratchy and rough. But this man takes care of himself.
He may be sweaty and dirty from hard work, but so am I. I like our tastes and scents and damp skin mingling together, though I never thought a situation like this would work for me.
He helped me all night long with these decorations without a single complaint. My god, what a treasure.
All that and he knows how to kiss me right. Strong but soft. Not shy but not too dominant. Giving, but making me want more.
Foster’s warm, full lips pull away, and he stares into my eyes. We’re still so close I can feel his breath mix with mine.
“Something wrong?”
He shakes his head.
“Good. Just making sure you’re not regretting it. Like I have bad breath or something.”
Again, he shakes his head. “You taste like coconuts.”
“That’s my lip balm.”
“I like it.”
“You want to kiss me again, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I just didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he says. “Giving you a chance to escape.”
I shrug. “Nothing to run away from. We’re just two hot people making out, and that’s it, right?¨
“You think I’m hot?”
“You did hear me say that before, right? You need me to say it again?”
I run my hand over the broad plane of his chest, over the soft shirt that covers all that hardness.
“Keep touching me like that, and I’m going to want more than a kiss. Just warning you.”
“You want me to stop?” I run my hand down to his stomach, which is pleasingly soft. Something to grab on to. I like it. He’s strong but not ripped everywhere, like gym muscles. He’s built like half-dad, half-warrior. And I’ve never felt this turned on by any man’s body.
“No, you should definitely keep touching me,” he says.
Foster descends on me again and presses a deeper kiss to my mouth, the tip of his tongue licking over my bottom lip.
I open to receive his tongue, and he slips it in, tasting me. Foster tastes even better than I expected, like a combination of my lip balm and those sweetheart candies.
“You’ve been snacking on the party favors.”
Foster laughs against my mouth as he keeps kissing me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.
“Had to keep my energy up.”
I laugh as my feet leave the floor. Foster’s lifting me up so abruptly that I have no choice but to steady myself by wrapping my legs around his hips. No other choice. Must climb man like tree.
“Hi,” he says, sweetly rubbing our noses together.
“What are you doing?” I ask, fucking him with my eyes.
“Testing to see how we fit together.”
My thighs give a small squeeze, and his face darkens. “And the test results say…?”
“Hypothesis is supported. You fit perfectly.”
“Nerd.”
Foster laughs and squeezes both my buttocks, pulling me tighter against him. I can feel his hard erection pressing between my legs, through his jeans and through my workout pants.
I circle my arms around his shoulders, stroking my fingers through his sandy hair, cropped short up the back.
It’s slightly tousled on top and wavy. Up close, hints of strawberry come through, accented by the warm lighting in the room.
Yes, there’s red in his hair and beard that I hadn’t noticed before.
And he has tiny freckles that make him all the more endearing.
The sweet behavior and the lust in his eyes do not compute with the Foster I thought I knew. He doesn’t fit into the box I had him in until tonight.
One thing I know for sure is that I enjoy touching him. I like kissing him. I delight in Foster holding me up against his body like I weigh nothing. His beard, skin, muscles -- even every hair on his head -- is a new and exciting tactile story that I need to read and lodge into my memory.
I always thought he was such a prickly pear, but he’s got such a soft center. And I’m so happy he showed it to me.
The kissing deepens to a level that turns my insides to molten lava. Foster’s tongue owns my mouth. His hands grip my ass so tight that I can’t help but think about that rigid pipe pushing into my core.
I need him to touch my skin. I need him to touch me everywhere, but I don’t want to stop kissing him to tell him what to do to me.
I wriggle against him and tug at the material of his shirt.
The skin over his ribs warms my hands. He lets out a low, animalistic noise, and the next thing I know, Foster pulls out one of the fancy wooden folding chairs and sits down, adjusting me on top of him.
Finally, he can stop using all his strength to hold me up. I watch in awe as he reaches backward and tugs off his shirt in one rapid movement over his head.
I suck in a breath at the sight of all that skin, the definition of his shoulders, his arms, his chest. He has chest hair, but not overly thick.
Reddish brown gentle swirls lightly accent his chest and stomach.
This feeling I have looking at him, sitting so close to him, on his lap, feeling how turned on he is…
I want everything, and I want it right now, and I don’t know what that will do to my plan to stay single and happy.
I don’t know if this will lead to eventual heartbreak or if this is a one-time hookup. But stopping to have that conversation is an extreme boner-killer in the moment.
So instead of that, I peel off my top and watch Foster’s reaction to the pink sports bra underneath. It’s slightly too small, and my breasts bulge a little, but it’s the only one that keeps me from bouncing painfully while I run on the treadmill.
He looks from one to the other like he’s trying to decide which one to attack first.
“Damn, you’re pretty, you know that?”
My thighs give another squeeze. “And you feel like a fucking beast down there.”
Foster growls in response, and our mouths come together in a heated, passionate kiss while our hands roam everywhere.
His skin is warm, and his muscles are tight everywhere I touch them.
Eventually, his mouth lavishes attention on my neck. I gasp as he reaches back and gently pulls my hair to expose more of my throat to him.
Oh, shit. I like that way too much.
Those lips claim me as his beard brushes against my upper chest.
I can’t help but let out a small moan. And when I do, I feel something move between my legs. His cock has moved on its own, and we both notice it.
Foster growls low against my throat, and I think I just might soak through my stretchy pants.
The idea of him being so hard for me makes my head spin and my heart pound.
One thick, rough finger hooks through the metal loop at the front of my sports bra, and he arcs an eyebrow at me. Asking permission with his expression.
I answer the implied question with a lick of my lips and another squeeze of my thighs.
Foster gives a tug, and the zipper opens. My breasts spill out, and his nostrils flare.
The way he stares at my tits and licks his lips—yeah, this is a boob man, through and through.
My insides are on fire as he takes one breast into his warm, wet mouth and licks his tongue over my hard nipple. He cups the opposite breast and slides one finger over the hard bud, and it feels so good I wriggle on him.
My hands fist his hair, and I writhe on him as he kisses, teases, squeezes, and toys with my sensitive breasts.
Every inch of my skin feels ripe and ready for more, but I force myself to close my eyes, relax, and enjoy the ride.
Foster worships my breasts like they’re some kind of treasure, and I am happy to eat it all up. I’m delighted to let him do what he wants, driving me mad with delicious need in the process.
And then, Foster drops the bomb that ruins everything by speaking.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Ari. Who needs a fucking matchmaker?”