He didn’t wait…he pulled the top of my bra down with his teeth and nipped and sucked. A feverish sensation burned through my veins.
With my head thrown back, eyes closed, I felt Aiken settle my back against the wall. The cool plaster was a welcome relief against my flaming skin.
He worked his way to my other breast, unhooking my bra and throwing it on the floor along the way. The first one he assaulted was tender and ripe from his loving when he started in on the other.
Then I heard the thud of his shoes—nicer brown boots, not shitkickers—and I looked down.
He was on his knees, still in his jeans, slipping my thong down my legs, staring at the apex of my thighs like it was better than Sunday football.
He inhaled, running his face up the length of my leg. “Can’t lie. Been thinking about this for a long, long time. Really been thinking about what it would feel like, taste like…”
His lips grazed my calf on their descent, next my ankle, then my ankle lifted, and my poor excuse for underwear was gone.
His palm caressed my thigh, making its way to between my legs, where I was primed and ready. Embarrassment flooded me like a young girl about to give up her virginity. My only excuse was it had been a while.
“I don’t shave it all…or wax, or whatever you may be used to.”
“You’re perfect.” He traced my landing strip with a finger. Up and down, down and up, bringing my every single sense to life. Nothing remained dormant. It was a foreign feeling.
One finger slipped inside me, then another. His tongue found all of my warm and long-unfound spots.
I’d been married, given birth, and yet, I’d never felt this intimate with anyone.
Technically, I shouldn’t have been embarrassed or ashamed.
My mind swirled with lust. I was feeling. Feeling anything I damn well pleased. For the first time in a very long time. It was mind-blowing.
This guy…where did he come from? Sensitive, commanding, sweet, mature beyond his age—he was perfect.
Ripples of sensation began to flow up my spine. My legs tingled, and my hand found its way to the top of his head, curling in his hair, keeping his face where it was planted.
When did I become a wanton fool?
Apparently, I didn’t mind.
My climax washed over me in waves, not stopping until he slowed his pace. His mouth back on mine, he tasted like me, and I couldn’t get over the fact that I liked it. My head raced to keep up with my body, which was now on its back, flat on top of my bed.
Aiken was in front of me, shedding his clothes, pulling a condom from his pocket, guiding it onto his length in mere seconds, before he was back on top of me. He kissed me foolish, his length rubbing against my softness, until he asked, “Is it okay?”
I nodded, and he was inside me. All the way inside me.
A coffee and a few glasses of wine, and he was inside my body.
Maybe even inside my heart.
He slid slowly in and out of me, never taking his eyes off mine.
I felt my eyelids close. He thumbed my cheek. “Stay with me.”
I did, not wanting to miss a second of this.
He picked up the pace, his one hand grasping my hip, the other holding his weight off of me.
The ripples came back in earnest. Aiken took long, slow, drawn-out pulls, and I watched his face savor each one. It was a high like I’d never felt before.
I was literally on cloud nine.
We fell together, pleasure radiating off both of us, until we fell into a heap, intertwined, body parts tangled on top of my covers.
