Andi’s tentative when we arrive home. She doesn’t invite me in, but it’s unspoken—I’m coming up, sharing this night with her and only her.
Leona texted a half hour ago, saying Gabby fell asleep around ten. When Andi shared this with me, some unidentified emotion overcame me. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think it must be what a grown lion feels for his cub. But what the hell do I know? Relief that Gabby was asleep peacefully washed over me—not only heat over spending alone time with Andi.
I don’t waste any more time dwelling on it. Andi is walking in front of me, her heavy coat covering her round ass in that dress that was made for her curves. I’m painfully hard, but I want to take my time. I’m beginning to catch on to the whole single-mom thing, and realize it may be a while before we get an entire night to ourselves again.
I hold the screen door open while Andi unlocks the door, and in we go. Paradise awaits in the top of a duplex in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
“Want anything?” Andi asks once the door is locked and our coats are on the rack.
“You,” is all I say, and I’m on her.
So much for taking my time.
Our mouths fuse, and I walk her toward the bedroom. She’s doing fine, hobbling backward with me directing her. She unbuttons my shirt, her fingers fumbling, and I say, “Rip it off.” I have a bag with a change of clothes in the car.
She does as I say, and her hands are all over me.
The second we make it to the bedroom, I’m pulling her dress over her head. I crouch and yank off her boots.Fucking finally, she stands before me in just a black lace bra and matching thong. My head is one long string of thoughts, all of them dirty. I make sure my tongue isn’t hanging out—it’s not, really, but I think about it.
“Smoking,” I whisper. “You’re so gorgeous. I feel like I’m on fire, burning up for you, Andonia.” My hands travel up the sides of her body, and I bring my mouth back to hers.
She smiles and shares a small laugh at the mention of her full name. “Is that a grill reference? The burning-up part?” I love this side of her—witty, sarcastic, funny.
“It could be, if it does something for you.” I walk her to the bed and lay her down in front of me.
She mutters, “Pants,” and I do as I’m told, stripping off my pants, kicking off my boots. Our clothes are all in a tangled pile. I find myself perched over Andi, most of my weight on one arm, and we kiss until her lips are raw. I’m finally back to taking my time, even though my hardness is digging into her belly, begging to get out of my boxer briefs.
Patience, boy.
I slide down her body, moving her bra cups out of the way, doing some due diligence before I move further down. I know Andi likes my glasses, but I’m happy with my decision to wear contacts tonight. There’s nothing obstructing my view, slipping off my face, getting smudged or fogged up, on my way to dessert-dessert.
I find her heat like a dog on a cold night. I am a dog, panting, wanting, taking. I get to work, exploring new spots of pleasure with my tongue—making it happen, captain.
Andi moans, her hips rising off the bed, her center meeting my face, and then she takes off. I’m a king and she’s my queen. Crazy comparisons like that fly through my head as she comes down from her climax.
I’ll tell you what—I’m not a dorky stats guy with abs of steel with Andi.
I’m just me. Stats professor, blogger, eternal optimist.
Gladly, I wait out her waves of pleasure, and as I grab a condom, she says, “Huh-uh.”
Shoving me to my back, Andi returns the favor with fervor, hitting all my buttons. Slow glides of her mouth at first, then she speeds up, taking control, using her hand—
Christ Almighty, I’m going to blow. I take hold of her arms and haul her up my body, taking her mouth for a moment, and then I decide I can’t wait anymore.
Apparently, Andi can’t wait either. She says, “Hurry.”
After I glove myself, I hold steady over her. Then I glide in, taking a long stroke in and out before picking up the pace. Her leg comes over my shoulder, and my hand appreciates her muscles and smooth skin. I tell myself to hold out. Fuck, I demand it.
Thank God I do, because Andi flips me over—okay, I roll to my back with ease—and she climbs on top, both of us racing to tie at the finish line.
We lie there for a long while, allowing our hearts to settle. Andi runs figure eights on my arm, and I stroke my hand up and down her back. Finally, I get rid of the condom, and we clean up. I rush out to the car without a shirt, wearing only jeans, and grab my bag. Once her face is clean, and I have my contacts out, we get back into bed and doze in a heap of twisted arms and legs.
Out of nowhere, I ask, “Where’s the cat?”
“Oh. Leona texted they came to get Reese’s after they ate dinner. Gabby wanted her to stay with her.”
“Good. We should’ve gone to a hotel,” I say, thinking I’ve been an ass.
