“You did? Shit, I didn't realise I was getting into bed with an expert. Jesus, a ‘sexpert’” I say, sounding just as nervous as I'm abruptly feeling.
“A sexpert who just came the second you entered me.” She laughs at herself and I suddenly want to see her face. It's been a few minutes since I have, and I miss it.
“Ah, I know you just did it to make me feel better in case I blew my load too soon. What with me being so young and all.”
“No,” she says. “That was just me being a very horny thirty-seven-year-old woman who just watched a criminally good-looking man undress in my shower.”
I hold my breath and a beat later she stops moving.
Chapter Nineteen
Marty
“Shit,” she says in a whisper.
“Thirty-seven, hey?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck, that's hot,” I mumble to myself. And it is.
“Really?” Her voice has far too much doubt in it.
“Lift up a second,” I say and as she does, I roll over underneath her. Then she sits back down, still not looking at me, her body still curved forwards, her pussy landing perfectly on my groin and my dick starts to harden against her warm flesh and soft curls. I sit up and put one hand behind me so I can hold my weight. The other I place on her neck, clearing her hair out of the way.
“I know it's old, Marty,” she says, unmoving apart from her hands gripping my shins in a way that I find so sexy for reasons I can't put into words.
“It's older than twenty-four.” I lean forward to kiss her neck.
“Too old?” she asks, and it could be my imagination, but she wriggles as if to place my hardening cock exactly where she wants it.
“Am I too young for you?” I push up more so my chest is flush with her back. I bring my hands to where her robe is tied at her chest.
“Probably,” she mutters, and I wait for a laugh, but it doesn't come. Instead, I hear her gasp as one of my hands slips inside the soft towelling material and finds her nipple. Her breasts are that delectable mix of firm and soft, modest but still enough for a handful, and they're warm and smooth under my touch. My other hand starts to slowly pull down the side of her robe and she shudders as her skin is exposed to the air-conditioned room. I take my otherhand off her body so I can pull the robe down around her waist. Then I put my fingers back on her as my eyes take her in. The lack of bikini straplines tells me she's been doing some topless sunbathing, and this has me growing harder by the second. As does the way her bronzed skin is decorated in a pretty pattern of freckles and moles, the way her frame narrows at her waist, and how there are dimples in her back, and they wink at me as I sit there just looking at her.
“You’re beautiful,” I say as I stroke her back.
“I daren't turn around,” she says, and she does indeed sound scared.
“Why?” I ask, my fingertips applying more pressure.
“I am pretty sure my make-up is all over my face and my hair needs a good brush, and...” She sighs. “I haven't been completely naked with a man in a long time. Especially one who is thirteen years younger than me.”
I have questions but I know it's not the time. I also hope I can reassure her of my desire for her with my hands and mouth more than I could with my words.
“Turn around,” I say, lying down flat on my back again. “I want to see you.”
She lifts her hands and smooths down parts of her hair, wipes under her eyes quickly, and this only accentuates the curves and muscles in her back.
When Jenna doesn't move, I wonder if she's going to protest or insist she turns the lights off, which I will absolutely fight her on, but a moment later she begins to move, first taking off the robe, and discarding it. This gives me the most perfect view of her arse, and then, for a collection of heady seconds, she leans forward and I can feel my dick slide in between her lips there. But then she pushes up and pivots, putting her hands on the bed, and turning around so she is facing me. I almost want to stop Jenna there and keep her in that position - on her hands and knees - but I don't and instead I offer up a small prayer that maybe I’ll get a chance to see her like that another time before this holiday is over.
As she shifts her weight so she can throw her other leg over my body, I feel the urge to inhale as deeply as I can, to drag out this moment for as long as possible, because fuck, she looks magnificent. Tousled and fucked and glowing and fucked and vibrant and fucked, fucked, fucked. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are bright, and her lips are pressed together, plump and inviting. And that's just her face. When I glance down and see those breasts I want to lavish attention on,nipples already pebbled, I think about sitting up to suck one into my mouth, but I don't because there is more for my eyes to feast on, and they do. I see the curve and rolls of her stomach, the small smile of her belly button and long silver stripes of stretchmarks on her hips, lines that I move to stroke, delighting in their smoothness and silky texture. My eyes follow my fingers as I trace the shape of where her bikini has been, a shape I suddenly, desperately, want to discover with my mouth again.
“Sit on me,” I grunt out as I grab hold of her backside, nudging it towards my face hard enough to jolt her forward. “Sit on my face.”
“Marty!” She laughs, so unnecessarily and prettily embarrassed.
“Please,” I say, and my grip and nudge are firmer still.
