She was wearing her I’m-feeling-lucky bra and lacy boy shorts, one of six lacy sets she had purchased shortly after her divorce in anticipation of knocking boots with strangers if they’d have her. That never happened. Strangers did ask, but she realized before there was any damage that anonymous sex wasn’t for her. The condoms went unused also. She’d bought an assortment, all of them still in the bottom drawer of her bedside table. Past their expiration date, she was certain. The question was, did that apply to her as well?
Sullivan proved he had a deft touch when it came to getting her out of her bra, and the moment his lips rolled her nipple, she realized she hadn’t yet reached her best by date. Good to know.
She stepped out of her little black boy shorts just as they got to the bedroom door. “Boxers or briefs?” she asked Sullivan, trying to sneak a peek. What she got was an eyeful. “Commando? Iwouldhave jumped your bones in the car if I’d known.”
“Shut up, Ramsey.” There was no sting in his words because he punctuated them with a hard, hot kiss and then he was swinging her into his arms and carrying her all of eight feet to the king-sized bed.
She yelped and flung her arms around his neck. “I could have walked.”
“I know, but I’ve always wanted to do that. What do you think? Sexy? Romantic?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Fair enough.”
“Now what?” she asked at bedside. “Do you just drop me? Lower me gently? Complain about your back? You know, how about you let me stand again and I turn back the covers while you turn on a light? I still want to jump you.”
“No argument there.” He lowered but didn’t release her. She was flush to his body, cradling his groin, her nipples sharp twin points against his chest. Her arms were still around his neck. “Jesus,” he whispered against her mouth. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“Then don’t.”
He didn’t. They more or less fell on the bed together, tangled first in each other, then in the blankets as they tugged and twisted to get under them.
She reached between their bodies, circled his cock with her hand. He was most definitely ready for her. She didn’t know if the reverse was true. She thought she was. Itfeltlike she was. She really did want him to slide in. “Condom,” she croaked. What the hell was it with her voice? She retracted her hand as if burned. “You have a condom, right? Please tell me you have a condom.”
Sullivan rolled to the side, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress as he sat up. “Light,” he said, warning her. He turned on the bedside lamp and then opened a drawer in the nightstand. He pulled out a packet, tore it open. “I guess I should have asked you if you were on the pill.”
“I’m not. I get a Depo shot every three months. That raincoat is for protection.”
“I get it.” He held the rolled condom between his thumb and forefinger. “You want to do the honors?”
She made a face. “Do guys actually think that? It’s not really an honor.”
He shrugged. “My penis thinks it’s an honor.”
Ramsey gave him a light slap on the back. “Just put it on.”
“I notice you’ve recovered your voice.” He started to roll on the condom. His cock remained attentive, even eager. “That other one is a little scary.”
Scary to her too. She didn’t tell him that. What she said was, “Shut up, Sullivan.” Since she was holding up the covers for him, it was not an entirely rude command.
Sullivan dimmed the light and rolled back under the blankets.
“Remember where we were?” she asked.
“Indeed, I do.” He slipped into the space she made for him between her thighs. Her knees hugged him. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he hovered over her, searched her face. Watched her blink as though in assent, then the nod. She lifted her hips a fraction. It was the invitation he’d been waiting for.
Sullivan slid home.
Ramsey thought she might weep. “It’s good,” she said, and her voice was husky, not scary at all. “Really good.”
It was good, but Sullivan didn’t think she was talking to him. It was more like she was reassuring herself. He said nothing and began to move.
Their cadence was easy until it wasn’t. There were no words exchanged. Except for an occasional whimper from Ramsey and a low, rumbling groan from Sullivan, they were largely silent. It was oddly erotic, that silence, the kissing and touching and rocking without questions or directions, as if they already knew what the other one wanted, or even better, what the other needed.
She came first. Fully expected to because it had been so long, and she was so ready, and he kissed like it was his job. She hoped she wasn’t selfish; it felt a little as if she had been. What she didn’t expect was that she’d come again before he climaxed. Oh, yes, the man had a slow hand.
Ramsey raised her head and then let it fall back heavily as he pushed away. She closed her eyes, secured them that way with a forearm, and waited for her heart to resume its normal rhythm. Her head was thrumming pleasantly, the same sound she heard when she held a conch shell to an ear. She blew out a breath. Slowly.
