It’s only sex.
Tied to my baby-making dream.
I could separate it. I would have to.
Besides, Jason was giving me this gift. Why not make this enjoyable for him? Not only that, give him a more active role to suit his rollicking id and need to play at alpha baby daddy.
He hadn’t exactly shoved his dick in my face, but it was there: flagrant, rampant, begging for my attention. A little like the man to which it belonged.
I touched a finger to the crown, rubbed along the slit—and sucked the salty fluid off my finger.
He groaned. “That’s my girl.”
I was nothing of the sort, yet that possessive utterance thrilled through my veins. Apparently, I wanted to belong to someone.
The power I felt as I wrapped my hand around him was electrifying. I thought for a moment that maybe I could own him with this small gesture. Retain some control over the situation. Stroking up and down, I relished the feel of the velvet sheath over steel. Part of me wanted to lick and suck, but that was far too removed from the goal.
But touching him felt so good. Watching the pearls of pre-come leaking over my fingers was much more arousing than I expected. My nipples peaked to hard points, my panties turned damp with desire.
His face was creased with an almost savage lust. “You keep that up, I won’t last.”
And we needed him to last, at least for a little while.
“Lie back, Francesca.”
I pulled back the covers and lay down, my head against the pillows. Jason stood over me, drinking me in. I wasn’t the dewy, fresh ingenue he was probably used to. I was closer to forty than thirty, with cellulite dimpling my thighs and a less-than-flat stomach.
He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, my body appeared to excite him.
From the nightstand, he grabbed the scarf he had bought for me to use in my disguise.
“What’s that for?”
“Earlier I mentioned superstitions. Little things we do as part of our pre-game routine.” He wrapped the scarf around my wrist and tied it in a knot. “I usually tie my laces three times.” He knotted the scarf again. “For luck.”
“I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
He tied it again.
“If you don’t believe in it, then there’s no harm in doing it, right?”
He completed the third knot.
“If it makes you feel better.” It was okay to indulge him on this. Just a silly superstition.
He knelt on the bed and moved a hand to my inner thigh. “So soft,” he murmured as he coasted that hand down over my underwear. Laying the heel of his palm flat against my vaginal opening, he gave me a dirty rub that had me arching off the bed. My instinct was to close my legs.
“I need full access, Francesca. But if that’s not okay …”
“It’s okay.” More than okay.
He peeled off my panties, then parted my thighs once more, all while watching. Devouring me with his gaze. That heated regard, that intense absorption of my body, made me wetter than I had ever been with a man. And he had barely touched me!
“We really should … get on with it.”
“Should we?”
“I don’t want to, uh, waste that erection.”
