A sad smile flashes across his face but then disappears. “You’re the only one who assumed that. Everyone else assumed I knew it happened. I let it happen.”
“I’m sorry.” I take another step. He’s still watching me with hooded eyes. My fingers are twisting together anxiously, so I pull them apart and point to the box. “That’s for me?”
He looks at the box in his left hand like he forgot he was holding it. He finally pushes himself off the door, grows to his full height and hands me the box. It’s heavy and nondescript with no label on it. I resist the urge to shake it and start to open the top. I pull back some white tissue paper and am greeted with gorgeous roses made out of rounded jade-green ceramic. I move to the stairs because that’s the only place to sit in the hallway, drop my butt onto the third step, put the box on my lap and start to dig it out.
It’s a teapot. I’ve never seen one quite so unique or beautiful, and I have seen a lot of teapots. I carefully run my fingers over the delicate roses in the ceramic and admire the way the jade color catches the light.
“I know it probably doesn’t make up for losing your collection, but I thought you could start a new collection with this one.” He’s trying to sound casual, but it’s strained. He’s feeling vulnerable because he wants me to like it. And I really, honestly do. I like the teapot almost as much as the gesture, but neither compares to how much I like him. And that’s really what is taking my breath away right now and making it hard to speak.
I gently put it down on the step beside me and stand up. I walk right over to him and grab his face in my hands and kiss him, long, slow and with every word I can’t seem to find. The kiss just adds more intensity to the chemistry between us. He reaches around my neck with one hand, burying his fingers in my hair, and his other hand cups my ass, pushing me into him as he lifts his hips off the door to show me how much he wants me right now.
I want him too. I want to relieve the internal struggle or torture that he’s trying so badly to hide from me. I want to soothe him and prove to him that no matter what is upsetting him, this—me, us—will always make it better. I let my hands move between us, finding his belt and then his button and zipper. Once I’ve got all of that undone, I move my lips to his neck and my hands push his jeans off his hips and I grab his ass in one hand. It’s so unbelievably strong. Just solid muscle. I drop to my knees in front of him, fingers hooked into the waistband of his black boxer briefs. I place a soft kiss on the outline of his hard shaft through the thin, silky fabric. My eyes move up and find his clouded with lust as they stare back at me.
I lower the fabric, and his fingers slide through my hair again. I have honestly never wanted to blow a man like I do right now. I need to taste him, to feel him quiver against my tongue, to make him forget whatever it is that’s got him so unnerved. I slide his underwear down and press my tongue to the base of his shaft, giving it a firm, flat lick. As soon as the tip of my tongue reaches the tip of his dick, I slide my way back down, this time opening my mouth and letting him slip right in.
This delicious sound rumbles out of him, deep, needy and strained. His hands in my hair hold tighter as I slide up and down, swirling my tongue and sliding my free hand up to graze his balls with my fingertips. He’s so hot and hard in my mouth, and I’ve never been more turned on by a blow job in my life.
“Baby, I’m close,” he warns after a while and tries to still his hips. I feel the hesitation in his movement, but he can’t stop completely, and I don’t want him to. I suck hard, sliding my lips as far down his length as I can go without choking.
“Zzzzooooeeeeyyyy.” I hear his head hit the door behind him, and with one hard thrust into my mouth he comes.
His legs actually give out and he slips out of my mouth as he slides to the ground. I swallow and smile at him. His eyes are glassy and barely seem to be able to focus and his breathing is labored, like he’s run a marathon. I grin. That gets his glassy eyes to focus for a minute, and he reaches out and cups the side of my face. “Hey, now. Cocky smiles are my domain.”
“Watching you come, knowing I can do this to you”—I wave a hand over his current state of general undoneness—“with just my mouth is the hottest thing ever.”
I watch his own cocky grin start to take shape on his handsome face. He leans forward, his hand still cupping my face and his thumb lazily tracing my cheekbone. “Are you wet from blowing me?”
I nod. He starts to push himself off the back of the door. “I’m going to have to see for myself.”
He puts his hands on the floor on either side of my hips, and as our lips connect he pushes me back onto the floor. He moves his mouth to my ear and balances on one arm as he slips the other down to shove the yoga pants I’m wearing to my knees; my thong goes with them. As soon as his fingers make contact with my pussy, my back arches and I sigh.
“I told you,” I breathe. He’s smiling against my neck, I can feel it.
“You know how amazing it is thatIcan do this toyou?” Two of his fingers slide into me. “I’ve dreamed of the idea that you want me as much as I want you since we were kids.”
I run my fingers languidly over the bulging bicep ofthe arm he’s balancing on. His fingers feel so good I can barely keep my eyes open. But then suddenly they’re gone, and before I can complain I feel the tip of his dick slip through my wetness as he guides it up and down my slit.
“Tell me you’re on the pill. Please.”
“I’m not,” I admit and then softly add, “But I don’t have STDs and my body hates babies.”
He stills at that, his eyes finding mine with an inquisitive look. I bite my lip. I just ruined the moment. “I have some issues. I might never get pregnant.”
“Is it impossible?” he asks in a gentle tone, but I’m sure he’s lost his hard-on and is trying to figure out how to leave my house and never come back.
I start to move, trying to get out from under him and sit up, or at the very least get my pants up, but he won’t let me. Instead he lowers himself so he’s resting on top of me. His dick, thankfully, is still hard and pressing into my thigh, so at least I haven’t totally turned him off. I can’t look him in the eye, though—I’m too insecure—so I stare at the Stanley Cup tattoo on the inside of his left bicep. “Not impossible, but not easy.”
He shifts, moving his dick higher; his tip nudges my slit again. Our eyes finally meet and he lifts a hand and pushes my hair back off my forehead. “If it was impossible, I would slide right into you right now, no condom, and let your pussy own me like your mouth did. But…”
He says he can’t, but he pushes against me again, his tip slipping a little deeper, and I roll my hips a bit, causing it to slip even deeper. He groans and freezes. When he speaks, his voice is strained and air-tight, like he’s holding his breath. “We should still use a condom for now.”
“Mmm…yeah,” I reply, and I mean it, even though I shift my hips and take just a little more of him inside me. It feels so damn good.
“I don’t want to stop…” He pushes just a little bit deeper. “But I want to be good…to you.”
He pulls out completely and reaches for his jeans, where he pulls a condom out of his back pocket. “Put this on me.”
I tear open the package, and he lifts himself, like he’s doing a half push-up, so I can slip the condom over his rock-hard dick. As soon as it’s on, I place him where he needs to be, and with one hard, long, magnificent push, he’s completely inside of me. I hiss out an expletive, and he smiles as he presses his lips to mine. “Making you swear is almost as rewarding as making you come.”
