Her smile softened, and I knew I’d touched her. “You know what’s great about making love with you?”
“What?”
“You make me respond honestly because you don’t hold back.”
I arched a brow, then thrust against her thighs. “I’m holding back. Believe me.”
She chuckled. “Fair enough. But…” She stroked my hair off my face. “I feel like you see me. Like it’s not about humping and bumping as fast as we can.”
“Not fast,” I said as I nipped her lips. “This one is slow.”
“Yeah. So how come I want to speed things up a bit?” she asked as she reached down between us. I felt her hand coming, but was in no way prepared for the way she fluttered her fingers across my penis. It wasn’t a grip or a tease. More like tapping in rapid succession, and I felt each impact like tiny explosions up my spine. It had my hips pulsing forward and my breath caught on a gasp.
“Uh,” I finally managed to say. “I’m okay with faster. If you want.”
She suddenly stopped, a wicked grin on her face. “No. I can wait.”
I couldn’t. I wanted to be in her so badly. But I held myself back, though I dropped my forehead to her shoulder and just breathed. Eventually I was able to kiss her collarbone. Nuzzle her cleavage. Then tease my way down her chest.
She let me, and as I descended on her body, she lost touch with my penis. I mourned that, but I also knew if she kept up what she’d been doing, this would be over sooner than we both wanted.
I ended up encouraging her to flip over so I could stroke up and down her backside. I paid attention to every hill and crease, every dimple and dip. I found out where she was most ticklish and where her muscles ached. I teased the back of her knees with my fingers, then gave her a hickey on her right butt cheek.
She cried out at that, but I held her down, and pretty soon she was laughing. And then I spread her legs and ran my fingers through the moisture between her legs. She was wet and open to me, but I wasn’t going to end this too soon. Especially since she abruptly sat up and shoved me backward on the bed.
“My turn.”
And so it was. I lay on my back with my penis pole straight and throbbing while she took an almost clinical inspection of my body. Torso first, then arms and legs. She poked at scars and kissed bruises. I had plenty of both, and she pressed me for the story of each one. If I answered quickly, she’d reward me with a gentle, intimate stroke. If I frowned and said I couldn’t remember, she sat back on her heels and tempted me with the sight of her full breasts and pert nipples.
And then, suddenly, she stretched past me to the open bedside table drawer. I lifted up long enough to see that she’d grabbed a condom and was now ripping it open with her teeth. It was quite the sight. Her clean white teeth pressing down on the foil packet. Her hands weren’t shaking—at least not that I could see—and when I reached for the rubber, she batted my fingers away.
Then she enfolded my penis with her hands while slipping the cold latex down. I struggled to process all those conflicting sensations: hot hands; cold, wet latex; a gentle stroke; a tight glide. In the end, I gave up categorizing and just felt. And when her hands slid up my chest, I went to touch her face.
I don’t know what I was going to say. The sight was just so beautiful, I was robbed of words. Her face, flushed and happy. Her eyes alight with hunger, and her hair in glorious disarray.
Then she straddled me. The movement was graceful, and I was mesmerized by the jiggle of her breasts while she positioned herself. She didn’t even use her hands. Those were still braced on my pecs, spread wide and kneading me slightly. But her hips were apparently a lot more flexible than mine. She settled herself just where I wanted her to be, and then…
Oh, glory.
She lowered herself down, inch by delicious inch.
I meant to stay still, but I couldn’t control myself. My ass tightened and my hips thrust up. She took me easily, so wet that I barely felt any friction. But the heat and the grip were amazing, as was she as she flowed up and down, lifting and lowering in slow, undulating movements.
God, I was so glad that we’d already done this once. I wouldn’t have lasted otherwise. The way she moved—rolling up and down—with her face softened in delight and her breasts and hair flowing free…it was something I would remember until the day I died.
I had to touch her. I had to caress her skin, knead her breasts, connect with her in a way that wasn’t just man inside woman, but heart to heart.
That thought should have scared me. Getting my heart involved when I was just at the beginning of my pro baseball career wasn’t smart. I didn’t have room for anyone or anything in my life but baseball. Or so I’d once thought.
Right now, I didn’t have room for anything in my life but her and the way she moved on top of me.
I was beginning to lose control. The fire in my loins was throwing sparks up my spine and down my legs. My breath came out in harsh gusts, and my hands were clumsy as they touched her.
I let go of her glorious breasts and slid a hand down between us. I needed her to feel as ragged as I did. Fortunately, she was moving in such a way that I could reach.
I slid a thumb between us. It was awkward, but I managed to push between her folds. And every time she bore down, I rolled up.
I felt her reaction in the sudden gripping inside. A squeeze that shot stars through my vision. And still, we moved together.
