by Olivia Dade
“Okay.” Slowly, his tension eased. “Okay, that sounds perfect.”
She swung off him and stood by the bed. Her face turned away from his—in shyness, as he knew—she unfastened her pants and let them drop to the ground.
“You should bronze that bra and panties set. And then buy a million more.” He meant it. No thong had ever enticed him the way her modest lace hipster underwear was doing right now. “It’s amazing on you.”
Her generous hips and round thighs looked inviting. Soft and welcoming.
“I’ll never be like those other women.” Her voice was quiet. Low and worried. “I’m not a model, Miles. Or an actress.”
Once more, he reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one with fears and insecurities. He wasn’t the only one who needed comfort. To become the lover he wanted to be for Mary, the lover she deserved, he had to remember that. Not just now, but always.
“I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself.” After a moment’s thought, he decided to match vulnerability with vulnerability. “And I have an embarrassing question to ask.”
She was still staring at the floor. “What is it?”
He indicated his lap with a wry expression. “Can you please help me with my jeans? Taking them off one-handed will probably be harder with an erection. Much harder. Pun intended.”
Her eyes big and startled, she looked at him for the first time since stripping down to her panties. Then she laughed, and he joined in.
“Come here, then,” she said through giggles. “I’ll take care of you.”
“We’ll take care of each other, beautiful.” He hopped off the bed and tapped that crinkle at the bridge of her nose with a single finger. “Just wait and see.”
* * *
Remaining insecure, even while wearing only a pair of panties, was proving remarkably difficult in the face of Miles’s obvious admiration and his own self-consciousness.
And somehow, the awkwardness had eased by the very act of acknowledging it. Mary found herself unbuttoning and unzipping his pants for the first time with hardly a twinge of embarrassment. Even the feel of his sizeable, boxers-covered erection against her hand didn’t faze her in the same way it would have if he’d been suave or—she stifled another giggle—cocky.
Because of his arousal, those jeans needed some coaxing to unzip. But when she got the job done and pushed them to the floor, her reward was substantial. The sight of his muscular thighs and strong calves almost made her gasp. And his abs were equally impressive, although she had to admit it: She missed the pudge, the physical evidence that he wasn’t returning to Hollywood anytime soon. The signal that any softness in her own body would be forgiven.
She was trying hard not to look at the region between his thighs and chest. At least for now. After all, wasn’t it rude to stare at a man’s endowments?
When she stood, his hot eyes scanned her again, greedily taking in every inch of her body. As if he’d been starved of the sight of her for months, and he planned to glut himself on the unexpected treat.
He skimmed his hand from her waist to her knee, his hold gentle but possessive. “I love your thighs. I want them wrapped around me. The sooner the better.”
No, he didn’t seem to mind her softness. There was no mistaking his physical reaction to her or the sincerity of his praise. And maybe she did find it a little embarrassing, but she also found it both flattering and thrilling.
Empowering, too. So much so that she was able to speak her mind in a way she’d never managed with her few previous lovers. “Your calves are amazing. So strong and defined.”
He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest as he struck a dramatic pose. “I’m surprised you noticed. I don’t like to show off my body. I’m very modest.”
There he was. The lively, often-silly man she’d seen in that Blu-ray. She’d thought he’d disappeared forever, but no. Right now, that man was flexing in front of her without an ounce of shame and in only a few ounces of clothing.
From what she could tell, his self-consciousness had vanished during the last few minutes. He wasn’t making the slightest attempt to hide his left arm from her. He’d referred to the injury without hesitation. And to her shock, he was even asking for help, something he’d never, ever done in the weeks and weeks they’d been dating.
He wasn’t shielding himself anymore. At long last, she felt as if she understood him well enough to trust that he’d stay in Nice County. To believe that he didn’t only want her as a distraction from his grief or as a consolation prize. To invite him into her body.
But for that to happen, she needed to shed one last barrier.
Here goes. She hooked her thumbs into her panties. Before she could tug them off, though, he quickly grabbed hold of her hand.
“Hold on, speedy pants. Or speedy underpants, I guess.” He looked down at the blue lace and grinned. “This part I can do. And God, do I want to do it.”
To her shock, he dropped to his knees in front of her. His head…oh, goodness, his head was right in front of her most private area, and she could feel her cheeks turn hot.
“Don’t worry.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “We’ll work up to that part.”
“That doesn’t really ease my worries at all,” she told him, but he just laughed.
His fingertips trailed along the waist of the panties, stroking her skin in that deliberate way of his that always made her shiver. He edged beneath the fabric, and her panties were descending, millimeter by slow millimeter, as he admired her. Private parts and all.
Then those panties came to a sudden halt. He tugged again, but nothing happened.
“Beautiful.” He wasn’t laughing anymore, but his lips were twitching. “It’ll be challenging to make love if you won’t open your legs at all.”
“Your face is right there,” she protested.
“I know.” He blinked innocently at her. “It’s my face. I’m very aware of its location.”
“But if I open my legs, you’ll see everything.”
He nodded. “And?”
Goodness gracious, the man had no mercy. But he’d allowed her to study and touch his injured arm without protest, hadn’t he? Couldn’t she show some of the same bravery?
Without letting herself think about it any longer, she widened her stance.
“Mary Louise Higgs, you know better than that. A quarter inch isn’t going to do it.”
“Fine.” With a little huff, she spread her legs for him, and the next thing she knew, her panties were whooshing down to her ankles.
She moved to step out of them, but he put a hand on her leg to stop her. “Uh-uh. Once you kick those off, I know your sweet thighs are going to snap shut again.”
Her hands rose to cover her face. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
“I don’t know who Pete is, but Miles is pretty happy at the moment.” His fingers trailed up her thigh, and he planted a soft kiss on her knee. “Now just stay right there, please. Hold on to my shoulders if you need to, because I won’t have a free hand.”
She heard herself give a muffled whimper, one born of both intense arousal and intense embarrassment. “Miles.”
“That’s me. No Pete in sight. Sorry for any disappointment.” He traced the line separating her thigh from her sex. “I love your curls here.”
Then he was gently combing through those curls, his touch growing ever closer to her—
Oh, goodness, he was there. He was separating her labia and caressing her clitoris. Rubbing with the lightest touch she’d ever felt, using the slickness of her own moisture to glide over her most sensitive spot with impeccable timing.
Her breath rushed through her hands in a shaky gasp, and she swayed on her feet.
“Shoulders,” he reminded her, and she reluctantly lowered her hands to grasp at him for support. But she kept her eyes tightly shut, because it was all too much.
Him, kneeling at her feet. Her, spread for his enjoyment only
inches from his face. And the way he was touching her, with such care and skill, as if they’d been lovers for months.
Like you’d know, Mary Louise.
Heck, she’d only had two lovers before Miles. One of them had never put his face anywhere close to her vagina, despite his fervent desire to have her face near his private parts. And with the other, she’d usually made love with the lights off, his hesitance and her self-consciousness combining to make their sex life decent but not awe-inspiring.
Oh, my. Oooooh, my. That was his tongue. Wasn’t it? It felt like his tongue.
She peeked through one eyelid. Yes, that was definitely his tongue. He was holding her open with his fingers and softly licking and circling her clit with his talented tongue, and oh, goodness, it felt amazing. So amazing she felt pressure building down low, arousal and heat and tension.
Her hands weren’t resting on his shoulders anymore. They were clutching his head and holding him to her as she rocked against his mouth, seeking more.
When he guided her back to sit on the edge of the bed, she didn’t argue. When he disposed of her panties and wedged his shoulders between her thighs, she didn’t give a peep of protest. And when his mouth descended on her once again, his fingers playing in the wetness of her vagina, she could only cry out and brace her arms behind her.
His tongue flicked at her clitoris until her legs, now slung over his shoulders, started shaking. Then, just as he slid a finger deep inside her and rubbed, he sucked her into his mouth with tender care, and she was gone. Completely gone.
Her mind a blank white, she pressed herself to him and gave herself over to the hardest, longest, most intimate orgasm of her life. She didn’t care that she was moaning and trembling, that her body was opening and closing around his finger with almost violent force, or that her legs had snapped shut around his ears and she was probably suffocating the poor man.
Oh, goodness, the intensity of her pleasure. It faded after a few seconds to a gentler glow of satisfaction, but he patiently chased every last bit of it out of her, until she was lying boneless and breathless on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Holy crap. I’ve never experienced anything even close to that.
For the first time ever while naked, all self-consciousness had left her. And as her thoughts began to filter slowly back into her stunned brain, she figured that probably explained a lot. Why she’d never responded the same way to previous lovers. Why Miles had been willing to push past her boundaries, past her embarrassment.
He’d known. Of course he’d known. The man was obviously an expert at all this.
And at that thought, self-consciousness made its reappearance. She raised her head and winced at the sight of Miles still kneeling on the floor.
“Your poor knees.” Her voice was almost unrecognizable, shaky and hoarse. After clearing her throat, she tried again. “You must be sore.”
But when he looked up, he didn’t appear pained or impatient. He appeared triumphant and smugly male. So much so that she was tempted to laugh.
He got to his feet, shucked his boxers in a single movement, and climbed on to the bed, kneeling once more between her limp legs. “Only in a certain region. And I’m hoping you’ll help me deal with that ache soon.”
“Of course.” She kind of wanted to close her legs again, but there was no point to that. He’d seen it all already. And apparently enjoyed the view, from what she could tell.
His self-satisfied smile died, to her immediate regret. Worry lines appeared across his forehead. “I’d love to do this with you underneath me, but I’ve had nightmares about losing my balance and crushing you. Are you okay with being on top this first time?”
And just that quickly, her awkwardness fled, replaced by the warmth of connection. “For the record, I wouldn’t care if you did put your full weight on me. But I’m more than happy to be on top, if that’s what you want.”
The stiffness in his body eased. Except in one area, she couldn’t help but note.
“Great.” He inclined his head toward his nightstand. “If you’re willing, I’d love for you to take care of protection too.”
She’d never, not once in her life, rolled a condom on to a man’s penis before. But there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?
By the time she located the foil packet and opened it, he’d flipped on to his back. His erection pointing toward his belly and his eyes on her, he seemed perfectly at ease with his nudity. More so than she was, that was for sure.
He was velvety beneath her fingertips. Thick and veined, the tip of his penis wet with his desire for her. Circling him in her fist, she stroked up and down.
His groan was immediate and loud. “God, that feels incredible.”
Encouraged by his response, she didn’t worry too much about fumbling as she put the condom on him, and she didn’t let herself think too hard about her weight or how her stomach must look as she straddled his hips.
He was watching her with the sort of intent wonder usually reserved for goddesses and women much more glamorous than she was. And just when she was about to get up on her knees and take him inside herself, he shook his head.
“You’re more beautiful than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Mary. Any piece of art. Any cathedral. Anything, period.” His jaw firmed, his admiration turning to determination. “And no way we’re making love until you’re turned on again. Just as turned on as I am.”
That talented hand slid between her legs once more, stroking her sensitized flesh with unhurried care, playing and rubbing until she was arched back, her hands on his knees, her hips moving rhythmically toward release once more. Only then did he urge her up and over his erection.
When the tip of him nudged inside her, they both gasped. And then she slid down slowly, feeling his cock stretch her wide and sink deep. His mouth opened, his features tightening as if in pain, and she understood exactly how he felt. The intensity of the sensation was keen. Almost unbearable.
“Jesus,” he panted. “Oh, God, Mary.”
Finally, finally, her hips rested flush against his. She’d taken all of him, and it felt so damn good she wanted to cry or shout.
Tentatively, she began to sway her hips back and forth, and the way his erection rubbed inside her forced a long moan from her throat. After a few seconds, she found her rhythm. And as she did, his body rocked beneath hers in gentle movements, driving him even deeper with each thrust from below.
The pressure began to build again with unexpected speed, accelerating and strengthening as she raised and lowered herself with more force. Enough force that she could hear the contact, the slap of skin against skin, which would have discomfited her any other time. But she didn’t care. She wanted friction. She wanted him as deep inside her as he could go.
He gave her everything she wanted, his hips bucking hard as she rode him faster. And then his thumb was there again, circling her clitoris while his cock filled her. That wasn’t what she’d wanted. But as it turned out, it was exactly what she needed.
She sobbed as she came again, her inner muscles quivering and squeezing him rhythmically. A split second later, he gave a shout and gripped her hip, holding her down as he thrust deep and hard inside her one final time.
When the pleasure began to fade, she collapsed across his chest, panting from the exertion and the aftermath of her second intense orgasm. His hand smoothed over her damp back down to her bottom, which he gave a gentle squeeze.
“Was that okay?” He sounded ridiculously hesitant, given the circumstances. “I can’t do everything I’d like with only one arm and one hand.”
She raised her head to meet his eyes. “If you could do better than that with two hands, I’m glad you only have one. I’d never have survived the experience otherwise.”
His lips curved. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.” She plopped back down on to his chest. “I’m giving you my full weight. Take that as a sign of how thoroughly you’ve ex
hausted me.”
“I want your full weight on me.” He cupped her butt cheek possessively. “I want all of you. Heart, mind, soul, and definitely body. Because that was the single greatest experience of my life just now. Why did we wait so long to do this?”
He knew why. They both did. But those days were gone, turned to ash in the conflagration that had flared between them.
Still, she answered him. “Because if we hadn’t waited, it wouldn’t have been this good. Not for me, anyway.”
“Fair enough.” Gently, he eased her to the side and took care of the condom. “And now we need to wait again.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
He laughed. “Because I’m not eighteen anymore, and I think we both need a pit stop before we start over. After that, all bets are off, beautiful.” Leaning over, he brushed his lips against hers. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Yet. His wording sent a chill through her, even though she knew what he meant.
But that chill dissipated under the heat of his stare when she got up on shaky legs and headed for the bathroom. And just as she closed the door, she heard his incredulous laugh.
“Hey, Mary!” he shouted, his voice muffled through the wood barrier. “Maybe I’m eighteen again after all!”
“I don’t know whether to be scared or flattered,” she called back.
“I’m aiming for aroused.” He sounded happy and carefree, and she couldn’t help but smile in response. “And I plan to get you there as soon as you come back to bed.”
She shook her head, a silly grin spreading across her face.
He didn’t need to know it, but that particular goal had already been achieved.
16
Miles waved Sarah and Chris ahead to the next horrifying stop and pulled Mary into a dark spot on the putt-putt course. Which wasn’t difficult, since pretty much all of Minnie’s Mini-Golf Massacre remained shadowy and unsettling.
“Explain to me again why you and Sarah are best friends,” he whispered in her ear.
