by Kendall Ryan
But strangely, as Neda keeps talking, explaining examples of accelerators, nothing about this feels awkward. I can’t imagine being here with anyone except Connor. Instead of discomfort or strained silence between the two of us, there’s this buzzy excitement, like we can’t wait to get started.
Although, let’s be honest, the alcohol might have had something to do with that.
The instructor continues to wander around the room, this time handing out a worksheet to each of the couples. She places one of the papers on the table in front of us, and Connor and I exchange a look.
“Use this worksheet to start a discussion between you and your partner. It’s important to communicate about your accelerators and your brakes. Otherwise, you might not realize when you’re pressing both pedals at the same time.”
She arches a brow at us and then continues around the room, and a low hum of muted voices fills the air as the couples begin discussing.
Connor picks up the sheet of paper, scanning the questions before looking back at me. There’s a playful glint in his eyes, coupled with something curious, something darker. My stomach ties itself into a thousand tiny knots, and I lick my lips and nod for him to read.
His eyebrows shoot up, and then he smiles. It’s a rare smile, the kind that makes me want to melt into a puddle of warm mush. Then he clears his throat and asks, “What’s an accelerator for you? The examples are watching porn together, lighting candles, wearing lingerie . . . role-playing games?”
My mouth falls open. This. This is an accelerator for me. Hearing Connor’s deep voice rumble over each word.
I quickly pull myself together. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I look up at the ceiling and bite my lip, trying to look like I’m thinking. “Wearing lingerie,” I say finally. “And lighting candles. Porn is kind of take it or leave it for me.”
Connor nods slowly, and I can practically see him struggling not to ogle every inch of my body. “Lingerie is good.”
I laugh softly and take the paper from his hands. Clearly, we’re not going to get any further with that line of questioning. “What about your brakes? Knowing there’s a mess in the house, feeling like there’s pressure to perform? According to this, a car won’t go if you’re pressing the accelerator and the brake is still on.”
“Brakes?” He considers the question for a moment, then says, “If anything’s wrong with Marley. Or if I’m worried there’s anything wrong with Marley.”
I nod. “That makes sense.”
“You?”
“I guess I would say a dirty bedroom.”
Connor snorts. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Have you seen the inside of a twenty-something male’s bedroom lately? It’s tragic. And a major turnoff.”
He shakes his head, laughing harder this time. “I apologize on behalf of my entire gender.”
I turn back to the paper, genuinely curious for his answer to this next question. “What about the goals of sex?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Well, I think that one’s pretty obvious. Orgasms, clearly,” he says with a chuckle, and I stare back at him. When I don’t immediately agree, he asks, “Why? What do you think?”
“Don’t get me wrong, orgasms are great and definitely important. But I also think that sex can be about feeling close to someone in a really authentic way.”
I hadn’t even fully thought it through before I said it, but once the words come out, I know I mean them. I love an endorphin rush as much as the next girl, but that closeness? That’s something else altogether.
Connor makes a noise of agreement and nods, a soft smile spreading across his face. “I like that.”
Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t say such sweet and dangerous things. If he didn’t, it would be a whole lot easier to pretend that I’m not feeling half the things I’m feeling. Pretending is something I’ve gotten pretty good at these days.
“Okay, my turn,” he says, taking the paper back and glancing down at it. “This next round is a series of questions that you answer yes, no, or maybe. To make it as fair as possible, let’s say our answers at the same time, okay?”
I give him a disbelieving look. “How do I know I can trust you?”
Connor’s expression is more sincere than I was expecting. “You’re just going to have to.”
All right then, I guess I will.
“The first item on the list is bondage. So we’ll say our answer on the count of three. One, two, three . . .”
“No,” we say in perfect unison.
We blink at each other, and he smiles.
“Told you there were no whips or chains in my closet.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s next on the list?”
“Sixty-nining,” he says, his eyes growing dark. “One, two, three . . .”
“Yes,” we both say.
A blush creeps over my cheeks. That’s a mental image I’ll be thinking of for quite some time.
But Connor carries on, clearly determined to find out our compatibility according to this list. “Trying new positions. One, two, three.”
“Yes,” we both say.
“Bringing toys into the bedroom. Is this even a question for me?” he asks with a devilish smile.
“Oh, so you’re saying you get high on your own supply?” I grin, leaning in toward him.
“That,” he says, mirroring my position, so that our faces are only inches apart, “is exactly what I’m saying.”
My breath catches in my chest, my gaze falling to his mouth. His lips are full and just begging for me to kiss them. But before I can make good on that thought, he pulls away, turning back to the paper.
“Anal?” he asks.
“What?” I almost sputter. Breathe, Jessa.
He cocks his head to the side. “It’s the next item on the list. Anal. One, two, three.”
The gears in my head are barely working, so I stumble out a “maybe,” and I’m surprised to hear Connor say the same. Surprise is on his face too. I guess there’s a lot we agree on.
“Opening up the relationship,” he says flatly. “One, two, three.”
“No.” Both of our voices are decisive and firm.
He nods and turns the sheet over. “I guess that’s it. We did it.”
“That wasn’t so bad. I was expecting it to be much more scandalous.”
He smiles, raising one brow. “Do you want me to ask you some scandalous questions to make up for it?”
I give him a light shove, my skin electric where it meets his. He pretends to fall over, but then sits back up and places his hand on my knee, and now I really feel like my skin’s on fire.
The instructor gives us some final words of encouragement, telling us to take everything we learned back to the bedroom tonight, and sends us off into the summer evening.
Connor takes my hand on the walk back to our neighborhood. I try to pretend it’s a small, sweet gesture, one that doesn’t really have to mean anything. He’s just trying to make sure that I’m safe. That I don’t blow away in the summer breeze.
But him holding my hand has nothing to do with the heat that’s been pulsing between us all night, or the way my voice catches in my throat for a moment every time he looks me in the eye. When he takes my hand, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go.
“So, that was interesting,” he says. His palm is warm against mine, and his fingers settle over my knuckles.
“It was,” I say with a slight tilt of my head. “Very . . . enlightening.”
The only sounds around us are the rumble of cars, the hum of cicadas, and our footsteps in sync on the sidewalk. My heart thuds against my chest, and I almost wonder if Connor can feel my pulse in my wrist. I’d try to relax, but I don’t know if that’s possible.
Thankfully, it’s a short drive home, and it’s not long before we’re standing on the sidewalk in front of mine. I glance up at the doorway and back at Connor, who’s giving me a shy smile.
&n
bsp; “Sorry if tonight was weird. I haven’t been on a date in forever,” he says, looking down at his feet.
His tone is sincere, apologetic even, and my heart cracks a little at the thought of him believing any of that.
“It wasn’t weird,” I say, taking a step toward him and searching his gaze. “I had a nice time, Connor. Really, I did.”
He looks up, and suddenly, I’m aware of just how close I’ve made us. Close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheeks and see the flecks of gold mixed with the green of his eyes.
His gaze meets mine before flitting down to my mouth, and in one motion, Connor takes his hand to the back of my neck and pulls me in closer to him. Our lips touch, and at first it’s soft and searching like a question. He moves slowly, taking his time.
Every lingering doubt I’ve had about what’s happening between us slips away, and his kiss sends a shock from my lips straight through to my core. A burning, hungry need lights up inside me, and I answer by touching my fingertips to the stubble on his jaw and kissing him back, deeper than before.
I can’t tell you how long we stand there in the driveway, wrapped in each other’s arms, but when we finally part, the world feels different. It’s like the temperature dropped a few degrees and the air grew damp and heady. Connor’s eyes twinkle as he tucks a stray curl into place behind my ear, and my body screams for him to touch me again.
His voice is low and husky when he asks, “Do you want to come inside?”
11
* * *
CONNOR
The front door has barely latched closed behind us before I have Jessa pressed up against the wall, my knee wedged between her parted thighs.
Our mouths are locked in a kiss unlike any I’ve ever experienced—new and exciting, and yet somehow so familiar, like we’ve kissed a thousand times before. But the truth is, save for my drunken advances, this is the first time we’ve ever let ourselves be this close. This honest. This real.
And let me tell you, after torturous weeks of imagining this very scenario? Reality most certainly takes the cake. Because this is fucking phenomenal. Her mouth. Her tongue. Her taste. Her breath. Everything Jessa.
She rakes her fingers through my hair, the damn-near music of her needy little moans echoing down the front hall. I’ve never been more excited to have the house all to myself . . . to not be concerned about waking Marley up. The thought of Jessa screaming my name later tonight in the throes of passion sparks a fire deep in my groin. We can be as loud as we want to be.
I pull back, catching my breath. Her eyes flutter open to meet mine as I smooth a few stray hairs from her freckled face.
“Jessa?” Her name feels so good on my tongue.
“Yeah?” She’s breathless and sounds just as turned on as I feel.
“Is this okay?” I caress her cheek.
She responds by nipping my thumb, her eyes sparkling with mischief. And when her tongue sneaks out from between her pink lips to swipe against my fingertip, my mouth goes bone dry. She hasn’t even touched my dick yet, and I’m already as hard as a goddamn telephone pole. Safe to say my libido is back, full throttle, ready to be unleashed on the gorgeous nanny.
“Does that answer your question?” Jessa whispers seductively, leaning into me to nuzzle the tip of her nose against my cheek. Meanwhile, her hands explore the muscles of my shoulders and chest, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.
“Point taken,” I murmur against her ear, my lips brushing along the curve of it before I nibble on her earlobe.
She shudders beneath me, her hips moving into mine until she’s grinding herself against my leg like a cat in heat. Within seconds, her fingers are pulling at the buttons of my shirt.
You don’t have to tell me twice.
I dip down to scoop Jessa’s thighs up, my fingers pressing into the bare skin of her soft-as-sin legs. Her dress scrunches up around her waist and her feet dangle in the air behind me as I lift her, one shoe falling off her foot and hitting the floor with a thud as she wraps her long limbs around my hips.
I push her against the wall more confidently now, groaning when I feel the hot center of her core against my abdomen. While Jessa pulls my shirt loose from my pants, popping button after button, I make it my life’s mission to taste every square inch of her neck. When I find a particularly sensitive spot, just over the fluttering of her pulse, Jessa arches her back and murmurs in approval.
“Oh wow, that’s good,” she whispers, and the words make my desire for her swell even more than I thought possible.
Fuck. My dick strains against the zipper of my jeans, desperate for her. Slow down, Connor.
“Should I take us into my bedroom?”
It’s gotta be her choice.
“Yes.” Her tone is sure.
Keeping my grip on her thighs, I spin us around and move down the hall toward my bedroom. Jessa continues to rub herself against me, her bare foot caressing my lower back while keeping us locked together in a tight embrace. It’s hard enough to walk with a mammoth erection in your jeans, let alone with the woman of your dreams rocking her hips against you and making it damn near impossible to focus on anything but sliding deep inside her.
I don’t know how we make it to the bed, but we do. As I lay her down, she pulls me into her, wrapping her arms around my neck and capturing my lips with hers in a searing kiss. I tug at the zipper of her dress, help her shimmy the garment off her body, and then toss it aside where it lands in a heap next to the bed. She kicks off her remaining shoe and leans down to kiss me.
Her blue eyes sparkle in the lamplight, her cheeks flushed a deep pink as I unabashedly drink in the masterpiece that is her body. I’m awed at the sight of her splayed across my sheets with only the tiny scrap of black cloth nestled low on her hips remaining. Her breasts are full and flushed, her nipples as pink as cotton candy. And probably just as sweet.
This woman had the nerve to go on a date with me braless, and I had no goddamn idea.
“You’re so sexy,” I murmur, leaning down to brush my lips against one peaked nipple.
Jessa arches her back in pleasure, sending the pert flesh between my lips. I swirl my tongue against it, relishing the throaty groan that earns.
“Fuck, Connor . . .”
I nibble softly against the taut skin, letting my eager hands grope and fondle her breasts like I’ve done in my mind a hundred times before. All those peeks at her cleavage I’ve shamed myself for . . . and yet I never could have imagined how unbelievably gorgeous her body truly is. Not until now. I release one nipple, moving to the other one while soothing the first with my thumb.
“Oh God.” She moans between incoherent gasps, her hips moving up and down as if to tell me here next, please.
I’m more than happy to oblige.
I lean back only long enough to pull my shirt the rest of the way off and lower myself to my knees at the bedside. I pull Jessa down the bed until her quivering legs are draped over my shoulders and her wet, hot panties are just a couple of inches from my lips. The heat emanating from her is making me drowsy with desire. It’s almost too much to bear, so I press a chaste kiss to the damp cotton. Hearing her gasp, I look up from between her thighs.
“Can I?” I ask, one finger trailing the slight indentation in the soft fabric where she’s most wet.
Her body rolls with pleasure, a whimper trickling from her lips. As soon as the word yes reaches my ears, I pull the fabric aside and get to work licking, sucking, and laving at the slick flesh of her core. Jessa quivers with each circle and flick of my tongue, her fingers sliding through my hair as I discover what makes her whimper and what makes her beg.
Just when I feel her beginning to buck with pleasure, I slowly dip one finger inside her, moving until I feel her walls close around me, torrents of raw pleasure washing over her as she sighs my name on the end of a desperate cry.
While she recovers, I spend my time tracing shapes across her thighs with my lips as her hips continue to twitch with the
remnants of what I hope was a very good orgasm. Kneeling here, with the smell of her in the air and the taste of her on my lips . . . it’s damn near spiritual.
She chuckles breathlessly. “Hey, Connor?”
I grin, nibbling at the plushness of her thigh. “Yeah?”
“You’re really good at that.”
I laugh. “Thank you.”
“I mean it, like, woo.” Jessa sighs happily. “Inspiring.”
“Oh, really?”
I hope this is going where I think it’s going, but I’m not the kind of man to expect some sort of payment in return for a good time. But when she lifts herself onto her elbows and crooks a finger at me, inviting me back onto the bed, I’m not about to object.
Our kisses are slower now, more sensual. I let Jessa guide me onto my back where she straddles me. She still wears her black panties, and I suddenly regret not removing those when I had the chance. What I wouldn’t give to have Jessa’s entirely naked body perched over mine.
In the lamplight, I catch sight of freckles sprinkling her shoulders and the swell of her breasts, details hidden by shadows until now. How can someone be this beautiful?
When I reach for her breasts again, craving their softness, Jessa catches my hands and redirects them to her neck and hair. Slowly, she lowers herself down my chest and abs, marking the trail with electrifying kisses that leave me panting with sexual frustration. I watch as she unbuttons my jeans and pulls down the zipper, yanking my waistband down far enough to release my throbbing erection from my briefs.
Fuck.
“Hold my hair?” she asks, one eyebrow quirking adorably as the soft surface of her palm brushes against the length of me.
I shudder, gently pulling her curls into a riotous ponytail at the back of her neck. With that, Jessa smiles and brushes her lips against my shaft, up and down and back up again until she slides her hot, warm mouth over me in one confident stroke.
“Fuck . . .” I growl, my head falling back on the bed in defeat. “Jessa.”
Her lips, tongue, and mouth are so smooth, wet, and tight around me, I can hardly breathe. When one hot little hand palms my balls, I can feel myself this close to losing control. Jessa must sense it too because her strokes pick up pace, inching me closer to the edge with each passing second.
