by Noelle Adams
I giggle, deciding as compliments go, it’s not a bad one. “All right. A wedding cake it is. As long as eating me is a promise.”
His eyes flare up again. “Definitely a promise.”
He unzips my skirt and pushes it down to the floor and then lifts me by my bottom so he can hold me against the wall at a better height for kissing. In this position, I can grind my arousal against his hard abdomen. I’m completely shameless as I move against him and claw at his back, but I don’t care.
I’m not sure how long we embrace like that, but eventually he secures me in his arms and carries me into my bedroom, laying me down on the bed.
Then he starts kissing my body, taking off my bra and underwear as he does.
He knows what he’s doing. He’s no fumbling boy. He’s got some real skills and experience, and it doesn’t take long before I’m making the most embarrassing moans and whimpers I’ve ever voiced. I’m rocking beneath him as he suckles one breast and teases between my legs with his hand.
Soon I’m so desperate I’m begging him to make me come. Literally begging.
He lifts his head and smiles down at me as he slides two fingers inside me. I’m wet and clinging, and I squeeze around him eagerly. He finds my clit with his thumb and then establishes a pleasing rhythm. I grab at the covers and ride his hand as he works me over.
My body arches up as an orgasm hits me, and I jerk my head to the side so I can hide my cries of pleasure against the pillow.
“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, adjusting his weight onto his knees. He’s still got his trousers and shirt on. He looks mature and expensive and sophisticated like one of those old black-and-white movie stars.
“Liar.” I’m smiling like a dope, but I can’t help it. My body is relaxing deliciously.
“I’m not lying. Now I think I promised to do some eating, if you were serious about that.”
“Really? You want to do that?”
“Of course I want to do that. I want to do everything with you.” He grabs my thighs and pulls them apart in a quick gesture that makes me squeal. He’s grinning as he grabs a pillow and fits it beneath my hips to raise my pelvis. Then he lowers his head, and I’m shaking in excitement as he starts to use his lips and tongue.
He’s good at this too. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve had guys please me orally before, but it’s always felt a little strange and unnatural.
This feels natural. Relaxed. Almost playful since he keeps chuckling at my responses. He’s obviously enjoying it too, and that makes all the difference for me.
I’m a little self-conscious. I’m not sure it’s possible for me not to be the first time with a guy. But soon that feeling fades in the pleasure.
He teases me for a long time before he finally lets me come by suckling my clit. Then he slides his fingers inside me again and keeps using his mouth. As I approach another, deeper orgasm, I’m huffing and writhing and fighting his hold on my hips.
I’m making weird little sobbing sounds that I have to stifle in the pillow again.
I come so hard my vision whites out briefly, and he keeps pumping his fingers against the contractions so I end up coming again.
I’m limp and gasping hoarsely when he finally pulls his hand away.
His lower face is wet. He wipes it with his shirt sleeve. He looks pleased and possessive and a little bit proud. “How was that?”
“You... You... You know exactly how that was.” I still haven’t caught my breath.
He laughs. “Well, it certainly looked and sounded pretty good.”
“It was better than pretty good. Now it’s your turn. What do you want?” I’m serious about the offer. If he wants me to suck him off, I’ll do it. He deserves as good a time as he gave me.
“I’d kind of like to fuck you now, if it’s agreeable to you.”
I giggle at his choice of words and pull him down on top of me. “It’s definitely agreeable to me.”
We kiss for a few minutes. He slows us down with intentional effort, and I don’t know if that’s for my benefit or for his. He’s definitely ready for sex though. He’s hard in his pants. I can feel the bulge as his weight presses down into me. I rub against it shamelessly, loving how he groans into my mouth.
Eventually I get impatient and pull my mouth away from his. “I have condoms if you didn’t bring any.”
“I did. I was definitely not going to go unprepared tonight. But they’re in the pocket of my jacket, which is in the other room.”
His frustrated expression makes me laugh. “Well, we can use mine or you can go get your jacket and use the kind you like.”
He groans dramatically, but he rolls off the bed and hefts himself to his feet. He limps out to the living room and is coming back in just a few seconds. “Now,” he says, standing beside the bed and gazing down at me. “I’m ready. You ready?”
“More than ready. Are you going to take your clothes off?”
“I guess I should.” He wastes no time in shucking his shirt and trousers. I watch as he pulls down his boxer briefs, and my stomach twists in excitement at the sight of his erection. Big and firm and definitely ready.
“You’re staring,” he says as he climbs into the bed with me.
“Well, you were staring at me earlier, so it’s only fair.”
“Well, you look like a wedding cake. I definitely don’t.”
“You look pretty delectable to me.”
That seems to please him. He’s smiling as he rolls on a condom and then settles between my legs.
Then it’s happening. He’s aligning himself at my entrance. Then he’s slowly pushing inside me. Easing out and then doing it again, deeper this time. He’s big and I’m small, but we seem to fit together anyway. He’s tight inside me but pleasantly so. I gasp and wriggle beneath him, bending my legs up beside his hips.
“Is it okay?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s got his head turned to the side, like he’s trying to control himself.
“Okay? It’s amazing. You feel amazing.”
“Good. Because nothing has ever felt as good as you do right now.”
What girl wouldn’t like to hear that? I stroke his back and keep adjusting until I’m comfortable. By then he’s ready to move.
He starts to thrust—slow and steady at first, but his control doesn’t last very long. Soon he’s taking me hard and fast, and it’s exactly what I want. I’m moving with him. Clutching at his tight ass. Planting my feet on the mattress to get better leverage to move my hips.
He’s making the sexiest grunts—like he’s so turned on he’s letting the animal out. We’re moving together so vigorously we’re shaking the bed. The sound of it squeaking is raw and visceral and makes the whole thing even more exciting.
I don’t normally come in missionary position, but my body is already primed, and I’ve been waiting for this for so long. Nothing can stop me now. It takes only a few minutes for a climax to tighten at my center. I sob out in effort and pleasure as it deepens and then releases in waves of sensation.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he mutters as I gasp and moan. “You’re coming so good for me. Take all of it. Take everything you want.”
For some reason his words get me going again. Another orgasm rises on the heels of the first. I’m choking on the feelings as my body tightens again. I dig my fingers into his lower back and grind myself against his hard thrusts.
“That’s right, sweetheart. That’s so good. Come again for me.”
I do. I can’t do anything else. My inner muscles clamp down around him, and this time he roars out with what sounds like desperation.
Then he’s coming too. His body jerks and shakes against mine, and he rolls his hips as the spasms of his release keep coming.
We end up a gasping tangle of heat and limbs and sweat and flesh, and it’s the most delicious kind of satisfaction.
He gasps against my neck until his body starts to soften. Then he finally pulls up. Pulls out. Takes care of the condom.
>
I stretch out on the bed, sore and exhausted and utterly satisfied.
“That was... wow.”
He laughs as he ties off the condom. “That was definitely wow.”
“I’ve never had first-time sex like that before.”
He gives me a quick look. “Me either. But it’s been brewing between us for a long time, so maybe that explains it.”
“Maybe.”
He stands up with a muffled groan, so I know he’s just as sore as me. “Your bathroom’s in the hall?”
“Yeah.”
He disappears out the door. I hear the toilet flush. The water in the sink. Then he comes back into the room, grabs his underwear from the floor, pulls them on, and then collapses in the bed beside me.
I need to go to the bathroom too, but I haven’t found the energy to get up yet. I reach over and stroke his chest. “Thank you. For treating me so well. For making an effort.”
“I enjoyed every moment of it, so you don’t have to thank me for anything.” He looks relaxed now. Slightly flushed. His head is turned toward mine, and he’s smiling as he gazes at me.
“I did too.”
“So you want it to happen again?” I see the question in his eyes as well as hearing it in his voice.
“I definitely do, if that’s what you want too. I know you said it can’t be complicated with you.”
“I think we can manage a repeat performance without it getting too complicated. Freddie’s with her mother next weekend, so maybe we can get together then. Are you free next weekend?”
I’m smiling now too. “Yeah. I do happen to be free.”
“Excellent.” He leans over to kiss me softly. “I’m sorry to run out on you. I know it’s a shitty thing to do. But I’ve been away from Freddie all evening.”
“Of course. You can go right away. You don’t have to feel bad. I’m very happy.” I’m telling him the truth. He’s been so careful and attentive that I don’t even feel disappointed about his quick exit.
He stands up and gets dressed. Then he leans down and kisses me again. “We can take our time next weekend.”
“I can’t wait.”
It’s true. This was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I can’t wait to have it again. I have absolutely no regrets about this evening, which proves to me that I haven’t made a mistake.
Five
THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY morning, I wake up with Max beside me in bed.
It makes me giggle in a silly overflow of pleasure. I really like the sight of his big body, closed eyes, and mussed hair when I open my eyes.
It’s just after seven, and we stayed up late last night, so I try not to wake him up as I adjust positions to get more comfortable.
He came over to my place at around eight yesterday. He had to drive Freddie up to her mother in Richmond and then drive back. But he picked up pasta and salad for dinner, and I contributed wine and dessert, and we had a really good time eating and talking about everything from movies to our favorite games as kids. Then we had sex on the couch, took a shower together, and had sex again in bed. It was after one when we finally went to sleep exhausted and replete.
I’m sore this morning, but otherwise I feel really good. I’m ridiculously pleased that he spent the night. I wasn’t really expecting him to since we’ve been so clear about being casual. But his daughter is gone all weekend, so maybe it’s purely practical. This way he didn’t have to get dressed and drive home late last night, and we can have sex again this morning if we want.
We might have to take it easy because our second round last night was deliciously rough, and my body is feeling it right now. But even if we don’t have sex, we can hang out, and that sounds pretty great too.
I stretch out more comfortably and look at him for a few minutes, admiring the firm muscles of his bare upper body, the masculine, natural look of his dark chest hair. He’s pushed the covers down toward his waist, and my eyes linger on his belly. It’s not completely flat. It’s a delightful discovery since he’s so hard everywhere else.
I’m tempted to reach over and rub it—just to see how it feels. I can barely resist the impulse.
“Are you staring at me?” The question startles me since he hasn’t even opened his eyes.
“No. Of course not. Why would I be staring at you?”
“I don’t know.” He edges his eyes open in a sleepy glare. “It feels like I’m being stared at.”
I snicker and say, “You’re imagining things. Go back to sleep.” Since he’s awake, I reach over to rub his belly the way I’ve been wanting. It’s not what I’d call soft, but there’s a little give. I try to find some spare flesh to squeeze and find a bit at his side.
“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding amused and still a little groggy. It’s an adorable combination.
“Nothing. Just checking something.”
He’s chuckling now, and he moves my hand so he can pull my body over on the bed so it’s pressed against his side. “Yes, I have love handles. Is that what you were checking?”
“No. It’s not.” I press a little kiss against his chest because I really can’t help it.
His body is still vibrating with amusement. “Are you lying to me?”
“Maybe a little.” I lift my head, beaming down at him. “I like your love handles.”
“Do you?” His eyes are soft and warm and just a little heavy. He strokes my cheek with his knuckles and then runs his hand down my body, ending up cupping my bottom over the little silky gown I put on before I went to sleep last night. “I like everything about your body.”
I lean down to kiss him but then change my mind. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, and I need to pee. “I’m going to go to the bathroom and then make coffee. You want some?”
“Yes, please. Thank God.”
I’ve already climbed off the bed, but I pause at that. “Why thank God?”
“Because I’m way too old to have sex before coffee. I’d have made my best effort for you, but it wouldn’t have been my finest hour.”
I giggle helplessly at that as I leave the room. The man can charm the pants off me without even trying, even barely woken up.
I’m still giggling as I pee, wash my face and brush my teeth, and it’s still kind of spilling out of me as I make a pot of coffee and then bring two mugs back to the bed. He’s leaving the bathroom as I reach the hall, so he takes his cup, and we both head back to bed in mutual agreement.
We prop up against my pillows, and as I take my first sip, I giggle again.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I slant him a little look. “You are.”
“Are you still laughing at my love handles?” He doesn’t look worried or offended. He’s obviously not remotely self-conscious about his body.
“I wasn’t laughing at your love handles. I told you I love them. I was laughing about your reaction—to that and the coffee. I can’t help it. You make me laugh.”
“Okay. I’d rather make you weak in the knees, but if laughter’s what I’ve got going for me, I’ll take it.”
“You’ve got more than that going for you, as I’m sure you’re perfectly aware.”
“Aware of what?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t even try that on me. You’re smokin’ hot, and you know it. Women have probably been throwing themselves at your feet for your entire life.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
I take a swallow of coffee as I shake my head at him. “I bet they even came on to you when you were married.”
“Yeah,” he admits. “Some of them did. For some people a wedding ring isn’t a barrier.” He turns toward me, and his expression shifts into something more serious. “I got some decent genes from my folks, but in my experience it’s more that I genuinely like women.”
“Of course you like women. A lot of guys do.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean I really like them—as people. I remember this moment in college. I was hanging out drink
ing with a bunch of guys, and they started talking about girls. And I’ll never forget it. I was hit with this revelation that way too many of those guys didn’t really like women. They wanted them, but it was more that they wanted to have them, to conquer them. They didn’t like them as people, as human beings.” He stares at an empty space in the room, his brows pulled together. “And then I wondered if I was like that too. I hated the thought of it, and I’ve never been able to shake it. So I’ve always made an effort to get to know all the women in my life. I really like women, and I think they must be able to recognize that.”
My chest is tight from an ache of feeling. “Yeah. That sounds about right. I think I saw that about you right away. But I have to say that you’re hot enough that you’d be popular with women even if you weren’t such a great guy.”
“But you wouldn’t be here in bed if that were the case.”
I pause. “No,” I admit. “I wouldn’t. It’s only because you’re such a great guy that you’re here with me right now. Just hotness wouldn’t be enough to change my mind about my break from men. I really don’t need the distraction from getting the life I want.”
“If all the guys you’ve been with make you think they’ll distract you rather than help you get what you want, then it seems to me like you need some better experiences with men.” He’s finished his coffee, so he puts the mug on the nightstand and reaches over to wrap his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. “Have you really not been with a guy who went out of his way to make sure you were getting everything you wanted in your life?”
I start to make an immediate objection, but I stop and make myself think it through. “I... I don’t know. I had a boyfriend in high school. He was sweet. He treated me pretty well. But we were both young. He was a year ahead of me in school, and he just kind of assumed I’d go to the same college as him so we could be together. So I did.”
“Was that not the school you wanted to go to?”
“I don’t even know. I thought that’s where I wanted to go, but it was only because he was there. I never even... thought through what I wanted for myself. Then when I got there, he seemed like a different person. He’d already been there a year, and he’d set up a life for himself—one that I had to try to fit into. It just didn’t work, so we broke up before my freshman year was over. I dated a few guys in the next couple of years, but it never felt serious until I met Ron in my senior year. He was good-looking and charming, and I was finally starting to grow into my looks. He went after me hot and heavy, and I was... thrilled that he liked me. We were serious almost immediately. He was already admitted to med school, and it didn’t feel all that important where I got my degree, so I just ended up where he was. He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend. He was never mean or abusive or outright manipulative. But I can look back now and see that he didn’t try very hard to find out what I wanted. He just assumed I’d fall in line with his plans. And I did. I can’t blame him because I did. I wanted him as my boyfriend so much that it trumped everything else I wanted.” I let out a long sigh. “I’m determined not to do that again.”
