I resist the urge to look down at her bare chest for what I think is a pretty damn commendable span of a few seconds before jack knifing up, spinning us around so she’s pressed to the mattress, and I kiss her hard.
“Just tell me. I swear I won’t. I couldn’t ever think that about you.”
“I have implants.” That is not what I was expecting at all.
“That’s it? That’s what you have to tell me?” She nods while still avoiding my eyes. “Christine, look at me. I’m not here to judge you. I don’t care. I love every inch of your body, whether it’s been touched up or natural. You’re still you.”
“You don’t, like, think I’m a slut or an egomaniac or anything? I just did it because I was tired of being even less than an A cup. No other reason than that.”
“A slut?” I guffaw. I fall over laughing, pressing my head into the pillow beside her head.
“It’s not funny, Andy! I’m serious!” She’s giggling to herself and pushing lightly on me.
When I finally have my laughter under control, I sit up, straddling her. I take her hands in mine and move them so they’re above her head, giving her a look that I hope she reads as “Don’t you dare move those hands or I’ll spank your sweet ass.”
My fingers make a trail from her wrists to her biceps, leaving goose bumps in their wake. I cover both breasts with the palms of my hands, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Beautiful,” I murmur before leaning down and pressing a kiss at the center of her chest and showering the rest of her with feather-light kisses.
“Perfect.”
Kiss.
“Mine.”
Kiss.
Suck.
Lick.
Bite.
I alternate between sucking and licking, giving both fair attention. Her nails are digging into my scalp. A muffled curse explodes from her lips, and I have to fight back the urge to laugh at the unexpectedness of it.
I knew being with Christine would be amazing, but I hadn’t taken into account how much fun it would be to learn all the things that make her tick. And I plan to take my time doing just that.
I lick and then bite softly, causing her to writhe beneath me, crying my name from her lips, her voice husky and sexy and addicting.
Making her come didn’t scratch the itch. Not a single bit. It’s like I rolled in a field of poison ivy, flaming the appetite my body had for hers. It tingles in awareness, wanting its turn, but I have other plans.
So does she, it seems.
Before I can comment anymore on how I could give two turkeys less if she has fake boobs, I’m naked. Not sure how it happened, but she’s right there with me and we’re both breathing heavy and she’s grabbing at anything she can of mine, and I’m touching anything I can reach of hers.
We’ve had months of foreplay.
Barely touching until I was divorced.
And now that I’ve had my first touch. My first taste. I’m glad we waited.
The anticipation only made this night that much greater.
Not to mention, the number of times I went home and had to take care of myself just from being in her presence. With any luck, my stamina will help us go on for hours.
My fingers make their way to her center, and I groan at the slickness I find. My earlier moments of hesitation are completely gone, and now I’m in the mood to take. I plunge two fingers into her and watch in fascination as her green eyes flash and her back arches, the back of her head digging into the pillow beneath her. I make quick movements, not letting up on my rhythm or strength. I can feel her pulse against the ends of my fingers, and I know she’s getting close again. I add my thumb of my other hand, pressing against the most sensitive part of her. She frantically grips the sheets above her as she twists and turns, alternating between gasping for air and screaming out curses that would make a sailor blush and calling my name.
When her body quakes and her hand comes to rest on my wrist, I let up, slowly pulling my fingers out.
I bring them up to my lips, sucking them into my mouth. Her eyes never leave my lips. There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who’s completely comfortable with herself. She’s not lying in front of me trying to position herself to look like a model. She’s not hiding the fact that at one time she had someone put silicone into her body to make her feel a little better about the way she looked.
“So, I take it you don’t care that I have fake breasts?”
Her eyes are so bright they look like emeralds, her skin flushed a beautiful shade of pink.
I chuckle. “That would be a no.”
“Because you like ’em big?”
To that, I do laugh. “That would also be a no. I don’t care, Christine, because I love you. Every part of you. They aren’t fake. They’re still you.”
Her eyes widen at my words that so effortlessly slipped out, as if I’ve been saying them to her my entire life.
“What did you just say?”
Smiling, my teeth drag across my bottom lip. I can’t think of a better time to let her know how I feel than right now. I look into her eyes and hope she can see in them what I said is true.
“Did you…”
“Mean it? Hell yes. I love you,” I say again because now that the words came out, they’re pretty easy to say.
“I love you right back.”
I kiss her. Hard. Bruising. Because there’s no other response worthy.
When I move my head back, her eyes are twinkling. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been.”
The pride in hearing that swells inside my chest. “Damn glad to hear that. I don’t plan on that changing, either.”
“Never. Now. Are we gonna do something about that?” she asks teasingly, pointing at my straining erection.
“What did you have planned?”
“Do I get to run the show now?”
I twist, landing on the bed beside her and move my hands above me like I had positioned her earlier.
Rather than trying to look seductive or feigning innocence, she latches onto me like she does with anything in life.
Vigor.
Enthusiasm.
And a whole lot of…
“Holy shit!” I yell out, my hips bucking up into her mouth when I feel myself hit the back of her throat.
“Sorry, but damn. Couldn’t help myself.”
My pushiness doesn’t seem to affect her, though. She simply hums in response. Her head is bobbing up and down, her soft hair creating a curtain around her face.
I reach down and fist it, pulling it away so I can see her better.
Her hand is wrapped around me, twisting as her mouth continues to move, sucking at the tip.
I feel myself tighten, but no way am I ending our first time together this way.
“Woman, you need to let up. Now,” I growl.
She moves quickly, straddling me, using her hand to center me while sliding down ever so slowly.
We both groan. Neither of us moves for a few beats. I’m enjoying the feel of her wrapped around me, of me filling her up.
She wiggles around, causing me to push in deeper. Her head falls forward as her hands scrape along my chest.
“It’s so… oh my… it’s just so good,” she breathes out.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
If my brain felt connected to my body at the moment, I would probably be able to say something a hell of a lot more eloquent than just mono-symbolic grunts.
“I think… I need to move.”
“Yeah.”
O-for-two in the response category of the evening.
I decide, since my mouth isn’t working, I’m gonna have to rely on the physical to show her.
I grip her hips and twist, wanting to be able to look down at her. Needing to see her splayed out beneath me.
Her dark hair is a stark contrast to the white pillowcases, her emerald eyes sparkling with emotion. Her breasts bounce wildly. Her skin shiny with a sheen of sweat.
There’s nothing in this
world that I could ever find more beautiful than her.
I lift one of her legs and place it on my shoulder as I continue to thrust into her, giving me a different angle. I can feel myself hit the spot so deep inside her it, almost brings stars to my eyes. I pull out slowly, pushing back in harder each time. With each thrust, I can feel us both getting closer.
“Oh! Oh, my gosh! Yessss!”
“Right there?”
“Mmm hmm. Yeah,” she rasps.
“You almost there, baby? I can feel you pushing against me.”
“So… oh yes. Now! I’m…”
And that’s all it takes.
I follow her right over the edge, resisting the urge to collapse right on top of her.
I land half on the bed next to her, half on top, twisting us slightly so I don’t slide out of her completely. I’m still pulsing through the last of my release when I feel her squeeze me twice.
Christine’s eyes are closed, a soft smile covering her face. She lifts her hand then unceremoniously drops it, like it’s simply too much work to keep it raised for any amount of time.
I know the feeling. Everything in me is used up. Spent.
And yet, I know if she were ready right now, I would start back up again in a heartbeat.
We both chuckle. When she cracks an eye open and she sees that I’m staring at her, she scrunches her face up adorably and covers it with her hands.
“Stop staring at me!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Your response is worthy of a second grader’s.”
She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t take offense to that in the least. Have you heard some of Harper’s comebacks?”
“Touché. Want to get cleaned up?” I don’t know why I ask. Of course she wants to clean up. It can’t feel good to have that dripping out of you, but selfishly I have no desire to let her go.
“I do.”
“Your wish is my command.”
A laugh bursts out of her.
“That sounded as cheesy as I think it did, didn’t it?”
“Totally. But that’s okay. I love you anyway.”
I’ll never tire of hearing that.
I watch as she makes her way to the bathroom, doing a funny little waddle that cracks me up.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re leaking from me!” she squeals.
Well, crap. Now I’m just turned on again.
Or still.
25
Christine
“Whyyyyyyyy?”
“Stop being lazy!”
I grin. “No.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re saying? No? No response to me calling you lazy? No explanation? Nothing?”
“Nope. I am being lazy, and you know what? I want to be.”
“Such a bad influence. What am I supposed to tell the boys?”
“That you’re dating a brilliant woman who realizes that, contrary to what the population would like us to believe, it’s perfectly okay to be lazy once in a while. God gave himself a day. Why can’t we? We aren’t meant to run constantly.”
“So, you’re doing nothing today?”
“Day of rest,” I say by way of explanation.
“For real?”
“For real.” I sit up from my place on the couch where I’ve been relaxing, reach over to grab my iced tea off the coffee table in front of me. After taking a sip, I sigh contently and sit back.
He nudges my leg, jostling it around. “Come on! Let’s do something. I’m boorrrred.”
“You’re bored,” I deadpan.
“Yes.”
“You’re thirty-five years old.”
He nods then shrugs. “And I’m a thirty-five-year-old man who’s bored.”
“You’re worse than the boys.”
“Well, the boys are playing football with their buds, and I wasn’t invited.”
I giggle and roll my eyes. It’s been three weeks since we were first together, and there’s been only a few days we haven’t found time alone.
The slow burn of our relationship seemed to go up like wildfire, and there’s no way of putting it out.
“Fine.” I sigh like it’s a huge burden to spend time with him. It isn’t. Not in the least. And if I know Andy, I have a very good idea how he wants to fix his so-called boredom. “What do you want to do?”
He waggles his eyebrows at me, smiling wolfishly before taking my kindle out of my hand and placing it on the table. He crawls up my body, situating himself firmly between my legs, forcing me to lie back on the couch.
“So, when you said you were bored…”
“It’s hard being bored,” he says pushing himself against me.
A giggle bursts out of me. “Oh, my goodness did you really just say that?”
“You bored?” His lips are on my neck, causing a delicious shiver to pebble my skin.
“No. I’m a grown up.”
“I distinctly remember you telling me that you were in the mood for exercise and needed a cure for your boredom.”
“I don’t…”
I’m cut off by the feel of his hands working their way up my shirt, lifting it away from my body, as his fingers blaze a trail across my stomach.
He leans back, looking down at me before swiftly removing my shirt over my head, my hair tie that was haphazardly wound around my hair flying across the room in the process.
He smirks at my lack of bra, and I shrug.
I told him it was a day of rest, so I was giving the girls a day off from the confines of a bra, too.
Before I can say a word, his mouth is on me once again, his tongue making no pit stop to ask for entrance or to see if I’m ready by taking its sweet time.
There’s no grace.
He’s forceful and strong.
He tastes like the cinnamon gum that he’s always chewing and smells delicious. A combination of his body wash and outdoors and just a tiny hint of sweat from his run over here.
His muscles are firm under my fingertips while I let them move over his hot skin. They flex under my touch, and when I feel for the hem of his shirt, he wastes no time in pulling back, helping me to remove it.
Our bodies come together in a sweat-slicked collision, my breasts pressed against his bare chest. The small amount of hair that speckles his chest causes a friction against my smooth skin that makes my stomach tighten. I wrap my legs around his waist, needing some sort of pressure to help relieve the sudden ache.
That’s the thing with Andy that I’ve never had with anyone else.
I can be feeling my ugliest, wearing no makeup, pajama pants, and a T-shirt that I’ve had for decades, glasses covering my eyes rather than my contacts, and he’ll make me feel more beautiful than a Victoria’s Secret model. The way his eyes devour every inch of me, his heart beating wildly beneath my hand, and his body’s reaction to me that I can feel so fully pressed against me makes me feel like I’m Wonder Woman.
Ten minutes ago, I was in the mood to do absolutely nothing. I was all settled in for a full day of being lazy and honestly was looking forward to it.
Doing nothing just got run over by a steamroller, and now all I can think about doing is… Andy.
“Andy,” I moan, stretching my neck to the side as his mouth makes its way from my mouth down my jaw, continuing its jaunt until he’s found my overly sensitive breasts. Getting older isn’t entirely for the birds. I’m hornier than I’ve ever been — though that could be only because of Andy — and my breasts have become so tender, so sensitive, that I can go from zero to holy-moly-I’m-going-to-come-from-one-swipe-of-the-tongue in seconds.
“Whatcha need, baby?” he mumbles, still taking his time to kiss, suck, lick. He bites down gently, causing sparks to shoot from my fingertips, and I arch my back in response.
“You,” I gasp.
“Oh, you’ve got me.”
“Now, Andy!” I scream, but I’m still soaring. Flying through an orgasm so rapidly I should
feel in danger of having a heart attack.
He lifts his head as I’m coming back down, my nails digging into the back of his head, and he smiles.
“Still lazy?” he jokes.
“For the love, Andy. How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
I don’t answer him. I stare into his eyes, so happy and full of life. Of love. I pull him down to me, taking his mouth with mine as I tug on the waistband of his shorts. He helps me push them down, allowing my hands to immediately go to his ass. The tightness of his cheeks spurring me on.
“So damn sexy,” I whisper.
A slow smile spreads across his beautiful face.
I lift a hand and trace one of his cheekbones.
He captures my hand and kisses the tip of each of my fingers; a jolt of electricity shoots through my body with each graze of his lips.
“Hang on, baby,” he commands, wrapping my arms around his neck and motioning to my legs to grip tightly around his waist.
In one swift motion, he lifts, bringing me with him, clinging to him like a spider monkey.
With a grunt he stands, pushing his shorts the rest of the way down and steps out of them as he walks us in the direction of my bedroom.
He lays me down gently on my bed, spreading my tangled mess of hair out all around me.
“You deserve more than a quickie on your couch when I’m in the middle of my run.” His eyes are assessing me, taking in every inch of my face.
“What?”
“You’re worth so much more than that. You’re worth… dammit, Christine. You’re worth all of it. I know we haven’t been together that long, and you might think that I’m just rebounding from her, but that’s not it. You. You’re it for me. I can’t believe I spent so many years without knowing that, without you in my life and taking over my thoughts. But I want you to know, this isn’t just some passing thing for me. This is everything.”
I bite my lip, but the sting of tears comes anyway. I can’t stop them. The floodgates are opened, and it’s all his fault.
“I love you, Andy.”
His thumb swipes away a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Well that’s good because I sure as hell love you.”
Feels Like Home Page 17
