by Mia Sosa
He obliges, cradling my face and pressing his lips to mine. It’s sweet and tender and nothing like what I was expecting. It’s . . . fine.
“How was that?” he asks.
“Um, honestly? That was underwhelming. Sorry.”
His shoulders shake with laughter. “So what you’re saying is you’d like me to improve on that performance?”
“I guess what I’m saying is we both need to up our game.”
This time, he sweeps his hands under my hair and massages my neck, his fingers making light circles against the sensitive skin there. His expression, no longer playful but hot and intense, mirrors my own desire. I lean forward, licking the seam of his lips. With a low rumble in his throat, he bridges the distance between my breasts and his chest, crushing me to him as he opens his mouth to let me in. Now this is what was missing. What I wanted and needed. This closeness. Breathing his scent and feeling his warmth. I roll my ass against him to match the greedy pace of our kiss.
He drags his mouth away, trailing a line of kisses from one temple down to my jaw, and ending on the other side, all the while cradling my face gently, as though I need to be handled with care. The urge to ask for more is strong. If the press of his erection against my stomach is any guide, he’d happily lower his pants and let me ride him. It would be quick. It would be satisfying. It would be irresponsible.
Must. Get. To. Class.
I pull away from him, unwilling to look at him because I know what I’ll see. Lust. And I must be vigilant. Untangling myself from his embrace without eye contact isn’t easy, but I manage the task—barely.
“Why aren’t you looking at me, Eva? Is something wrong?”
I reach inside my purse to make sure my keys and wallet are accounted for. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to leave soon, and I don’t want to be distracted by the expression on your face.”
He laughs. “What am I? Medusa?”
“Precisely.”
“So one look at me and you’ll turn to stone?”
“No, one look at you and I’ll want to bone.”
“I’m ridiculously attracted to the way you speak. You couldn’t be more perfect if you tried.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Stop saying things like that. You’re undermining my efforts to get us out of here.”
He rises slowly and shakes out his legs to straighten his pants.
I look. Not at his eyes, but at his crotch, where the outline of his stiff erection mocks me. Dammit, eggplant, stand down. We don’t need your services at the moment. I spin away and shove my hands back in my bag. “Okay, I think I have everything. We should get . . .”
He drapes his arms over my shoulders and pulls me against him. The back of my head settles comfortably against his chest. He’s not playing fair, and we both know it. Still, I’m not going anywhere.
“How tall are you?” I ask him.
“Six feet. Why?”
“Just thinking about logistics.”
“The possibilities are endless, aren’t they?”
I pull him toward the door. “No more talk of possibilities until we’re on the road.”
“You started it.”
“I did. And now I’m ending it.”
I’m inches from turning the doorknob, when he places his hand on the door. “Wait.”
I spin around to face him, alarmed by the look of uncertainty on his face. “What’s going on?
“Nothing. I just . . . Let me take you somewhere tonight. We can dress up a little, maybe listen to some jazz.” He shrugs. “Whatever you want to do.”
“Say it,” I taunt, a hint of humor in my voice.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Let me take you on a date.”
“See?” I ask, standing on my toes to kiss his chin. “Was that so hard to say?”
I’m kidding, of course. I know it was hard to say. And it’s not lost on me that he’s done nothing but show his willingness to try this whole time.
“Will you answer the question?” he asks.
“Will the other D word be involved?”
He leans over and whispers his answer close to my ear, his mouth grazing the shell as he speaks. “If you want it to be.”
Oh. The promise in those words and the fire in his eyes threaten to make me turn around and drag him to my bedroom. No, focus. “Splendid, then. We’re going on a date.”
Or so he thinks . . .
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anthony
I’m going on a date. My first one in seven years. Let’s hope I don’t fuck this up. Blowing out several puffs of breath, I press the buzzer for Eva’s apartment, a bouquet of fresh-cut orchids behind my back.
“Who is it?” she asks.
“Eva, it’s Anthony. Want me to come up?”
“Sure. I just need a few more minutes. I’ll buzz you in.”
Nodding at a couple exiting the building, I enter the vestibule and push open the door to the courtyard. A minute later, I clear the second-floor landing and ring Eva’s doorbell. An instrumental jazz song plays in her apartment.
Behind the closed door, she invites me in. “Door’s open, Anthony.”
I turn the knob and peek inside. Eva’s relaxing on the couch in nothing but an untied peach silk robe and black heels, her open legs framing her bare pussy like the directional arrows of the most perfect map on the planet. An invisible force snatches the breath out of me. I’ve done nothing to deserve this, but I’ll accept it with pleasure. Unable to draw my eyes away from the image that will forever be seared into my brain, I manage to put one foot in front of the other and lock the door, collapsing against it for support.
Stating the obvious, I say, “You’re not dressed.”
“You shouldn’t be either,” she says.
Her sultry tone threatens to make me lose my shaky grasp on remaining upright.
Alarm bells sound in my head despite the enticing picture she makes. She’s done this before: narrowing our interaction to a sexual encounter and nothing more. Does she think that’s all I want?
“I thought we were going out on a date?” I ask.
She covers her face and peeks through her fingers. Naturally, I’m distracted by the way the cleavage between her perfect breasts materializes.
“Would you be disappointed if I told you I’m not in the mood to go out?” she asks.
Could it be as simple as that? She’s just not in the mood? I need to know. “I wanted to take you out.” I point to the flowers in my left hand. “Pamper you. Shower you with affection. If you’re doing this for me, because you think I only want sex, it’s not necessary. I want to be around you. Every second, minute, or hour you’re willing to give me.”
She drops her hands from her face and places one of them over her heart. “That’s sweet, but we’ve spent plenty of time together. The festival in Long Beach, all the rides home, dinner with your father, Moody’s, the drive-in. How could you forget the drive-in?”
My dick swells as I recall that night. “I didn’t.”
“So you see, it’s like we were dating before either of us knew it. And now I’d like to recapture the perfection of that night in Connecticut. Except not in a hotel room.”
This is when I realize I’m the ridiculous in a ridiculous situation. A woman I adore and can’t possibly be more attracted to is sitting on her couch, openly displaying a dozen signals of her horniness and trying to convince me that her reasons for not wanting to go out are valid. We’re staying in. Not only that, I’m making it my night’s mission to watch her come so hard she forgets what state she’s in.
“So, Mr. Castillo, are you with me?” she asks.
I toss the flowers on a nearby table, sending a few petals flying, and then I stride toward her, removing my jacket as I go. “We should order takeout. It’s important to eat and stay hydrated before and after a marathon.”
Eva
“Stop right there,” I tell him.
Anthony freezes, his jacket hanging from the tip of his index finge
r.
“You can throw it over there,” I say, pointing to the accent chair in the corner of the living room.
He gives me a lazy smile, his eyelids at half-mast. “Let me guess. You want me to strip for you.”
I rise from the sofa and saunter toward him. “No, I’d like the pleasure of doing it myself.”
The jacket goes flying across the room.
Trailing my fingers across his broad chest, I circle him and admire the three-sixty view of Anthony in a white dress shirt and navy-blue slacks. “No tie?”
He shakes his head, his audible breaths growing louder the more he watches me. “Too constricting.”
“That’s a shame. I could have used it to keep your hands off me. I’ll need to improvise later.”
“Can’t wait,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.
Wearing heels gives me the extra height I need. It allows me to nuzzle his jaw and nibble on his earlobe. I can feel his body vibrating under my touch, as though he’s an engine in an idling car waiting for the light to turn green.
“Eva,” he whispers, the neediness in his voice unmistakable. “This is torture. Absolute fucking torture.”
I make another revolution and stand behind him, reaching around to unbutton his shirt. After unfastening the last button, I draw the shirt out of his slacks and slip it off him, caressing his shoulders and sliding my hands down his back before letting the shirt fall to the floor.
Slowly, I skim my fingers across his torso, making it my personal Candy Land board. Four spaces to Hard Pecs Forest. Eight spaces to Chiseled Abs Mountain. I will happily die of this sweet tooth.
I press a kiss between his shoulder blades while I unbuckle his belt. “You’re very quiet. I’m not used to it.”
“I’m trying not to move from this position. Talking would fuck with my concentration.”
I slide his belt off. “I admire your commitment to the cause.”
“How much longer do you think you’ll be at this?” he asks, his voice scratchy like a scouring pad.
“Not sure. Why? In a rush?”
“No, just curious,” he says.
The frustration in his voice prompts me to quicken my pace. I’m not the only one being denied the pleasure of moving this along. I unfasten and unzip his pants, reaching inside to stroke his cock through his boxer briefs. He jumps at the contact. The thickness fills my hand and I hold back a moan. I’m shaking from the anticipation of having him inside me again.
His legs dip when I press my breasts to his back and rub myself over him.
“Let me turn around, Eva,” he pleads.
“Stay where you are, baby.”
He throws his head back, his fists clenched at his sides.
I come around and face him. He slowly lowers his head, pinning me with a stare that promises exquisite retribution. For a moment, I’m rendered speechless by the man in front of me, floored by his fully aroused state. His eyes are soft and unclear, his lips are wet, and his cheeks are flushed. Every visible muscle appears to be stretched to capacity, as though he’ll snap from the slightest touch. And all I want to do is bring him the relief he so obviously needs.
I kneel in front of him and pull his pants and boxers down his legs. “Up.”
He lifts one foot, then the next, and toes off his slip-on loafers.
“Socks, too,” I tell him as I place his shoes to the side. “We’re not filming a porno.”
“Do it for me,” he says.
The gruff command snags my attention and I look up, clumsily falling back on my ass now that his whole body is in my eyeballs.
Big mistake.
Well, big, yes. Mistake, no.
Because a fully erect and wholly naked Anthony could never be a mistake. Good. Lord. “Let’s get these socks off you, so we don’t mess up the view.” I scramble back to my knees and tug his socks off, and then I fall flat on my ass again, because I need to see this as nature intended. “Anthony, your dick deserves its own national appreciation day. Do you see this?”
“I see it every day,” he says, amusement returning to his voice.
“I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be. I’m willing to give you a visitor’s pass.”
“I’d want nothing less than VIP access.”
He chuckles. “No doubt. Ask me what VIP access gets you.”
I gulp. “What?”
His eyes burn with need. “First row access. So close you can touch it.”
I rise to my knees, cupping his balls with one hand and stroking his length with the other. “Like this?”
He shudders. “Yes.”
I want more, though, and I’m sure he does, too, so I sit back on my heels, licking the broad head of his cock before taking him inside my mouth.
He rests his hands on my shoulders, rocking gently to match the rise and fall of my lips over his dick. “Eva, baby, that feels so fucking good. Your mouth is perfect.”
His words light something in me, make me greedy for all of him, so I grab his hips and help him pump into me. Above me, he grunts, his hands sliding up to my head, and then he digs his fingers into my scalp as he guides himself between my greedy lips. “Fuck, Eva. Yes.”
All too soon, he pulls away. Through gritted teeth, he says, “We have to stop. I need to get my mouth on you, too.”
Oh, well, in that case, sure. That’s an interruption I can get behind. I stand and draw his face down for a searing kiss, our tongues swirling greedily. Then I take his hand and guide him to my bedroom, where I’ve already dimmed the lights and pulled back the coverlet.
Behind me, Anthony reaches for the collar of my robe, slipping it off my shoulders and arms in one fluid movement. His arms envelop my body in his warmth, and then he brushes a finger against each nipple, until I’m straining for more of his touch.
“Bend over,” he says.
I brace my arms on the bed and fold my body over.
His hands explore my ass like he’s worshipping it. “Do you want your shoes off?”
I turn back to look at him. “I kind of like them.”
“So do I,” he says, still caressing my ass. “Spread your legs.”
I do as he asks.
“Can I lick and touch you?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
He runs his finger from my clit to my pussy and pushes a finger inside. “Like this?”
I take a shuddering breath. “Oh, God, yes.”
He shifts behind me, lifts one of my legs and guides my knee onto the bed. “Okay?”
I answer with my body, placing my other knee on the bed and pressing my face into the mattress.
“Eva, I wish you could see this. I’m going to combust just thinking about eating this glorious pussy.”
“Please Anthony, just do it. Please.”
He clucks his tongue, but nothing else happens. The waiting is unbearable.
“Change of plans,” he says as he joins me on the bed. He sits up in the center and pulls me up. Then he lies back and utters the sweetest phrase I’ve ever heard. “Come on up here and ride my face.”
I picture myself writhing against him, and the ache in my core intensifies. Dutifully, I crawl up his body and straddle him as requested. Groaning at the view, he places his big hands on my backside and adjusts me just so. It begins with a soft kiss, as if he’s thanking me for this honor. That tiny connection causes me to tense, my arms and legs locking in anticipation of what’s to come. Then he inhales, burying his face between my thighs, his five o’clock shadow grazing them and creating a delicious friction that makes me sway above him.
“Anthony, please, I need your mouth on me.”
In answer, he rubs his lips over my outer folds. I jerk forward, grasping the headboard to keep myself from falling over.
“More,” I plead.
“Open yourself up to me,” he says. “Show me exactly where you need it.”
I drop my arms and slide my hands between my legs, gently separating my folds so my clit is front and center. In
doing so, my limbs graze my stiff nipples, and I whimper at the sensation my own touch elicits.
Beneath me, Anthony moans. “I might stay here forever.”
“I wouldn’t stop you,” I manage to say between heavy breaths.
He responds by drawing my clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it, and applying the perfect amount of pressure to ignite my senses but not overwhelm them.
“How’s that?” he asks.
“Perfect. Keep doing that. For the rest of my days.”
I shift above him, hovering over his lips so he can latch on where I need him most, and he doesn’t disappoint. With a low growl rumbling in his throat, he kneads my ass and pulls me to his face. Blessedly, he laps at me in a torturous rhythm that alternates between steady flicks at my clit and long, strong licks against the skin surrounding it. My body throbs in response to the onslaught, the sensitive flesh between my legs tingling with each swipe of his tongue. “Yes, Anthony. That. Is. It. I’m so gone. Please . . . just don’t stop.”
I’m in a daze, quivering from the pleasure he’s wringing from me, until I can no longer hold myself open and reach for the headboard again. My breath hitches. Goose bumps dot my sweat-soaked skin. And the familiar throbbing builds and builds and builds, the torment of being so close making me cry out. “Baby, I need you inside me.”
Blinking to orient myself in the dimly lit room, I climb off him and reach for a condom, one of many I placed on my nightstand before he arrived. He shakes his head as though to clear it and stretches his arms above him, his cock hard as granite.
Opening the packet as I straddle him, I settle myself on his upper thighs and raise the condom in the air. “May I?”
“Yes, you most definitely may,” he says, his dark eyes hazy with desire.
I place the condom on and guide him inside me, so slowly it’s torture to me, and must be torture to him, too. I feel everything. The head as it stretches me. The veins along his length as he pushes into my core. The soft hair at the base of his dick.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice straining. “Eva, honey, your greedy pussy is so . . . fucking tight . . . around my cock. But I need to kiss you, too. Give me those lips.”
