Page 19 of Accidentally Engaged
“It worked out well. Sweetest dreams I’ve had for a long time,” he admits, so close now that I can bump into him if I lean to my right.
I lean. I sigh. A wall of sturdy warmth supports me as I manage a weak chuckle. “I guess I’m not dying of embarrassmenttoday.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. I just want you to consider something.”
“Soundproofing my apartment? It’s a rental. I can’t.”
“No. Next time, maybe we could make those sounds together?” he whispers, and I hear him hold his breath, as if he’s fearing his turn on the death-by-mortification wheel is up next.
“Together?” I mouth, almost soundless.
“I could make you call much louder. Oh, I know I’m not fancy fae,” he hurries on when I open my mouth, “but I’m a nerd. A geek. A guy who once played one game of chess-by-email for fourteen weeks. A guy who has been on the same D&D quest for three years and is planning to continue until the DM dies. I will complete any mission my lady gives me.” He bows low, one hand flung out, the other across his broad middle. “And yes, that was corny as hell, and if you want to join me in that dying of embarrassment thing, we can go together.”
“I’d rather we come together instead,” I say—because I’m relaxed, and my filter is stuck in my second glass of wine.
“Okay, but you come first. I insist,” Jared says, and before I know it, I’m scooped up, into his arms and out of the room.
I LEAVE THE LIGHTSout. I’m shy.
Doesn’t matter, because my Chloe glows, a faint candlelight glow as we kiss, long and sweet, sitting on the bed in my room. “We don’t have to do anything. I didn’t invite you here to—”
“I know. And I want my dinner—after dessert.”
“I got Georgie to make me a Guinness Chocolate Cake for you,” I whisper. “So we can have a three-course dinner and a two-course dessert.”
We giggle together in the dark. My nerves melt away—and then my clothes seem to melt, too. First it’s her hand on my leg, then my chest, then my collar.
“Jared,” she breathes between kisses, the hungriest, tiniest voice you can imagine, as if she’s afraid to speak.
I’m afraid to touch her, but she snuggles into me, arms wrapping around me. Clinging to me.
“You’re perfect. So perfect,” she moans, and I hate that I tear up, but I do. No one has ever loved me like that, or believed that.
“You’re perfect,” I return. My hands get bolder. I find the bare back under her long, flowing hair. Find the straps of her dress under my fingers as they slide down. As one, we lift my shirt and drop her dress, clinging to each other to capture the maximum amount of skin-on-skin.
Under the tiny straps, she wasn’t wearing a bra, so her soft, full breasts fall into my hands, and I make sure that I use them as tools for her pleasure, not for my selfish, giddy-with-disbelief pleasure. I massage my way around the whole breast, not just targeting the nipple, listening for her responses.
When her hand connects with my crotch, I almost jump off the bed. Somehow, I don’t know why, I never thought she’d want to touch me as much as I want to touch her.
“I didn’t get any condoms,” I suddenly realize. “I thought it would be too soon, too presumptuous.”
Chloe nods, fiddling my belt free and working my zipper down. “I don’t take the pill, either. No point in my situation.”
“Oh. You can’t—”
“I don’t have any lovers. Haven’t for years.”
That doesn’t solve the problem. In fact, as we’ve been talking, she’s unzipped me completely, and now her hands slide smoothly into my boxers, cupping and stroking my erection, somehow making it longer and thicker than it’s ever been. Is she working magic on me like I’m some plant—or am I just so turned on by her?
“I really want to feel you in me. Nothing between us,” she whispers, nibbling my ear.
I can pull out before?”
Chloe nods eagerly, lying back, motioning me to come with her.
“I wished you were on my pillow last night,” I admit, just staring at her, drinking in her beauty.
“I dreamed we were spooning in front of a fire. Your hands were on my hips.”
