“Assuming I’m fine with that.”
She looked at him, hard, forcing him to look away from the road and into her eyes. “You’re not going to say no to this.”
“Yeah. Damn straight I’m not.”
They were both just desperately human.
She might have no experience with this whatsoever, but she knew that you didn’t have sex that good, spend another three weeks and forced proximity with the person you had it with, and resist it. She didn’t even want to try. She felt like she’d had years of resisting all kinds of things. He was emblematic of that. She didn’t want to resist. She just wanted to see what was on the road ahead.
No planning. Just being.
Not being afraid of herself. Or what anyone would think. Easy, when she knew they had miles of only strangers ahead of them. They took the long stretch that day, heading all the way to Utah. Then he didn’t take them to a roadside place, but to a resort nestled in the mountains, with villas that each had a hot tub.
“Well, this is an upgrade,” she said. “We’re not saving any money.”
“I wasn’t thinking about saving money. I was choosing where I wanted to have you next.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
Was this her life? Suddenly at this out-of-the-way place with this man who said those kinds of things to her. Who made her feel this way.
It was her life right now. She couldn’t guarantee it would be her life forever. But it was her life right now.
The villas were nestled into the side of the mountain, with views, and privacy. Completely blocked off from each other, but open to the landscape.
So even with all the lights on in the place, as they trailed in with their bags, she embraced the boldness that overtook her, and pulled her shirt off, slipped out of her jeans, took off her bra and her underwear. She had been looking forward to this part of her life. Wandering around her house inhibition-free because that was what empty nesters were supposed to be able to do, and she could have it now.
Logan’s short, low curse was satisfying.
“It’s really too bad we don’t have groceries. Maybe I’d cook dinner for you.”
“I would be worried that you would sustain an injury to parts of you I really don’t want wounded.”
She laughed. “You’re kind of basic.”
“Hell yeah.”
She liked that about him. That he was complicated most of the time, but basic when her tits were out. It was pretty comforting. She felt basic looking at him too. So it seemed fair. He sat down on the couch and watched her. She made a show of slowly moving their bags into the bedroom, and she knew that it was a game. Because he had historically helped her with bags on every trip they’d ever taken, it wasn’t a lapse in chivalry. But maybe she needed this. This feeling of being admired. In a wholly sexual way. This strange, giddy sense of freedom as she was free from her inhibitions in front of him.
As she freed herself from inhibition in herself she hadn’t been aware was there.
When she was finished, he looked at her from his position on the couch, lazy, but it was deceptive. He was more like a predator. Just waiting.
“Come here,” he said.
Her body heated. She obeyed the command. She sat down on his lap, his jeans rough against her backside. Then he gripped her chin and kissed her, holding her right where he wanted her, one hand resting on her thigh, the other holding her face as he took the kiss deeper and deeper.
She shivered. The very deliberate way that he didn’t touch her all over was beginning to drive her mad, his palm burning into her thigh, her whole body desperate for that kind of warmth.
She could feel his intense need to control the interactions between them. She wondered if on some level it was a punishment. For how long he’d had to wait. For some other failure on her part. Because there was a tension to all this that she didn’t quite understand.
But it felt good. So she wasn’t going to fight it. She wasn’t going to question it. He took her hand and guided it to the front of his jeans, to where he was hard and ready for her. She knew exactly what to do with that. She undid his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper.
He moved his hand over her hair, down her back, and she followed the unspoken instruction, sliding off of his lap and down to the floor as she exposed him.
He put his finger under her chin, tilting her face up so that she met his gaze. “You’re gonna have to learn how to do this for me,” he said. “Don’t just do what he likes. Pay attention to what I like.”
She didn’t even want to think about that. Because how could she compare her previous experience to this? There was no way. She wouldn’t lie. Typically, in her marriage, she looked at a blow job as a gift. For him.
