He shook his head and closed the distance between us, standing between my knees. His cock was right at eye-level, point down and seeming to be waiting for me to touch it. I looked up at him, gave him a smile as I put my hands on his hips, traced the line of the muscles on his thighs.
I dragged my fingernail down the outside of his thigh and back up the inside edge to his groin. I watched his eyes as I traced my finger from the very bottom of his sack upwards, feeling the skin tighten under the pad of my finger, and then lifted his cock with my finger, tracing its length as well. His gaze was fiery, dark eyes glittering. His hands rested on my shoulders, not pushing or pulling, just touching me.
I ran my fingernail down his cock again, this time from the root against his belly down to the tip, then scratched the tip with my nail. The flesh of his cock was tightening, but he wasn't growing hard yet. He hadn't sprung into an instant erection, and I found myself enjoying the process of touching Jeff during his refractory period, learning the way his body looked and felt.
I scooched back on the bed and moved to one side, patting the blanket beside me. He hesitated, then climbed up on the bed beside me. As he turned his back to me, ever so briefly, I saw the reason for the long sleeve shirts. He'd been burned badly on his back, shoulders, and arms, running down to his elbows and across one forearm.
He saw me notice. "Car accident, years ago."
I rolled to lay my head on his chest, and his arm snaked around my body to cup the curve of my hip, resting there with familiar, tender affection.
"What happened?" I asked.
He blew air through puffed-out cheeks. "Long story. My buddy and I were driving the Seeney Stretch, up in the UP. Hit a deer, flipped a couple times. I was in the passenger seat. Got tossed out of the car, which prolly saved my life. Well, my buddy Brett wasn't so lucky. Got trapped under the car when it stopped rolling upside down. I was panicked. I'd known Brett all my life. Had to get him out, so I tried to flip the car on my own. I did, too. Adrenaline rush, that kinda thing. Flipped it over so I could drag Brett out. Problem is I was pushing on the bottom of the car, where things were hot. Burned me pretty bad."
That was the most I'd ever heard Jeff say all at once in my life.
"Did your friend..."
Jeff just shook his head and I let it go, turning my attention to sliding my palms along his body, fingertips exploring the heavy, undefined bulk of his muscles. I realized he was much bigger than I'd ever thought. His shirts made him seem smaller, somehow, but in reality, he would be much, much stronger than Chase.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I replied, belatedly.
"Long time ago." He shrugged, and turned his gaze to my body, nestled naked against his.
Our warm flesh merged in one long point of contact. I felt comfortable there, held in his arms. Safe. The oddest thing was, even post-sex, still naked and feeling his hot skin and hard muscle, I felt just as at ease with Jeff as if we were setting up for a shift at The Dive.
His palm moved from the swell of my hip to the hollow of my waist, then down to graze my ass, curling around one cheek and hefting it, following the crease down to the fold where ass meets thigh and then moved back up my body. He rolled so I landed on my back, supporting his head on his elbow. His free hand continued its slow exploration of my body, leaving nowhere untouched. He circled my kneecap, up the inside of my thigh, dips into my navel and the sides of my belly, my ribs; he spends forever on my breasts, lingering on every square inch of skin.
At last, at long last, he moved his attention downward, tickling my belly, my thighs, and finally slipping one long index finger to the keyhole gap of my pussy. I moved my legs apart, greedy for his touch, hungry to be stimulated, turned on, toyed and played with and sated. He didn't touch me to bring me to climax, at first. It was the same way he touched the rest of my body, as if...as if memorizing my body, creating a mental map of my curves to remember.
"You're beautiful, Anna." The way he said it, his was voice softer than I ever remember him speaking, a world away from the gruff voice he used most of the time.
It was three words, but coming from Jeff it was worth ten thousand words. He was spare with words, to the point where sometimes getting him to use complete sentences could be a chore, like dragging answers from a teenager.
"Thank you."
He gave me his Jeff smile, the upward quirk of one corner of his mouth, just a twitch of the muscles, but a smile nonetheless.
I leaned up and kissed him, a slow meeting of lips, a gradual exploration of mouth-space with tongues. His arm wrapped around my back and pulled me closer, rolled me to my side facing him. One arm was trapped between us, and I used that one to touch his manhood, stiffening now under my caress. My other hand slipped up his back and rested between his shoulder blades, stayed there.
Encouraging his cock to full girth was a slow process, deliberately so. I could have used my mouth to speed it up, but I enjoyed just touching him, holding him, feeling its weight in my hand, brushing the tip in slow, small circles, cupping his balls in my palm, sliding up his length and back down in lazy dips and rises, twisting around him in spirals.
I wasn't even aware of movement, of a change of position. I blinked, breathed, and found Jeff above me, kneeling between my thighs, his hands on either side of my face, his flinty near-black eyes soft on mine, searching my face.
I didn't need to guide him in with my hands. He found my entrance without taking his eyes from me, as if his body knew exactly where to merge with mine. He slipped inside me with exquisite slowness, utter gentility, as if I were delicate. In the shower, he'd claimed me slowly, but his desire had been there beneath the surface, boiling within him like magma surging to the core of a volcano; he'd forced himself to go slow, as if savoring the experience.
Now, he went slow out of pure desire to simply take his time, in no rush, no hurry. He dipped down and kissed me, his tongue flicking out to meet mine in the rhythm of his hips' lunges against mine. My arms floated up as if borne on unfelt winds to wind around his neck as he kissed me; he slipped one thick forearm beneath my head as a pillow, and with his other hand cupped and caressed my breasts, whisking his palms across my nipples, tweaking them, circling and lifting and squeezing, as if he could never get enough of touching them.
All the while, his slow, inexorable thrusting into me continued, his breathing unchanging, his eyes locked on mine when we weren't kissing. And, just because it was Jeff, he was silent.
Then, when the fluttering of climax began in my belly and I moaned in his ear, wrapped my legs around his waist, he allowed himself one barely audible "mmmmm" in my ear, and then another when I dug my nails into his back.
He slowed, then. Just when my climax began, and his neared, he slowed, dragged it out. He wrapped his other arm under my head with the first, and now his thrusts were merely at the surface, barely entering, shallow dips, quick plunges and back out. I whined high in my throat, protesting the change. He only kissed me, and then plunged deep, once, drawing a gasp from me. Back to flutters, then, kissing me at each thrust, touch of the lips and thrust, again and again, his tongue darting between my lips each time.
The deepest stroke yet, then, burying himself inside me, his voice buzzing "mmmmmm" in my ear, his breath on my cheek. Again, and deeper. Oh lord, another plunge, deeper, and so slow. A rhythm, then, back to the exquisitely slow strokes, deeper than ever, hips grinding at each apex.
The only sound was our breathing, an occasional whimper, a soft "mmmmmm" from Jeff; sunlight streaks across our bodies, bright and hot.
