I was sweaty and buzzing and even though I hadn’t come—that’s right, hadn’t even come—I was content to draw swirls through his pearly cum that was now pooled between the crevices of his abs.
His eyes popped open. I still held his leg back, which meant he was still open for me. I hadn’t pulled out either. Rolling to my side, I pulled him with me and let the leg I held wrap around me. I left us joined and pressed my nose to his.
“Wow. That was—holy shit,” he said, swallowing and closing his eyes. “Can we … can we do that again?”
“You better fucking believe we’re doing that again.”
* * *
And we did, seven more times. I didn’t think I had the endurance to go seven rounds. We were bathed in darkness and tangled in my cotton bedsheets. Maybe I’d make him breakfast. Maybe I’d take him up to Whistler on the back of my bike and show him that I’m not just a soccer mom. Then I could fuck him several more times. There’d be more spanking too. Lots of spanking. Next time, I’d try my favorite hairbrush on his ass.
Ha!Next time.
I planned to ask him over breakfast if he’d be “the guy I fucked more than once” guy. Even a romantic illiterate like me knows that’s not romantic, but for him to make that rule in the first place, I knew there had to be something painful behind it. A title like boyfriend would be a bad first step. Even, “do you want to date me” would be too far after one night and would come off as sex drunk.
“Come with me,” he said somewhere around three in the morning.
He couldn’t see me in the darkness, but I still raised a brow. “Um, where, Jack?”
“Oh right … forgot you’re not … never mind. I just wanted you to look with me. See how you marked me.”
He had me at marked, which is a fetish it sounded like we shared. We needed to see what I’d done to him. How I’d made him mine.
His torso was peppered with bruises in the shape of my finger pads, his back painted with scratches like he’d gone a round or two with a baby grizzly. I’d sucked hickeys up his neck. Fuck, his lips were still swollen from me kissing him so much.
Oh, and his ass. It was a vibrant shade of red.
“I won’t be sitting comfortably for at least a week,” he said unable to wipe the damn smile about that off his face.
That’s the smile that had been missing. We’d found it.
That made him happy? He really was made for me. I began planning all the crow I was going to have to eat when I introduced him to Bea. He was worth eating crow for.
I was almost gentle during that first round, gentle by my standards and it was maybe the first time I’d liked any kind of sex that could be construed as gentle. It was still mind-blowing, but then,thenI ripped out the heavy artillery. Neither of us knew which way was up or down for a long time. We collapsed in a sweaty heap and all we could do was catch our breath as the seconds turned into minutes.
Then he reached across the expansive divide between us and curled his fingers around my hand. Okay, maybe it wasn’t an “expansive divide”, but it sure as hell felt like it. During the rounds of hot fucking, we were close together, joined by skin and otherworldly forces that may have been created through our magical sex. When we broke apart, we might as well have been on different continents.
He hopped onto my counter, wincing when his bare ass hit the hard marble. I stepped between his legs. “Problem, Jack?”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Actually, it’s cool and soothing, jackass.”
“You have a mouth on you, trouble. It’s no wonder you have a red ass.”
“That’s my fault?” he said, tone bleeding with mock outrage. “Yourhand did all the spanking.”
A quiet buzz filled me. “A hand you forced by having such a spankable ass.”
He laughed again, the good one—the happy one. I’d talk forever if it kept his sunshine around and those haunted eyes away. Gotta say, his smile was something else.
“Speaking of, bend over the counter. We’ll get some aloe on there before I collapse.” I was fading and I wanted to be rested up for a round of hot morning sex.
It was sticky hot that night; like the underside of Satan’s nutsack since I don’t have air conditioning, but we wrapped tightly around each other anyway with only the thinnest sheet on my bed twisted loosely around us.
Maybe if the blanket had been tighter, I would have felt him leave. Maybe I could have used it to keep him close to me.
* * *
Ithought of Jack as soon as I woke up, blindly reaching for him. My eyes popped wide as I kept searching, hoping he fell into the mattress and all I had to do was dig him back out. I stumbled out of bed naked, reaching for my robe, thinking maybe he was just downstairs.
