Holy shit.
I step back and let my eyes feast on his beautiful body. His hair is loose, his steel-gray eyes on mine. His breathing has quickened, and his hands are in fists at his sides, and I can see that it’s taking every ounce of self-control to not attack me.
Backing up to the bed, I make a “come here” motion with my finger and point to the bed. “Lay down, please.”
A soft smile touches his lips as he wanders to me. He stops in front of me and cups my cheek in his palm, bringing my eyes up to his before rubbing my lower lip with his thumb. I kiss the soft pad and he groans.
“How do you want me to lie down?” he asks, his voice raspy with lust.
“On your back.”
He pulls back the covers and lies in the middle of the bed, braced on his elbows, watching me. I let my shirt fall to the floor, and slip out of my bra and thong, and climb on the bed with him, my knees between his legs. I kiss his belly, his sternum, and then his lips, pulling back when he tries to deepen the kiss, then leaning in again and teasing him with just the tip of my tongue.
“You’re making me crazy, baby,” he murmurs and I grin.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, honey.” I nip his chin, run my tongue down his neck, and glide my mouth and hands down his torso, settling back on my heels between his legs. His cock is full and hard, and I circle the tip with my finger, over the silver balls.
“I like this,” I murmur and he chuckles.
“Do you?”
“Hmmm.”
“I’m glad.” I run my finger down his length and over his scrotum, then back up to the tip. “Jesus, baby, that feels good.”
I lean down and follow the path my finger took with the tip of my tongue and the bed shifts as he falls onto his back, growling.
“Fuck, seeing that little pink mouth of yours on my cock is so sexy.”
It’s about to get a lot sexier.
I swirl my tongue around the tip and sink down over him, and suddenly his strong hands are in my hair, guiding me up and down, directing me where he wants me to go, and it’s so fucking hot.
His hips are moving beneath me, pushing up into my mouth, and just when I think he’s about to let go, he grips my shoulders and I’m suddenly on my back with Nate over me, spreading me wide open, and pushing into me, hard.
“Oh, God!” My back arches, and his lips find a nipple, his arms wrapped around my waist, as he pushes into me, over and over again. He pulls me up so I’m straddling him, his hands find my ass and raise and lower me over him, grinding deeply into me, his mouth still on my breast. I bear down and squeeze him, feeling those silver balls in my core, and I come apart around him, shuddering and convulsing.
“Fuck, yes,” he cries out and pulls me down one more time as he erupts inside me.
***
I’m on my back again, staring at the ceiling, Nate wrapped around me, his cheek resting on my belly and arms around my waist. We’re still panting, coming down from our violent orgasms.
“That was fun,” I grin and run my fingers through his hair. “Let’s do it again.”
“Jesus, Julianne, give a man a chance to recover.”
“Don’t be a *.” I laugh as he bites my belly and climbs up my body, resting on his elbow to my right side. He brushes the hair that came out of my bun off my face and kisses me sweetly, then bites my lip.
“Ow!”
“You have such a dirty mouth.”
“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He bites my lip again, more gently this time, and I sigh against his mouth.
“And you see me as a *?” he asks, deceptively softly.
“Hmm… maybe not.”
He leans back and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe?”
“Probably not.”
“I’ll show you how much of a * I am, baby.”
He’s suddenly inside me again, and I’m tucked beneath him, and … holy shit.
Chapter Fourteen
Cooking with Nate this past week has been a lot of fun. We get side-tracked a lot, and burned the hell out of a perfectly innocent pork tenderloin when we lost track of time in the shower one evening, but it’s exciting to be creative with him in the kitchen. Up until tonight we’ve either eaten out or cooked together, and I want to cook for him.
So I am.
It’s Sunday evening and we’re back at Nate’s place for the night. Alecia’s cleaning crew did a great job at the house, but we decided to come back to Nate’s condo so he can get some work done in his office.
Because I prefer to cook to music, I plug my iPod into his sound system and crank it up. Yes, my cooking music tastes are a bit… juvenile. I prefer pop music to dance around the kitchen to. Britney Spears. Lady GaGa. Maybe a little Carly Rae and her Call Me Maybe. In fact, that works. Carly starts to sing through the speakers hidden throughout the room and I start to shake my ass while compiling what I need for dinner.
Hmm… I wonder what Nate would look like in ripped jeans? Good call, Carly Rae.
I pour myself a glass of fruity white wine, take a sip and pull my hair up into a messy twist at the crown of my head. I’m still wearing gray yoga pants and a black tank top from our trip to the gym today. God, I love watching Nate work out. At thirty, his body is incredible. Hell, his body is incredible for a twenty year old.
I still didn’t win in the ring today, but I knocked him on his ass twice, and that’s a victory in my book.
I smile smugly and quarter baby red potatoes for roasting, plopping them in cold water until I’m ready for them. The chicken I’m roasting with lemon and basil goes in the oven when the bell rings, telling me it’s warm enough. I’ll round out the meal with roasted asparagus with garlic.