“Jesus Christ…” I shivered, my nipple pebbling hard and painful in his mouth as he nipped it with his teeth.
He released my breast and lifted his head, towering over me, caging me between his forearms, pinning me to the bed with the heat of his gaze.
“I want to be the only one who touches you.” His hand stole mine, holding it to his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to my palm.
He pushed my hand back to the bed, knotted our fingers together, and held me there.
“The only one to kiss you,” he said, his free hand stroking a fiery trail across my stomach and down, “the only one to tease this sweet pink flower until it’s weeping for me, begging for me.” His fingers found the damp cleft between my legs.
“I want to be the only one to feel you, from the inside, your cunt gasping and sucking at my cock as I fuck you, plunging into you over and over until you erupt around me.” His fingers drove into me, his clever thumb rubbing my clit as his mouth claimed mine.
“Okay,” I whispered against his lips, my senses totally overcome. “Just you.”
His hands owned me then, his fingers thrusting deep at my words, a ceaseless pattern, slicking in and out, over my clit and back inside.
“I want to see your face when you succumb,” he growled, “when I empty into you, your cunt draining me, sucking my cock, of all I have.” His other hand never left mine, never gave way, holding it like a lover’s lifeline as he continued to thrust.
“Just you,” I said again, my voice hoarse with passion.
“Come for me, Jane,” he said, and I did, my free hand clawing and seeking purchase in the hard tensed muscle of his shoulders.
“Only you, Thomas,” I rasped, my muscles clenching and spasming around his fingers as the orgasm lifted me higher and higher.
He caught me when I fell, kissed me when I cried out, the sound a mix of ecstasy and alarm as I felt my heart melt as surely as my body did under his hands, pleasure crashing through me in waves.
I trembled—from aftershocks or fear I wasn’t sure. It was too much. This man was too much. This feeling was too much. I didn’t dare name it, didn’t dare to look at him. But his gaze sought mine as his arms folded around me, and those electric blue eyes pierced me to the core.
He stroked my cheek and kissed me, whispering intensely, inaudible sweet nothings against my hair. I wanted to say something, do something, anything to let this fierce and beautiful man know how I much I felt for him. But when the words rose in my throat I choked them back, and stuffed unbidden emotions back into the dark and dusty boxes that lined my mental shelf. I sighed into him as he cradled me, closed my eyes and took the cowards way out.
I slept.
When I awoke, he was gone.
* * *
There was a note on my kitchen counter. It was tented by the coffee maker, a freshly brewing pot bubbling behind it, the Professor’s…er…Thomas’s neat script adorning the front. I picked it up and flipped it open.
Jane,
I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t stay. Have some coffee, then text me?
~T
I poured a cup, added cream and sugar then fished my cell phone out of my purse.
Hey. Just woke up, thanks for note n coffee.
He didn’t answer right away so I took the phone with me into the kitchen while I made some toast. Halfway through buttering, he texted back.
Good morning beautiful!
Ur too happy. Starting 2 suspect ur a morning person.
I am! Just got out of the shower after a three mile run. I love mornings.
I hate u.
No you don’t. Quite the opposite. ;)
UGH. He was right. I took a bite of toast and tried to think of a clever response—one that would deflect this playful repartee that waltzed a little too close to truth. Nothing clever came to mind, so I went with curiosity instead.
Y did u leave?
Because I was about to eat you for breakfast.
I read the text, felt my panties dampen and promptly choked on my bite of toast. I tried to wash it down with a gulp of coffee. HOT! HOT! HOT! Good Lord this man was going to kill me. Ummm….I drummed my fingers on the countertop, stumped.
Yum. ;)
I grimaced at my lame response, then tried again, with something a little more flirtatious.
So technically…we slept together.
Ha ha. Technically… I didn’t sleep a wink. I was awake and hard for you all night.
U should have let me fix that. :P
Soon enough.
When?
You know when.
Will I see u before then tho?
No, actually. Let’s avoid that. No phone or video or sleepovers.
:( U need more space?
Only so I don’t ruin you before it’s time. Nothing more. Adore you.
Ugh. Torture.
It’s one week. You’ll survive.
I’ll die of lonely.
You won’t. We can text. Email. Court.
?
As your Mother mother suggested, I’ll court you.
Buy me dinner? Send me poems and flowers? Why? I’m a sure thing.
Doesn’t matter, I’d love to buy you dinner. And you deserve to be showered in poems and flowers.