“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
When I nodded, kind of liking the way he always asked me now, he pushed me up against the door and our mouths came together. He tasted like warm chocolate and mint, and my tongue wanted more. Blane held my weight up against the door, one hand behind my neck, the other on my ass as we tasted each other thoroughly.
When he released my lips, I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I teased with a smile on my face.
Blane picked me up and carried me to the bed in the middle of my studio apartment and set us down together. Cuddled together, we began kissing again. His hand slipped behind my waistband and kneaded my butt, pulling me closer against his hardness.
“I want to get naked,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s all I thought about when I was gone, your body, your touch.” He wove our free fingers together. “And your nipples.” He leaned down, pulled my shirt away, and sucked on the top of my breast.
I nodded, and he lifted my shirt off and unhooked my bra. He splayed a hand over my boob, squeezing and plucking my nipple until it was hard and I was needy below.
His hand slid down my torso, lower and lower until he was way down south.
“Didn’t I tell you I was a Southern boy?” His eyes practically twinkled, and the golden flecks that surrounded his pupils looked almost like fireworks.
I didn’t have a chance to answer; he was already on his way down. He tapped my belly and I lifted my butt, allowing him to slip off my pants and boots, and then he knelt between my legs, gripping my love handles.
“Like these,” he said, leaning over to kiss my hip and nibble the skin over my hipbone. I had lost control over that region, and my hips lifted and asked for more.
He gave it good, running his tongue along the crease where my thigh met my groin, inching closer to my heat. I should have been shy, but I wasn’t. Good thing was after prepping for movies with Sarina, I was groomed there—
Ugh. I didn’t want to think about that now. This was Blane, and that was something else.
His tongue found my clit and circled it lightly, teasing and tormenting me. As I threw my head back into the pillow, gasping and squirming, he picked up speed and slid his finger inside me. I ground down on his finger and sighed out a whimper. He didn’t let up and continued to finger-fuck me, flicking my clit until I went off like a sparkler. Soft moans made their way up my throat and out my mouth, sounds I’d never really made before.
“This is happening a lot, with me naked and you fully dressed,” I managed to say as he crawled back up my body.
“Do you want to do something about that? Anything but the sweatband.”
I bit my lip to contain my laughter and ran my hands up his broad back, wondering why I deserved such sweet. Dolce, as my dad would say in Italian. I’d always been his sweet bellisimo.
And Blane was mine.
A shudder ran through me; we wouldn’t always have sweet. But I had it now, and I intended to take every last bite.
With his shirt off and my hand trembling on its way to his jeans, he abruptly sat up and tugged the sweatband off.
“Fuck it,” he said, and stood quickly to divest himself of his pants.
After falling back onto the bed in his boxers, he pulled me against him and kissed me hard. Our lips grazed each other softly, back and forth, before he nipped my lower lip and I opened up. As we tasted each other again, he rubbed his length against my stomach.
“Touch me,” he murmured.
With trembling fingers, I found the waistband of his boxers and dipped inside. My hand barely wrapped around his girth, and I fisted him up and down like I watched him do the other night.
Blane leaned his forehead into mine and breathed out, “Oh God, yes.” He shoved his pelvis back and forth, making his penis ride my palm, and I slid my thumb over his slit, using the pre-cum to wet his shaft.
“Feels so good,” he choked out, panting.
When I tightened my grip and pace, he quickened his hips before bringing his hand down to still mine.
“I don’t want to blow,” he said, and took a few deep breaths. “I want to be inside you, but I don’t want to rush you.” His eyes were earnest as he gazed down at me, his desire darkening them to a deep green.
“I want that.”
He ran his fingers over my landing strip and slipped back inside, coaxing the wetness out, and I allowed my fingers to graze his length. We played with each other for a few more beats until Blane removed his hand and reached down to his jeans on the floor. He pulled a condom from the pocket and stopped.
“You good?” he asked, his voice soft and polite.
Blane’s insistence on asking first before proceeding filled me with a sense of power. And freedom.