As I let the cups fall away to reveal my flesh.
He leaned back against the couch, his cock pushing at the front of his khaki pants. I wasn’t the only one flushing. Red tinged his cheeks, too, and he licked his mouth as he watched me.
“The panties.”
I hooked my thumbs in the sides of the lace and eased them over my hips. I did it slowly, enjoying the look on his face as he focused. I parted my thighs and cocked my hip, slid the fabric down my ass and over my thighs, then let them fall to my ankles. I stepped out of them and stood, at last, completely naked.
“Fuck,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Turn around.”
I did, one rotation.
“Touch yourself.”
The request surprised me but I was already complying. I held my breasts, my nipples responding to my touch as quickly as if my hands were his. I slid my thumbs over the tight buds, then ran my hands down my sides, over my belly, down my thighs. I put one hand over the hair between my legs, cupping my center and pressing the heel of my hand against my clit.
“Fucking hell, you’re hot.”
My flush grew deeper, more blush than flush this time. His praise thrilled me and eased the fear that always accompanies being naked in front of another.
“Elle,” Dan said, “tell me you want me to fuck you.”
Simple words to describe an act with so much variation.
“Oh,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Dan, I want you to fuck me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. I will never forget the feeling of standing naked in front of him that first time. How he looked at my body as not pieces, but as a whole, woven together by those small things about me I’d allowed him to know.
He was on his feet without hesitation. His hands on my hips pulled me against him as his mouth found my throat. He kissed me there, then on my shoulder, then bent his knees to reach the tops of my breasts. His hands roamed my skin, cupped my buttocks, pressed the small of my back, traced the edges of my shoulder blades.
“Put your arms around me.”
I did. He put his hands under my thighs and lifted me. It was sudden and took me unawares. I am not a small woman and he not a large man. It didn’t matter. I wrapped my legs around him, the fabric of his oxford shirt rubbing my clit deliciously enough to make me whimper.
He took me to the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him, I don’t know how. I could only hang on and pray we didn’t end up on the floor. He didn’t drop me. He laid me down on the bed as skillfully as if it had risen to meet us. He covered me with his body, kissed me all over. Every place but my mouth, because I had told him no.
Together we worked the buttons on his shirt with far less grace than I’d used on mine. One flew off and spanged against the wall. Another refused to come free and tore the hole until it slipped out. His skin beneath was smooth and covered with crisp, curling hair over muscles that shifted under my fingers as he tore his arms from the sleeves. Then his hands were on me again, sliding up and down, and my hands were on his belt buckle, tugging. He reached to help me, his teeth biting into my shoulder when I reached inside to grasp him.
I gasped at the bite and tightened my grip involuntarily. He gasped too and gave another muttered curse. He sat up to push down his pants and the boxer briefs beneath, rolling onto his back to get them past his thighs and down his legs. He kicked them off, one foot at a time, and I watched his body become revealed to me.
I could say his body was perfect and every part of it beautiful, because it was. Not because he had no flaws, but because I wanted him so desperately I couldn’t see any.
He rolled on top of me, skin to skin. He was hard where I was soft. Rough where I was smooth. Straight where I curved. Man and woman, puzzle pieces, meant to fit.
He took my nipple between his lips and I arched beneath him. He laved it with his tongue, then suckled gently. It tugged within my womb, and my cunt spasmed. His hand slid between my legs. His fingertip, unerring, found my clit and circled it. He dipped down to my folds and brought slickness from inside me to smooth his touch.
I put my hand on his head. His hair was soft and long enough for me to grasp and tug. Pleasure made me pull too hard, and he muttered ouch against my breast.
I loosed my grip but kept my hand in its place. He moved to the other nipple, offering it the same treatment. Every tug he gave sent another spasm through my insides. My clit swelled under his touch. I felt it grow, felt the blood rushing to that small bundle of nerves from all over my body. I floated in that pleasure, gave myself to it, welcomed the oblivion of ecstasy.
His mouth grazed my ribs. His tongue swept my skin, tasting me. He murmured against me, words I couldn’t understand but didn’t need to.
His cock stretched hot along my thigh. He rubbed it against me, his hips pumping slowly. I thought of how he’d feel thrusting inside me and moaned.
“Damn it, you’ve got a sexy voice.”
I looked down at him, uncertain if I’d be able to form a coherent sentence. “Hush.”
He grinned up at me, his hand moving, moving, making me shake. “You do.”
Compliments embarrass me. I shook my head a little. My hair spread out around me on the bedspread.
He looked at me again with that same odd expression of query and acceptance; a man being handed a gift he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve but taking it without hesitation.
“Elle,” he said. “I’m going to watch your face this time, and I’m going to be inside you. Do you want that?”
I nodded. My fingers tangled in his hair. “Yes.”
He left me for a moment to reach inside his nightstand drawer, and I was grateful I didn’t need to insist, or get up to get my purse, too far away in the living room. I reached for the condom, but he shook his head.
“I need to do it.”
He must have seen a question in my eyes, because he smiled. “I don’t want to finish before we’ve started.”
His honesty made me want to be honest with him. To give him something real. But I had given him enough already with inconsequential revelations he didn’t realize he was so privileged to have.
I got up on one elbow to watch him, glad for the chance to see him. Like the rest of him, his cock was near perfect. Pretty, even, of average length and girth and color but somehow lovely. He slipped the condom on, stroking the latex down to the base. Thus shielded, he leaned in to look into my eyes.
He positioned himself on top of me, using his arms to keep from crushing me. His cock nudged me, and I parted for him and tilted my hips to allow him entrance. He rubbed the tip along my folds, pushing in a little before reaching between us to guide himself all the way inside.
I moaned when he did, and he did, too. He stopped when his cock hit my cervix. I had a hand on his biceps and felt him trembling. He put his forehead against mine, his eyes closed for a moment before he opened them.
