Chapter Nine
Jay kept one arm around my waist, where it had remained from the moment I got out of his car, as he swiped a key card at the suite’s door. With a click it opened, and he gave it a shove with his right foot.
“After you,” he insisted, placing a little pressure on the small of my back.
With a flirtatious grin, I reached behind me and grasped his wrist. “You come here often?” I wondered as I walked backward through the open door tugging him gently with me.
“Not often,” he replied, needing only minimal encouragement to remain mere inches from me.
That was a pretty unspecific answer, but then I’d asked a pretty unspecific question. However, I quickly dismissed the possibility of posing a more probing question. The truth is, it was none of my business, and it didn’t matter anyway. His life was exactly that: his.
Smoothly disentangling his arm from my grip, he placed both hands on my waist. I held my breath, waiting for him to pull me to him. But he didn’t. Instead, his sure, strong hands clasped me tenderly and twisted me around.
I lifted my eyebrows in question, but didn’t voice the, ‘what are you doing?’ That was swirling through my mind. As I allowed myself to be guided by his warm hands, my jaw dropped.
In front of me was a living space, with two overstuffed couches and a low coffee table between them. Sitting elegantly on the table was a ice bucket with a bottle of champagne resting within. Next to that was a vase with a dozen red roses.
“Wow,” I breathed, “you’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” I didn’t bother to face him as I posed the query.
“Well,” he hedged, uncertainty creeping into the edges of his voice just as it did when he first met Matt. At all other times, from the moment I first saw him, he has been self-assured, calm and ready with a quip or two.
I liked that strong, confident stockman. But there was also something utterly adorable about the guy who was slightly vulnerable and insecure. Although, I had no idea what he had to be insecure about.
Turning back to face him, I reflexively lifted my hands to his chest and slid my palms gently up and down the lapels of his suit jacket. “What?” I asked with a small smile.
I was immensely grateful that he placed his arms around my waist and tugged me into a loose embrace.
“I wanted to...” he began, pausing to laugh at himself. “See, the thing is, I don’t get a lot of practice at the romance thing,” he admitted. It was a statement I found difficult to believe, but I remained quiet and let him continue. “Is it too much?” he wondered.
“No,” I offered simply.
“I just wanted to make everything nice, y’know?”
“It is nice,” I assured him. “It’s really, really nice.”
His smile growing more comfortable as it broadened, he dipped his face closer to mine. “I thought you must be used to being wined, dined, and wooed.”
“Wooed?” I replied, snickering lightly. “Nope, can’t say I’ve ever been wooed. There hasn’t been a whole lot of wining and dining, either.”
“Really?” he breathed, his lips so close to mine that the whisper of the word grazed my cheek.
“Really,” I confirmed, wondering how I was still able to reply to him at all. My mind was a jittery, flighty mess of hormones. “I’m not used to being spoiled like this.”
His lips so close I could almost taste them, but still far too far away for my liking, he tightened his grip on me. “If you ask me, that’s criminal,” he mumbled before finally pressing his delicate mouth to my own.
I whimpered softly and couldn’t prevent the natural inclination to arch against him. My hands glided all the way to his broad shoulders, and then entwined at the nape of his neck. Tugging him just that little bit closer, I parted my lips in a silent invitation that he quickly responded to.
His wonderfully agile tongue moved swiftly into my mouth, playfully stroking my taste buds and then drawing intimately across palate. It felt alien to have another person’s tongue move over the roof of my mouth, and I realized that’s because it was a first. Well, it was the first time anyone had deliberately tasted me that way; there had been times when fanatic, clumsy or drunken French kissing had resulted in an accidental sampling of my soft palate. Those instances had usually accompanied barely restrained gagging as the tongue in question was being pushed further than the limit of comfort.
What seemed strange and almost comical to me was that I had imagined him being so very different. I had envisaged this big, strong guy being sexually aggressive. After all, he was rugged; he was a cowboy (my interpretation of one anyway).
Yet, if his kiss was anything to form an opinion on, his approach to sex was distinctly unaggressive.
With a subtle suck of my lip, he pulled back before releasing it. “Do you want some champagne?” he wondered, his voice seeming deeper and syrupy.
“Maybe later,” I whispered, surrendering my hold of his neck for only one reason: to push the suit coat from his shoulders.
His grin widened as he unfurled his arms from my waist just long enough to allow the jacket to fall to the floor behind him. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his expression not suggesting that he had any doubts himself. “I don’t wanna rush you,” he added sincerely, though.
This was not something that had ever happened to me before. That question had never been raised, and again it smacked of an underlying insecurity in him that I couldn’t quite understand.
“How can I make it more clear to you that I want this?” I wondered softly, my fingers pulling at his shirt buttons. “I want this very much,” I added emphatically. Inch by inch, I methodically exposed his chest. Marveling, as my hands worked of their own volition, at the silky smoothness of his bronzed torso. His pecs were solid and sleek. The muscles of his stomach were rigid. There was almost no spare fat to be found. At his taut belly, there was a subtle trail of light brown hair, which led into the waistband of his pants.
So mesmerized by the sight of him, I didn’t realize his arms had swept back around me until I felt his hands suddenly grasp both of my buttocks. Reflexively arching into him, I giggled before shoving frustratedly at his gaping shirt.
“I want this, too,” he breathed dipping his face until his cheek rested against my temple. “God, Faith, you have no idea how much I want it.” Delicately, his large hands slid upward, caressing the base of my spine. The tips of his fingers brushed the zipper of my dress, and then slowly traced it all the way up to the clasp that rested between my shoulder blades.
While he was occupied, I continued to urge him to let me go long enough to rid him of his shirt, but he seemed in no particular hurry. And, eventually, I gave up the fight in favor of sinking my face into the expanse of chest I did have access to. Desperately, I kissed his collarbone and then the small hollow between them. His skin was almost scalding hot, and he tasted inexplicable good. It was not a taste I could define; not one I’d ever sampled before. There was delicate sweetness, but there was something so intensely earthy and masculine to it, too. I quickly decided that it was my favorite flavor in the world, as the tip of my tongue escaped my mouth and licked at his sternum.
He, meanwhile, was pulling gently at my zip. As the bodice of the dress fell loose, the straps slipped languidly from my shoulders. I felt them creep to my upper arms, and then came the glorious sensation of his calm, assured hands helping them the rest of the way.
I happily shifted, lifting my hands from the garment and allowing him to make his same easy way over the dip of my waist, and the contours of my hips. Slipping his fore and middle fingers inside the bunched dress around my middle, he gave it a delicate push, leaving gravity to take over.
As the dress fell in a puddle around my feet, and I was left in nothing but my bra and panties, I hurriedly returned to shedding his shirt. This time, he was more cooperative. In fact, he was more than cooperative, shucking it without much input from my hands.
Stunned silent by the unres
tricted view of a torso that could not have been more perfect if it had been sculptured, most of my body was entirely motionless. I say most, because the pounding of my pulse at the roof of my mouth reminded me that my heart was still active; and there was also the subtle quivering of muscles deep within me.
His hands quickly and instinctive moving back to my waist, their impressive size enabled the edge of his index fingers to brush lightly at the outer curves of my covered breasts. The sensation caused my already alert nipples to strain painfully at the black satiny lace bra. Suppressing the ardent need to beg him to touch them, I bit down on my lower lip.
“Come with me,” he urged, with a soft nudge of his head to the connected bedroom.
I was moving before he’d even finished making the request, stepping out of my dress and kicking off my shoes. Much shorter than him, I lifted my face in silent solicitation.
He granted it immediately. Sweeping forward, he claimed my hungry mouth passionately. The kiss continued with unrestrained moans of need, as we shuffled into the bedroom - me moving backward, and trusting him implicitly to guide me.
His hands moved heatedly, but respectfully, over my hips, around to my buttocks then up my back. My own fingers were rather less polite in their attempts to know him better. I revelled in the strong muscles of his shoulders. I whimpered as I groped biceps that were large without making him look deformed.
A tender touch slipped under the clasp of my bra, letting me know he was there and what he planned to do. And like a perfect gentleman, he waited a couple of moments, giving me the option to say ‘no’. I had no intention of declining. In fact, as far as I was concerned, the bra couldn’t be lost quickly enough.
And, as if to express that to him, my tongue grew ever more restless as it moved over his lips and dipped into his mouth. My hands too grew frantic as they grasped his belt.
Still calm, and annoyingly smooth in his motion, Jay gracefully popped my bra open and slowly slid his hands to my shoulders. His mouth left mine and began nibbling at my neck, as he swept the black straps down my arms.
With his belt unfastened, I left my hold of his pants to toss my bra aside. And for a split second, it was as though my breasts weren’t bared to him for the first time. Momentarily, in the heat of my desire, I forget that the sight of me was new to him; that I didn’t know what his reaction would be. Would he like what he saw? Were they too small for his taste?
Those brief moments of frenetic self-doubt ended as quickly as they had begun. Jay’s large, tender hands quickly surrounded the twin globes, his thumbs stroking evenly across keen nipples.
“Oh, God, Faith,” he mumbled, lips meandering back up my throat and across my jaw before finding my very willing mouth. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.
His fingers molded softly, feeling the weight of both breasts, and stirring yet more excitement from my already painfully peaked nipples.
My own hands grew so shaky they were almost useless as I unfastened his pants and brushed inadvertently at the scorching hot bulge in his underwear. He twitched slightly in response, I groaned against his mouth and he immediately tore it away.
Smiling into eyes that pleaded with him to put his lips back to their previous use, he dipped forward. His left cheek stroked at the inner curve of one breast, the tip of his nose grazed my sternum lightly. And then, those warm, passionate lips kissed the swell of my bosom. Giving way for his inquisitive mouth, his right hand released the breast it had been caressing and skated down to my hip.
My hand stroked over the intimidating erection that seemed to fight for freedom. Slowly, I enjoyed the heat of him before finding the opening in his tight boxers and seeking a better appreciation of his manhood.
“Ahh,” I involuntarily groaned, as his tongue skipped over one stiff nipple.
His long, throbbing cock was silky smooth, broad and rock hard. Clasping him gently, I ran my fingers from its velvety soft tip to a thick base surrounded by short, coarse hair. God, he felt good. A rush of desire reminded me how empty my body felt; how much I wanted to feel him stretching me.
“Jay,” I whimpered, beginning to methodically rub him.
His mouth busy sucking my nipple into its avid warmth, he didn’t reply. At least, not with words. The hand at my hip seemed to answer me by sweeping around to my belly and inching tentatively into my panties.
I shivered as his touch smoothed over my mound, and my hips bucked as his long, dexterous fingers slowly met my passion-inflamed lips. And then, I released an uncontrolled yelp as he instantly found my engorged clitoris.
Hand going sudden motionless, but not leaving my underwear, or my hungry flesh, he lifted his face. “Y’all right?” he wondered with a subtle grin.
“Yeah,” I breathed, nodding frantically. I quickly dismissed the notion of explaining my lurch of surprise by telling him that my ex wouldn’t have known a clitoris if it jumped up and bit him. It was not the time to talk about another guy. It was not the time to be thinking of another guy, either. “Yeah, yeah...” I continued to gabble instead. “That’s...Oh, God!” His fingers still, my body had begun to stroke itself against him in a way that I may have been ashamed of at any other time in my life. While he looked at me with that sexy intensity, a smile pulling at his gorgeous lips, I wasn’t in the least bit apologetic for seeking pleasure from his hand.
And if there had been any lingering doubt that he would judge me for it, it evaporated when he began to press his coarse workman’s fingertips more firmly to that sweetest of spots, and move in deliberately strident circles.
His other hand still absentmindedly fondling my left breast, he leaned forward until his forehead was resting against mine. His soft breath seemed remarkably even compared with my labored panting.
“Good?” he wondered with a chuckle.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered, feeling a coiling tension in my belly that was causing me to grow rigid.
I hadn’t had a wealth of sexual experience; there had been just two lovers in my life, and neither of them had been especially concerned with whether or not I achieved climax. It had certainly never been their first order of business. So it seemed all the more surprising to me that this man, who I’d deemed (in a way that is unflatteringly snobby) less sophisticated than my previous boyfriends, was the only one to put my enjoyment before his own.
While my right hand continued to masturbate him somewhat distractedly, my left hand clung to his shoulder as I felt the world beginning to shrink.
“Jay,” I gasped as the fluttering of subtle spasms began to shake me.
Calmly, he continued to stroke me in that same strong, measured rhythm. There was no attempt to rush the inevitable finish. “Faith,” he whispered, in a way that was so intensely intimate and oozing with sexuality.
Sensory overload threatening, I closed my eyes as the rush swept me up in a torrent of quivering. “Yes...Yes!” I cried. “Ugh, Jay!”
His hand didn’t leave me and his fingers didn’t stop tending to my highly aroused, slick flesh until the stiffness left my features and limbs. Slowly, as I opened my eyes, I found his blue ones burning brightly into mine. Something undefined and inexplicable, passed between us, and a heated whirlwind of motion sent us both tumbling down to the bed.
He pulled at my underwear rather less gracefully than his usual way. I shoved his pants and boxers off his hips. He kissed me deeply. He rolled on top of me with his erection nudging at my thigh.
And then suddenly, he stopped. Gasping for breath, he broke free of my mouth and pulled himself up a little. Then, rolling onto his hip, he kicked off his shoes and hurriedly swept his clothes down his legs. However, before tossing the pants to the floor, he dug a hand into one pocket. It re-emerged with a square of foil between his index finger and thumb.
My chest heaving, and legs slightly parted, I watched him intently as he ripped open the condom and slipped the circle of latex over the crest of his shaft. Quickly, and with great
ease, he rolled it down to the base before turning his attention back to me.
“Ready?” he asked, his hands settling on the mattress either side of me and his body hovering over mine.
I parted my thighs and wrapped one leg around the base of his spine. My hands swept around his neck and I pulled him to me. “I’ve never been more ready in my life,” I told him huskily.
That was the only answer he needed. Mouth descending feverishly to mine, his hips drove forward and he began to stretch my willing entrance. I moaned around his invading tongue, the sensation of surrender never having felt quite so exquisite before.
With control, he forced himself a little deeper, and my core continued to swell in welcome. Deeper still, and he was further than anyone else had been. Yet, my body continued to crave him. Finally, with a long, loud exhale, he lifted his face as his hips nestled against mine.
My passage pulsed around him, muscles contracting at unfamiliar fullness. “Jesus,” I hissed.
“Damn, Faith,” he mumbled. “You’re so sexy.”
Peering up at his tense jaw, I tossed my other leg around him and squeezed him tightly. His jaw relaxed just long enough for him to grin at me. And then, his features were set in concentration again. Bracing himself on those strong arms, he began to thrust.
Each smooth, gliding stroke sent spikes of pleasure right up to the top of my head. Every one of his deep grunts and gravelly groans of pleasure made me feel invincible. I mewled quietly beneath him, my hands indulging in the play of muscles in his upper back. My body was gaining a sheen of perspiration. My sex was wondering where this glorious sensation had been all my life.
And entirely unexpectedly, I felt a burgeoning orgasm building low in my abdomen. Arching my hips, I heightened the friction between his pubic bone and my clit. Meeting each of his drives with an eager counter thrust, my lower half grew restless in its motion.
“God,” he quietly grunted, his hips slamming against me harder than before.
Clenching him more intently between my thighs, the ecstasy pulled me under in a flash of color and a mind-numbing rush of blood to the head. “Ahh,” I screamed, my entire body shaking furiously. “Oh, Jay!”
My passage clamped around him in fierce, mercilessly grasps that caused him to stop motionless deep within me. “Christ,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyelids squeezing tight before his lower half spasmed once, twice, and a third time. “Faith,” he groaned, his hips beginning to move in lazy circles that almost caused a fresh wave of euphoria.
As it turned out, his inadvertent massage of my ripe clitoris wasn’t quite enough to send me into oblivion for a third time, but it was enough to make my eyes slip back and nonsense words of gratitude to slip from exhausted lips.