Absolutely. Lucia smiled.
Pausing in front of him, she lifted her hands and pushed the suit coat off his shoulders. With a grin tugging one corner of his mouth, he helped her by shrugging out of the jacket. He caught it with one hand and folded it over the back of a nearby chair. Then Lucia set to work on his pristine dress shirt, one button at a time, revealing a wide swath of muscles, dusted with dark, coarse hair across his chest, narrowing into a narrow path down his ridged abdomen. He was so male everywhere, so…everything that made her breath catch.
Tugging the shirt from the waistband of his pants, she watched as he eased out of the garment and draped it across the back of the chair, over his coat. He toed out of his shoes and doffed his socks, setting them aside.
“Don’t stop, Lucia.” The words were soft, but the command was unmistakable.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, perfectly at peace.
This was the right move, with the right man, in the right way.
She set to work on his button and zipper, easing his pants down his narrow hips and muscular thighs, also dusted with dark hair. He was big and imposing, a total testosterone bomb. But she knew he would never hurt her.
He stepped out of his pants, and from the pocket, he extracted a little packet, and set it on the nearby nightstand. A condom. God, why hadn’t she thought of that? Even in her most naïve moments, Jon was taking care of her.
“Thank you. I—I’m not on birth control.”
He nodded at her. “I’ll do everything possible to keep you safe in every way.”
Lucia closed her eyes as a fresh wave of need crashed over her. Jon would make some lucky woman a great husband someday. She yearned to be that woman, but knew better. He’d always been career focused, and now he had his brother to worry about. She had critical papers due. “Publish or perish” was the motto of all true academics. With fresh tenure, she had to try to keep up with her more seasoned peers.
“Do you need me to take over, Doc?”
No. She wanted to do this. He’d removed every stitch she wore, bared her for his gaze. She wanted to do the same to him.
Even through his dark cotton boxer briefs, she could see the outline of his thick erection. She’d never seen a live penis, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t expecting a sexpert, just someone willing to let him touch her and learn.
Gathering her nerves, she curled her fingers around his waistband and eased the underwear down his hips, pausing to draw the elastic away from his hard…The word “erection” didn’t seem imposing enough for the long, hard column of flesh with the flushed, swollen head.
“You’re staring at my cock.”
“Everything is so new. I didn’t…” She shook her head. His cock. Okay, that was what she’d call it. “I want to touch you.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Jon was every kind of perfect, and she was so glad now that she’d waited and never had the kind of fumbling-in-the-back-of-the-car experience her sister and her friends had talked about. This would be sublime.
Her hand trembled as she lifted it to him, but she wasn’t nervous. A pinging excitement had overtaken her and given her a delicious case of the shivers. When her fingers curled around him, she gasped. She’d expected hard flesh, but not the softness of his skin, not the sheer heat he put off in such measure that she could imagine, with Jon by her side, in her bed, she’d never be cold again.
He jerked and groaned as she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed gently. She gave him an exploratory stroke, up to brush her thumb across the impatient purple head flaring above her grip, then with a drag of her palm back down his shaft to the heavy male testicles below. He closed his eyes, his entire body tensing, fists clenching. Lucia smiled. He was nearly a foot taller than her and outweighed her by at least seventy-five pounds. He was bigger, stronger, and could drop her to her back and mount her quicker than the blink of an eye if he chose. But he stood here and let her have complete power over him, allowing her whatever time she needed to grow used to him, feel comfortable. And she adored him for it.
Again, she stroked him. Unbelievably, he swelled in her hand. Grew even harder, visibly longer and thicker. Soon, this would be inside her, a part of her. She shivered again as that ping of excitement became more like a seismic tremor.
“Lucia…” he groaned. “Fuck, Doc, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought of this.”
“I have, too.”
His eyes flashed open. He looked surprised—in a good way. “Yeah? What else?”
Did she dare? Tonight might be all they had. No way was she going to let him go with regrets. She’d better go for broke and fulfill all her fantasies.
Slowly, she sank to her knees. Jon’s eyes flared with heat as he slid his fingers possessively through her hair and fisted the thick auburn strands, holding her just shy of his waiting cock. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Please.” It was almost a whimper.
Using his hold on her hair with one hand, he wrapped the other around his shaft and guided her mouth to him. “Open up. Use your tongue and suck—Oh, yeah…Just like that. Fuck, Doc. That’s perfect. Holy shit.”
Lucia smiled to herself and redoubled her efforts. From studying anatomy—she’d loved the sciences—she knew where he’d be most sensitive, so she focused on swiping the nerve-laden head with her tongue on every upstroke, then taking as much of him in her mouth as she could. When the head hit her throat, she swallowed on him, both for his pleasure and to push back her gag reflex. Then she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked as strongly as she could manage, running the tip of her tongue along the underside, nudging that spot just under his crown. And because she’d listened to her girlfriends talk about giving head, she knew that Jon would like her hand on the heavy fall of his testicles.
His grip in her hair tightened, pulling just slightly. The sting was anything but unpleasant. Funny, she’d always been a cerebral creature, but for the first time in her life, she experienced herself through the physical, as if she could finally comprehend the outside world by using the inherent gifts of her arms, legs, and skin—and her glorious sense of taste. On her tongue, he registered as salty and masculine. And perfect. Though she knelt to him and laved him, his pure pleasure in her act made her feel so feminine, almost powerful. How much satisfaction would it give them both if she stayed here and made him climax in this way? The act was so intimate, and she couldn’t help thinking that she’d feel so close to him afterward.
But that wasn’t on his agenda.
When he pulled away and lifted her to her feet, she moaned. “Jon…”
“Stop, Doc. You’re damn good at that,” he panted.
Lucia grinned shyly. “Beginner’s luck?”
“We’ve established that you read.”
“And pay attention to what my friends have said about their boyfriends…”
Jon growled. “Don’t want you hearing about other guys’ sex lives.”
The possessive statement jolted her with pleasure. “Trust me, I’m only thinking about you right now.”
“Good girl.” He caressed her cheek, then looked past her to the bed. “Get on. Flat on your back. Spread your legs for me.”
The dark command in his voice both aroused and scared her. He wasn’t the lover who’d been putty in her hands a few minutes ago. He was now completely in charge, his nearly black gaze like a drill penetrating all her bravado to see to the soft woman underneath who not just wanted his passion, but needed his tenderness.
He caressed her hip. “I’m riding a thin edge, Doc. But you can trust me. I’ll never hurt you. I’ll work like hell to make it good for you.”
With a nod, she eased onto the bed, conscious of the generous flare of her hips, the less than flat curve of her belly. Jon liked her as she was, though. He’d be disappointed if she couldn’t get past herself to follow a simple command. Lucia forced herself to spread her legs.
She could work up her courage, but there was one
issue she couldn’t discount.
“It’s going to hurt.” She bit her lip.
He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “For a second. That’s unavoidable.”
“You speaking from experience?” In an odd way, she hoped that he was.
“Sorry, Doc. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. My dad was gone. Mama worked two jobs to feed Stef and me. I started taking odd jobs when I was ten, and by the time I got enough spare time in my day to think about sex, most of the girls I knew had been around the block a few times.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think at my age that I’d be having this first with anyone.”
“At your age?” She swatted his arm. “You’re hardly ready for assisted living.”
His gaze grew serious. “I’m thirty-five, chronologically. In experience, I’m fucking Methuselah. I don’t deserve to touch you.”
She sat up, shoving aside the fact that her boobs probably sagged and her stomach likely pooched. Instead, she just put her arms around him and brushed a kiss over his mouth.
“I come from a family you have every right to hate. I have an IQ that put me in the freak category when I was very young, so my social skills ensured I said the wrong thing at least once a conversation. Sometimes, I still do. Boys saw me as a pudgy nuisance. When all my classmates were sixteen…I was eleven. When we graduated from high school, three of the girls were visibly pregnant. That was the week I got my first period. Don’t start me on college. Even when I finally got a figure, all the guys called me ‘jail bait.’” She shrugged. “Chronologically, I’m twenty-five today. But I guess in a lot of ways, I’m still a baby to you. If you’d rather not do this—”
Jon covered her mouth with his and shoved her back to the bed, mounting her in a second. His tongue delved deep, taking total possession of her. Lucia opened to him, clung, wrapped her arms around him. He wedged his hips between her thighs, and she felt every inch of his steely cock pressing against her slick folds, probing, sliding, prodding her clit until she gasped and arched up to him.
“You’re definitely not a baby, Doc. I can’t look at you like anything less than a sexy woman I can’t do without touching for another second.”
Every word wiped away her insecurity and sadness. He managed to open up everything inside her, and she mentally threw the doors open to her body—and her heart. “Then don’t.”
He lifted himself onto his arms and glanced down her body, his gaze turning hotter with every sweep. “Not rushing this.”
Jon lowered himself to her, this time a bit farther down her body—right to her breasts. “These are a wet dream.” He plumped one with one hand and kissed the side of her breast, his exhalations hovering over her nipple. She shivered and felt every sensation acutely. It was as if her body was completely attuned to him, suddenly swelling, rising, blooming just for him.
“That’s it, Doc,” he whispered just before he sucked her nipple into his mouth.
Instantly, she moaned and thrust her hands into his inky hair. Thick, glossy, perfect to hold on to as he took her apart one lick, suck, and nip at a time. Blood rushed to her nipples, and it only made him devour her more. She’d never been more aware of any part of herself, but no escaping how the sensitive little pebbles cried out for more. And every pull of his lips on her made a trail of fire flame right toward her sex. It clenched, ached with emptiness.
“Jon.” She sounded desperate because she was. If he stopped now, if he didn’t give her what her body craved…God, she was about to crawl out of her skin. Everything underneath felt hot and foreign and on the verge of an orgasm unlike anything she’d ever been able to give herself, batteries or not.
“We’re going to get there, Doc,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to the heavy underside of her breast, then laved his way up to her nipple, covering it and taking it in the hot depths of his mouth as he stared. Just stared. His dark gaze fused to hers, so connected she knew the rhythm of his breathing, of his heartbeat, of the blood racing through his body with the force of his desire.
Then he started kissing his way down her body, prying her thighs wider. His gaze never left hers. Pressing hot kisses over her belly, he gripped her hip with one hand—and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, his dark eyes promising bed-scratching, back-arching, scream-worthy pleasure. Lucia’s heart stuttered, skipped a few beats. She knew exactly where he was headed, and the thought sent a jolt of desire sizzling through her body. Her sex wept. She could feel it. No way he wouldn’t see it as soon as he looked—
“You’re so wet,” he groaned as he stared at her slick folds. His thumb grazed the top of her mound, just above her clit, and she arched up, trying to put that touch just where she wanted it.
“Not yet.” He held her in place and leaned in, breathing hard.
Lucia writhed against his tight hold. She loved his possession, his control of her, but her body hungered for more. She couldn’t stop writhing and moaning when his hot breath caressed the most intimate and untouched part of her body. After twenty-five years of waiting, of being such a good girl, she wanted to be so, so bad.
“Jon!” She tugged at his hair, pleading. “I need you. Touch me. Something.”
He palmed her ass and lifted her off the mattress a fraction, settling himself deeper between the V of her thighs. She looked down her body to him, and he wore a devilish smile.
“The anticipation can be half the pleasure.”
“I’ve been anticipating for my whole life. I feel like I’m about to burst. My sanity is unraveling as quickly as my patience. Please…”
He brushed his thumb across her wet flesh, pausing to rub a little circle over her clit. “I’m going to take really good care of you, Doc. On my timetable. Now close your eyes.”
No way she couldn’t obey the deep command in his murmur. He didn’t have to speak loudly to get her attention.
And then she felt the wet warmth of his tongue sliding into her folds, drinking of her juices, weaving a clever path up to her clit, where he laved and flicked, swirled, nudged, teased—then sucked.
The blood rushed through her body, roared into her head. Her heartbeat felt like an anvil against a steely breast, hard, loud, reverberating. And the pleasure buried her like an avalanche. Lucia had lived her entire life by complicated associations, metaphors, unraveling history’s most important moments, looking for every nuance of meaning and finding a soft satisfaction when she found personal understanding in the moments that had shaped mankind. In this moment, she couldn’t string two words together that didn’t end with “please” and desperate pleading to Jon to let her fall deep into the looming pleasure.
And she couldn’t find the voice to beg. The ache between her legs coiled and clawed higher. She whimpered, gripping him. Jon was in perfect control of her body, ruthlessly pushing her up the pinnacle to a place she’d never been before, pausing or slowing his ministrations until she went wild, bucking and thrashing under him. Only then did he give her more, taking her again right to the very edge of pleasure, then backing away, soothing, shushing her demands with a soft touch. Once he’d dragged her back from the precipice and breathing became part of her ritual again, he’d dive in once more, hungry, unapologetic, determined.
Lucia had never known anything like this—suspended from reality, so trapped inside her body while achingly aware of his every move and breath. The waiting…God, he held her in the palm of his hand, and his sure hands and little smile told her that he was terribly comfortable with that fact.
“Jon, please. Please!” she panted, every muscle in her legs tingling, trembling. A pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known was right there.
“I know, Doc. I want at least this to be really good for you. I don’t know how much you’ll be able to enjoy penetration the first time.” He grazed her clit rhythmically with his thumb, let off, then fingered each side of the little nub, awakening yet a whole new set of nerves. Back and forth, back and forth. Lucia bypassed begging and pleading, heading straight for tears at the mercil
ess way he took her apart. Then he sucked her in his mouth one last time. “Come now, pet.”
As if his soft demand unlocked all the barriers to her body, every door and window inside her burst wide open. She let out a high, keening cry as the pleasure crested, wracking her as she shuddered, whirling and dizzy. Black spots danced in her vision. Her hearing stopped working entirely for a long moment, as if her body needed all its resources to process a climax this monumental.
And Jon stayed with her, using his fingers and mouth, until she rode the orgasm to its rough, shuddering crash at the end. She landed back in her body with a tumble, aware of her chest sucking in gulps of air, her heart rattling against her breastbone like a native drum…and languid satisfaction curling through every one of her limbs. Her brain? Not interested in coming back online.
“Oh. My. God.” She sagged against the bed, wiping at her damp brow.
Jon stood and palmed the condom. “Last chance. I’ll leave you here, if you want.”