their sandals — from wandering to his bare legs; want to be keeping her eyes steadily on his, instead of wandering to the scar on his chin, the muscles in his forearms, the sinewy strength of his hands.
Does, because this is good. Does, because this means they’re a normal couple. They’re more than just sex. They don’t just lust after each other; they also like each other.
Doesn’t, because all this is keeping her from stripping him naked, from stripping naked next to him. From having him as deep in her as he can possibly thrust.
She shudders.
“Are you OK?” he asks.
“I, uh, yeah. No.” She smiles a lopsided grin. “Sort of.”
“What’s wrong?”
She leans forward, whispers, “I’m on fire.”
“What?”
“I want you.”
“Oh, God, Jocelyn.” The waiter — not Ade, thank God — sets down their pints. Lucas grabs his, glugs half of it down and, with a shaking hand, lowers it back to the table. “I’m sorry,” he says to the waiter. “Can you please cancel our food order and bring us the bill? Something’s just come up.” He winks at Jocelyn and she claps her hand over her mouth.
“Drink up,” he tells her.
She lifts her glass, lets the cool, slightly bitter beer slide down her throat — as much as she can swallow — while Lucas fishes bills out of his wallet, tucks them under his pint glass. “Let’s go!” He holds his hand out, and she takes it and lets him drag her outside with the booze and the lust swamping her brain.
On the sidewalk Lucas circles his arms right around her and hauls her tight against him. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”
“Yes, please,” she says.
“Yes, please,” when he opens the cab door and she stumbles in.
“Yes, please,” when, sitting next to her in the back seat of the taxi, he slips his hand between her thighs.
And, “Yes please” when they stumble up his front steps in the lowering dusk, and he pins her against his front door, and kisses her harder than she’s ever been kissed before.
She fishes in his pocket and finds his keys, pressing them against his skin. “Open,” she gasps. “In!”
They’re stumbling in, and the only light washes down the hall from the digital display on the stove announcing that it’s 19:19 — is that all? They work their way down the hall with her pressing him to the wall, then him flipping her and pushing her against it. They come to an open doorway and she nearly falls. He grabs at her shirt and the seam tears at the shoulder — the stitches ripping louder than her pounding heartbeat.
“Oh … God … sorry …” He pants the words out between heavy breaths.
“No, it’s hot .” She reaches for the neck of his shirt, and yanks, and a button pops off.
“You …” He pulls on her shirt again, and more of the seam parts so it hangs in flaps, exposing her shoulder, falling away from her bra. “Mmmm …” He presses his face to the bare skin.
She tugs at his belt. “Get. This. Off.”
“Go ahead.” His voice is muffled as he uses his teeth to peel her bra cup back from her breast.
She drops to her knees, to focus on his belt — on his crotch — and that’s when she realizes there’s a bed in the room; it’s looming right beside her. With his belt worked free, she eases his zipper down, and looks up at him. She can just make out his silhouette above her. “Is that your bed?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck me on it.”
He steps behind her, grabs her around the waist and, in one quick move, lifts her to the mattress where she bounces, and giggles, and scrambles to wriggle out of her skirt. But it’s too late because he already has his head under it, his face between her thighs, and he’s pulling her panties to the side, and his tongue … oh, it’s finding every spot she wants it to. Exploring her lips and then circling her clit. She arches her back and thumps the sheets with her fists. “I want you in me.”
“Mmmm …” The vibrations resonate through her.
“Lucas!” She
Does, because this is good. Does, because this means they’re a normal couple. They’re more than just sex. They don’t just lust after each other; they also like each other.
Doesn’t, because all this is keeping her from stripping him naked, from stripping naked next to him. From having him as deep in her as he can possibly thrust.
She shudders.
“Are you OK?” he asks.
“I, uh, yeah. No.” She smiles a lopsided grin. “Sort of.”
“What’s wrong?”
She leans forward, whispers, “I’m on fire.”
“What?”
“I want you.”
“Oh, God, Jocelyn.” The waiter — not Ade, thank God — sets down their pints. Lucas grabs his, glugs half of it down and, with a shaking hand, lowers it back to the table. “I’m sorry,” he says to the waiter. “Can you please cancel our food order and bring us the bill? Something’s just come up.” He winks at Jocelyn and she claps her hand over her mouth.
“Drink up,” he tells her.
She lifts her glass, lets the cool, slightly bitter beer slide down her throat — as much as she can swallow — while Lucas fishes bills out of his wallet, tucks them under his pint glass. “Let’s go!” He holds his hand out, and she takes it and lets him drag her outside with the booze and the lust swamping her brain.
On the sidewalk Lucas circles his arms right around her and hauls her tight against him. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”
“Yes, please,” she says.
“Yes, please,” when he opens the cab door and she stumbles in.
“Yes, please,” when, sitting next to her in the back seat of the taxi, he slips his hand between her thighs.
And, “Yes please” when they stumble up his front steps in the lowering dusk, and he pins her against his front door, and kisses her harder than she’s ever been kissed before.
She fishes in his pocket and finds his keys, pressing them against his skin. “Open,” she gasps. “In!”
They’re stumbling in, and the only light washes down the hall from the digital display on the stove announcing that it’s 19:19 — is that all? They work their way down the hall with her pressing him to the wall, then him flipping her and pushing her against it. They come to an open doorway and she nearly falls. He grabs at her shirt and the seam tears at the shoulder — the stitches ripping louder than her pounding heartbeat.
“Oh … God … sorry …” He pants the words out between heavy breaths.
“No, it’s hot .” She reaches for the neck of his shirt, and yanks, and a button pops off.
“You …” He pulls on her shirt again, and more of the seam parts so it hangs in flaps, exposing her shoulder, falling away from her bra. “Mmmm …” He presses his face to the bare skin.
She tugs at his belt. “Get. This. Off.”
“Go ahead.” His voice is muffled as he uses his teeth to peel her bra cup back from her breast.
She drops to her knees, to focus on his belt — on his crotch — and that’s when she realizes there’s a bed in the room; it’s looming right beside her. With his belt worked free, she eases his zipper down, and looks up at him. She can just make out his silhouette above her. “Is that your bed?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck me on it.”
He steps behind her, grabs her around the waist and, in one quick move, lifts her to the mattress where she bounces, and giggles, and scrambles to wriggle out of her skirt. But it’s too late because he already has his head under it, his face between her thighs, and he’s pulling her panties to the side, and his tongue … oh, it’s finding every spot she wants it to. Exploring her lips and then circling her clit. She arches her back and thumps the sheets with her fists. “I want you in me.”
“Mmmm …” The vibrations resonate through her.
“Lucas!” She
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