threads her fingers through his hair. “In me. With your cock.”
“I like this,” he mumbles.
“Me too, but I’ve been waiting so long …”
He pulls his head out from her skirt. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the messy outline of his mussed hair. “How long?” he asks.
“Since I met you.”
He arches his back and his cock is so full and hard that it stands out in the shadowy room. “Really?”
“Since I saw you,” she amends. “I was scared you’d be mad at me and I was wet because I wanted you.”
“How wet?” He lowers a hand to either side of her face, just above her shoulders. His cock hovers over her rucked–up skirt.
“As wet as I am right now.”
“How wet is that …?” His mouth is so close to her ear that his breath shivers her skin.
She arches, lifts her hips to him, reaches her hands for his ass cheeks. “Find out.”
The tip of his cock probes her lips, parting them — oh … amazing — then he pulls back, shifts to press the length of it against her — so hot — but she’s frustrated. She digs her fingernails into his skin. “In me! I’m wet, I’m empty, I’m … ooooh …”
He sinks into her in one long, smooth slide. Ooooh .
And then does nothing. Just leaves himself deep in her, and fixes his eyes on hers, and says, “You were right. This is much more than just sex.”
It’s never happened to her before, but it does now. No fingers on her clit, no rubbing or thrusting. Nothing but his body locked with hers, and those words in her brain; her pussy clenches — everything inside her clenches — then a wave of sensation ripples through her and she moans.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m coming …” she whispers, and she does; hips thrust tight against him, legs wrapping around his, eyes wide, breath shallow, and pleasure surging through her.
When the flood subsides a bit — when she can speak again — she giggles. “Sorry. I’ve never done that before.”
He nibbles her ear. “We’re going to do lots of things together that we’ve never done before.”
“Promise?” she asks.
He circles his hips, stirs his cock in her. “Absolutely. Is this OK?”
“Perfect. Don’t stop.”
Chapter Fourteen
(1:11)
I T’S COLDER . So, no more wrap skirts and bare legs. No more crawling out the window of the tiny upstairs bedroom onto Lucas’s sun–warmed garage roof and making love while they roll over and over so nobody’s bum gets burned. No more stopping halfway through a hike for a cooling skinny dip.
But they light a fire in Lucas’s fireplace and it turns out the floor in front of it is a good place to have sex. Jocelyn loves how good Lucas looks in his fall wardrobe — jeans, and woolly socks, and sweaters — and she also loves taking them off him. Lucas finds out that nothing warms Jocelyn up like a hot bath, and also, that she likes sharing.
They’re happy. It is more than sex. Although there’s still lots of sex.
“We’re well–suited,” Jocelyn overheard Lucas telling Jed at the end–of–summer barbecue he and Beth threw. Jocelyn’s heart swelled because she couldn’t have said it better herself. They both love sex. And running. And sex. And cycling. And sex. And eating. And each other. They’re well–suited and she loves him. There’s no doubt in her mind.
Love . This is it. She’s in it.
She loves his house, too. In the morning, after that first night, she got up and wandered through the rooms. “I love these floors,” she said in every room, and, “I love this tub,” she said in the old main–floor bathroom, and “I love this view,” she said, peering out the kitchen window into the mass of greenery at the back of the house.
They haven’t talked about it, but her stuff has migrated to his house.
It’s not that she keeps a second toothbrush there — it’s that she’s brought her own toothbrush, so there isn’t one at her apartment anymore. And her pillow — the only one that props
“I like this,” he mumbles.
“Me too, but I’ve been waiting so long …”
He pulls his head out from her skirt. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the messy outline of his mussed hair. “How long?” he asks.
“Since I met you.”
He arches his back and his cock is so full and hard that it stands out in the shadowy room. “Really?”
“Since I saw you,” she amends. “I was scared you’d be mad at me and I was wet because I wanted you.”
“How wet?” He lowers a hand to either side of her face, just above her shoulders. His cock hovers over her rucked–up skirt.
“As wet as I am right now.”
“How wet is that …?” His mouth is so close to her ear that his breath shivers her skin.
She arches, lifts her hips to him, reaches her hands for his ass cheeks. “Find out.”
The tip of his cock probes her lips, parting them — oh … amazing — then he pulls back, shifts to press the length of it against her — so hot — but she’s frustrated. She digs her fingernails into his skin. “In me! I’m wet, I’m empty, I’m … ooooh …”
He sinks into her in one long, smooth slide. Ooooh .
And then does nothing. Just leaves himself deep in her, and fixes his eyes on hers, and says, “You were right. This is much more than just sex.”
It’s never happened to her before, but it does now. No fingers on her clit, no rubbing or thrusting. Nothing but his body locked with hers, and those words in her brain; her pussy clenches — everything inside her clenches — then a wave of sensation ripples through her and she moans.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m coming …” she whispers, and she does; hips thrust tight against him, legs wrapping around his, eyes wide, breath shallow, and pleasure surging through her.
When the flood subsides a bit — when she can speak again — she giggles. “Sorry. I’ve never done that before.”
He nibbles her ear. “We’re going to do lots of things together that we’ve never done before.”
“Promise?” she asks.
He circles his hips, stirs his cock in her. “Absolutely. Is this OK?”
“Perfect. Don’t stop.”
Chapter Fourteen
(1:11)
I T’S COLDER . So, no more wrap skirts and bare legs. No more crawling out the window of the tiny upstairs bedroom onto Lucas’s sun–warmed garage roof and making love while they roll over and over so nobody’s bum gets burned. No more stopping halfway through a hike for a cooling skinny dip.
But they light a fire in Lucas’s fireplace and it turns out the floor in front of it is a good place to have sex. Jocelyn loves how good Lucas looks in his fall wardrobe — jeans, and woolly socks, and sweaters — and she also loves taking them off him. Lucas finds out that nothing warms Jocelyn up like a hot bath, and also, that she likes sharing.
They’re happy. It is more than sex. Although there’s still lots of sex.
“We’re well–suited,” Jocelyn overheard Lucas telling Jed at the end–of–summer barbecue he and Beth threw. Jocelyn’s heart swelled because she couldn’t have said it better herself. They both love sex. And running. And sex. And cycling. And sex. And eating. And each other. They’re well–suited and she loves him. There’s no doubt in her mind.
Love . This is it. She’s in it.
She loves his house, too. In the morning, after that first night, she got up and wandered through the rooms. “I love these floors,” she said in every room, and, “I love this tub,” she said in the old main–floor bathroom, and “I love this view,” she said, peering out the kitchen window into the mass of greenery at the back of the house.
They haven’t talked about it, but her stuff has migrated to his house.
It’s not that she keeps a second toothbrush there — it’s that she’s brought her own toothbrush, so there isn’t one at her apartment anymore. And her pillow — the only one that props
Similar Books
