OUT OF HER COMFORT ZONE
Romance on the Go
Nicky Penttila
Copyright © 2013
Nap over Emily stretched, just a bit, her foot happening to touch Elliot’s silky calf. The slightest nudge, and he knew what she wanted.
“More princess?”
She smiled at the grumble-honey of his voice and rolled to her side to face him on the bed. The light from the high windows slanted wide, mid-afternoon, and here they were in bed. Such luxury.
“When can we do this again?”
He smiled, a slow pull of his delectable lips up at the corners. His mouth was so wide the smile should have been distorted, but the rest of his face was so agile, so golden, the mouth seemed perfect.
Certainly it was perfect in the many society photos she’d seen him in. He was the beneficiary of a small field – tech geeks who looked gorgeous on camera – and so was doubly valuable to the local society photographers. Not to mention a certain society columnist.
As if he could sense what she was thinking Elliot pursed his lips and leaned in. He suckled the dip between her neck and shoulder and she felt the tension leach out.
“Girls who code too much need more sex,” he said.
“There’s no such thing as coding too much.”
“Remember that time you couldn’t turn your neck to the left for three days?”
“To the right. Two days and a half.”
“Exactly.” He drew his hand lazily across her hip. She lifted her knee and then let it flop to the side on the bed. He took the hint, cupping her mound gently and then a little firmer. His fingertips played a gentle arpeggio on her clit and her hips rose in response. The soft lilac color of their so-soft new sheets meshed well with the flashes of lightning white-red of pleasure Elliot drew from her.
She loved his long, strong fingers; really, all of his long, strong self. Despite that odd hair-job and his oversized reputation, he was just a regular guy. A regular, spectacular-looking, generous guy. With hands that could do, oh, that.
She could feel the climax rumbling to life at the base of her spine, a cauldron ready to spill. She arched her clit into the base of his palm, ready to lift off.
But he pulled away, loosening his grip and shifting his weight on the bed. Emily lifted her head from the pillow, dazed.
“I want to try something.”
She dropped her head back on the pillow. “I thought we were doing fine.” She closed her eyes.
She felt him roll up to his knees, his hip still pushed into hers. His hands pushed gently down the length of each thigh, around the kneecaps, and under each calf. As his fingers touched her soles she squeaked involuntarily.
“So ticklish.” He deepened his touch, not a feather, a glove. “I love your toes. All the other ... women were all beat up. Dancers, you know? But you, you’re perfect.”
Before she could follow his train of thought he’d cupped her heel in his hand and bent down, taking her big toe into his mouth. The surprise of it shot up her spine to the base of her head, but it was quickly followed by wonder, and then, pleasure.
His mouth felt like warm velvet, his tongue a chamois stroking her so softly. Every muscle in her shoulders relaxed, sinking deep into the mattress.
He pulled up for a moment. “OK?”
She sighed it out, “OK,” long and sweet. The sensations formed shapes in her mind, rounded algorithms expanding and contracting. Möbius bands?
By the third toe, Emily’s body – or the bed – seemed to spin, sensation overloading all her circuits. So this was what steady bliss was like. But when Elliot started on the other foot, she discovered even bliss could be doubled.
One hand holding her foot, the other crept back up to her mound. Now swirls like the ones at the ends of her legs were happening in the center of her body at the same time. The sweet fountain of pleasure cascaded into a sharper fall of bliss. Elliot’s chuckle rumbled her little toes as she bucked into the biggest release of her
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