feeling, willing to pitch in to do my part, and he nipped my earlobe as I turned my head away. “Come on,” he urged in a raspy voice. “Show me how you come.”
Show him? He was pretty much showing me. I mean, I did this on my own from time to time. Of course I did. Everybody did. But really, he was handling the whole thing way better. I shuddered against his hand, clenching my thighs, trying really hard not to make a funny orgasm face or cry out too loudly. I didn’t, but when I was done, my breathing slowing, my lips still puffy and wet from his kisses, I was embarrassed anyway. Luckily, he wasn’t. He was a man with a purpose, and it was clear who was in charge of this hookup. The one who knew what he was doing.
Quickly standing next to the couch, he scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed no more than—well, no more than I knew I did after munching on junk food in the conference room all day—and carried me into the dark bedroom of the suite. I clung on to his neck for dear life, but he set me down gently. The zipper of my skirt slid down and the cami was whisked off before I knew it.
“Hey.” My hands went to his sweater. “What about you?”
He unhooked my bra. “I want to see you first.”
When I was completely naked, he startled me by switching on the bedside lamp. A fluorescent, modern number. I blinked into the sudden flood of light. Talk about a buzzkill.
Apparently it wasn’t reciprocal, though. He was mesmerized by my, well, my best assets, bringing one palm reverently up to take the weight of one of them, heavy and sensitive from my orgasm. “God, these are pretty incredible.”
I might have faulted him on the objectivizing, but he seemed so reverent, I didn’t have the heart to.
“Uh, thanks.”
He caressed them softly and murmured, “and real.”
“Do you think we could, uh, turn down that light?”
“No.” He whipped his sweater over his head and went to his jeans, getting naked quickly. I was a little mollified by the bright light thing, since it allowed me to take in every finely wrought muscle in a pretty spectacular six-pack as well as an erection that looked every bit as impressive in the light as it had felt under his jeans.
“Wow,” I said simply as he led me to the bed. “Is this the part where we play doctor?”
“Whatever you want.” He smoothed my hair out of my eyes, balancing on his forearms to hold his weight off as I settled beneath him. His long, strong legs tangled with mine and his scorching-hot penis rested against my thigh, branding it. Not knowing what to do with my own hands, I slid them along his shoulders, relishing all the naked skin to skin. He looked down at me, his cheeks flushed. “So, this isn’t too fast for you, is it?”
“Fast? It’s been a good five minutes since I got back here.”
He laughed.
“I held out as long as I could.”
The kiss he gave me started at my lips, but slowly, inevitably wandered down to my breasts. When he tongued and sucked them, each one in turn, I moaned and opened my legs wider, about as aggressive as I got on the bedroom front.
He lifted his head. “You want me to go down on you?” he asked, husky.
“Actually, I was thinking more like the meat part of the meat-and-potatoes thing might be nice,” I hinted, one hand drifting down from his shoulder to where the main course rested, jerking when I touched it.
“Yes ma’am.” A quick groping in his jeans pocket on the floor brought out the inevitable safe sex condom, and though I kept my eyes closed in sudden shyness while he rolled it on, I opened them as he slid the end product slowly, masterfully, between my legs.
I tried to keep the moaning to an absolute minimum. But really, if I were by myself receiving this much pleasure—and I don’t think it’d be possible by myself; there was just a flesh-and-blood element to it that my vibrator couldn’t match—I would have been singing arias at full voice.
His first thrusts were so deep and