“WELL,” HE SAYS, STRETCHING his arms overhead. My body just moves along with his because I have no intention of getting up. He smells too good. Feels too sturdy against my cheek. Makes all the butterflies swarm like it’s the first day of spring in my belly. “Am I a good cuddler or what?”
“The best.”
“I was afraid I forgot how,” he yawns, scooping me up into his arms again.
“How long has it been since you cuddled someone?”
He moves us side to side in a breezy kind of way, like we’re on a hammock somewhere warm with no cares in the world. “I don’t know.”
“Last week? Month? Six months?” I prod. “Not that I care, just curious.”
“I’ve been with women in the last six months. But no cuddling.”
Burying my face in his shirt, I smile against his torso. He chuckles, his chest rumbling. “You like that?”
“Of course I like that,” I giggle. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why me?” I ask, pulling away.
He furrows a brow. “Why you what?”
“Why are you cuddling with me? If it’s not your thing.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t my thing,” he says, tilting his chin to the ceiling. “I just said I hadn’t done it.”
“So . . . why me?”
I think he’s going to blow me off. If I poke too hard, he changes the subject or turns it around on me. This time, however, he seems to consider my question. “I don’t really know. Whatever I say will make me sound like a pussy.”
“I think you’re a pussy anyway, so . . .”
He grins, cinching my waist and moving me so I’m straddling him. We face each other. “There was something about you from the night I met you. You were a little mouthy and I was a little mad, but there was this thing in your eyes that I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
“So it wasn’t my ass? Peck said it was my ass.”
Laughing, he digs his fingers deeper into my hips. “Your ass is perfect, but that’s the thing—that’s not what I was thinking about that night or the night after or the night after that. It was that thing. Like there was more to you than some drunk girl smashing my headlight out.”
“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t,” I tease.
“Oh, there is. I’ve seen it now. You’re kind,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my sternum. “And thoughtful,” he says, laying a series of kisses from my collarbone up to my ear. “And so fucking sexy.”
The last words come out as a growl, making me tremble in his hands. He nips at my lobe, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh at the back of my neck.
“Are you trying to keep me from asking you more questions?” I breathe, melting into him.
“I’m trying to make you forget about whoever cuddled you last.”
“Done.” Moving my head to the side, allowing him all the access he wants, I rock back and forth as his cock grows beneath me. I can feel it moving, lengthening, the urgency of his kisses growing more frantic as he lets himself unwind. His tongue draws a line to my mouth, his eyes flashing open as our mouths meet in a slow, delicious union.
He kisses me with the ease of a man who knows what he’s doing and with the hunger of a man who needs more. His hands roam my body—squeezing my ass, skirting up my shirt and pinching my nipples until they harden between his fingers, cupping my cheeks as he holds me still and kisses me like a cool drink of water on a hot day.
I’m drunk, doused in his spell, lit up with his attention and sated with his tenderness. It’s dizzying, my brain befuddled with too many sensations fighting for attention.
“Walker,” I moan, tipping my head back as he kisses down my neck. The ends of my hair tickle my waist, my breasts pushed forward as my shirt is lifted. They’re freed from the constraints of my pink lacy bra, resting on top of the cups.
When I look up, my breathing ragged, he’s smirking. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“You know what you are?”
“An asshole?”
Rubbing myself against his hardness, I lay a hand on each shoulder. “You can be. So much that I can’t stand you,” I say, kneading his muscles in my hands. “But you can be protective, like with Tommy at Crave. And caring like changing my oil, and even sweet like how you held me while we watched the movie,” I say, trying to drive home my point by refusing to let him look away. “You make me feel good.”
“I want to make you feel good, baby.”
Before I can process it, his head bends to my chest and sucks a darkened nipple between his teeth. Instantly, I’m wet, my pussy clenching, begging, throbbing for contact. I grind against him, swirling my hips as his hands hold on and guide me in slow, small circles.
It’s his turn to groan, biting the peak lightly before pulling back and looking at me like he’s about to devour me.
“That feels beyond good,” I moan, arching my back. My eyes fall closed, unable to hold open as my body switches to life.
“I told myself I was going to go slow,” he pants. “Easy. Enjoy it. But damn it if you don’t make it hard not to lose control.”
Climbing off his lap, I peel my shirt off and toss it to the floor. Emboldened by his words, buoyed by the confidence he bestows by giving me every single ounce of his attention, I don’t lose eye contact as I unbutton my jeans and tug the zipper down. In a couple of seconds, they’re in my hand and dropped to the side.
There’s a rush of breath, a blowing out of a lungful of air that accompanies his shirt flying through the air and landing near mine.
I’m almost naked, my bra and panties the only pieces of fabric still partially covering my body. I turn and face the wall. The sound of denim being discarded, shoes thudding against the floor, is the background music to the sound of blood whooshing by my ears.
I’ve never stood naked in front of someone before. Even now as I bend at the waist, sticking my ass out for his benefit, and peel the pink lace down my thighs, I wonder why in the world I’m not more self-conscious. I unsnap the back of my bra and feel it pool into my hands just beneath my breasts.
Flipping my head to the side, all my hair falling to one shoulder, I look at him over the other. He’s standing, his eyes glued to me, one hand gripping his cock.
The sight of the dot of pre-cum at the head, gaining a little more each time he strokes his impressive length, my legs feel like I’ve run a mile.
“Can I suck you?” I rasp, not just wanting but needing to make him feel as wanted as he makes me feel.
“Don’t say that,” he growls, squeezing himself harder. “I’ll come right now.”
He watches me with the intensity of a cat ready to pounce. His eyes strike down my body and up again, leaving a trail of flames in their wake. My mouth goes dry as he takes a step towards me.
My breasts are pulled together, the bra dangling from my hand beneath them. I feel like a vixen, as sexy as a cover model on one of the magazines I used to find hidden in my boyfriends’ rooms. I’ve never felt this way before; it’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced.
I let my hand drop, the bra falling to the floor right along with Walker’s jaw. I take the remaining steps between us, and before he can pull away, wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and take him in as far as I can. His semen is warm and salty and coats my mouth before sliding down my throat.
He groans, his head falling back, his hips pressing forward towards my mouth. But as I take him deep a second time, he quickly pulls away.
“I can’t,” he croaks. “Don’t make me come yet.”
“Do I have that much control?” I tease, wiping my mouth with my hand.
“Woman, you’re in total control. Don’t you know that?”
My clit sends a zip of energy through my veins every time I move. My stomach is in knots, wetness streaking my thighs as I feel the desperation for him to be inside me compound to a point I can’t control it.
“If that’s the case,” I tell him, walking over to the couch, spreading my legs a bit wider than shoulder width, and turning my body towards the couch but my head towards him, “Don’t take it easy.”
“My God,” he hisses, walking up behind me. The lines of his abdomen ripple with every movement. The scars dotting his arms and chest from years of manual labor just turn me on more. “You don’t want it easy, right?”
“Just fuck me,” I beg, my ass popped in the air. “Get inside me and make me come all over you.”
He swats my backside, the sound ricocheting through the room. I yelp, only because I’m surprised because the sting, a sweet, sinful kiss, only makes me drip faster down my own legs.
One hand digs into my hip, the other presses on the back of my head. “Head down, sweetheart.”
I fold my torso down so I’m resting on my forearms, feeling the cool air hit my pussy. The tip of his cock lines up, only barely parting the lips of my vagina. I’m stretched around him, my body pulsing, trying to drag him in farther. I try to push back but it’s met with another swat.
“Will you please fuc—” The rest comes out in a gush as he sinks inside my body in one long, heavy thrust. He hits the back, an explosion of colors lighting up my vision. A hand claws into my ass cheek before moving over and holding my other hip.
He sinks into me again. And again. And a third time, each movement nailing the spot on the back wall of my pussy.
“You’re squeezing the fuck out of me,” he grits. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
“No,” I gasp, the force of him behind me all but taking my breath away. “Keep moving.”
“Damn you.”
Our skin slips by the other, our bodies slapping as he builds me up like an expert craftsman. My arms begin to go numb, my legs threatening to give out, as I fall forward into the cushions and use them to help keep me propped.
I know it’s going to end soon; I can’t continue much longer. Every part of me is worked into a luxurious dance of hums and screams as I rise to the point of no return.
“I have to stop,” he groans, “or come. What will it be?”
“Keep. Going,” I pant, my feet almost coming off the floor. “Right there, Walker. Right there!” I scream into the cushions as a shot of energy tries to shoot through the top of my head. My legs shake just like they describe in raunchy rap songs, pulsing to a tune I can’t hear over the orgasm ripping through every cell of my body.
I hear him moaning behind me as he finds his own relief. Somewhere I register the burn of his hands in my hips. There’s a part of me that picks up the sweat dripping down our bodies and the scent of sex that permeates the air.
He thrusts one final time before slowly removing his cock. I fall into the couch in one very un-ladylike fashion, unable to keep my eyes open.
“Hey,” he whispers. His hand brushes a strand of damp hair out of my face. When I open my eyes, I see him kneeling beside me. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” I ask, my throat burning. “I look awful, huh?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. I rest my head against his, relishing in the safety of being in his arms.
“You look prettier than I’ve ever seen you,” he says. “Can I put you in the bath?”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him sleepily.
“I know. But I’d like to do it.”
“On one condition.”
He chuckles, standing back up. “Of course there’s a condition.”
“You have to take one with me.”
I wait for his answer, but it doesn’t come right away. Finally, I twist my head to see him. His face is somber.
“Well?” I ask.
He still doesn’t answer. Instead, he bends down and lifts me up, cradling me in his arms. “Let’s go, Slugger.”