ALEXA

I feel like it should be weird that Damon and I have spent time together every day since he came to visit the apartment, but it isn’t strange at all. I gave in to my desires presuming he wouldn’t be able to stick to the rules and I’d lose interest, but he was so damn good to me, the opposite is true.

Beyond interested, I genuinely look forward to seeing him each day, and although I definitely have frequent urges to strip him naked and have my way with him, the fact that we’re abstaining has opened up a whole new world to me. I’ve never really had a man just hang out with me before when he also wants me in other ways. While I know that is largely because I’ve never known how to keep from using sex to get what I’ve needed from a relationship, and have always found companionable relationships confusing, I can honestly say that I am enjoying Damon’s company immensely. Knowing that he enjoys me, and not just my body, has gone a long way to show me what’s possible. I’m actually starting to believe I might be capable of a normal life; that I might be worthy of some regular form of love.

“What are you thinking about, Alexa?” he asks, bringing me back to earth. “I’m going to take a wild guess that it has nothing to do with the quadratic equations we’ve been working on.”

Due to our conflicting schedules this Tuesday, I’d danced early and met him at his new apartment for our study session. My books are scattered across his big dining table in the open plan loft apartment, but I’ve been staring off into space. Lowering my eyes to his face, I find him leaning on his arm and smiling at me from the seat next to mine.

“Sorry. I was just thinking that I enjoy spending time with you.”

His eyebrows lift a little higher and his smile grows. “Well, I don’t think you need to apologize for that. I’m very pleased that you like spending time with me, and the feeling is mutual.”

Smiling in return, I look back to my books and try to concentrate, which is getting harder and harder, because he’s so close and he smells so good.

“Do you think you could maybe give me a little space?” I ask, tapping my pencil on the paper in front of me. “You’re very distracting tonight.”

“I’m distracting,” he mutters, eying the hem of my short skirt - and not for the first time tonight, which is probably why I can’t stop thinking about sitting on him. “At least I wear underwear,” he says under his breath, scraping his chair back and moving to the kitchen. Filling the kettle, he sets it to boil as he watches me.

“Yeah, well you smell too good and I can’t concentrate when I can feel you next to me. It makes my insides achy and makes me think of very non-mathematical things.”

“Well maybe after two nights on quadratics, some non-mathematical things are in order,” he says, pushing open the drawer that houses his cups. “Tell you what. If you can solve the next ten problems perfectly, I’ll deem you qualified enough to move on to non-mathematical things.”

“Like what?” I ask, sitting up taller in my chair and crossing my legs as my body translates his suggestion to mean something deliciously carnal.

Watching me a moment, Damon sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Just get the problems right, and we’ll do something else. Tea?”

“Please.” Frowning at my books, I settle in for the hard slog. I’m two problems in when Damon’s oven-mitted stumps set a cup of steaming rhubarb and raspberry tea next to me and he leaves again. Hearing him flop onto his huge comfy couch, I smile, because I know he’ll be smiling.

By the time I’ve finished all ten problems and checked them three times, I’m as nervous as anything. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch him stretched out and reading on the couch. Struck again by his dashing good looks, I sigh and check my answers again. If they’re wrong, I don’t know how. Looking over my shoulder again, I watch him a while longer.

“Does the fact that you’re staring at me mean that you’re ready for me to check your answers?” he asks without looking up from his e-reader.

“How do you even know I’m looking at you?”

“I can feel your eyes on me. They make me hot and tingly,” he says. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, glancing back at my work. “I don’t want them to be wrong.”

“Me neither,” he says in a husky voice that sets my insides quivering and my mind racing as to how he’s planning on rewarding me if I’ve done well. With his mouth, or his dick? Will he let me choose which? How do I choose between the two when they both feel so good? I’m glad he’s ready to throw in this abstinence thing. I wore a skirt on purpose, hoping he’d want it as much as I do. Rising from the couch, he stretches, giving me a glimpse of his abs as his shirt rises up and I tuck my hands beneath me to keep from reaching for him.

Coming over, he sits back in the seat next to me and pulling it even closer, he leans right in. Now all my senses are open to invasion by the tasty dish that is Damon Shermansky. As if he knows it, Damon takes his time marking my work.

“Hmmm,” he says thoughtfully as he gives the first problem a long assessment. The sound alone is enough to make my skin break out in goosebumps, but he makes it worse when his arm brushes against mine as he moves it agonizingly slowly down the page. With him so close, I can smell not only his subtle cologne, but also his shampoo, his soap and the raw scent of Damon beneath them all. Incapable of moving for fear of taking a bite of him, I can only watch as he takes his sweet time.

“Hmmm,” he says again as he straightens up and looks at me with a very serious expression.

“They’re wrong?” My eyes flit to the paper, then back to his face. “I’m doomed. I don’t know how else they should look if they’re not meant to be like that. I don’t get it. I don’t get how it works.”

“Why are you being so hard on yourself? You’ve only been working on it for two days and it takes time to wrap your head around it,” he says, his eyes softening in a sympathetic way.

“Oh man. So they are wrong?”

“Not at all. Ten out of ten correct. I’m beginning to think you’d achieve a lot more if we introduced an incentive based learning program where I regularly promise you unknown things to make you work harder.”

Staring at him, I don’t know whether to slap him or kiss him.

“They’re right?”

Smiling, he nods. “Apparently you do understand the quadratic equation and how it works. Have you just been pretending this whole time so I’d spend more time with you?”

Grabbing his ear, I tug it a little, bringing his face closer to mine.

“Listen here, mister. If I wasn’t so damn grateful for your tutelage I could just rip this ear right off.” Loosening my grip, I pull his face closer with both hands and kiss him on the lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispers against my lips before I push him away so I can tidy up my books.

“So what do my ten correct answers earn me?” I ask, afraid to look up and give my eagerness away as I stack the books into one pile.

“That depends,” Damon says in a low voice as he stands up and walks to the kitchen.

“On what?” Standing too, I follow him with my eyes. Scratching his beard, he looks me up and down quickly before exhaling roughly and holding up a king-size block of chocolate.

“On whether you’d like to eat peppermint chocolate and watch a lame teenage make-out movie, or if you’d rather eat peppermint chocolate and play a game of Cluedo. I thought maybe you hadn’t done either of those things, so maybe we could achieve some firsts. Unless I’m being silly and you already know who Colonel Mustard is.”

Feeling my cheeks heat to a ridiculous level, I look down at the chair I’m still holding. I can’t seem to let it go just yet. “Um either of those things would be fine.”

“Why are you blushing?” he asks, coming closer.

“A girl can’t blush about being a Cluedo virgin?”

“A girl can, but a girl isn’t,” Damon says, standing next to me now. “You don’t want to tell me?”

Holding the chair a little tighter as the heat fills my entire face, I swallow hard. “I thought that maybe your rewards scheme might be orgasm-based, but chocolate-based is good too.”

The chocolate falls to the floor and Damon instantly crouches to recover it, setting it on the table next to us. Clearing his throat, he remains quiet and I start to wish my inappropriate brain would just shrivel up and die. Just as I’m thinking up an excuse to head home, he speaks.

“I uh, haven’t trialed orgasms as incentive before, but if they are something you feel deserving of, I couldn’t disagree with you. You deserve as many as your heart desires. I suggest we take option one, the teenage make-out movie,” he says carefully, then nods with confidence. “Yes. That is the best solution. Assuming murder mysteries don’t turn you on?” he says with a cheeky grin before picking the chocolate back up and moving into the living room space.

Flopping onto the couch, he breaks and arranges the chocolate on the coffee table for easy access, then flips the TV remote off the table like a pro. “Have you seen...” Flicking through file names, he stops and reads the title, “The Notebook?” he asks, tapping the spot next to him with his no-hand while he trawls through other options with his other stump, working the remote as it sits on his thigh.

Coming to sit next to him, I nod. “Kat made me watch it last year.”

“Perfect,” Damon says, pushing play and tossing the remote back on the coffee table. Lifting his arm, he gestures that I should snuggle in next to him.

“But I’ve seen it,” I say, moving slowly.

“A good make-out movie is one you don’t mind missing large parts of,” he says with a grin. “Chocolate?”

Taking two pieces, I put one in my mouth and one in his.

“I like the way you do that.”

“Do what?” I ask, reaching for another as the movie starts.

“The way you get me a piece, even though you know I can get it myself,” he says, kissing my temple. “The way your fingertips brush my lips as you feed it to me, to let me know you’re doing it to be sexy and not because you feel sorry for me.”

My eyes leave the TV to study him. “What kind of relationships have you had that make you say things like that?”

“Dysfunctional?” he says, watching my lips. “You have a little chocolate,” he whispers.

I dart my tongue to the side he’s staring at. “I get it?”

Leaning in, he flicks the corner of my mouth with his tongue. I don’t flinch or recoil in horror at his lack of questioning before he did it. I wanted it. Courting his tongue with mine, I invite him inside.

Damon comes slowly. At first I think he’s resisting me, but I soon realize he’s restraining himself. Pulling back slightly after every subtle, sensual pass, he keeps from traveling too deep, as if the shallows are the safest place to keep me. My body aches for the deep, but when I move to draw him deeper, Damon pulls right back.

“We’re not having sex,” Damon says hoarsely, as if warning himself more than telling me - but then, why say it out loud?

“So, that’s a ‘no’ on orgasmic rewards?”

“I didn’t say that,” he says, taking my mouth in another of his tender kisses. I try to ask what he means, but he keeps my lips too happy to stop and chat. When they’re finally free, I have lost the ability to form words, because his soft lips and tickle-y bristles are moving down my neck and there is nibbling involved. With a sigh of contentment, I lean my head away so he can lavish more wondrous attention on me.

He whispers against my skin and I feel my name, rather than hear it. The resultant shiver travels the course of my spine and flows out to my toes. Damon moans softly and his lips make their way back to mine, nipping, sucking and licking as he threatens to deepen the kiss.

Kissing him back with enthusiasm, I find myself leaning further and further into him. It doesn’t really make sense that I should be able to lean so far, until I realize he’s been moving back with me and is now half under me. Scooping my lower half up, he brings his long legs up onto the couch and re-settles me on top of him, never breaking his gentle, teasing kiss.

Stretching my body over his now that he’s lying beneath me, I soak in every point of contact as I swallow another of his moans. It makes me hungry for more and I set about making him moan again by running a hand through his hair and down his neck. Damon doesn’t disappoint, gasping against my mouth this time as his body shudders under my fingertips. His erection strains against me and he curses under his breath as he tucks his arms beneath him; always so good at keeping to the no touching rule.

Sitting up, I pull my sweater over my head as he stares at me.

“We should keep our clothes on,” he whispers when I drop it on the floor. “I’m trying to keep this make out session from going R18.”

“You don’t want me to take this t-shirt off?” I ask, already pulling it over my head. “I want you to take yours off,” I say, yanking it up to reveal his stomach. My eyes flash from his abs to his eyes and I bite my lip. “What are the rules of a teenage make-out session? Can we be topless as long as we don’t get bottomless?”

Damon’s eyes travel from my bra to the skirt that has bunched at my hips like a thick belt. “You don’t have any bottoms on,” he says in a strained voice.

“But you do. Can we take your top off? What are the rules?”

“My pants stay on at all costs,” he declares, breathing hard and closing his eyes. “Let’s see... um, high school thoughts. Baseball. Home run is out of the question. Third base... I don’t have any fingers, and you hate that, so no problem there. Second base is boobs, but I can’t touch with hands, so yes - to being topless and taking my shirt off. Mainly it’s kissing, nuzzling and grinding, fuck. I don’t remember making out being this hot when I was a teenager.”

Tugging on his shirt, I get him to sit up beneath me so I can pull it off him. “Maybe you were always wanting it to lead to sex so you were always focused on the end goal, and now that you’re avoiding the goal, the game becomes more interesting.”

“You’re so fucking smart,” he whispers, sealing my mouth with his and setting my skin ablaze with his warmth. Pressing myself against his chest, I utter a tiny, approving whimper as Damon rumbles a louder one and lowers us back to the couch.

My fingers run through his hair and over his beard, admiring his jawline beneath. Even a beard can’t hide the strength of his bone structure. Damon has the jaw of a classic hero, a hard hero’s body that feels great beneath me, and a brain that makes every minute with him interesting. How did I get so lucky?

Running my hands over his strong shoulders and down his arms, I feel every muscle he uses to hold me without needing to own me. My touch lightens as I get to the end of his arms and I trail my fingertips over his stumps. Yanking them away from me, he tucks them beneath himself. I pull back from our kiss.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

With a small shake of his head, he resumes the kiss and does something very distracting in the pelvic department. Meeting his tilt, I gasp a little as I feel his erection notch into place between my legs. A pair of pants does little to disguise his desire, or his size, and I can’t seem to keep myself from moving against him, imagining how good it would feel to have him inside me.

Moaning into my mouth again, Damon ducks his head to one side, kisses my neck and grazes his beard along my tender skin. Involuntarily, my body presses into him and it feels amazing. The heat, the hard. Looking down, I see my breasts pressing into him in a way that makes them balloon and it is hot! I move against him again, sensing it’s just as good for him.

I have never ‘dry-humped’ anyone. It was never really an option to me, but if this is how it is, I like it. I don’t know how dry it is, given the state of me, but I like it.

“This is what high school kids do before actually committing to sex?”

“Some,” Damon whispers against my neck, sending a tremor through me that travels straight to my clit as it rocks against him. “Mmm. You feel so good,” he says, that strong jaw clenching a little as he seeks to control himself.

“You feel good,” I correct him, unable to keep myself from rocking into him now. It’s as if my body senses what’s around the corner and can’t keep from seeking it out. Like some obsessed detective, my body won’t rest until it’s proved its theory. “I’m making your crotch wet.”

“That’s so fucking hot,” he whispers, kissing me with renewed intensity as his chest moves rapidly beneath me. My own breathing has sped up without notice and I have to pull back from the kiss to gasp for air. As my panting lifts me from his face, it exposes my breasts to him more. Making the most of the opportunity, Damon’s nose trails along the lace of my bra cup and before I know it, he’s nudged it down and taken me into his mouth.

I gasp and his eyes flick up to mine. Whatever he sees written on my face, it makes him smile. I don’t even get a chance to appreciate just how sexy it is to see this man grinning at me whilst still attached to my breast, because he does something with his tongue at the same time his dick strains between my legs and my eyes practically roll back in my head.

My breathing is out of control and so is the rest of my body. With his erection bumping against my opening and my clit grinding him above, I’m about one sexy thought away from coming and if he does that thing to my nipple one more time, I’m a goner.

“Damon,” I pant, drawing my breast from his hot mouth.

“Alexa,” he whispers in response as his lips trail back up my neck.

It’s almost enough to set me off, but I force my hips to still, even though I now realize Damon has been keeping a baseline of motion beneath me that is keeping me up on the edge. “I didn’t know this was possible.”

“Anything is possible with you,” he whispers, somehow creating another subtle wave beneath me, reminding my body of all its hyper-alert parts.

“Come with me then?”

Damon stills beneath me.

“Your pants will need to go in the laundry anyway,” I say, moving against him in an effort to convince him, but only serving to heighten my own arousal. “Please?” I utter with a touch of desperation as I find myself traveling toward climax with little chance of being able to refrain.

“You are the most beautiful woman,” he utters as my thighs close tightly around his rock hard dick and I continue to move, chasing the orgasm that was so close only a moment ago. I almost panic when I can’t find it. How could I lose it?

Damon’s lips find mine and with gentle flicks of his tongue, he pulls me back into a dazed rhythm of calm in which my body remembers all of its previous, hungry sensations. Moving without conscious thought, my body renews its acquaintance with Damon’s. Every connection between us sparks back to life and more. I try to notice the changes in his body as much as mine, but it’s impossible. Every time I hear his breathing hitch, the sound of his pleasure intensifies my own and it’s all I can do to feel him; all of him, everywhere.

“Damon,” I whisper as I begin drifting beyond the line of return; a balloon with nothing to keep it from floating away in the next breeze.

“I’m with you, Alexa.” His lips are on my neck, just below my ear. He breathes the words into my skin and I soak them up with a pleasurable gasp as every sensation becomes too much to ignore; his breath, his lips, his beard, his firm chest and thumping heart that matches my own. His heat surrounds me. The smell of his bare skin and the salty tang of its shine add to the pressure building between my thighs as I clutch him hard against my sex. Burying my face in his neck, I feel my breath catch and quiver as much as the sensation between my legs as I twitch against his length uncontrollably.

“Oh, Alexa,” he cries in a hoarse whisper as one of his arms bands low across the back of my hips, keeping me in place as I continue to shudder against his dick. His own breathing catches and he stiffens beneath me, unleashing a low, guttural moan. Releasing the grip of my thighs, I relax onto him, just lying there, listening to our breathing start to even out.

Eventually, Damon shifts beneath me and shudders. “I need a shower.”

“Mmm. Me too.”

“You want to come in with me? There’s plenty of room,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows as I sit up on him. Considering him carefully, I nod.

“It’ll be another first for me.”

“I’m not rushing you?” he says quickly, his face becoming concerned. I shake my head.

“You’re teaching me how enjoyable a relationship can be,” I reply, testing the word out to see if it fits.

“I care deeply for your education,” he says with an adorable grin. Wrapping his arm across my hips, he stands with me still attached to him and carries me to the bathroom.

There is definitely plenty of room. The shower is huge - big enough for half a sports team, though maybe not a football squad. Damon sets me down and turns on the water.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, and I realize he’s studying my face.

“How many players in a football team?”

Laughing, he checks the temperature of the water. “American football, rugby football, or soccer football?”

“I don’t really know. Which one would have about six if you halved it?”

“Soccer,” he says with another laugh. “Why are you thinking about half a dozen ball players?”

“I think that’s how many would fit in your shower.”

Eying the glass wall that keeps the water from spraying all over the floor, Damon shakes his head. “If they wanted to be really close, maybe,” he says with a laugh before looking at his pants. Looking up with a goofy kind of face, he looks around the bathroom. “Do you need a minute alone or anything?”

Shaking my head, I shimmy out of my skirt and bra. Damon watches, with wide eyes.

“What? You’ve seen it all before and I’m going to shower naked,” I remind him as I loop my hair up into a bun on the top of my head.

“I just forget sometimes that you are very comfortable stripping off.” Looking down at his pants again, Damon bites the corner of his bottom lip. “I’m a little more self-conscious, having just jizzed in my pants like a pubescent boy.”

“You want me to turn around while you get in?” I ask, already turning my back to him. “Your bodily fluids don’t bother me, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, I’ll wait.”

“I’m in now,” he says at the same time as I hear the sound of the water change.