STELLA
I undid the buttons on his dress shirt so fast it was a miracle I didn’t yank them right off and send them pinging around the room like a handful of Skittles. But I could not get my fingers to move quickly enough, and halfway down I gave up and slid my hand across his bare chest. His abs. His Adonis belt, a mythical thing that had only existed on Tumblr before I met him. That body, Lord have mercy on me and his body.
Using my calves, he pulled me to the edge of the bed, and my skirt rode up. It was a retro thing, complete with a single layer of crinoline underneath, to give the skirt a little lift. He went to his knees on the carpet and opened my legs. His hands slid up my thighs and pulled my panties down halfway. He situated my legs so that my knees bent over his shoulders, and then his face disappeared under my skirt. When his tongue touched me, I moaned . . . and he groaned. The only word for him, bare chested, on his knees, doing magical things with his tongue to me was . . . hungry.
So, so hungry. Just for me.
I pulled up my skirt so that I could see him. His eyes appeared above the ruffles, and I felt his smile against my clit. In the full-length mirror that I had on my wall, I saw him from behind too. Every detail was sexier than the last. His thick, meaty thighs pulling the fabric of his dress pants tight. The curve of his ass. Dress shoes tonight, not his boots, with scuffed leather soles. The clean, sharp line of his hair, just above his shirt collar. And my feet, dangling over his shoulders.
Whatever he was doing with his mouth was making the room shake already, and to steady myself I hung on to his forearms. The contrast of his ink against my skin sent my brain whirring into outer space.
His eyes were closed in the most delicious pleasure, and he used the widest, strongest part of his tongue to press against my clit. As the tip moved along my slit, I let my head fall back onto the mattress.
Again, though, the nerves that had psyched me out last time were gaining on me. I knew I could do it, but I didn’t want to wear him out. “I don’t know how long I’m going to take. I’m not used to coming like this,” I whispered at the ceiling.
The pressure on my clit stopped, and he pulled his face away. He didn’t wipe his mouth off on my thighs, but he did kiss the inside of the left one. And then he said, “I don’t fucking care if it takes all night, gorgeous. Just relax. Let go. I’ve got you,” and tugged my skirt from my hands, letting it cover his head completely. And got back to work.
Let go, Stella. He’s got you, I repeated as I looked up at the ceiling, and closed my eyes. As he made a slow clockwise circle around my clit, he groaned. His exhalation warmed my skin, and he groaned again. It was the unmistakable sound of someone eating something they found absolutely delicious.
Though I’d never seen the northern lights, I felt like I was seeing them now. Ripples of green and blue got mixed up with deep blues and purple-blacks. As I relaxed, I eased down into a wonderful in-between place, neither here nor there nor anywhere, and yet everywhere. It was a place where I didn’t need to worry and didn’t need to decide. It was the pleasure of lying down on cool grass on a hot day. Before I knew it, I was close. Really close. The flicker and the pulse had started, and my nervousness was gone. It was coming, and no amount of overthinking was going to stop it. I gripped his hands hard. “Nick . . .”
He nodded between my legs, and his stubble scratched me in the most amazing, delightful, and crazy-making way.
“I think I’m going to . . .” Instinctively, I tried to close my thighs, but he didn’t let me, and all that tension amplified the exquisite, warm pleasure that was starting to throb through my whole body. “You’re going to make me . . .”
He nodded again and went into full nuzzle mode. He pulled away just long enough to say a deep and dirty, “You know what to do. So do it.”
I closed my eyes. And let him take me away. I don’t know if I sobbed when I came or if I screamed. But through it all I felt the strength of his body, supporting mine, making it so very easy to finally let go.
When I relaxed my grip, he very slowly pulled his mouth away from my clit. He gently pushed my skirt away and raised his head from between my legs so that his face was framed in polka dots and crinoline. As soon as he saw the tears on my cheeks, he climbed on top of me, shoes and dress pants and all. “You OK?” he asked, wiping his thumb gently under my right eye, lingering at the corner.
I nodded, with a sniffle that got mixed up with a laugh. “I am. Totally OK.”
But he didn’t seem the least bit worried. “I’ve never had that happen,” he said, tenderly sweeping another tear away from my left cheek this time.
Slowly I felt myself coming back to earth. “It’s never happened to me.”
“Won’t be the last time, guaranteed,” he said softly, and kissed my cheek where the first tear had been.
He was up on his elbows, in a push-up over me. I undid his belt and the top button of his pants, slipping my finger between the elastic of his boxers and his magnificent treasure trail. He was every inch a red-blooded, brawny, sexy man. Perfect in every way.
He straddled me and put one finger under the left strap of my dress and slipped it off my shoulder. He ran the back of his finger up my bare shoulder and down again. “Your skin is so amazing. It’s just so . . .” He trailed off, searching for the word. Then he lifted his eyes to me and shook his head. “Pure. So pure.”
I’d never seen anything like his skin, either. On his tattooed forearm, I now recognized all sorts of different animals, objects, and even people. They weren’t a mishmash of acquired tattoos, some hodgepodge put together over time; instead, it seemed to be one big, continuous canvas. I traced the edges of a bear’s paw and a warrior’s shield. “Will you tell me what all of these are?” I asked.
“I will,” he said, watching me as I traced between the blacks and the blues, the reds and the greens. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
There was so much I wanted to know, but right then there was something I wanted even more. “We can do that later,” I said.
His eyes darted up to mine. “Oh yeah? You ready?” He pressed his lips into my palm, and I nodded. Flexing his biceps and pecs, he pushed up off me and stood next to the bed. He reached into his wallet to get a condom. He let his pants drop to the floor and tossed his wallet beside them. In the mirror, I saw us again. Him, in all his naked perfection. Me, still in my dress.
“I should take this off,” I said, reaching for the tiny hidden zipper that ran along the left side of the bodice.
But he shook his head as he ripped the wrapper off the condom. “Nope. Keep it on. That way whenever you wear it, you’ll think about us. About what I’m about to do to you,” he said, and rolled the condom onto himself, holding the base as he pinched the tip.
I put my knees together, and he slid my panties off, tossing them aside. “And what are you gonna do to me?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, but instead pushed my thighs back so that my knees came toward my shoulders. He dipped two fingers into me and spread my wetness over the condom. With my hips on the edge of the bed, he began to push into me. As he filled me, he placed his hand over my heart. It took my breath away. It was an absolutely beautiful thing to do, and so I followed his lead and did the same. Looking into his eyes made me feel like I was falling into a warm bath. The chemistry—body to body, heart to heart—was an explosive mix of passion and tenderness and heat. It was kindness and warmth and patience. His heartbeat thrummed against my hand, steady and strong. Constant and reassuring.
But then his heartbeat did speed up, just a touch, as he got all the way inside me. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as I felt the pressure on my cervix. I sucked in a long breath, and my feet cramped because of my constantly curling toes. He felt like magic. He was magic. He went slowly, carefully, always watching to make sure he wasn’t hurting me. Once that initial wave of pleasure left him, he opened his eyes and never took them off me, while he drove into me in that steady, sweet way.
The pleasure was maddening. It was overwhelming. It was all-consuming. It was everything. The flicker and the pulse started again, even though he wasn’t touching my clit at all.
“Oh my God, Nick.” It was happening. The throbbing, the pulsing, the pounding deep in my body. The tremors. Every drive was the magic thing that I’d never known I could have. El Dorado was in sight. “I think . . .”
“Fuck yeah.” He doubled down on the thrusts with so much force that the bed smacked mercilessly against the drywall. “Say my name the whole way through it.”
The flashes of light started coming, like faint strobe pulses. Left was right. Back was front. And I was gone, the world nothing but shimmery sparkles, saying Nick, over and over again.