He pulled condoms out of his pocket before tossing the jeans aside. “It’ll be slow next time,” he promised. “Right now I think I should take care of you. Orgasm.” He laughed. “Great icebreaker.”
Her dress came down to her waist, up to her waist, and there she was with a whole bunch of clothing around her waist while everything above and below lay bare to his hungry eyes. “Aw, Ginger, I love those little panties. I think I’ll take them off. With my teeth.”
“No teeth!” she said, laughing.
“Okay, no teeth,” he said. They were white lace, fitting around her hips. He tugged them down and said, “Well now.”
“Natural blonde,” she confirmed.
He got out of his boxers fast. He suited up right away, leaving nothing to chance, then he lay down beside her, brought her into his arms and, kissing her, his hands explored her whole body from her knees to her neck. Finally, frustrated by the cumbersome folds of that discarded sundress, he tugged it lower, down her legs and off. He tossed it. His hands on her were much freer and deeper, and she pushed at him with her hips, so ready. But it was when she tried to close her legs against the pressure of his hand on her that he stopped. He looked into her eyes and said, “Uh-uh. No.” He pushed her legs apart once more and put himself there. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. You want to come, don’t you, my love?”
She squeezed her eyes closed and just nodded.
“Good idea,” he whispered. “You first.”
He entered her slowly, watching her face the whole time. “Perfect,” he said. “Perfect.” Then he began to move, creatively at first, listening for the response that said he’d found the sweet spot. There was only the slightest whimper but she held his shoulders in a death grip and inhaled sharply. Her heels dug into the bed and she pushed against him. “There it is,” he whispered against her lips. “There it is.” And he slid down her neck to her breasts, licking them and sucking them while he pumped his hips.
Ginger wasn’t sure what hit her—she was full of him. Full and aching and tingling and spiraling, hanging on for dear life, letting go of every other thought and focused only on one thing—let it go, let it go, let it go. And then it came, hot and hard and sweet and she pushed her pelvis against him suddenly, holding him there.
He slid a hand behind her, under her butt, and pressed himself deeply into her, his thrusts smaller and deeper, and she felt her insides grip him. Grip him, hold him tight, tremble, spasm. She heard him moan appreciatively and then it started to subside. She couldn’t believe her own ears when she heard herself say, “More.”
He chuckled. “We can do more.” His mouth latched on a nipple and sucked hard while he pumped his hips anew, hard and deep, and in just a second she had another one—so deep and hot and heavenly she thought she might faint. She relaxed beneath him, still quivering. “More?” he asked, a smile in his voice.
“I’m good,” she whispered.
“You are that,” he said. “Hold me.”
Her arms tightened around his torso, her legs came up to wrap around his hips, and she held on. For him. He rode her, thrusting deep and hard, groaning loudly, murmuring little victory shouts and calling her name. And then she felt him stiffen, harden inside her and spill in what seemed like a million short bursts. It went on longer than she was prepared for, long enough that she started to get turned on all over again while he throbbed inside of her.
Finally he quieted and just moaned, but it was a very happy moan. She stroked his back and loosened her legs. And he put soft kisses on her lips.
“You are not quiet,” she finally said.
“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “It was that good.”
“It was. I think you growled. Maybe barked.”
“I didn’t bark!” he said, laughing.
“You prayed,” she said.
“Sort of,” he admitted. He rolled to one side, trying to keep them together a while longer, but nature had its way and he slipped out of her. “Listen, probably this should have come first. I think I love you.”
She was quiet a moment. “Do let me know when you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I love you. Scared me a little. I can’t think of any reason it should scare me, but all of a sudden I froze up and worried about ridiculous things. Like what if it couldn’t last, what if I’m kidding myself, what if I just don’t know what I’m doing and make the same mistakes over and over again? What if it’s me? Do you understand? Am I just crazy?”
“I don’t know, Matt. I won’t know until you tell me your story.”
Twelve
Matt excused himself from the bed and returned a few minutes later with a couple of beers. He sat down on the bed and put the bottles on the bedside table. “I can drink one or even both of those if you’re letting me stay.”
She leaned against the headboard, the sheet covering her breasts. She looked down at herself. “I’m naked and just had wonderful sex. If you leave me now, I might change my number again.”
“So, it was because of me,” he said, handing her a beer.
“Only a little bit,” she said, shaking her head. “Look, we hadn’t professed our love, hadn’t been intimate, hadn’t made promises. If you got busy or sidetracked or just plain lost interest and decided not to call after all, that’s your option. Right? I think I know how things work—women usually prefer to lay it on the line, say things like, ‘I don’t think this is going to work for me,’ while men tend to say they’ll call, then they just don’t. Obviously I could’ve left my number just the same and if you didn’t feel like going any further with me, you wouldn’t call. But I wanted to hear from you. I reached out once and didn’t get much of a response and it made me very sad and moody. Not the end of the world, right? But I saw a reflection of what I once was. I was that way with Mick—so desperate for him to show me he cared. Obviously I don’t feel that for Mick anymore but I was not going to get into an identical situation with you. I had to put a stop to it. So it wasn’t really about you as much as about me. Do you see? I didn’t have enough willpower to forget about you, so I cut myself off. I knew you could find me if you wanted to, but it helped me stop watching the phone.” She touched his hand. “I’m sorry if I hurt you by doing that.”
Her dress came down to her waist, up to her waist, and there she was with a whole bunch of clothing around her waist while everything above and below lay bare to his hungry eyes. “Aw, Ginger, I love those little panties. I think I’ll take them off. With my teeth.”
“No teeth!” she said, laughing.
“Okay, no teeth,” he said. They were white lace, fitting around her hips. He tugged them down and said, “Well now.”
“Natural blonde,” she confirmed.
He got out of his boxers fast. He suited up right away, leaving nothing to chance, then he lay down beside her, brought her into his arms and, kissing her, his hands explored her whole body from her knees to her neck. Finally, frustrated by the cumbersome folds of that discarded sundress, he tugged it lower, down her legs and off. He tossed it. His hands on her were much freer and deeper, and she pushed at him with her hips, so ready. But it was when she tried to close her legs against the pressure of his hand on her that he stopped. He looked into her eyes and said, “Uh-uh. No.” He pushed her legs apart once more and put himself there. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. You want to come, don’t you, my love?”
She squeezed her eyes closed and just nodded.
“Good idea,” he whispered. “You first.”
He entered her slowly, watching her face the whole time. “Perfect,” he said. “Perfect.” Then he began to move, creatively at first, listening for the response that said he’d found the sweet spot. There was only the slightest whimper but she held his shoulders in a death grip and inhaled sharply. Her heels dug into the bed and she pushed against him. “There it is,” he whispered against her lips. “There it is.” And he slid down her neck to her breasts, licking them and sucking them while he pumped his hips.
Ginger wasn’t sure what hit her—she was full of him. Full and aching and tingling and spiraling, hanging on for dear life, letting go of every other thought and focused only on one thing—let it go, let it go, let it go. And then it came, hot and hard and sweet and she pushed her pelvis against him suddenly, holding him there.
He slid a hand behind her, under her butt, and pressed himself deeply into her, his thrusts smaller and deeper, and she felt her insides grip him. Grip him, hold him tight, tremble, spasm. She heard him moan appreciatively and then it started to subside. She couldn’t believe her own ears when she heard herself say, “More.”
He chuckled. “We can do more.” His mouth latched on a nipple and sucked hard while he pumped his hips anew, hard and deep, and in just a second she had another one—so deep and hot and heavenly she thought she might faint. She relaxed beneath him, still quivering. “More?” he asked, a smile in his voice.
“I’m good,” she whispered.
“You are that,” he said. “Hold me.”
Her arms tightened around his torso, her legs came up to wrap around his hips, and she held on. For him. He rode her, thrusting deep and hard, groaning loudly, murmuring little victory shouts and calling her name. And then she felt him stiffen, harden inside her and spill in what seemed like a million short bursts. It went on longer than she was prepared for, long enough that she started to get turned on all over again while he throbbed inside of her.
Finally he quieted and just moaned, but it was a very happy moan. She stroked his back and loosened her legs. And he put soft kisses on her lips.
“You are not quiet,” she finally said.
“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “It was that good.”
“It was. I think you growled. Maybe barked.”
“I didn’t bark!” he said, laughing.
“You prayed,” she said.
“Sort of,” he admitted. He rolled to one side, trying to keep them together a while longer, but nature had its way and he slipped out of her. “Listen, probably this should have come first. I think I love you.”
She was quiet a moment. “Do let me know when you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I love you. Scared me a little. I can’t think of any reason it should scare me, but all of a sudden I froze up and worried about ridiculous things. Like what if it couldn’t last, what if I’m kidding myself, what if I just don’t know what I’m doing and make the same mistakes over and over again? What if it’s me? Do you understand? Am I just crazy?”
“I don’t know, Matt. I won’t know until you tell me your story.”
Twelve
Matt excused himself from the bed and returned a few minutes later with a couple of beers. He sat down on the bed and put the bottles on the bedside table. “I can drink one or even both of those if you’re letting me stay.”
She leaned against the headboard, the sheet covering her breasts. She looked down at herself. “I’m naked and just had wonderful sex. If you leave me now, I might change my number again.”
“So, it was because of me,” he said, handing her a beer.
“Only a little bit,” she said, shaking her head. “Look, we hadn’t professed our love, hadn’t been intimate, hadn’t made promises. If you got busy or sidetracked or just plain lost interest and decided not to call after all, that’s your option. Right? I think I know how things work—women usually prefer to lay it on the line, say things like, ‘I don’t think this is going to work for me,’ while men tend to say they’ll call, then they just don’t. Obviously I could’ve left my number just the same and if you didn’t feel like going any further with me, you wouldn’t call. But I wanted to hear from you. I reached out once and didn’t get much of a response and it made me very sad and moody. Not the end of the world, right? But I saw a reflection of what I once was. I was that way with Mick—so desperate for him to show me he cared. Obviously I don’t feel that for Mick anymore but I was not going to get into an identical situation with you. I had to put a stop to it. So it wasn’t really about you as much as about me. Do you see? I didn’t have enough willpower to forget about you, so I cut myself off. I knew you could find me if you wanted to, but it helped me stop watching the phone.” She touched his hand. “I’m sorry if I hurt you by doing that.”
