“Lie on the bed,” he instructs as the last button from his shirt is freed. I do so, keeping my eyes on his hands as they move to his belt. What is it about watching a man unbuckle his belt that is so freaking arousing?
“Face down.”
That I wasn’t expecting. I blink at him for a moment, watching the leather slip free of the buckle, and then slowly roll over with my arms bent and tucked to my sides.
“Ass up.”
Oh, holy fuck. Okay. I wonder if my ass is blushing as much as my face is. Is that a thing? I’m so stimulated right now I feel as though I must be flushed everywhere. I slide my knees up and push myself onto my elbows so that my ass will be higher than my head, thinking that’s what he wants based on the limited instructions.
Then I wait.
I hear his pants come off, the belt buckle making an iota of a sound as it hits the floor, but enough for me to guess where he’s at in his disrobing process. Then his hands are on my hips and I’m sliding across the sheets until my knees and ass are at the edge of the bed.
Then the tip of his cock is nudging my entrance. I fist the sheets with my hands as he slams into me with one solid stroke. He grunts. I groan and dip my head, focusing on steadying my forearms against the bed so I don’t end up on my face.
Jennings grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pounds into me. The room is silent apart from the sound of skin slapping against skin and labored breathing. I’m a vessel for his pleasure and I love it. My tits are bouncing with the force of his thrusts and his balls are hitting my clit. He’s so damn deep like this and the angle is bliss.
I need to see what he looks like right now.
I need to see the expression on his face that accompanies the grunts leaving his mouth. The look in his eyes as he’s whispering filthy things about the view of my ass. The clench of his jaw as he flexes his hips and pounds into me. I need a snapshot in my mind of what he looks like to remember this by.
I look over my shoulder, my hair sweeping across my back and half covering my face, but it’s enough for a glimpse.
His eyes burn into mine, hooded and intent. His lips are slightly parted and his tongue swipes his bottom lip as I watch. It immediately makes me think of his tongue on my clit and I clench around his cock, shocked I’m this close to coming again. I turn back with a moan, dipping my forehead to the mattress, arching my back and pushing my ass higher up.
It doesn’t last long though because a second later Jennings yanks my hair and pulls me into a kneeling position in front of him with his lips against my neck.
The words, “Did you want to watch, love?” are not even out of his mouth before I’m coming hard on his cock.
It’s too much, too much stimulation too quickly. I might fall apart from the pleasure and I don’t think I can take it, but Jennings holds me against him and stills as my pussy clenches painfully tight around him. I drop my head onto his shoulder and try to push him away because it’s too much; I’m ultra-sensitive and in an orgasmic free fall.
As I come down Jennings slips out of me and places his palm over my pussy with soothing hushed words in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am and how amazed he is with me. His hand cups me intimately, but not erotically. He’s not thumbing my clit or fingering me. His dick is still hard and pressed against my ass between us and his hand cups me, the sensation warm and soothing and loving.
He settles me onto the bed, on my back now, and braces himself on top of me, his arms pressed to the mattress on either side of my head to keep from crushing me. His cock slides back into me like it was always meant to be there.
Slow strokes, deep and measured. I wrap my arms around his neck and bend one knee, my ankle resting on his ass. Our lips meet, matching the pace of our sex, deliberate yet soft. My heart is racing but it’s so much more than adrenaline.
“Is this real?” I whisper it, meant more for myself than him, but his eyes answer my question; his gaze moves across my face with tenderness before a, “Yes,” is pressed onto my lips. I pull him closer so I can bury my face in his neck, my nipples pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and soap and maybe a hint of clove or nutmeg—something I can’t put my finger on but is uniquely Jennings.
The weight of his cock when he slides into me is pure rapture, heavy and thick. Each penetration fills me with warmth and fullness, each retreat met by a buck of my hips begging for his return. The intensity escalates with each thrust but in a quiet way, the frenzied pace of earlier abandoned, replaced with a different sort of passion. Tender and affectionate. Nothing else matters but the two of us, right here, right now.
“This is a really great date,” I say softly.
“The best ever,” he agrees, his forehead touching mine. I run a hand over his jaw and he presses a kiss into my palm before pushing back onto his arms and adjusting the leg I have wrapped around him. He hooks my knee over his elbow and thrusts deep, the penetration making me cry out his name as I come again. His cock pulses as he joins me, thrusting twice more before stilling inside of me.
He rolls us so I’m lying atop him, still inside of me as our heart rates slow.
“I can’t move,” I tell him, even though I’m the one on top. I’m not making an effort to be light, splayed on top of him, my limbs limp noodles and my head using his chest as a pillow.
If I’ve ever been this satiated before in my entire life I can’t recall it.
Jennings cups the back of my head and rolls me onto my back, kissing my forehead before he rises. I grunt at the upheaval and whine about the loss of his body heat.
“Don’t move,” he says.
“I just said I’m incapable, you sex maniac.” I flop my hand halfheartedly onto the mattress. “I might never recover. I’ll probably get fired tomorrow because I’ll be unable to move. I’ll point to the attractions as we pass them and say, ‘Sorry, folks, we can’t get off the bus because I’m unable to walk due to the sex marathon I had last night.’ That should go over well.”
“You won’t get sacked,” he calls out on his way into the bathroom. Holy crap, he has a really nice ass. How has that escaped my attention? I think I might be an ass girl. Wait. That didn’t sound right even in my head. His ass, not mine. Nope, still not right.
“You don’t know that. I could still fuck this trip up.” You have no idea how true this is.
“I’ll put in a good word for you.” His voice echoes a bit from the bathroom. The door is open and the water is running but I can’t see him from where I’m at.
“How? You’re the one causing the disruption. I hardly think you’d get a vote.” Men, Jesus. They think they can solve anything.
The water stops and Jennings steps from the bathroom. The view is good from this side too, so help me. It makes my breath catch in my throat to look directly at him. He’s such a man—I know that sounds dumb, of course he’s a man. But like, holy shit, he’s a man. Tall, filled out. Sculpted abs and a strong jaw. His veins are hot, for crying out loud. The ones on the backs of his hands drive me wild with distraction. The way they trail up his arms, perfection. And the one large one running the length of his dick? I’m a big fan of that one. Big, big fan.
As he steps closer to the bed I notice he’s got a washcloth in his hand. Hold up. Is he?
He is.
“Oh, my God.” I slap my hands over my face and attempt to snap my knees together as he lowers the cloth to my bare pussy. It’s warm and wet—and oh, Jesus, so am I—and this is really, really embarrassing. Jennings doesn’t seems to have any qualms about cleaning me up though, pressing my knee outward with his other hand to widen my legs as I squeak beneath my hands.
“You said you were too tired to get up.”
“This is so dirty.”
“This is dirty?” There’s laughter in his voice. “You coming all over my hand was dirty. Your ass bent over the bed was dirty. Shagging you until you’re too tired to walk was dirty. This isn’t dirty. This is revering your pussy.”
I peek at him between my fingers. “Revering? Really?”
The pressure of his hand through the washcloth increases. He drags it across the inside of one thigh then the other. My skin tingles in its wake as he dips to my core and finishes his task. I’m turned on again and more than a little flustered. No one has ever done more than hand me a paper towel before.
“Like a religious experience, love.”
“With my pussy?”
“I hold your pussy in the highest of esteem,” he says with a straight face.
I groan and he laughs.
This guy is so much trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Violet
The next two days fly by in a blur. I’m floating on the high of the best date—and the best sex—I’ve ever had. There’s a spring in my step, a smile on my face and hope in my bruised heart.
I’m nailing the tour guide gig thing and nailing Jennings at the same time. In fact, I think I’m going to update my résumé and add multitasking under my useful skills.
In Williamsburg, while the group happily watches blacksmiths forge iron into tools the same way they would have during days gone by, Jennings pulls me around the corner and kisses me until I’m breathless.
“Face down.”
That I wasn’t expecting. I blink at him for a moment, watching the leather slip free of the buckle, and then slowly roll over with my arms bent and tucked to my sides.
“Ass up.”
Oh, holy fuck. Okay. I wonder if my ass is blushing as much as my face is. Is that a thing? I’m so stimulated right now I feel as though I must be flushed everywhere. I slide my knees up and push myself onto my elbows so that my ass will be higher than my head, thinking that’s what he wants based on the limited instructions.
Then I wait.
I hear his pants come off, the belt buckle making an iota of a sound as it hits the floor, but enough for me to guess where he’s at in his disrobing process. Then his hands are on my hips and I’m sliding across the sheets until my knees and ass are at the edge of the bed.
Then the tip of his cock is nudging my entrance. I fist the sheets with my hands as he slams into me with one solid stroke. He grunts. I groan and dip my head, focusing on steadying my forearms against the bed so I don’t end up on my face.
Jennings grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pounds into me. The room is silent apart from the sound of skin slapping against skin and labored breathing. I’m a vessel for his pleasure and I love it. My tits are bouncing with the force of his thrusts and his balls are hitting my clit. He’s so damn deep like this and the angle is bliss.
I need to see what he looks like right now.
I need to see the expression on his face that accompanies the grunts leaving his mouth. The look in his eyes as he’s whispering filthy things about the view of my ass. The clench of his jaw as he flexes his hips and pounds into me. I need a snapshot in my mind of what he looks like to remember this by.
I look over my shoulder, my hair sweeping across my back and half covering my face, but it’s enough for a glimpse.
His eyes burn into mine, hooded and intent. His lips are slightly parted and his tongue swipes his bottom lip as I watch. It immediately makes me think of his tongue on my clit and I clench around his cock, shocked I’m this close to coming again. I turn back with a moan, dipping my forehead to the mattress, arching my back and pushing my ass higher up.
It doesn’t last long though because a second later Jennings yanks my hair and pulls me into a kneeling position in front of him with his lips against my neck.
The words, “Did you want to watch, love?” are not even out of his mouth before I’m coming hard on his cock.
It’s too much, too much stimulation too quickly. I might fall apart from the pleasure and I don’t think I can take it, but Jennings holds me against him and stills as my pussy clenches painfully tight around him. I drop my head onto his shoulder and try to push him away because it’s too much; I’m ultra-sensitive and in an orgasmic free fall.
As I come down Jennings slips out of me and places his palm over my pussy with soothing hushed words in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am and how amazed he is with me. His hand cups me intimately, but not erotically. He’s not thumbing my clit or fingering me. His dick is still hard and pressed against my ass between us and his hand cups me, the sensation warm and soothing and loving.
He settles me onto the bed, on my back now, and braces himself on top of me, his arms pressed to the mattress on either side of my head to keep from crushing me. His cock slides back into me like it was always meant to be there.
Slow strokes, deep and measured. I wrap my arms around his neck and bend one knee, my ankle resting on his ass. Our lips meet, matching the pace of our sex, deliberate yet soft. My heart is racing but it’s so much more than adrenaline.
“Is this real?” I whisper it, meant more for myself than him, but his eyes answer my question; his gaze moves across my face with tenderness before a, “Yes,” is pressed onto my lips. I pull him closer so I can bury my face in his neck, my nipples pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and soap and maybe a hint of clove or nutmeg—something I can’t put my finger on but is uniquely Jennings.
The weight of his cock when he slides into me is pure rapture, heavy and thick. Each penetration fills me with warmth and fullness, each retreat met by a buck of my hips begging for his return. The intensity escalates with each thrust but in a quiet way, the frenzied pace of earlier abandoned, replaced with a different sort of passion. Tender and affectionate. Nothing else matters but the two of us, right here, right now.
“This is a really great date,” I say softly.
“The best ever,” he agrees, his forehead touching mine. I run a hand over his jaw and he presses a kiss into my palm before pushing back onto his arms and adjusting the leg I have wrapped around him. He hooks my knee over his elbow and thrusts deep, the penetration making me cry out his name as I come again. His cock pulses as he joins me, thrusting twice more before stilling inside of me.
He rolls us so I’m lying atop him, still inside of me as our heart rates slow.
“I can’t move,” I tell him, even though I’m the one on top. I’m not making an effort to be light, splayed on top of him, my limbs limp noodles and my head using his chest as a pillow.
If I’ve ever been this satiated before in my entire life I can’t recall it.
Jennings cups the back of my head and rolls me onto my back, kissing my forehead before he rises. I grunt at the upheaval and whine about the loss of his body heat.
“Don’t move,” he says.
“I just said I’m incapable, you sex maniac.” I flop my hand halfheartedly onto the mattress. “I might never recover. I’ll probably get fired tomorrow because I’ll be unable to move. I’ll point to the attractions as we pass them and say, ‘Sorry, folks, we can’t get off the bus because I’m unable to walk due to the sex marathon I had last night.’ That should go over well.”
“You won’t get sacked,” he calls out on his way into the bathroom. Holy crap, he has a really nice ass. How has that escaped my attention? I think I might be an ass girl. Wait. That didn’t sound right even in my head. His ass, not mine. Nope, still not right.
“You don’t know that. I could still fuck this trip up.” You have no idea how true this is.
“I’ll put in a good word for you.” His voice echoes a bit from the bathroom. The door is open and the water is running but I can’t see him from where I’m at.
“How? You’re the one causing the disruption. I hardly think you’d get a vote.” Men, Jesus. They think they can solve anything.
The water stops and Jennings steps from the bathroom. The view is good from this side too, so help me. It makes my breath catch in my throat to look directly at him. He’s such a man—I know that sounds dumb, of course he’s a man. But like, holy shit, he’s a man. Tall, filled out. Sculpted abs and a strong jaw. His veins are hot, for crying out loud. The ones on the backs of his hands drive me wild with distraction. The way they trail up his arms, perfection. And the one large one running the length of his dick? I’m a big fan of that one. Big, big fan.
As he steps closer to the bed I notice he’s got a washcloth in his hand. Hold up. Is he?
He is.
“Oh, my God.” I slap my hands over my face and attempt to snap my knees together as he lowers the cloth to my bare pussy. It’s warm and wet—and oh, Jesus, so am I—and this is really, really embarrassing. Jennings doesn’t seems to have any qualms about cleaning me up though, pressing my knee outward with his other hand to widen my legs as I squeak beneath my hands.
“You said you were too tired to get up.”
“This is so dirty.”
“This is dirty?” There’s laughter in his voice. “You coming all over my hand was dirty. Your ass bent over the bed was dirty. Shagging you until you’re too tired to walk was dirty. This isn’t dirty. This is revering your pussy.”
I peek at him between my fingers. “Revering? Really?”
The pressure of his hand through the washcloth increases. He drags it across the inside of one thigh then the other. My skin tingles in its wake as he dips to my core and finishes his task. I’m turned on again and more than a little flustered. No one has ever done more than hand me a paper towel before.
“Like a religious experience, love.”
“With my pussy?”
“I hold your pussy in the highest of esteem,” he says with a straight face.
I groan and he laughs.
This guy is so much trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Violet
The next two days fly by in a blur. I’m floating on the high of the best date—and the best sex—I’ve ever had. There’s a spring in my step, a smile on my face and hope in my bruised heart.
I’m nailing the tour guide gig thing and nailing Jennings at the same time. In fact, I think I’m going to update my résumé and add multitasking under my useful skills.
In Williamsburg, while the group happily watches blacksmiths forge iron into tools the same way they would have during days gone by, Jennings pulls me around the corner and kisses me until I’m breathless.
