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Placing me in the middle of his king-sized bed, Frank straightened my legs and tangled his fingers through my hair, splaying it out on his pillow. The bed was uber-soft, it smelled like him, and I sank into the mattress like I was falling through a cloud.
The room was masculine like the rest of his house, but with mostly navy blue and dark wood accents and furniture glinting in the subdued lighting coming from a floor lamp in the corner. The bedsheets were crisp white linen, though, and I worried about staining them with the bright pink frosting.
Leaning over me, Frank removed my glasses and set them on his bedside table, but then he crawled over me, covering my body fully, holding himself above me with only the strength of his forearms.
It was quiet in his bedroom as he kissed me, his mouth moving over mine like a whisper. The only sound was our breathing. We were in sync—breathing in sync, kissing in sync—until he leaned to the side, fitting himself beside me, and he trailed a finger over my lips, urging me to open them.
My heart felt like it would beat into oblivion as I whispered, “Frank, I-I don’t know if I’m the right woman for you.” I didn’t want to say it, but even though I couldn’t find the courage to tell him the whole truth, I needed to warn him.
His finger stilled on my lips, but he didn’t pull it away as he looked into my eyes. “Whatever’s goin’ through your head, stop thinkin’ about it.”
“But—”
He pushed his finger past my lips. “Lick.”
I opened my mouth, and the rough pad of his fingertip settled on my tongue. I sucked, pulling the rest of his finger inside, closing my lips around it, tasting the residual frosting and moaning softly as I imagined sucking other things like that. His sharp exhale puffed against my neck as he touched his forehead to my temple.
The length of his cock throbbed beneath his boxers against my thigh as he pulled his finger out and dragged it between my breasts, catching on the little strip of elastic there, and down lower to my stomach, avoiding the frosting.
He followed the discolored line of my surgery scar with his finger, but he didn’t stop to ask about it. It was so faded that, for all he knew, it could’ve come from a bad scratch. I clamped my legs closed. The whole night was swirling around in my head like its own snowstorm, making me miss what Frank’s hands on me felt like.
But then he slid his finger beneath my underwear, and my legs fell open and stayed that way. His tongue in my mouth as he kissed me again was hot, thrusting against mine, and then his finger slipped deeper between my thighs, playing in the slick there.
It was almost shocking to me how good that felt. It had been a long time since I’d been touched by a man the way Frank was touching me, and I’d been through hell and back since.
But then he began to rub.
I gasped and flexed my hips, digging my heels into the sheets, seeking more of his finger, so he added another and dipped them inside my body as he pulled his head back so he could watch me.
“Frank.” The whisper was a plea for more, and he knew it.
He licked my ear, nuzzling his nose behind it. “I promised you when I fuck you, it’ll be in front of my fireplace. We’re not doin’ that yet, but I wanna watch you come. It’s your birthday. I need to make you feel good, and then I want you to turn thirty in my arms.”
I panted, “But w-what about you? It’s your birthday too.”
Pushing in deeper, he crooked his fingers carefully. I cried out, whimpering at their thickness, riding them, listening to the suction as he moved them in and out.
His voice was pure seduction in my ear as I closed my eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Samantha. You’re givin’ me everything right now, writhin’ in my arms while I touch you.”
“Orgasms can’t fix every—”
His thumb found my clit while he worked his fingers faster, whispering, “What’s that you were sayin’?”
I breathed, “Faster.”
“Say please.”
“Please, Frank. Please!” I was chasing release now. It was so close, and he knew that too.
He withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth, clearly enjoying the shock the swift move elicited from me. He arched an eyebrow and smiled a smile so alluring that I was chasing it, wanting those lips on mine again.
He didn’t allow it.
Instead, he slid between my thighs, slipping my underwear down my legs. When they were off, he moved back up and leaned over me, licking the frosting from my skin.
He was slow about it, and he never moved his eyes from mine. I tried so hard to control my breath, but it rushed out of my mouth fast and loud, my stomach moving up and down against his chest as he bathed the tops of my breasts with his tongue.
He collected a dollop of frosting on his finger and sat back, hooking my knee over his shoulder.
