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The head of his cock is poking out of the convenience flap of his boxer briefs. The lights above us highlight the fact that the tip is glistening.
“I wanna have sex.” He bites my chin. “Just not the sweet kind.” His lips touch mine again, soft and tender, so contrary to his tone and his words.
I pull out my phone sex operator voice and run my socked foot up the outside of his leg. “What kind of sex do you want to have, Alex?”
He trails kisses along the edge of my jaw to my ear and whispers, “The dirty kind.”
I shiver.
And then, because no matter what, Alex is still a polite Canadian man—even when he wants to have hot, dirty sex—he adds, “But only if that’s okay with you.”
I drag my nails down his chest and over the ridges of his abs. “Maybe you should tell me what kind of dirty things you want to do to me before I decide.”
Having been with Alex for a year, I can say with absolute certainty that sex with him is never boring or predictable. Sometimes he’s a gentle, sweet lover, and other times, like now, he’s good for an intense, hard fuck.
He kisses his way back up to my mouth and slips his tongue inside, stroking softly. At the same time, his grip on my hair tightens. He’s in quite the mood this afternoon. We haven’t had beaver-banging sex since before the accident. I’m looking forward to walking like I’ve been riding a horse.
Before I can deepen the kiss, Alex pulls back. Actually, he uses my hair to pull me back. “First, I’m gonna get you naked right here. You on board with that?”
“Totally on board.”
“Excellent.” He kisses me again, but this time there’s no tongue. When he breaks the connection, I moan, and he smiles. It’s so sinister. And hot. Jesus. I can’t wait to get sexed. “And then I’m gonna finger-fuck you until you come all over my hand. Sound good?”
I make another noise. It’s similar to gears grinding. “That sounds fucking fabulous, Alex.” I pop the button on my jeans and yank the zipper down.
He’s still standing between my thighs and holding my hair, so I can’t do much more without some help.
He loosens his grip. “Lie back for me, please, baby.”
I do as I’m asked, because—hot damn!—after more than a month of me riding him and feeling compelled to be careful, we’re going to get our fuck on. But as a bonus, my ass has never been tighter.
I shiver when my back hits the cold granite, and flinch when I bang my head in my zeal to obey.
Alex pauses with his thumbs hooked in my belt loops. “You okay? Is it too cold? Should I take you upstairs?”
And there he is, my sweet, awesome fiancé, being his considerate self even when he’s hornier than hell and ready to bang me until I see stars and the Milky Way comes shooting out of my vagina.
“No, I don’t want to go upstairs. I want to get naked, and I want you to do what you said you were going to do.” I push my jeans and panties over my hips and pull my knees up so I can get them off.
Alex gets with the program and helps out. Except I’m in such a rush to get my pants off I don’t bother to lose the socks first, which complicates things. As much as skinny jeans look good on, they can be a pain in the ass to get off. We finally manage to wrestle me free of them. I shimmy back up on the island until my hair hangs over one end, and I can plant my feet at the other.
If I turned ninety degrees, I’d have a lot more room, but Alex’s hands are already smoothing up my shins, and I’m not about to stop him.
I spread my legs nice and wide so he’s got lots of room to work. He stops at my knees, frowning as he stares at my naked beaver. “Uh…Violet?”
I look down to see what has him so concerned. Which is when I remember I had my beaver decorated.
“Oh! Um…surprise!” I throw my hands up in the air and wave them around.
Alex sweeps his fingers over the awesomeness that covers my bare beaver mound. “How did you get these on here?”
“With glue. Like it?”
“Uh…”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, no, I like it,” he says quickly. He traces the outline of the letters that spell Waters’ in red Swarovski crystals. Below that is a tiny beaver crafted out of more crystals. “Do I have to be careful? Like, do I need to worry about friction? Will I rub them off?”
“Uh, no? They’re stuck on pretty good. I think.” My waxer/beaver beautifier promised they’d stay on for at least a week if I covered them with Saran Wrap before I shower. I imagine they’ll stay put with friction, too, but I didn’t ask that question specifically. However, I’m not about to lose out on hot sex to preserve my vagazzling.
