Calvin’s mouth quirked a little, but he didn’t correct himself.
I shoved the handful of products into the bag, zipped it closed, and looked at Calvin. “You won’t spend the entire night at the precinct, right?”
Calvin slid his hands into his pockets. “Right,” he agreed, maybe a bit reluctantly, but I could have been projecting that hesitation.
“I don’t care if you wake me up,” I insisted. “I just need to know you’re getting some sleep.”
“Okay.”
“You know why this entire thing sucks?” I asked suddenly.
“I can think of a few reasons.”
“We haven’t had sex in six days.”
Calvin snorted. “You keep track?”
“Not intentionally.”
He laughed a little and approached me. Calvin put his hands on my hips and tilted his head down to kiss my mouth.
“I start getting weird,” I murmured as Calvin pulled back a bit.
“I think you meanhorny.”
“Maybe. Right now I’m really turned-on by your hands.”
“Some people have a thing for hands.”
“And your freckles.”
“You’re right. That’s weird.”
I laughed and kissed Calvin again.
He drew both hands up, then quickly popped open the buttons on my shirt and caressed bare skin with his strong, blunt fingertips.
“D-do we have time for this?” I whispered against his lips.
“We’re going to make time,” he answered. Calvin quickly finished with my shirt but didn’t bother to tug it off before he fastened his mouth on my throat and gave a hard suck.
Since meeting Calvin, I’d learned that I was never going to be too old to enjoy a good old-fashioned hickey and the combination of pride and embarrassment that typically accompanied such love marks the following day. I shuddered as concentrated sensual delight ricocheted up and down my spine like my body was a pinball machine. I leaned into Calvin, wrapped my arms around his neck, and gave his thick hair a bit of a tug.
He let up on my throat and roughly pressed our hips together. I groaned as Calvin rubbed his dick against mine, the material of our pants creating a frustrating barrier that needed to be dealt with immediately. As if reading my mind, Calvin looked down and opened the button and fly of my trousers. He pushed them from my hips, and his touch roamed, giving appreciation to my ass, dick, balls.
I swallowed hard.
“Get on the bed. On your stomach.”
Oh, thank God.
Sometimes there was nothing better than getting rode hard from behind, completely at the mercy of another man’s speed, angle, hold.
I kicked off my loafers, shimmied out of my pants and boxer briefs, sat down on the bed, and rolled onto my stomach. I turned my head and watched Calvin. He loosened his tie, shucked off his pants, and opened the drawer of the bedside table. It took every ounce of self-control not to thrust into the bedding while I waited.
Lube and condom procured, Calvin got onto the bed and settled between my legs as I spread them. He smoothed one hand over my ass and murmured, “You’re so gorgeous.”
But he didn’t indulge me nearly as much as he used to.
