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He raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“Cold.”
“I’ll warm you up.”
It sounded like a threat. A rush of hot blood chased up my bosom and into my face. I didn’t doubt him for one second.
Finally, he showed me his flesh. Standing over me, he peeled off his polo shirt. Dark curls were exposed and they matched his head of hair perfectly. Broad shoulders. I’d run my hands over them, but seeing them, boy, they alone had the potential to make me orgasm.
One-handed, he undid his jeans buttons and the tip of his erection rose. The man had no underpants. Commando style. I gulped.
He kicked the pants off and held his cock. What a beast of an erection. Prior to this, the only erect penis I’d seen in real life had been Micah’s. I’d thought it a good size, but now I had a different opinion. Stefan’s swollen cock pulsated in his hand. My pussy clenched. Somehow, I would have to fit around him and accommodate that ramrod.
I shot up. Damn. Stupid Callie. How could I be so idiotic?
“What?” He straightened, appearing a little affronted by my sudden movement.
“I’m not using contraceptives.” My coil had gone days after I’d finished with Micah.
“Oh.” He stepped back.
I’d ruined it. We’d have to get dressed, calm down and find some other way of being intimate.
The back wall had an open row of shelves. Not for books, or at least not many, only a few folio-sized hardbacks. Dotted about the spacious shelving were ornaments. Decorative bowls, candlesticks and photograph frames. Pictures of his family, I assumed. He sauntered over to what looked like an inelegant cookie jar. Facing away from me, I had a good view of his rump. Yummy. Those dimpled cheeks and firm thighs called out to me. I hoped he had a solution.
He removed the lid and rummaged about. He returned with a small wrapper in his hand. A condom. My first reaction—a sigh of relief. The second—why in a cookie jar?
He loomed over me, and I shrank back down, touching the cold leather once again.
“Those knickers…” He grinned.
I pictured the wet patch in the fabric and the issue of birth control was forgotten in a blink of an eye.
He knelt on the sofa and tugged at my underwear. I didn’t want him to see me. My hairy mound shamed me—why, I didn’t know. I tensed, slid slightly away from him.
“Shh,” he murmured.
I’d not spoken, but he must have registered my reticence.
He hooked a finger on either side of the elastic and lowered my panties, a slow, delicious unveiling. With a flick of his hand, the panties were gone. Another item of clothing dismissed with little thought. I locked my thighs together and covered my mound with my hands. I lay like an effigy on a tomb.
“Callie. Is this you saying no?” he asked softly. “If you don’t want to—”
With a jerk, I spread my legs and snatched at his upper arms and the bulging biceps. I yanked him down onto my body, and he laughed at my impulsive display of keenness.
His cock pressed on my belly. Stiff, unbending, he leaked a little pre-cum. The warm liquid dribbled into my navel.
My grip loosened. I let him do the necessary and he tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and applied the sheath with rapid ease. Clear latex didn’t hide the brilliant coloration of his veined cock. I brought my knees up, spreading them wide, and beckoned to him with my tingling sex lips.
He located his hands on either side of my head, his lower body poised, ready to strike. He’d not touched me down there, no probing or exploration with his fingers. How did he know I was ready? His thick cock nudged, separated my labia, and the head pushed, testing me. Relax. I urged my pussy to
open and welcome him. Sex and I had been strangers for far too long.
He thrust and entered with one swift swing of his hips. I cried out, but not from pain. There was a tweak perhaps as I gave about him, stretching my inner coils. God, he is big. My taut rings of muscle evaporated one by one about him. The friction, I sensed. Even with the lubricated condom, I had to yield and pray that my natural elasticity could cope with his girth.
My jaw dropped as I relished his extraordinary entrance into my lusty cunt. I gazed up into his face. His eyes, half open, didn’t seem to register me. No sound escaped from his mouth, which hung agape, as if he was astonished by my tightness. He appeared to be holding his breath, savoring me. After six months without sex, I must have felt virginal to him. I looped my legs about his back and pawed at his hairy chest, trying to hang onto the tiny soft hairs.
He eased out, almost entirely. He inhaled deeply, pausing at my ingress. Please, please. I couldn’t stand the delay. It was as if he’d raised the baton and kept me there, waiting for the swing and the beat.
