Page 39 of Be My Summer

“I can’t get you out of my head, Summer.”

“I–”

“All day. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. I’m done trying, because I know you’re right where you need to be. In my head. Making your way to my heart to make yourself at home. I just want to make sure you understand that there’s no turning back.”

Nodding, I stared at him through the window. Hunger was written all over his handsome face. Anticipation forced his shoulders apart and his spine straight. He was standing at attention, prepared to receive his helping.

“Once I am inside of you, Summer–you’re mine. Every fucking inch of you. Even the ugliest parts. The problem areas. They become my problem. You become my problem. My best one yet. My prettiest one yet. My finest one yet. Do you understand that?”

I nodded again.

“No running. No hiding. I want you open and I want you vulnerable. I want you soft and I want you gentle. I want you tender and I want you willing. I want you ripe and I want you ready.”

My head rose and fell.

“And, I want you out of that fucking dress.”

I peeled the left strap from my arm and then the right. The dress gathered around my feet, exposing everything underneath. There wasn’t a garment to remove.

No bra.

No panties.

I was aware of how this night would begin and end. There was no need to waste time with hindrances. They reminded me too much of small talk and I wasn’t interested in that tonight.

In the window, I watched as Saul’s head lowered near his right shoulder. He analyzed my backside, having his way and taking his time with his observation. I allowed him to linger.

“Miss Summer,” he breathed out with lifted eyebrows.

“Hm?”

I turned around. Saul’s chest deflated as his eyes closed briefly. As quickly as they’d shut, they opened. He swallowed, and inhaled deeply. His bottom lip went into his mouth as he examined his new laboratory.

“I’m not sure how careful I can be tonight.”

“I’m fragile, but I won’t break.”

Saul’s legs moved, but his mouth remained sealed. He reached me in record time. His hands met the sides of my face. His lips met mine.

My hands busied themselves with the buckle of his belt. Skillfully, I debriefed him. Our lips were still joined and our tongues were still tangled when anticipation swelled my chest.

“Su–”

“I’m sorry.”

My knees crashed with the wood beneath me. The scene had played in my head nonstop since Wednesday. I thirsted for the taste of his skin.

It smelled like lemons and woods and tonka. I was desperate to know how it tasted.

However, its beauty halted my progress. The slight discolor at the head was impressive. So was its length and girth. It was perfect. Far from small. Larger than average. But, not intimidating. I imagined round after round after round of comfortable, filthy sex. Long after he’d ejected himself, I would still feel him.

Saul, you’re a dream.

I took him into my hand. Saliva pooled in my mouth, not quite making sense of its dryness minutes prior. Widening my lips, I prepared for the moment I’d replayed in my head nonstop. I sighed as his rigidness rested against my tongue.

Soft.

Chocolate.