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Monica hadn’t really been prepared for doing this tonight. She’d considered her intimacy dilemma for hundreds of nights, wondering why Daniel Lexington seemed to be the only man she felt truly comfortable with. She’d wanted to explore her femininity safely, with someone who would not make her feel judged or defective, but she hadn’t realized tonight would bring the golden opportunity when he’d attended the event alone. As alone as Monica.
Suddenly she stood in her white lace panties, barefoot with red-painted toes, her pearls, and her bun, Daniel’s expression calm and easy as he patted his lap. “Come here and talk to me like you just did.”
She was stiff as a board as she sat on his lap, her lungs closing when his arms enveloped her and he caressed her side with all five tips of his fingers. “How many men have you been with?”
Tingles raced under his touch, his embrace reminding her of the ways he’d held her when she was young and she’d ached to curl up to him like a kitten. A stirring of the longing she’d felt back then unraveled in the pit of her stomach, and she could almost feel the melting of all her inner walls.
“Three,” she murmured as she relaxed her weight into him. Up close, Daniel’s masculine features were so riveting, he could’ve been airbrushed. His jaw held a small evening shadow, and the shadow called attention to his beautifully full, sensual lips, lips which Monica struggled not to stare at as she asked, “And you?”
“Does it matter? I’m not having the least bit of trouble with my erections.”
She laughed faintly, and he smiled and moved his hand to gingerly stroke the tiny rises of her spine. “Just relax. Talk to me. If it will make you feel better.… I’ll tell you I’ve been with an embarrassing number of different women. But then you already know I don’t like to keep one for long.”
She did know. She knew more than she might have liked, but enough to know that he was perfect for this.
She sighed at last, resting her forehead on his. “I don’t know where to begin. I can’t enjoy it. I can’t climax. I can get aroused, but I can’t reach fulfillment. My mind won’t let me.”
His fingers slid up her neck and lightly traced her lower lip before they slid back down to her collarbone. The touch was a whisper, but so powerful, she trembled. “Have you tried to involve it in what you’re doing?” His low-pitched voice carried a unique force.
“Not really.”
Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, watching her fingers as they undid each of his buttons. She wanted him to be as naked as she was, and she eagerly, almost roughly, spread his shirt apart. She froze when she saw the cursive letters tattooed on the left side of his chest.
She had never, in her life, seen a more beautiful male torso. Golden skin spread taut over lean and ripped muscles. He was iron hard under her fingers, but also smooth.
She was so engrossed she didn’t realize his fingertips had delved partly into the waistband of her panties, and he was sensually stroking a long finger down the fissure of her bottom.
A bolt of sensations rushed along her nerve endings and she tensed. “Shh. Relax,” he murmured, watching her with eyes that glimmered. “This is just us playing for a bit. Nothing is going to happen here … except this…” He inserted one finger into her pussy from behind, and she gasped and tensed around the intrusion, her sex clenching around his finger as he murmured, “Just that, Monica, for now … relax now … let me in.”
She bit her lower lip, having trouble adjusting, but on his second stroke, her vagina seemed to wetly bloom open, and a sweeping warmth spread along her system. She’d closed herself off to emotions her whole adult life, for emotions had only caused pain. But there was no denying the pleasure of these sensations.
Her hip tilted backward at the same time her upper body surged forward until she was breathing fast against his jaw, barely aware that her fingers were on his shoulders, her senses narrowing to that one hot touch of his amazingly strong finger scraping the sensitive flesh inside her.
“I’m going to let my hand’s partner join in on the fun, all right?”
His chest rumbled as he spoke and he slid his hand to cup the apex of her thighs. She’d had laser hair removal years ago, and every inch of her body except her eyebrows, eyelashes, and hair, was bare and smooth as a dolphin’s. She could feel, without any obtrusion, the slide of his fingers along her pussy lips, the probing fingertip expertly searching along the top folds. “Why don’t you touch me and see how you like it, Monica?” he murmured.
She was losing herself as his fingers stroked along the sensitive nubbin above her sex, her instinctive responses starting to overtake her. Helplessly, she felt her hips move against his hands while soft purring sounds slipped past her throat, sounds she hadn’t even meant to make.
The fact that she was naked on his lap and he was still dressed made her especially eager to strip him. Her voice came out breathy. “Can I take your shirt off, Daniel?”
“Do whatever you want with me, Monica.”
As she frantically pushed it over his shoulders, he stopped touching her in order to be able to jerk it off his arms. Monica’s heart almost stopped, her sex throbbing emptily as a ball of need gathered at her throat.
She watched the sensual flex of his muscles when he tossed his shirt aside, and she stared avidly at the elegant BORN FREE tattoo over his heart. She’d been staring dumbly at his spectacular chest when she realized with a jolt of pleasure that he’d returned to what he’d previously been doing
, using his thumb to roll her clitoris in sensual little circles while a second finger pressed into her pussy along with the first. She was blown over.
Her eyes widened over the sudden contraction of her entire body. Every muscle, just like her sex, had seized; even her hands had gone motionless on his shoulders. Nothing moved in her body except her galloping heart and those fingers inside her. In, out, in, out. God. Those fingers.
He never stopped watching her, his eyes missing nothing. His voice, deeper still, elicited a fresh wave of heat between her thighs, as he said, “Do you like being touched like this?”
“I … yes. It’s hard to think … of anything else.”
“Good, then I’m not as bad as they say I am,” he purred, his voice full of depth and authority as he increased the thrusts of his fingers, caressing deep into her channel. She moaned, and she barely realized it was she who made that sound.
Daniel was motionless, his thighs like iron beneath her, frighteningly tense as his hands moved swiftly, powerfully, and she mewed softly and stroked her fingers along his shoulders, his collarbone, his pecs, a fever breaking along her flesh. “Daniel?” she asked uncertainly, as her body tensed in instinctive rejection of what was coming.
