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She went off, came completely undone. Her climax roared over her with the force of a train. She was steamrolled and flattened completely. All she knew was the pleasure, sharp and painful, incredible and wonderful. It swept over in hot waves that left her body straining and wrung out. Her legs vibrated against Alex’s shoulders. Her heels dug into his cotton t-shirt, straining to find a foothold on the broad plains of his back.
Her cries of pleasure filled the tiny apartment while her orgasm rocked through her. Her insides clenched up so hard that she had to wonder if those knots would ever come undone.
Alex waited it out with her, kissing her and licking her tenderly, thrusting gently, until she was spent, and it was done.
She was about to open her eyes and try to find something funny to say before she asked for her pants back, no doubt with her face scarlet, but then Alex shifted. He moved over her, pressing her back into the couch as his lips found hers. He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately, breathlessly. She loved the taste of her musk on him. No, it was more than just her musk. She tasted her climax there on his lips, on his tongue, which he thrust into her mouth.
When he pulled away, she was panting, her breath nothing more than hard rasps. He was breathing hard too, his shoulders heaving under the dark t-shirt, all the layers of muscle there stretching that thin cotton to the limits.
“I was right. You are sweeter than whipped cream.”
Without another word, Alex shifted away. He bent and snatched her leggings off the floor before he handed them to her. She didn’t have to ask him to turn around or leave the room, because he gathered up their hot chocolate mugs and walked into the kitchen. She quickly slipped her pants on, not entirely sure what the hell had happened. Her va-jay was really happy. Like, really, really, happy. Like died and gone to vagina heaven happy. She’d never had an orgasm like that before.
Alex appeared back in the room, his large form sending prickles of awareness down her spine and shockwaves of pleasure through the rest of her limbs.
He didn’t demand that she take him out and reciprocate.
He didn’t tell her to meet him in the bedroom in five.
He didn’t tell her to shower first.
Instead, he sat back down on the couch opposite her, grabbed the remote, and flicked the TV on. He didn’t stop surfing channels until he came to a cooking show. They were making some kind of stir fry.
“I’ve been meaning to learn how to cook. I mean, be a better one. Do more than make noodles out of a box and all that. Do you cook?”
He didn’t turn to look at her, but Muffy could see the way his lips tilted up at the corners. The slight pink riding high on his chiseled cheekbones astounded her. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. He might be confident. Fuck, he had a right to be, when he gave orgasms as good as that with just his finger and his mouth. Okay, his finger and his mouth were really talented, but she’d never come so hard in her life. She still felt wrung out, like they’d just spent the entire weekend in bed.
His confidence didn’t mean that he wasn’t shy. Probably as shy as she was. Yeah, that slight blush was sexy as hell.
She folded her hands over her still trembling thighs and flashed him a smile. “I do cook a little bit. Maybe… maybe I could give you a few pointers.”
“Yeah? Does that mean you’ll stay for dinner if I let you help make it?”
She giggled. It wasn’t a lady like giggle. It wasn’t even close to being dignified. She actually almost snorted at the end and had to slap a hand over her mouth, which made Alex laugh, that deep rich chuckle that sent shivers of pleasure dancing all over her body again.
“Yeah,” she said a little breathlessly. “I’ll stay for dinner.”
A little warning bell went off in her head when Alex’s eyes danced. His smile was so easy. It was all so easy. She was too easy. It all just felt… natural. Amazingly natural. Like they weren’t strangers on date number two. Like they’d been together for years. Like they were two pieces that just naturally fit so seamlessly together, it was like they’d never actually been apart.
Which was scary as hell.
In her experience, puzzles didn’t go together naturally. They were forced and jammed and got stuck and wrecked and eventually broke apart. She had zero luck with men. Zero. None. She was so close to wanting to become a spinster it was seriously not funny. So yeah. Alex sitting there not more than a foot apart, giving her just enough space that she felt comfortable, but not lonely… that rightness that she felt with him was nothing short of terrifying.
