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And every so often he raised his head to take in the rest of her. He reached out with those long arms to fondle her breasts, massage her belly, and his tongue made many detours into her navel. And always inevitably he returned to her eyes.
Basically, there wasnothingtransactional about this man in bed.
“You’re so cute when you come,” he said thickly at one point, after just such an event.
“Wh…what?”Cute?
“Not only cute,” he corrected himself swiftly. If she weren’t so exhausted, she’d laugh at the idea that she might feel insulted. “Beautiful. Everywhere, and tight, Paula, you’re so tight, your thighs, your pussy…so wet….”
He wasn’t even making any sense, but it didn’t matter. That mouth went back to its task, and Paula lost count of the orgasms.
All with Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background.
ThebestChristmas morning.
Eventually her lust-drugged senses reminded her that Bastian was still hard. Her math brain decided their universe was an ellipse, and Bastian’s center had been neglected.
“Wait, this is lopsided,” she slurred. “You need to stop. I’ve had enough of the orgasmathingies. I’m good, babe.”
He dragged his mouth away. “Sure?”
“Mmmm.”
Her glasses were gently removed, her closed eyes kissed. “Turn over, on your knees.”
She was putty, and so she did. Feeling a little reckless. Because sticking her butt up in the air created a guaranteed groping attraction and involved a lot of trust. But for this man it felt like exactly what she wanted to do, even though she had no idea of his intentions other thanbite that gorgeous ass.
He hissed in a breath, and she arched even higher for him. A glance over her shoulder told her that yes, that gaze was fixated squarely on her ass. Groping would occur. But then he ran his hands over her belly and legs, relishing her, and she forgot her groping worries. When he finally reached her ass, he dropped a kiss—and a tender bite—on each cheek.
“First time from behind okay with you?” he growled.
“You like my butt?” she teased.
“Shit, Paula, whatdon’tI like? Yes, I like it. And when my cock is inside you, I’ll….fuck.” He pulled back on a groan. “Stay like that. Don’t move. I need to go back to my place for a minute.” The bed dipped as he climbed off.
“Let me guess. Channeling my telepathic superpowers…you forgot condoms.”
“Forgot? I wasn’t thinking at all when I came over here. I left off my shoes too.” His voice faded to the sounds of him moving around in her living room, probably putting on his pants.
“I’m not staying in this position for ten minutes,” she called.
“Not surprised,” he called back.
She heard the door slam.
Ella Fitzgerald sangLet it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!
She rolled over and flopped out her arms and smiled.
Bastian Spencer forgot his shoes.
And for no reason at all, she started to laugh.
