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Nathan’s chuckle vibrates against my breastbone at the same time he fingers the fabric under my skirt. Following my command, he tugs them down, sliding them off completely when I lift each of my feet in turn.
I expect Nathan to resume touching me. Instead, he sits back on his heels and stares at the piece of cloth in his hands.
“Are these reindeer?” Fascination coats his question, and I let out a growl of frustration.
Who cares about my bright red underwear even if it is covered in Christmas creatures?
Apparently, Nathan does.
“It’s April. Why are you wearing sparkly holiday panties?” The guy runs his fingers over them like he’s some type of designer examining the quality of the fabric.
“Because they’re all like that,” I grumble before reaching out to snatch them back.
But he’s too quick for me, standing up and backing away, a delighted smile creasing his face.
“You’re telling me that every pair of underwear you own has reindeers on them?”
“No!” I punch a fist into my thigh and glare off to the side. “My grandma gives me a gift card to Victoria’s Secret every Christmas. So, I go and stock up on the pairs that are on sale, which tend to be holiday ones. I’ve got snowmen and wreaths and other stuff.”
Why? Why do I have to go for the discount table?
“You are”—he pauses mid-sentence, and I turn in time to see him neatly fold my panties and tuck them into the pocket of a pair of jeans I assume he owns—“adorable.”
“Adorable?” Not really the adjective I want thrown around right when I’m trying to introduce a hot guy to my vagina.
“Yeah. And”—he pulls out a foil packet from another one of the pants pockets—“sexy as hell.”
No longer distracted by my undergarments, I realize Nathan’s own are dramatically tented. Seems like he’s interested in doing something about it.
In a public dressing room.
His approach is methodical, gaze fixed on me, sauntering like a panther moving toward prey that’s already accepted their demise. When he’s close enough for his body heat to raise the hairs on my arms, that wicked grin curls across his lips, and he slides the condom into my hand.
He took off my underwear, so I return the favor, stretching the elastic over his erection and pushing it down his thighs until he kicks it off and stands in front of me, bare to the world. It’s been a little while, but I don’t have any trouble remembering how to pinch the tip of the rubber and roll it down his hard length. The muscles in his stomach twitch and tense in response to my touch.
“Okay, Shorty”—he leans down to place his lips next to my ear and rests his hands on my hips—“you ready to climb me again?”
My arms snake around his neck, and he digs his fingers into the meat of my thighs, lifting me up until I can wrap my legs around his waist. The solid wall at my back and the firm body pressed against my front cocoon me. But I don’t want to just be surrounded; I want to be filled.
“Best we don’t get caught. So, you’re going to have to keep nice and quiet for me. Can you do that?” Nathan’s whisper brushes the flyaway hairs at the side of my neck, just as there’s a slow stroke through the wetness at my core.
All of my insides clench in anticipation, the head of his cock sitting just against my entrance. The moment I nod acts as the go-ahead, and he slides into me.
How could I have forgotten how great sex was?
Maybe because it never felt this good with Derrick.
Nathan raises his head enough to gaze down at me, holding my eyes with the power of his. Each slow thrust of his hips is partnered with an exhale of breath through his nose. That’s the only means he has for breathing, seeing as how his jaw has gone tight from clenching his teeth together.
My mind fills with the sight of him in passion, and the tremors starting between my legs race through every inch of me.
Then, like always, the pleasure freezes my vocal cords. All I can do is breathe in the intoxicating apple cider smell of his soap and listen to his heavy panting and drown in the sensations of him moving inside and against me.
But as my silence reigns, Nathan’s lips, pressed tightly together, curve in a triumphant smirk. And I know without a glimmer of doubt that he’s aware of exactly how lost I am in our moment. He understands how I experience my ecstasy, and it turns him on.
A small earthquake rocks through my body, everything giving a slight shift, and I no longer have both my feet on familiar ground.
This is falling. Movies and TV and books throw that word around to describe how people careen into deep emotions, and I’ve only ever held a vague understanding. Like how I know, in an abstract sort of way, what it’s supposed to be like in outer space. The sensation has been described to me, and I’ve watched videos of astronauts floating around. But I don’treallyknow.
