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His lips travel, moving from lips to cheek, down to my earlobe and my neck. He finds my exposed breasts again and with his expert lips, he circles a nipple and suckles before biting softly. A breathy gasp escapes me at the contact.
“Warren.” I pull at my wrists and he releases, his hands slide down my arms and behind my back to where he finds the clasp for my bra, fully releasing me.
My hands find the back of his head as he kisses down between my breasts and to the edge of my shorts. He’s worshipping me, this is what that is. It’s like it was in the office, but there was no need to rush right now. No need to hurry and make sure we got what we wanted before someone came banging on my door.
I’d read about men like this. The ones who made sure the woman was cherished, taken care of, before the man got what he wanted. I just never experienced it before, never thought it could happen to me.
Until now.
I deserved this. Deserved someone who would take care of me, put me first, allow me to take the lead every once in a while. Being with Warren like this gave me a feeling of power like I’d never felt before.
“Janie,” he whispers against my belly button, his hands working at the button on my shorts. “I love your skin, love your smell.”
“Oh god,” I whimper out, blinking at the ceiling.
He unbuttons my shorts and I feel the zipper slide down; my hands continue to run through his long, soft hair.
The feeling is erotic.
My eyes stay pinched shut, just feeling this man above me. Something holds me back from relaxing my body and I hold slightly stiff, commanding myself to chill out and enjoy this.
You deserve this. Let him have you.
Warren, of course, notices my hesitation and pauses his movements, his right hand still resting on my stomach, but his head comes up and I feel him looking at me. “Jane.”
I hum at him in reply.
“Janie, look at me, baby.” His soft tone has my eyes finally opening to look at him, his kind gaze holds my own and I let out a breath. “Am I moving too fast? We can pump the—”
“No,” I interrupt, shaking my head at him. “No, we don’t need to stop. I’m just…” I trail off, unsure how to complete the sentence. I’ve had plenty of sex, with boyfriends and one one-night stand in college. But with Warren, with the way he treats me, with such reverence… it’s only ever been the one time with him before and even that felt like some long-lost dream I could barely hold on to.
“We can move slow.” He comes back up and I grip his arms again. His eyes bore into mine and I find that I can’t rip my gaze from his no matter how hard I try. “I just want to be with you. I don’t care what we do.”
“I do,” I reply quickly, this much I do know. I want to be with Warren so bad it aches. “I want this, I’m just feeling… a lot.”
He smiles a half smirk at me. “I’m feeling a lot too.”
I smile back at him and he leans down to press a sweet, firm kiss to my lips. I open for him, my mouth, my legs, my heart. Everything.
He settles himself between my legs and lets out a sigh into my mouth and starts to move against me. I gasp at the friction, his hips moving against me in a rhythm that I try to match.
“Warren.” I sigh out his name and his eyes move to me then. He smiles slightly, knowingly.
His hands move to my hips and he rises above me, the light shines against his torso, showing me every line of muscle that graces his glorious body and I clench my fists in anticipation. His fingers curl around the sides of my shorts and he pulls them, and my panties, down my legs. I help him, kicking them off the end of my feet and then, feeling bolder, surer, I sit up and my fingers go to his own button and zipper, undoing them both quickly.
My eyes never leave his.
The heat that seems to radiate between the two of us could burn this whole building to the ground and I doubt I would notice.
“When you look at me like that, I want to show you the stars,” he tells me and I move faster, with his help, getting his pants off.
When we’re finally both naked, I slowly lean all the way back and open my legs once again in invitation. He lies over me, at a pace meant to torture, and lines himself up with me.
“Condom,” he murmurs against my lips and I still. I’ve never once, not ever allowed a man to go without one while we’d been intimate. So why was I second-guessing the use of one now? Why did I not want that?
“I’m… safe,” I tell him. I wouldn’t want to pressure him either, this doesn’t just affect me.
He eyes me, looking for any sign that maybe I was saying something different, but no, he understands. “I’m clean.”
