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“Spider death marks?”
“You know. The splat. When you—”
“I see.” We awkwardly stand there for a few more minutes before I shrug my shoulders and indicate the door. “Should I go?”
“What? No!” Lu-Anne sweeps her hands over herself. “I’m wearing an apron right now with nothing on underneath, and you’re standing there in your man panties, and you want to go?”
“Man panties? I think boxers might be the better, less emasculating term.”
“Are you worried about being emasculated?”
I have to admit; I’m not. “The only thing I was worried about was getting a swift kick to the face.”
“Oh, no!” Lu-Anne’s cheeks flame up. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? Do you need ice? A steak?”
“I’m good. I just like teasing you.”
“Well,” Lu-Anne huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “Would you also like to carry me back upstairs? Or turn around and go first. I won’t be able to live it down if you watch me go up. This apron doesn’t extend to the back.”
“I’ll be a gentleman and do whichever option makes you more comfortable. Although I must say, I’ve really liked everything I’ve seen so far.”
“Stop.” She saunters over and lightly smacks me on the shoulder, a playful expression on her face.
“I was only half kidding about that one. I really have liked everything I’ve seen.”
“Thanks,” she mutters. “I’ve liked everything I’ve seen on you too.”
“So, you’re sure you don’t want me to leave?”
“You’re sure you don’t need a steak for your jaw?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then,” she whispers, breaking into a soft smile. “I’d like you to carry me back up to my room and continue what we started.”
“That was just the start for you?”
“Wasn’t it just the start for you too?”
Lu-Anne lets out a little squeal as I scoop her up. She’s right about the apron not covering much, but I don’t comment on how good she feels in my arms because I don’t want to embarrass her. I just savor the silken feel of her thighs where I have one hand, and the smooth, softness of her back, where I have the other. She wraps her hands around my neck and leans in, so I get a whiff of her sweet-smelling hair. Let’s just say I take those stairs in a real hurry. I think, by the time I got Lu-Anne back onto her bed and that apron off her, I might have broken an actual record or maybe even surpassed the speed of light.
It’s been a good long time since I did anything that could be termed intimacy with another person. I want to take things slow, but the second our lips touch, the fire that consumed both of us before is back up and roaring. A gas can dumped onto the blaze style roaring.
“I want these off,” she moans against my mouth as her hands tug at the waistband of my boxers. I’m on top of her, doing the best I can to support myself with both arms, so I don’t crush her. Apparently, now that the spider danger has passed, the last thing on her mind is settling into a lackluster pace.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She nods hard.
“Do you have a condom?”
“Yeah. Top drawer of the nightstand. It’s been a while.” She turns her head to the side after she says that, and I kiss her chin by mistake. I wait for her to look back at me before I place a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose.
“I was just thinking the same thing. So I apologize if this performance doesn’t last as long as you’d like or expect it to. If you have more than one condom in that drawer, I promise I’m up for repeat performances, should you desire an encore.”
Lu-Anne giggles. “You’re kind of a funny one, aren’t you?”
“Funny ha-ha or just funny?”
She scrunches up her nose. “Maybe both?”
I’m about to think of something funny ha-ha to tease her with, some witty remark or a joke or something, but Lu-Anne’s hand dives beneath the waistband of my boxers and wraps around my throbbing erection, and pretty much all coherent thoughts fly out the window.
She strokes me confidently, running her hand down the length of me, over the tip, and back. I rock forward into her hand, roll my hips on instinct, and let out a low growl. I didn’t think anything could ever feel this good.
“I want this inside of me. Deep inside of me,” Lu-Anne whispers up at me.
It takes all my control not to come in her hand right as she says those words. Her hand keeps working me as if she knows just how I like to be touched. She skims her fingertip over the head, which is now leaking precum and making a wet stain against the fabric of my boxers.
“I thought we could go slow. Take our time…”
“Slow?” She laughs. “I don’t want slow. I don’t need foreplay. I’m seriously ready, and if you wait any longer, I might have a serious combustion issue.”
