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“I’ve never seen a man look so relieved as that man did when you put your arms around him. Don’t let that bitch get under your skin.” Then she smiled. “Anyway, did you see what Lucky did? He told Lenny he had the situation covered. Wasn’t she pissed!” Junie crowed.
I wasn’t quite at the crowing stage, but I did feel a lot better knowing the other members of the band were onto her and were helping Barrett. The second set was much more enjoyable to watch. I focused on my gorgeous man, soaked up the sound of his deep, gritty voice, and basked in the knowledge that he’d be taking me home that night.
“I waited,” he rasped, his voice gruff, “I bided my time. I gave you space. I was patient, put your needs first,” he grunted roughly, driving up inside me, “I promise you, angel, you have nothing to worry about. I won’t allow anything or anyone to come between us.”
We were on my couch with me straddling his lap, like I imagined, but that’s where my imaginings stopped. He gave me the lead for about three seconds then he had my top off, my bra unhooked and dragged down my arms, arms that he then pinned behind my arched back while he ravished my breasts. I could do nothing but drop my head back and let him take what he wanted, give him what he needed.
Sarah’s play on Barrett had played with my head. My trepidation had a weight and a stench that was unavoidable in the enclosed space of his dark vehicle as we made our way home after drinks with Lenny and Junie. He brought it up, but I cut him off, not wanting to reveal my insecurities. I needed to come to terms with the fact that I was in too deep and assure myself that I would survive it if we fell apart.
Once home, he led me directly to the couch, pulled the blanket off the back and spread it over the seat. He pulled his tee over his head, tossing it aside, and sat back, his hands pulling me forward by my hips. I settled my body over his lap, brushed his hair back from his sweetly rugged face, and kissed him softly, tentatively exploring. He lay still beneath me as I leaned back and trailed my fingers over his face, down his throat, and across his chest to trace the tattoo peaking over his muscled shoulder and winding down his arm, the sharp cuts from the muscles there giving the impression the feathers of the tattooed wing were moving.
There was a great bear done in Celtic style on the front of his bicep, and the wing, the feathers so detailed they seemed almost lifelike, stretched over his back and down his arm, half encircling the bear. A row of initials lined up beneath the bear, and a set of Roman Numerals lined up below those. I traced the lines and curves of his ink, committing his body to memory.
My nerves kicked in just as I leaned forward to kiss him again, the unwelcome thought that Sarah would know exactly what to do invading my brain. I pushed past it and pressed my mouth to his, ran the tip of my tongue along the seam of his lips. His lips parted and he slanted his head to the side taking the kiss deeper.
It was at that point that I realized I didn’t know what to do with my hands. We’d slept together several times and I still didn’t know what he liked. His hands came up off my hips, grasping the edge of my top and whipping it over my head. My bra went next, and I soon found my wrists at my back, encased in his hand, his mouth at my breasts.
I could do nothing but follow his lead and my nerves fell away, my attention drawn to his mouth and what it was doing to the sensitive peaks of my breasts. Releasing my wrists, he stood with me still in his arms and pulled the tie of my dress shorts, letting them fall to the floor. He placed my hands up on his shoulders.
“Keep them there,” he commanded.
He pulled a condom from his jeans’ front pocket and dropped it on the couch, snapped open the button and pushed his jeans and shorts down his muscular legs, his erection bouncing between us. Stepping out of them he pushed them to the side and sat back down on the couch. I followed him down, not taking my hands from his shoulders.
He patted them, teased me gently, “You’re learning.”
I snorted and placed my knees on either side of his lean hips. He shifted, bringing my core in contact with his swollen cock.
“Ah,” I sighed, dragging my core along his hardness, “I missed you.”
“Good.” He clasped his hands around my hips and dragged me over his cock again, spreading my wet. “I missed you, too.”
With one arm guiding the movements of my hips, he threaded the fingers of his other hand through my hair and brought my mouth within a breath of his.
“Make yourself feel good. Rub that gorgeous pussy over my cock as much as you want but do not come.”
I felt my eyes go wide at his words and then they hit me with a ball of heat that started in my womb and undulated upwards through my abdomen, up my chest, and my head fell back into his hand as I reared up over him.
He licked my exposed throat.
“You like dirty words.”
“I like when you say them. I like everything you do,” I admitted.
My brain focused wholly and entirely on the points of contact between us, his fingers digging into my hip, the tension on my hair, his lips and their wanderings, the heat of his hard cock that was now slick with my wet. The quaking tension began to break between my thighs and I suddenly found myself sitting far back on his knees, the cool air an assault on my hungry flesh. I reached down between us and wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked.
“Everything we do,” he rasped, thrusting up into my fist, “we do together. This, what we have between us, is not just because of what I do, it’s you, you’re magic, angel.”
He pulled my wrist away and gave me the condom, then he demanded, “Roll this on me.”
I balanced on his knees, ripped open the package and rolled the condom over his swollen head and smoothed it down over his shaft. No sooner had I finished than he grasped me by my hips and pulled me close, the head of his cock teasing my opening.
“Please…” I gasped.
He placed my hands on his chest and I teased his nipples while he flexed his hips, slowly working his way inside me, hitting every sensitive spot, filling the empty places, all the empty places, I never knew I had.
“Hands,” he gritted out.
I lifted my hands from his chest.
