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“Something is holding you back,” I noted.
He tipped his head to the side, his eyes roaming over my face. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“How could you?”
“It’s been months, baby. I’m not sure how long I’ll last,” he confessed.
This wasn’t about Johnny not wanting me. This was about him wanting me so much and wanting this to be great for the both of us. I didn’t care what happened or how long it lasted.
“It’s been months for me, too,” I told him.
“I want to take care of you first,” he said.
“I want us to do this together,” I shared.
He was struggling with this, but I didn’t want to concede. “Johnny, please. This is important to me. I don’t care how long it lasts. We’ve got all night, and I’m sure before the night is over, you’ll make certain that I’m not left unsatisfied. Multiple times.”
Apparently, that was all the encouragement Johnny needed. Because the next thing I knew, he lifted me in his arms and carried me into the bedroom I’d been staying in since we started this trip.
Johnny set me down on my feet beside the bed, placed his hands on my shoulders, and turned me around. Then I felt his hands slowly lowering the zipper on the back of my dress.
He made it to the bottom, brought his hands to the fabric at my shoulders, and little by little began sliding it down my arms. When the dress pooled at my feet, he turned me around to face him again.
His eyes roamed over my body. “God, torture. Seeing you in a bikini all day or dressed up in the evenings. I’ve missed you so much, Kiera.”
“Me, too,” I said softly, my hands working to unbutton his shirt.
Seemingly content to move at a slow pace, Johnny didn’t rush things by helping me with his shirt. He gave me the time I needed to open each button and pull the shirt off his body. Once it was gone, I stepped forward, pressed my lips to the skin on his chest, and brought my hands between us to work at his belt. Johnny’s hand went to the middle of my back, where he expertly unfastened my bra. After I’d gotten his zipper down, I pulled my mouth away from his chest and pushed his pants down his body. His movements were unhurried as his fingers slipped beneath the straps of my bra and guided them down my arms.
When we were both there in nothing but our underwear, Johnny croaked, “Fuck, it’s like seeing you for the first time.”
Smiling, I asked, “Do you like what you see?”
He tore his attention away from my breasts, looked me in the eyes, and deadpanned, “I love every inch.”
Before I knew what was happening, I was on my back in the bed, and Johnny’s hands were at my hips, pulling my thong down my legs. He tossed it aside, removed my shoes, and got rid of his own underwear.
For the first time in months, I saw his cock. Not that there had been any question about it before, but he was clearly ready for what was ahead.
My mouth watered at the sight of his naked body, and my fingers itched to touch him. It had definitely been too long.
Long moments of silence passed. Johnny was up on his knees, looking down at me, and there was no missing the adoration in his expression.
“Honey, please,” I begged quietly.
His eyes shot to mine. Lowering his body onto mine, his mouth inches away from my lips, he whispered, “I missed hearing you call me that.”
“I’ve missed everything about you,” I returned.
“Maybe we should make up for lost time,” he suggested.
I smiled against his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we should do that.”
That was all it took.
Johnny captured my mouth with his, rolled us so that he was on his back, and allowed his hands to start exploring. They were on my back and in my hair. They went to my hips and my thighs. He settled them on my ass and slipped them between our bodies to touch my breasts.
We rolled to one side, our mouths remaining connected as both of us used our hands to explore.
