Kissing My Dad's Friend

My mouth goes dry at the promise, just as the elevator doors ding open again. He steps away from me, and cool air floods back in between us, making me ache to be in his arms again. But apparently our night has only just begun. For once, I’ll have plenty of time to enjoy that.

9

Russ’s apartment surprises me. It’s not a penthouse with a crazy view like I might have guessed—like I’m sure my father would have bought, if he didn’t have the wife and kid to think about, the way Russ doesn’t. Instead, Russ’s place is a cool mix of vintage and modern. Exposed brick walls in a huge loft space, with his bed on an open platform above and behind his ultra-sleek and modern looking living room. The kitchen is in another section of the apartment, along with a guest bedroom and a bathroom that looks like something straight off a spaceship, with a huge rain head shower and jets along the walls.

Not to mention a jacuzzi tub…

But I don’t have much time to take it all in. We’re barely inside the door before Russ’s hands find me, sweep under me. I laugh against his chest as he picks me up and carries me toward the steps.

“We’ll save the tour for later,” he says as we start up the stairs. “First, I need to show you my bedroom. Or rather, I need to peel off all of your clothes in it…”

I grin and lean in to kiss his neck softly, before I let my cheek rest against his chest. It never ceases to amaze me what great shape he’s in. The way he can just pick me up like this, as if I weigh nothing at all. I can feel his chest muscles tense against my side, and it only makes me want to peel off his shirt again, to savor his naked body the way I haven’t really been able to since the night we hooked up in my childhood bedroom. And even then, we weren’t totally free to enjoy one another.

“At least here I don’t have to try to stay quiet,” I murmur.

Russ chuckles, and the laugh vibrates through my body as we reach the top of the landing. His bedroom is simple and sleek, too—a huge king size bed with white sheets, one dresser, and a closet of flannels and T-shirts. Like me, Russ rarely dresses up. Though he definitely looks amazing when he does. “Oh, I intend to make sure you can’t be quiet tonight.” Russ’s eyes sparkle with amusement. Then he leans down to lower me onto the bed, following me down, so his warm, strong body hovers over mine.

I arch up against him impatiently, my arms wrapping around his neck to try to draw him toward me. But he resists, and I pout a little, impatient.

He presses a finger to my lips. “I’m taking this slow, Maggie,” he says, in a low voice that makes me shiver.

Then he rolls off of me and reaches down to undo one of my heels. He leans in at the same time, kissing the sensitive skin right at my ankle. I shiver, and he lets the first shoe drop, before he kisses his way up my calf. He switches legs and trails his tongue down the inside of my calf to my other shoe. Undoes that one, slow and steady.

“You sure know how to tease a girl,” I whisper. My breath hitches then, as he slides back up my body to catch the hem of my dress. He teases, running a hand up my inner thigh and back a couple of times before he suddenly flips me over. I gasp, and look back over my shoulder at him as he draws the zipper of my dress down.

“You look hot as hell in this,” he says as he slowly peels the zipper off. “But this dress will look so much better on my floor.”

I feel like my entire body is blushing by the time he has the zipper undone and starts to drag the dress down over my arms. He rolls me back onto my stomach as he pushes the dress off my legs, lets it puddle onto the floor. I reach up, then, and grasp at the buttons on his shirt. He lets me undo them, one at a time, and my eyes widen at the sight of that firm, sculpted chest.

I run my hands from his pecs to his abs, tracing the outline of his muscles. He reaches down, his hands slowly traveling down my stomach to toy with the hem of my panties.

But I reach down and stop him, my eyes dancing. His eyebrows rise in surprise, but he lets me move his hand away from me. “You always get to go first,” I tell him, grinning. “My turn.”