I have what he calls piano hands: long, slender fingers and narrow wrists. So his hands, which are athlete-style large, make mine look even more delicate than usual. And he really, really loves my hands on him. With his fingers between mine, he guides my strokes, moving slowly, unhurried despite what’s going on beyond the door of this bedroom.
His gaze shifts from our hands to my face and back down. His forearm is taut, the veins bulging, looking like baby snakes writhing under his skin. The arm porn is out of this world, and while I can’t wait to have his hands on me, watching him like this, seeing the way he reacts to my touch, is a heady, empowering feeling. One I’m going to miss.
He’s still cupping my cheek with the other hand, and his fingers glide along the edge of my jaw, slipping into my hair, anchoring there. His mouth finds mine again, hungrier this time, and his slow strokes falter. He squeezes his hand around mine.
“I need you, Hanna,” he groans into my mouth. “Naked.”
“Same,” I mutter, then smile a little. All this time spent with twenty-somethings means I’ve adopted some of their lazy language habits.
He untwines our fingers and goes to work on unzipping my dress. If I’d had time and a plan, I would not be wearing Spanx right now. I’d expected to have time to freshen up, maybe put on something sexy before we ended up in bed together at the end of the night. But I didn’t expect him to come looking for me. And maybe I should have, because he’s always in tune with how I’m feeling.
He carefully slips the straps over my shoulders, but there’s double-sided tape keeping my bodysuit fixed to the dress. Nothing is worse than your bra strap peeking out. “Hold on, I’ll get it.”
Jake steps back, and while I peel the tape free, he loses his shoes, socks, pants, and boxers. The pants get hung over the arm of the chair and my dress goes carefully on top.
While he’s distracted, I peel myself out of my bodysuit. On the upside, I wore the lacy, pale pink one, so it’s not nearly as unattractive as the other, plain, skin-toned one I own.
His eyes roam over me in a hot sweep and then we’re back to kissing, skin to skin, hands caressing. Hunger and desire take over, and he walks me backward to the bed, lifting me onto the edge of the mattress. He runs his hands up my thighs, and I open, allowing him to step between them. The head of his erection bumps against my stomach, close to my navel.
I drag myself backward so I’m in the center of the bed and Jake climbs up after me, settling into the cradle of my hips. The smooth, hard length rubs against my clit, and every muscle below the waist clenches deliciously. I need this, him, this connection and distraction from everything else.
Jake’s mouth descends on mine again and he rocks against me, the head sliding across my sensitive skin, hot and hard and oh-so-stimulating. I roll my hips in time with him, creating decadent friction that sends little jolts of pleasure zinging through me.
He nips along the edge of my jaw and nibbles my earlobe, his voice a low growly-whisper. “I want to taste you.”
I don’t really process his words. Not at first. He starts kissing his way down to my breasts, his stubbled chin scraping over my nipple, sending a wave of heat flashing through me. His tongue circles the taut flesh, lips closing over it, applying suction before his teeth graze the tip. He gives my other breast the same attention before moving lower.
Which is when his words finally register.
Jake is gloriously gifted in all aspects of the bedroom, and particularly talented with his tongue. And I’m eternally grateful that I took advantage of the spa day with the girls and treated myself to the complete works in the pampering department, including a Brazilian wax. I’m smooth as smooth can be below the waist.
“Do we really have time for that?” Even as I ask, I grab a pillow and shove it under my head, carefully arranging my hair so I don’t mess it up and also don’t have to strain my neck as Jake kisses and nips his way past my navel.
He looks up at me, eyes dark and hooded with lust, the right side of his mouth turning up with a smirk. “There’s always time for kitty snacks.”
I laugh at how cheesy he is, and then groan as he turns his head and parts his lips, biting the skin on my inner thigh, and then sucking. Not hard, but with the promise of what’s to come.
He doesn’t go for the kill. Not right away. And as much as I just want him to lick me, I always appreciate the teasing. He nibbles and kisses and then finally, finally, I feel the warm wet of his tongue as it strokes up my center.