Текст книги "Dazed"

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 9 страниц)

Chapter 6
Unconditionally

The past six weeks have passed by in a whirlwind. Jagger and I have been spending more than just a lot of time together. We have seamlessly combined our lives. He’s joined my evening yoga classes and sometimes he comes to my morning training sessions. He’s not a morning person though—it’s cute how much he dislikes getting up. He stays with me almost every night, and I have never had sex as much or as often as I do with him—I love every minute of it.

The movie audition has been delayed because of script issues. But regardless, Jagger has kept busy. He picked up a few small modeling jobs and last week he went for a second round of shots to do print for a big fashion house. He’s pretty excited about that. He’s also gone on numerous casting calls. He was offered a small part in a movie that he turned down because he was filming overseas and it would interfere with his audition for No Led Zeppelin. And although I’d like to say I’ve been the one helping him, he’s been helping me as well. Having someone to talk to while I go through my uncle’s belongings has been therapeutic. I’ve found photos, cards, and his complete vinyl. We also found a bunch of old sales reports, some from when Uncle Ian was Avery Wilde’s silent partner and some from Nick Wilde’s days under the Little Red label. I know Avery was very involved in his son’s career so I assume the items just got mixed up in their offices.

Once I told him about Damon and my other half, I stopped talking about work. It wasn’t as interesting as other topics. And sharing an office with Kay has been much more pleasant than I thought it would be. She’s actually really nice and doesn’t seem to have any hidden agendas. She keeps to herself and sometimes even seems nervous. I don’t ask—it’s not my business. But I have shown her all the facets of my job and she seems very appreciative. In fact, with her at the magazine, I’ve been able to come in a little bit later and leave slightly earlier—a win/win for both of us. And a bonus—Damon was really happy with the article we co-wrote about Ivy Taylor and I think he feels comfortable that the magazine is running smoothly—so he hasn’t been around as much.

This year’s Valentine’s Day was the first in a long time I actually had someone to share it with. Jagger bought me two movies. Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and he made me dinner—chicken cacciatore. It was delicious. And over my candlelit table, he also formally asked me if I would be his girlfriend. My pulse raced at the idea of us being exclusive and we never made it to watching the movies that night. But rather, before we had even cleaned up the table, I did something right in my dining room I had done a handful of times in the bedroom with other men, but hated each and every attempt—I took his cock in my mouth. And there was nothing I disliked about it, especially after witnessing his reaction.

* * *

Despite the rumor that nobody walks in Los Angeles in the winter, today Jagger and I spent this first Saturday of March roaming the city. And now I’m coming home with a beautiful red-and-gray-checked scarf around my neck and a monogram bracelet with a snowflake hanging from it. I selected the scarf because it reminded me of him, and Jagger surprised me with the bracelet—telling me it reminded him of the beginning of the movie Through the Looking Glass and the first time we met. When he clasped the bracelet around my wrist, I knew—I knew I loved him.

When we finally pull in the driveway at River and Dahlia’s house, we are both exhausted. They’ve gone for the night to a Lakers game so we decided to hang out here.

He opens my door and just as I clear it, he slams me up against his car. “You look incredibly sexy today,” he murmurs.

My body tingles in every place possible, as the warmth of his breath passes over my mouth. I look down at what I’m wearing. Skinny denim jeans like the ones Dahlia helped me pick out a while ago, a tight gray sweater with one of my grandmother’s glass pendants hanging from my neck, and low, black ankle boots. “Really? In this outfit?”

He cages me in and I can feel his hard cock against my stomach. “It’s not the clothes, it’s the way you move in them.”

I push his hair from his eyes. “Thank you,” I say, not sure how else to answer.

I have to look away to not get lost in his eyes. Of the dozen or so relationships I’ve had so far in my life, no one has ever made me feel as wanted as he does. The sexual chemistry between us frightens me. I’ve never had this kind of connection with anyone. And sometimes, like now, I have to try to get some control.

With my breathing embarrassingly fast, I duck under his arm and head toward the trunk. “Come on. We have a car to unload and dinner to make.”

He gives me a sly smile. “Is that what you want?”

Trying really hard not to run back to him and jump him, I say, “Yes.”

He shrugs and moves my way. “Okay, then use me for my cooking skills, but I expect proper compensation later.”

I swing the totes into his arms and lean in to nip his lip. “You can count on it.”

With bags of groceries in his arms and a huge grin on his face, he waits for me to hit the keypad next to the garage door. As the door rolls open, I study the lean lines of his body and appreciate the way his muscles move holding the bags. Tonight we’re making Fettuccini Alfredo and I know I’ll have to work out extra hard this week after this meal. I don’t get how Jagger stays so thin with what he eats, but he seems to have a good routine down that I have slowly adopted—eat healthy during the week and work out heavily. Then on the weekends eat what you want. We head toward the stairs in the corner of the garage and before we reach them he motions with his chin toward the door that opens into the lower level.

“Why don’t you grab us both a sweatshirt and we’ll watch the sunset before we cook?”

“Sure, I can do that,” I nod and reach above the door to remove the key from the ledge. River and Dahlia keep one above this door and another one on top of the door that leads to the kitchen. I’ve always told them it’s not very safe, but they insist it’s fine.

“I’m not sure where they are, but I think maybe in the closet. And don’t roll your eyes at the mess.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” I laugh.

“And don’t straighten anything out.”

This time I don’t laugh. “How did you know I was thinking that?”

He steps up to the landing and I have to crane my neck to see him. “I can see the gears turning from here,” he says, shooting me a wink that makes my pulse start to race. The sunlight is peaking through a small round window behind him, highlighting the smile he shoots me, and the ache that only subsides from time to time is back. I wonder how much time we have before the Lakers game is over.

Jagger’s things are placed haphazardly around the room, but somehow appear neat. The closet is just about empty. A few dress shirts and slacks hang from it, but nothing else. I spot a bottle of cologne on the dresser—its silver cap and clear liquid draw my attention immediately. I pick it up—Creed Royal Scottish Lavender. I knew his scent included lavender. I squirt a little on my wrist and sniff it. God, it smells of him.

Setting it down, I go about the task of finding sweatshirts. I spot one on the chair in the corner, but I’m not sure if it’s clean or dirty. If I have to, I’ll spray it with cologne and it will be fine. I open a drawer, starting at the bottom because that’s where I keep my own sweatshirts and I find a gray one. Opening the drawer next to it, when I spot something red and thick on the bottom, I remove the t-shirts to get at it. I know he likes it when I wear red, so this will be perfect. But when I see a small square black velvet box lying on top of it, my heart stops. I pick it up with trembling fingers and open it. I quickly close it and just stare.

“Either you’re straightening up or didn’t want to climb the stairs alone,” his smooth voice says from behind me.

The room is closing in on me—his scent is everywhere, his voice is at a distance, his body is so near, but my mind is in freefall. I feel like Alice tumbling through the glass.

“What is this?” I say twisting around. Wondering if it’s for me, but knowing it can’t possibly be. We haven’t even said those three little words to each other yet.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t look at the box, but his eyes convey a sadness that tell its own story. Something cold rushes through my veins as silence fills the room and I start to lose my mind. “Jagger, what is this?”

When he still doesn’t answer, tears blur my eyes. I set the elegant box back down where I found it and without closing the drawer, I stand up and head toward the stairs. Passing him, I leave the room in a daze.

He catches up with me, fast as lightning. He grabs my elbow and turns me around before my foot even hits the hardwood beneath it. “Aerie, let me explain,” he swallows.

I blink at the wistfulness in his eyes and, with my throat having closed up, all I can do is nod. With his hand on my back, my heart beats at an uncontrollable speed, but this time it’s not out of want, it’s out of fear. Fear that the ring is a threat to our relationship. Once we cross the threshold to his room he closes the door. My eyes flicker to the drawer, but it’s no longer open.

He lowers his head to mine. “That box has nothing to do with us.”

“Then tell me why you have an engagement ring in your bottom drawer.”

Pain flashes across his face and he sits down with his hands cradled around his head. When I sit next to him, keeping some distance between us, his eyes snap to mine. “I told you I had a girlfriend when I lived in New York City,” he says.

“Yes, you did. But having a girlfriend is completely different from having a fiancé.”

“She wasn’t my fiancé.”

I knew he had broken up with a girl just before he met River, but he didn’t tell me they were that serious. I feel the red creeping up my neck and spreading across my face as anger courses through me. “But you wanted her to be?”

“Marriage seemed like the next logical step, so I bought the ring. But I never asked her to marry me.”

I close my eyes, trying to suppress that flare of jealousy I know will be ablaze by the time this conversation ends. “Why did the two of you break up if you had plans to ask her to be your wife?”

He clears his throat and tries to take my hand, but I pull it away. “She cheated on me and I broke up with her. I left for Paris shortly after that.”

“So you moved here because of her?”

“Only partly. I moved here for a lot of reasons—life was out of control for me, I felt like I was rushing everywhere, but, yes, she was part of the reason.”

I say nothing as I feel the red spreading up my neck.

“Alice, please don’t be mad over nothing. Because it is nothing.”

Those same tears from earlier prickle my eyes, so I quickly stand up and swipe them away before they can fall.

He bolts up and follows me. Standing near, but not nearly close enough, I can feel his eyes penetrating mine. He tilts my chin to meet his gaze. “Hey, did you hear me? That—” he kicks the drawer “—has nothing to do with us. Nothing.”

I cup his cheeks and look into his eyes. “I know it doesn’t. But why are you holding on to it? Why is it tucked away in your drawer?” And here it is—the flaw I knew he had to have—the imperfection I’ve been waiting to surface.

He twirls his finger around a strand of my hair and something like a magnetic force pulls me to him. “Aerie, I’m not holding onto it for any reason and it’s nothing like you’re thinking. I left New York City in a rush. Then I was staying with my mother before I headed out here. It had become baggage that I had no idea what to do with until now. That’s all it is.”

I’m pretty sure a look of skepticism crosses my face, but I try to crush it. “It must mean something to you—she must mean something to you.”

He steps back and opens the closed drawer, takes the ring out of the box and dashes out of the room. I chase him, trying to keep up. He swings open the door that leads to the lower pool deck and strides across to the railing that overlooks the canyon. The sky is cloudy, but the sun peaks out and casts shadows over his face, masking his expression. He winds his arm like a pitcher and throws the diamond into the dark night yelling, “This is how much she means to me!”

“Stop, are you crazy?” I yell, but by the time I reach him, it’s too late.

“Yes, crazy for you,” he says, pulling me toward him.

And for the second time today I know that I love him. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say in a shaky voice.

“Yes, I did.” He kisses my forehead. “Now can we go make dinner?” He extends his hand and I take it. We head upstairs to the kitchen, opting to eat inside and I make a conscious effort to put the ring out of my mind. But the nagging question of why he was still holding onto it still presses me.

Once we clean up, he rubs his hands together. “Are you ready to watch one of the greatest movies ever made?”

I laugh. “Believe it or not I much prefer romantic comedies to action packed chasers.”

He raises a brow. “Name five romantic comedies that you can’t live without.”

“That’s easy—Along Came Polly, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Because I Said So, Knocked Up, and Jerry Maguire.”

“Well, I’ve seen one: Jerry Maguire.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for you to experience the others.”

He grins at me and pulls me to his chest as he aims the remote toward the TV and hits play. The studio logo fills the screen as we begin our escape into the world of fast cars. Just as the Eclipse tops out and it spins out of control, Jagger bolts up and pauses the movie. I sit up quickly too.

“Did you see that? You know a car never spins out at top speed,” he says.

I blink my eyes and smile. “No, I had no idea.”

“It either reaches a drag limit or hits the engine’s fuel cut off, but never spins out.”

“Why do I think you have an arsenal of mistakes that have been made in films that you could share?”

The front door flies open and Dahlia goes running across the room toward her bedroom.

“Hey, man, everything okay?” Jagger asks River, whose following close behind.

“I think Dahlia ate too many hot dogs at the game,” he calls from the hall.

Jagger looks at me.

I snort and shrug. “She has a tendency to overindulge.”

He hovers over me and softly kisses my lips.

“Do you like going to the games?”

“Me? No. I don’t really like spor—”

He puts his finger to my lips, “Don’t say that. Let me take you to a game and then let’s see what you think. I bet you’ll like it before it’s over.”

My lips curve into a smile. “Okay, sure, why not. But good luck getting me to change my mind.”

He pulls me to my feet. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Chapter 7
Burn

When I think of Silicon Valley, Apple and Microsoft come to mind, or Google and Facebook. Not cattle, olive trees, and grapevines, which is what I’m staring at now.

The day started with a plan to apartment hunt for Jagger. He has decided he’s staying in California, even if he doesn’t get the movie part, so finding his own place is the next logical step—or that’s what I think. For him, this is a means toward no longer invading River and Dahlia’s space. But I know Dahlia doesn’t care—she’s told me she likes having him there. I’d like to think he’s staying partly because of me, but I can’t help but think that it’s because he’s running away from his ex. There seems to be a distance between us since I found the ring. I’m not exactly sure why, but I can’t shake the thought that I’m a rebound.

Last night was the first time since we started dating that we slept together, but didn’t have sex. This morning when we woke up, we lay in bed and talked for a long while. He talked about his parents and I realized that even though I thought the unconventional way in which he was raised didn’t bother him, I might have been wrong. A resentment toward his mother bled through his words, and he quickly changed the subject to my grandmother. Jagger still hadn’t seen her movies and for some reason he wanted to watch them tonight. As we continued to talk, I let yesterday’s events fade away from my thoughts.

Eventually, we rolled out of bed to start our day. Once I was ready, I went upstairs to check on Dahlia, but all was quiet. I left her a note to call me later and told her I hoped she was feeling better. Jagger and I stopped for breakfast, and while Jagger was circling a few apartments to check out in the paper, an ad for a winery caught my eye.

Noticing, he asked, “Have you ever been?”

I shook my head.

And just like that, the apartment hunt was postponed.

* * *

“Did you know the term Silicon Valley was coined by a business man in the early nineteen seventies but it wasn’t until the eighties that the term became widely used?”

I purse my lips and shake my head. I love how he is full of random information. “Please tell me how you know all this stuff—were you a child prodigy?”

His mouth twists. “Nah, when I was younger I had a slight stutter and my therapist recommended reading out loud. So my dad bought this giant set of encyclopedias, and every night I’d randomly flip one open and read out loud to him the two pages it fell open to. I just remember what I read.”

“What else do you know about this part of California?”

He shrugs. “I know the computer companies wiped out the area’s natural vegetation when they invaded it, but have slowly replaced it with new orchards. I know the word silicon comes from the fact that silicon is used in the parts needed to manufacture computers. I know valley refers to the Santa Clara Valley. And that’s about all. But I think I picked all that information up from watching the movie about Bill Gates.” He smirks.

Buzzards circle low overhead as we drive through this majestic part of California. Grapevines meander in the breeze, arcs of water shoot from sprinklers onto fields of crops, and old towns with beautiful churches rush by.

“Are you feeling hungry? Should we stop?” He points to a sign that reads, “Olives and Grapes This Way.”

“Only if you don’t make me try any artichoke bread,” I joke, knocking his knee.

His eyes dart to my hand and he grabs it fast as sin. He brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Fortunately for you, I found it to be just as disgusting as you did, so I can promise you we won’t be tasting that again. Now, olive pâté, that’s fair game.”

I wrinkle my nose and he settles my hand on his thigh—I like it there.

“I saw that,” he says with a grin, as he turns the car to the right and slows down.

“I may stick with the wine half of the sign,” I say in a raspy voice.

The deserted winding canyon road seems to go on for miles before he suddenly pulls the car off to the side.

“Everything okay?” I ask, somewhat alarmed.

With the car in park, he leans over the console and presses his hard body against mine. His soft lips kiss along the tender skin of my neck and once they find my lips, our tongues entwine in the most erotic dance. Breathless, he sits back in his seat. “Everything is fine. I just realized I hadn’t kissed you in a while.”

I touch my fingers to my burning lips as the ache that erupted in my body moments ago centralizes in one place. I look around at the vast nothingness that surrounds us and wonder if it’s really possible to have sex in a car. But he’s back on the road before I can suggest the possibility.

The town is quaint—bed and breakfasts, boutiques, and restaurants line the street. He parallel parks between an old dented pickup truck and a shiny black Mercedes. The flower-and-cactus-filled Spanish-style patio of the restaurant is full, but we decide to wait for an outdoor table. Once we’re seated, we order margaritas—one classic and one apricot. After a quick glance at the menu, he looks up.

“The Puebla-style chicken is cooked over a red oak fire. What do you say we both try that?”

My eyes zero in on it and the words sausage and bananas make my stomach turn. “Did you read what it’s made with?”

“Yes, the splash of sherry sold me.”

I roll my eyes. “You are attracted to the foods with alcohol with them.”

“No, I’m attracted to what’s good,” he growls in my ear, setting my already heated body aflame.

Since grilled salmon isn’t on the menu, I concede and decide to try it.

Once we’ve eaten, we spend the afternoon browsing the shops. One shop sells intensely flavored, Tuscan-style oils. Jagger lifts a small piece of bread dipped in oil to my mouth. “Just try this. I promise it’s delicious.”

I take a very small bite and the pepper infused in it has a bite that only leaves me wanting more. I take the cup from his hand and a small piece of bread from the basket on the table. “I’ll finish that,” I say.

His sly grin curves up wider. “I told you you’d like it. I know what you like.”

His words grab me and again that feeling overtakes me—the feeling that I know I love this man.

At the end of the old-fashioned street is a small winery—like the one I saw in the ad. A sign above the door reads, “Rhônes.” A bell jingles as Jagger swings open the door. I look up at the scruff on his face and graze my hand down it as I pass by. The small room is filled with people and wine—red at one end and white at the other. Upon passing through the second door, we approach a long narrow set of rickety stairs. Jagger laces his fingers in mine and keeps hold of me with his strong grip, as his orange shoelaces guide our way down. When we enter the wine cellar, Jagger pays the admission and is handed a small clipboard with a list of wines and a pencil. I’m immediately drawn to the word organic and stop at the table labeled “Côtes de Tablas.” Open bottles of wine line the table with small, already poured glasses surrounding them. We each take a glass and sip it. The wine is a dark red, rich, balanced, and delicious.

I crane my head back as he stands beside me. “Rhône style wines are my favorite.”

He tastes his sample again. “It’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” I say in mock exasperation.

Impersonating the customer who was just minutes ago standing in front of us, he describes the attributes he likes about it in a deep stern voice. “It’s extremely juicy and the taste reflects the lime-stone rich soil . . .”

I kick his shin with the heel of my shoe. “Stop it,” I whisper.

He sets his cup down and his hands are on my hips. “What? I’m just commenting on the wine. I thought you liked it when I recite random facts.”

His warm breath cascades down my cheek and I lean my head against his shoulder. “I do, but only when they’re yours.”

Clutching my hip bones tighter, he says, “I don’t know any random facts about wines.”

I escape his embrace, as my need for him turns painful, and grab his hand. “Come on, then, let’s go learn some.”

Two hours and way too much wine later, we are at our final tasting. Our clipboard is loaded with at least a dozen selections for purchase and we are sampling the whitest of whites.

“Mmmm . . . sweet and delicious,” I say, maybe a little too provocatively for being in a public place.

His hands are around my waist, and when he doesn’t drop his grip to taste it, I swivel my hips and put the glass to his lips. He bends down, “Mmmm . . . sweet and delicious just like you.”

His accent is much more noticeable with alcohol in his system. When he dips the tip of his tongue in my ear and pulls me against him, I gasp. His hard cock presses into my back. The room is dark and crowded and I wish we were alone.

“Pour another glass,” he commands, as he pulls out the clip holding my hair up. His accent is so sexy right now, my body quivers.

His hand skims the front of my pants and my eyes instantly pop open. I look around but no one is paying any attention to us. His fingers tease the inside of my thighs and it feels incredible. As he starts to move up, closer to my clit, I push away.

“I have to use the restroom,” I whisper, my pulse throbbing at all points in my body, and I rush away, knowing that if I hadn’t, I would have come here, in the middle of a wine cellar.

When I return, he has paid for the wine and is thanking the sales clerk for having the items delivered.

As we make our way up the creaky staircase, my heart is still pounding from his touch and I know I’m going to ask him if it’s even possible to consider having sex in his small car. But it turns out I don’t have to say anything. As soon as we open the door and walk into the blinding light, he has me caged against the cool brick building. I feel the wool of my sweater snag, but don’t care once his mouth finds mine. Soft, cool, sweet, I can’t help but lick the flavor from his lips.

When we pull away, he has the look on his face that he wore yesterday when I left him in the doorway to his bedroom. I notice his jaw tighten before it relaxes.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

He cups both my cheeks. “I love you, Aerie.”

I take a deep breath and my heart pounds in my ears. There’s a slight possibility I may be hyperventilating. I exhale and fasten my eyes to his. “I love you, too.”

Never have I known what real love is—until now.

He leans his forehead to mine and we stay like this for a long while. Then he pulls back and the corners of his mouth tip up and his hooded eyes sparkle.

“How far away is your car?” I ask, still breathless.

“Why?” he says, his eyes gleaming.

“Because I want you right now.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? To have sex in a car?”

“What I’m sure of is that I want you to make love to me.”

He slides his hands down my arms and circles my wrists with his fingers. “Well good thing I asked the sales clerk downstairs to call and get us a room right down the road.”

He laces his fingers through mine as we dash in the direction of the hotel. Close to the shaded town square, it’s a stone building with vines creeping up it. As we walk under the sign that reads, “Hotel Cheval,” we enter a sophisticated room. Jagger checks us in and I glance around—an outdoor stone fireplace, a library, a Parisian-inspired bar—all alluring and intimate. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be naked on those surfaces with his cock or his tongue bringing me to orgasm.

“Alice, are you in wonderland?” He chuckles stroking his thumb over my cheek.

I blink myself out of my daze. “What?”

“Come with me.” He grins and takes my hand to lead us down the hall to our room. Opening the door, the space is stylish and classic at the same time. Light colored linens in corals and tans adorn it—it’s clean looking with an edge. But that’s not why I’m not preoccupied with the idea of bed bugs like I usually am at a hotel. No, it’s because he’s here with me and there is nothing that can distract me from him.

I rarely drink, so the wine has left me feeling really good and uninhibited. I know he’s also had a good amount of wine and his senses are just as impaired, or rather, heightened. I walk ahead of him. “Stay there.”

I pull my sweater off and let it fall to the ground. I can feel his eyes on me as I move toward the bed and seconds later drop my bra. When I kick my red heels off and unzip my pants he watches me intently.

“Put those back on once you’re undressed,” he breathes.

I smile to myself as I pull my legs out of my jeans, but leave on my white silk panties. I wedge my foot back in my shoe and bend backward to hook my heel into it.

“Everything first.” His deep voice sends a shiver through me.

I still can’t see him, which makes this so much easier. I turn around as I step out of my shoe for the second time. He’s leaning against the wall and as I turn he licks his lips. He has lust and want written all over his face and that’s all I need to see to set my soul on fire. There’s something so empowering about knowing he wants me as much as I want him. And I want tonight to be a night he’ll never forget.

His eyes pin me as I slide my panties over my thighs and let them drop before stepping out of them and back into my shoes.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Sauntering up to him, I notice his lips are slightly parted and his eyes hooded. He smells incredibly sexy and I can’t help but run my nose down his neck, stopping to suck in a few places along the way. I’ve never given anyone a hickey and right now I really want to. He doesn’t say I can’t so I give it a try. His hands are at my hips and his fingers are splayed across my ass. I run my hands under his shirt and it bunches at the top as my lips follow the same path. I notice he’s watching me with a predatory look as I pull his plain, white long-sleeved tee over his head.

He pulls me tight against him and my nipples harden instantly at the contact.

His teeth skim the shell of my ear. “Tell me what you want first.”

My stomach flutters. “Whatever you want,” I say, trying not to sound too breathy.

“I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you right now. What were you thinking about in the lobby?”

I lean back and look at him—the connection we share is so powerful, I am not the least bit ashamed to tell him what my thoughts were. “About you making me come, about your face between my legs and your cock inside me.”

He tilts my chin to look at him. “I can’t wait to fuck you with my tongue and my cock. But can you do something for me?”

I nod, completely turned on by his words and the thought of what’s to come—I think I’d agree to anything.

“Can you let your need for control go, for just this one night?”

I swallow and stare back into his eyes for the longest time before answering. “Yes.”

He grins. “And leave your shoes on.”

I smirk.

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know,” I answer, as my hands move to his pants and unbutton them. I’ve been waiting to hold his full, thick cock in my hand for way too long.

He kicks his boots off and I quickly help him slide the denim down his legs and then follow with his boxers. He stands gloriously naked before me and the minute his cock springs free, I wrap my palm around it. With my other hand roaming his body, and both of his roaming mine, he moves us toward the bed. He tugs the bedspread off and pats his hand against the pillow.

“Lay here and keep your hands gripped to this,” he says pointing to the top of the wooden headboard.

As I lie on the bed and grip the headboard, I place my legs as wide apart as I can in anticipation of what’s to come. When his lips find my mouth and slide down my neck, he sucks in one spot for a few short moments. When he stops I can feel the vibration of laughter dance across my skin. “Now we can have matching hickeys,” he murmurs and my body begins to shake with laughter as well, but it quickly stops when his teeth graze my nipple.