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“Come here.”
I sit on his knee, his hand warming my waist.
“We’re not going to make love tonight, but not because I don’t want to. Your mental health is more important than my wants. I’m between a rock and a hard place here, and I hope you understand that. I don’t want to do more than you can handle, but I don’t want you to think I’m holding back because of what those bastards did to you. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only you and me. This is a clean slate. There’s nothing before the day we met on the sidewalk outside your building.”
His words bring me to tears. They were exactly what I needed to hear, I just didn’t know it.
“Thank you.” I press myself against his chest, rub my lips under his jaw, and whisper kisses down his neck. Fluttering my fingertips over his nipples and abs, I stop when I reach the waist of his pants.
He hisses out a breath.
His reaction is intoxicating, but I’ll always have mixed feelings about having power over someone else. I love how he responds to me, but even now I feel guilty. I’m not ready to deliver one hundred percent on what foreplay should lead up to.
“I know what’s going through your brain. I’m an adult and I can control myself. Zarah, we can have fun.”
“Okay, I’m sor—”
He cuts me off, covering my mouth with his. He tangles his fingers in my hair, and I whimper. This is what I imagined seduction could be. Two people desperately in love, hungry for each other.
I break the kiss, and woozy, I gasp for air.
His chuckle is low and sexy. “Can I take your stockings off?”
“Yes.” I stagger to my feet, and he flicks the snaps open. Kneeling on the floor, he slides the silk down my leg. His touch zaps all of my nerve endings and I twist my fingers in his hair to touch him as much as to steady myself. “Gage.”
“Shh.” He reaches my ankle and I lift my foot allowing him to slide the scrap of material over my toes. He throws it aside, though the weightless piece of fabric doesn’t go far. Meeting my eyes, he deliberately unsnaps the other leg. I blink and swallow. Inch by inch, he rolls the silk down, kissing everywhere his fingers touch. Heat pools in my belly.
I try not to think where he learned all his moves. His sexual history is more extensive, and definitely more positive than mine has been. Now would be a good time to talk about STDs and birth control and all the rest, but I can’t say anything. I’m being irresponsible, but I don’t want to break the spell for something so clinical.
He does it for me.
“I know you want to mess around and experiment, and we’ll only do what you’re comfortable with. I don’t have any diseases and I haven’t had sex in over a year.” I open my mouth to ask about the barista, but he reads my mind. “Even Sierra. I don’t want to do this if you’re too scared to tell me what you want...and what you don’t.”
“Use my words.”
“Yes. You’ll have fun if we keep communication open, and I want it to be fun for you, sweetheart. Have a good time. Get toknow me.” Gage stands and presses my hand to his cock. I can feel the heat through his tuxedo pants.
“You’re big.” I voice the fears I’ve been thinking about since the night we made out on his couch.
“I’ve never hurt a woman because of my size,” he says, surging against my hand.
I trust that he’s telling me the truth. “Okay.”
He pushes his pants to the floor, and they crumple near my dress. “Will you lie with me?”
I nod, sit on the edge of the bed, and scoot toward the headboard. I’m aware of every movement, every ungraceful thing I do.
My head isn’t quite on a pillow when he lies next to me on his side. Propping himself up on his arm, he plays with the lace of my bra before leaning over to kiss me, partially covering my body. His skin is blazing hot, and I want more. I rest my leg on his hip, and our bodies meld together.
He brushes a hand down my back, and he cups my butt, pulling me toward him even more. His cock is hard between us. I have to remember to use my hands, too, and my fingers roam over every inch of his hard body I can reach. Gage’s kisses are light, but there’s an urgency hidden under the softness and I can tell he’s reining in his emotions. Our tongues tangle together, and losing some inhibitions, I wiggle even closer and explore his mouth. He tastes spicy, the flavors from our dinner gone, and I savor his passion for me.
He pushes me back until he’s lying on top of me, but not suffocating. That’s important. I can’t feel trapped or I’ll panic, and I don’t. I don’t feel anything but love and trust. He moves his mouth down my jaw, to my shoulder, and to my breasts. My nipples are hard, and he nudges the lace away.
“You are so gorgeous,” he whispers before licking the delicate skin. His hot tongue hardens them even more, and the sensationtravels to my core. My panties are sopping wet now, and the scent of arousal permeates the heavy air. My stomach trembles, but I control it. The musky scent of sex won’t always be dirty. It won’t always symbolize pain and shame. It can mean desire and love.
He sucks my other nipple into his mouth, and I arch into him, needing more even as I fear it. With a final lick, he moves down to my belly, his tongue blazing as he delves into my navel. I laugh. It’s such an unsexy place for a kiss. He chuckles against my skin and his fingers dip into my panties. “Zarah, I want to taste you.”
“No one has before.” I’m nervous. Not that he’ll hurt me, but because he won’t like how I smell or how I’ll taste. It can’t taste good to a man, can it?