Page 16

“Oh, I do. I miss a ton. But I don’t want to miss anything about this.”

I need to take off my sweatshirt. I don’t have anything sexy on, but I’m getting hot and the shirt is definitely in the way. As I raise my arms to get it over my head, Joe’s hands fly to my sides. I feel momentarily self-conscious. I am not thin by any stretch of imagination. I have padding all over, some of it spilling out of my bra on my back and my sides, and a muffin top riding the elastic of my yoga pants. Jake often hinted he’d prefer me to be thinner, and even though he was never particularly mean about it, we both tacitly agreed my fat was a flaw, something that he loved me in spite of and definitely not because of.

I stay like that for a long moment, sitting on Joe’s lap, my head and raised arms tangled inside the infernal sweatshirt. I can’t see anything and I just focus on the feel of Joe’s hands running up and down the not-exactly-smooth path between my armpits and hips, pressing his fingers into my flesh, probing, squeezing. There is tension in his thighs underneath me, and I feel the growing bulge at the apex of my thighs.

He grabs the hem of my cotton t-shirt, pulls it up all the way to my armpits, and helps me take both garments off. I exhale with relief.

Joe smiles when he finally sees my face again. “There you are,” he says. “I thought you’d keep hiding inside that sweatshirt.”

Suddenly, I feel very self-conscious. I am in a bra and yoga pants on his lap, and it’s not a nice bra, it’s not a sexy bra, it’s one of my workhorse, used-to-be-pink-before-it-was-washed-a-million-times, comfortable-but-definitely-not-perky-boob-making cotton bra.

Joe’s mouth hangs open as he runs one palm over the swell of my breasts. He cups both tits from below, as if he’s testing their weight, then squeezes them gently. His hands rove along my sides again, all over my shoulders, down my arms, kneading along the way. “Look at you,” he says. “Just fucking look at you.”

I smile at his words, and a knot of self-conscious worry loosens in my gut.

He leans forward and his arms go around my back to work on my bra. It takes him a second, but when he finally pushes it down my shoulders, he looks like he’s seen heaven.

“Fuck. Me,” he says. “Jesus Christ. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” he says, and his expression matches it. His gaze sears everything in its path as his eyes move over my face, hair, shoulders, breasts. He runs the hands up and down my arms in a soothing manner, but I can tell he’s trying really hard not to just go for my tits.

I giggle. “You can dive in if you want.”

“Boy, do I want,” he says with a relieved exhale, and buries his face between my breasts, pushing them up from the sides. His head does a little shake, nose moving between the globes, as his thumbs tease my nipples. His hands are huge but my tits still spill out. “I’m sorry if I seem like I’ve never seen a naked woman before,” he says, “but you’ve got magnificent tits.”

I chuckle. I’ve always thought my breasts are only okay. Sure, they are large, the kind of large for which the only proper support is ugly, expensive, and intricately constructed by people with advanced degrees in structural engineering. They’re not pretty or round or perky. They can look good when squeezed into a nice bra that’s all form and no function, and I often wore such bras when I had sex with Jake. He was very much into lingerie that wasn’t meant for my ample flesh.

But Joe is completely fascinated by my tits. He takes as much of my right one into his mouth as he can and sucks while thumbing my left nipple, and it all feels amazing. Little jolts of electricity shoot straight to my core, and my hips start to rock, tiny thrusts toward the hard, warm bulge in his pants, where I know there will be some friction, some good needed delicious friction to soothe this rising ache.

I stroke his shoulders and arms, stroke his beard, the sides of his head.

Then he grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me down into a kiss. It’s not tentative like the one at the bar—he’s all tongue and teeth and it feels like he’s trying to inhale me. I don’t think I’ve ever provoked this type of a reaction in someone, certainly not in Jake or the boys I dated before, who were all like, yeah, sure, this is nice, but what Joe’s doing is possessive, he is holding my head in a death grip, his other hand squeezing the flesh of my ass, as his tongue pushes into my mouth, insistent and impatient, until I let him all the way in, and this isn’t kissing, I don’t know what it is but he uses his lips and teeth and tongue and it feels like he’s literally fucking my mouth. I feel disoriented, I can’t keep up, this is so different and so new, and my body is revving up, heat coursing through it, my body is saying oh fuck yes this, as Joe holds me plastered tight, so tight against his body.

I push off his chest slightly and he immediately releases me. “You okay?” he asks. His pupils are blown and he sounds winded, but he gently moves aside that infernal strand of hair keeping my face from his view.

I smile. “Yeah. I just want to take off some of your clothes, too.”

He leans back against the sofa and lets me work on his buttons. My hands shake a bit and I curse softly, wondering why he couldn’t have just worn a t-shirt. His hands are balled into fists beside him, pushing against the sofa. I can tell he’s impatient but doesn’t want to get in the way of what I want to do.

“I want to rip them all off, honestly,” I say grumpily. “But it’s a nice shirt and I bet you might want to use it again.” Before it’s completely unbuttoned, I pull it out of his pants and take it off over his head. The shirt is a nice business casual, with a checkered pattern of white and several shades of purple, and I smile when it strikes me he might’ve actually put it on for Vikings fandom reasons.

Underneath he has a white t-shirt, which I take off next. We are both naked from our waists up and I run my hands all over his torso. He’s got broad shoulders and chest, a lot of hair all over, and plenty of padding around the middle. And he looks to die for. He looks like I could dig my fingers into his body wherever I wanted, like I could twist and squeeze and kneed and he wouldn’t mind in the least, so huge, so massive, so fucking man. My pussy clenches because it really really likes the looks of him, loves everything about him. I run my hands over his chest and shoulders, then up his neck, into his beard, before I lean back down and kiss him hard and insistent, my tongue in his mouth and running across his teeth, those magnificent fucking teeth, my tits rubbing against his chest, delicious friction between sensitive nipples and coarse hair, and his arms are all up my back now, squeezing me tight, pressing me down, clawing at me, making me feel like we can’t get close enough, like being skin to skin still isn’t nearly close enough.

I slide my hand between our bodies and rub his cock over his pants, and when he moans into my mouth, low and pained, I can’t think coherent thoughts anymore. There is a faint voice in the back of my mind that says, There’s no going back if you do this, no going back to Jake, ever, but another voice rises and says, Good. All the more reason to do it, but both voices are quickly muffled by the rising heat in my body, my pelvis rocking faster against his cock as his large hands roam all over, squeezing my ass, my thighs, my sides, every bit of my flesh.

He slides his fingers underneath the elastic bands of both my pants and panties, pushes them both off a little bit as he grabs handfuls of my ass with both massive paws while his mouth is on my tits, my neck, my lips while my hands fly all over, trying to feel as much of him as I can.

“You wanna take these off?” he says into my mouth, and tugs at my pants.

I nod and hop off his lap, slide the pants and underwear together down my legs, and pull off my socks last. He looks at me with indescribable reverence, breathing hard, naked from the waist up and looking every bit like a debauched barbarian. He leans forward, grabs my ass, and pulls me toward him until he has me standing between his open thighs. He rubs his hands up and down the side of my legs, goes back up to knead my ass, then licks and kisses my lower belly as I stroke his head. His thumbs dig into my flesh right around where my hip bones would protrude if I were thin enough to have protruding hip bones.

Joe nuzzles my mound and inhales deeply, emitting a rumble of deep satisfaction. He slides two fingers down, toward my pussy, back and forth, then makes small circles around the clit, until he’s got my front mapped out to his satisfaction, which I know because he grunts in approval as my legs start to tremble. He then ventures further and probes around the opening, first small, light circles around the rim, then slowly pushes two fingers inside, and I let out a moan because it’s such a relief to finally feel him where I need him.

“Tell me what you want. What you like,” he says, his voice thick.

I just nod and say, “This feels really good...” My hips rock against his hand that pistons between my slightly parted legs as I stand between his knees.

My hips rock as his hand moves so I keep rubbing forth then back, when he dips into the pussy, and back out, soft squelching sounds emanating with every thrust. I’m very, very wet and we both know it.

“Do you think you can come like this?” he asks.