Page 28 of Finding Mr. July

W ith a firm grip on my waist, Jonathan pushes me back toward the piano keys, a move that lets out a dissonant jumble of notes.

He buries his face against my stomach, his breath hot through my top.

My fingers are already nestled in his hair, and when he starts kissing his way up to where the V neckline meets my sternum and reaches bare skin, I tug at it out of pure elation.

He looks up at me, his gaze hooded with want. I caress the side of his face and his jaw, keeping his head tilted back so I can commit every angle and curve of his features to memory the way I’ve promised myself I would.

He strokes down my hips and thighs, hooking his fingers under the hem of my skirt and yanking it upward to more atonal accompaniment. I gasp and then wiggle to allow the fabric’s ascent up my legs.

“Was this part of the song?” I ask, my voice breathy but steadier than I thought it would be.

He looks down, letting his whole palm caress the inside of my bare thigh from where my legs meet down toward my knee. He kneads the skin there briefly before running his knuckles up my other thigh, stopping short of where a flood of warmth is currently making it difficult for me to stay still.

“No, I’ve decided to add a new verse. It’s goes like this.” His thumbnail traces the hemline of my panties up toward my hip, and then he stands, molding himself to me as his hand grips my bunched skirt.

I push off the keys as best I can to reach his mouth, devouring it in a frantic kiss that I hope reflects exactly what I think about his improvisation skills. Such a gifted musician.

He slides a palm under the fabric covering my ass to press us even closer. Hikes my leg up for a moment. He’s hard and straining against his jeans, and I grind against him without shame while sucking his lower lip in between my teeth. This has been a long time coming. No pun intended.

“Phones on mute, right?” Jonathan murmurs against my neck. His touch is growing greedier by the second, roaming anywhere and everywhere all at once. Leave it to a piano player to span every octave of my body in less than a count of four.

“I turned mine off on the way here,” I pant as he caresses my top off my shoulders and down my arms, sending it to join my skirt at my waist.

“Smart,” he says, leaning back in seeming confusion. “No bra?”

“It would show under this top.”

Satisfied with the answer, he returns his full attention to my chest, grazing soft thumb pads across my nipples.

He grunts deep in his throat when they tighten further.

When he ends with a cheeky pinch, it sends a flash of lightning straight to my sex that makes my hips jerk toward him.

I try to kiss him again, but he captures my face in his hands and holds me still, scanning my flushed skin as if searching for something hidden beneath it.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks. “If it makes things too complicated, I…”

“I can handle complicated,” I say in a rush. “We need this. Or at least I do.”

My assurance settles it.

“Hell yeah, we do.” His lips crash to mine as he lifts me up.

I wrap my legs around him and cling to his shoulders as he maneuvers us out from the tight space between the piano and bench and toward the stairs. This need is new to me, an edgy seasoning to a dish that’s already appetizing. I can’t get enough.

Jonathan makes as if he’s about to carry me upstairs, but I have no patience for that.

“I’ll walk. It’s faster,” I say in a rush as I release the grip my thighs have on him and slide off his body. In response to his approving grin, I grip the front of his sweater and pull him forward and up in a stumbling dash to get to his bedroom.

We’re both breathing heavily as he spins my back to the wall outside his door. He dives for my breasts, licking and stroking, before coming up for another breathless helping of my lips.

I tug at his sweater in an attempt to get it over his head. He retreats only long enough to help, and then he’s on me again. His skin is a hot novelty against mine, and I can’t help but dig my nails into his back to get him closer.

“I need to taste you,” he murmurs near my ear as one of his hands finds its way down between my legs. “All of you. Please.”

I jolt at his touch, my head tipping back. “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, please.”

He picks me up again, and seconds later, I’m surrounded by pillows on his bed. I try to sit up, reaching for his belt, but he prompts me back down and undoes it himself. His jeans and boxers are soon around his ankles and… there he is. Jonathan Summers in the nude.

I prop myself up on my elbows for a front-row seat to the show as he kicks his clothes to the side and prowls closer. Everything about him is mouthwatering, from the trim muscles to the dark hair smattered across his chest and down the middle of his abdomen to his eager dick.

“Let’s get these off,” he says, crawling over me to pull my shirt up and my skirt down. His hard length drags along the outside of my thigh, making promises I sure hope it can keep.

Once my belly is free of fabric, he runs his palm across it and down over the lace of my panties.

I’m ready for him right now, but he has other ideas as he follows with his mouth and nose, nuzzling into the crook of my hip.

The onslaught of desire coursing through me makes it impossible to stay balanced on my arms any longer, so I collapse onto the bed, closing my eyes to the overwhelming sensation of his breath right where I want it most.

“Fuck,” I moan as he moves my panties to the side and his tongue makes contact. “Stop, I’m going to come. I don’t want to yet.” It’s infuriating how trigger-happy he makes me.

He doesn’t share my concern, though. He lifts his head and looks up at me, his eyes dark and yearning.

“Why not? I want you to feel good.” His strong hands dig into my hips before sliding up to my waist and back.

He kisses the inside of my thigh and then nips the skin with his teeth.

“Don’t you want more?” He runs the back of his finger down my slick crease, pausing there for consent.

My body approves before I have a chance to say anything, my hips moving up to meet his touch. “Yes,” I hiss as his finger enters me and his mouth joins the cause again.

I’m a writhing mess beneath his touch, and soon, I’m too far gone to stop the wave of pleasure crashing over me.

He rides out the tremors with me, murmuring encouraging sentiments against my skin that prolong the ride.

This makes two times he’s gotten me off without asking for anything for himself.

Time for me to make this good for him, too.

“I need you,” I whisper, beckoning him up to me.

He pulls off my panties and covers my body with his, rolling us until I’m on top and he can squeeze my ass to his heart’s content.

He’s so hard against my belly that, to my surprise, a fresh wave of desire makes my core clench.

I push myself up to sitting and look down at him sprawled against the white bedding.

My hands drag across his ribs, up his chest, to his shoulders, and down his arms. Then I lean down and take his lips in a gentler kiss than what we’ve clambered for so far.

I trace the seam of his mouth, satisfied at the huff of air that escapes him when I do.

He opens for me, inviting me in, and together we tangle in a succulent dance of lips, tongues, and teeth until our bodies start moving of their own accord, wanting more.

“I need to be inside you,” Jonathan pants when I sit back up. “You’re so…” He grasps his shaft and tilts his head back. “There are condoms in the nightstand. Please.”

Thank goodness since I left my bag downstairs.

I find one and return to my perch within seconds, my body thrumming with unexpected, renewed appetite.

I bat his hands away and grip his length to roll on the prophylactic, satisfied with how he twitches and strains toward me as I do.

As soon as it’s on, I move up his body, and, supporting myself on his chest, guide him to my opening.

His hands roam from my waist to my breasts and back down as if not sure if he wants to speed this up or enjoy the scenery.

Right then our eyes catch. We’re sweaty, ruffled, and out of breath, but in that moment, something, maybe some intangible connection between us, makes us both smile.

It’s a sort of calm before the storm as he reaches for my cheek, and I kiss his palm.

Then I start to lower myself onto him, and any composure we have left crumbles.

I’ve made do with vibrators for a good long time, so Jonathan inside me is a revelation. Breathing hard, I pause at the base to allow my body to adjust. Jonathan’s fingers dig into my thighs, and I can feel him throbbing inside me.

“Sorry in advance. This will probably be fast and furious,” he grunts. “Damn, you feel good.”

Encouraged by his enthusiasm, I rise up a little and then sit back down. My chin falls to my chest as the tension starts building again. This is very unlike me.

“I’m not kidding, Holly,” Jonathan says, taking hold of my hips to encourage more movement. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on.”

“How about now?” I ask, rising all the way up and coming down fast.

“Ah,” he moans. “Yes. More.”

I repeat the move, and it’s not long before my own need for rhythm takes over any desire to tease, and I begin to ride him in earnest.

“Holy shit,” I pant. “I’m going to come again.”

“Yes, do it,” he says as my body starts trembling.

He holds me seated on top of him, leveraging his hips to keep the motion up as I fall apart for the second time tonight.

But this time, he’s right there with me, grunting out his own climax as I clench and quiver around him.

In a head-spinning move, he flips me onto my back and drives into me once, twice, three more times as if to ensure there’ll be no craving left to satisfy, and then he collapses on top of me, his heart hammering against my chest.

As the aftershocks subside, I gradually become aware of the rumble of the furnace kicking in, the light pattering of raindrops on the roof above us, and the spring-like scent of the sheets surrounding us, mixing with that of warm, satiated bodies.

I run ghosting nails up and down Jonathan’s back that make him shiver and nip at my throat, which is where he currently rests his head.

I giggle but don’t open my eyes, aware that this dreamy state we’re in will be easier to hold on to if I don’t move, don’t look, don’t speak. I don’t even mind his weight crushing me into the mattress. I just want to stay here, in this perfect contentment.

But apparently, Jonathan is a gentleman who prefers his partners being able to breathe, so after a minute, he rolls off me and flips the comforter over our legs.

I shift so we’re facing each other and rest my cheek against my hands.

He reaches for me, tracing the outlines of my features with the tip of his finger while his gaze delves deep into mine.

He exhales with a deep “phew,” his teeth digging into his lower lip. Then he kisses me gently as if wanting to balance the frenzy from before. As soon as the tip of his tongue touches mine, I’m warm all over again, but this time I don’t act on it.

“Are you good?” he asks, tucking his hands under his head, too.

I smile at him. “So good. You?”

He nods. “Will you stay over?”

There’s a sizzle and pop in my belly. “If you want me to.”

He wraps his left arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to his warm body. “Oh, I want you to. If you’re not careful, I might never let you go.” He kisses me on the forehead.

His choice of words causes a brief but sharp sting somewhere in the vicinity of my heart, but I choose to push it aside for now. Instead, I nuzzle my cheek to his chest and close my eyes again. We might need a few hours of sleep, but there will definitely be an encore at some point tonight.