Was it an excellent plan? I mean, probably not. It wasn’t a well-thought-out one, for damn sure. After reliving our first kiss way too much, I was in danger of flashing sultry looks at him while he conducted. If I let my silly fluttery feelings have a say in the matter.
So instead of giving any part of me a say, I was going fully in on my impulses. And that’s how I learned that the thermal shirt that had hugged his pecs during rehearsal was soft like a treasured favorite. And that even without a recent cup of coffee, he still tasted like cinnamon.
And that my prurient teen thoughts about his jeans might not have been so very wrong.
“You want to follow me to my room at the hotel?”
Karl’s voice was gruff. “I walked. Parsley.”
At her name, the dog flipped from drowsing bonelessness to perky attention. We both laughed a little. “So, I can’t lure you to my place?”
He pressed a smiling kiss to my lips, which only set all those flutters to some kind of dance on the currents around us. “Give me a few to take her out, and you can drive us to mine?”
While he clipped on Parsley’s leash, I scrubbed my palms down my thighs. No second-guessing. He knew the parameters, and, besides, my self-appointed mission was to find my passions. Not that a guy was a substitute for a personal passion, but it seemed on the right track for me to explore all this electric joy between us.
Karl took my hand in the dim parking lot. Christmas lights threw an extra-twinkly glow on his face. He tipped his head. Leaned in.
“I want this,” he whispered. “Do you?”
I did. I nodded. “So much.”
The kiss we shared in the dark was so sweet, it made me shiver. I climbed into the car and waited for him to settle the dog in the back. His directions home were easy enough. I’d grown up in Rockport, after all, and his condo was right off one of the main beach roads.
Soon enough we were inside. I got an impression of serenity and comfort; lots of music and lots of overstuffed furniture, a real retreat from the world. But we bypassed the living area in favor of what I expected to be his bedroom.
I laughed when he shut the door and turned on the light. “What’s this?”
The room was crammed with bookcases and armoires and crates full of books and sheet music. An overflowing desk sat under the one window, opposite a futon covered with more blankets than anyone on the Gulf Coast could ever need.
Karl led me there, shoving a quilt aside and drawing me down into a proper little nest of space beside him. “It’s my study. It’s the only room Parsley isn’t allowed in. I thought …”
Whatever he meant to say, I took as encouragement to launch myself at him again. Before long our legs were entangled as we stretched out on the futon, our kisses interspersed with gasps of breathless pleasure as we discovered each other’s sensitivities. The interplay of our hands and tongues and weight and pressure sent a flood of heat to my core. I rocked against his hardness, and, frustrated it wasn’t enough, shifted to straddle one firm thigh.
“Margo.”
Somehow I managed a light kiss to his cheek, even as I ground down on him. “Karl.”
“I want you.”
“That,” I said, yanking off my shirt, “is damn good news. Does Parsley let you keep condoms in here, or what?”
I groaned when he eased me back, taking control of our movement with his hands at my waist. “Margo,” he asked, “are we moving too fast here? I know we said making out, and this …”
“This is not moving fast enough. Quit wasting time.” I undulated to make my point, and he groaned.
“I planned to explore you slowly. I want to do this right.”
I grinned, though my breath was coming in pants. “Okay, Mr. Conductor, you know we’re not at rehearsal now. We can just ravage each other without all the orchestration.”
His eyes glimmered when he smiled. But he stilled the rocking of my hips, like, never mind the erection hard against my core. “I’d like to see you. I’d like to look at you and touch you and kiss you.”
“Right back at you.” I toyed with the hem of his shirt, scraping my nails under the fabric and salivating at bit at the thought of all that warm skin I’d soon have my mouth on.
Then I remembered I wasn’t waiting for his direction, and I unbuttoned his pants. Like that, he had me on my back, and was yanking down my bra straps to release my breasts to his hands.
“Oh, good, yes.” I arched into his touch. “Good plan. Like that.”
“I adore how you make it look so easy to be you. So comfortable in yourself. Like you don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.”
“Oh, I do.” The words came out readily, and I meant every one of them. “Not everyone, not all the time. But you? I want you to see me. I want you to think I’m sexy. I want your desire. I really, really want you to fuck me.”
He groaned, and I thought I was about to get my wish. But instead he dipped his head to suck at my nipple. My skin sizzled. I ground against his thigh again, needing him. He sucked harder. “Karl. Please. Now. Please.”
“Shh.”
He pulled away and pushed himself to his feet. Slowly, because obviously he knew I love-hated the slowness, he stripped off that soft, soft shirt and revealed all the hard and soft planes of his torso.
In return, I tore off my bra and flung it at him. He smiled, the arrogant jerk, and tucked it in his back pocket. “You better have that condom in your other pocket.”
“Patience, Margo. It’s not far. But first these.” He dropped to his knees in front of me and went for my waistband like slowness was his favorite erotic torture device. Before I could think up a complaint, his thumbs were parting my folds and he was trailing biting kisses up the insides of my thighs.
My hips jerked up in a wave of pleasure. “Oh my God.”
“You’re beautiful like this.” He looked up at me, gaze glazed with lust.
“I’m in agony.”
He laughed and nudged my legs wider, and I got the relief I craved. I gasped as he explored every fold of my sex. The way he licked at my clit, the way his fingers delved into my opening, the way his thumb found my tight little nub, slowing and firming the pressure as I directed, drove me over the highest peak of pleasure. My vision darkened. My heart pounded. My chest heaved. I’d flown away to somewhere else entirely, and it took a sec for me to notice Karl again.
He’d lost the pants, and found the condom, and was sitting beside me, legs spread wide, cock jutting, eyes dark and devouring every sweat-slick inch of my skin. And all I could think was I didn’t want any slow or sweet or soft or tender. I wanted his cock inside me, filling me, fast and fierce.
I straddled him, almost shocked by my new surge of energy, and rolled protection down his lovely erection. He palmed my thigh and I took him into me, tight and hot and wild, undulating down inch by inch until our bodies were flush.
Karl’s face was taut. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, gasping, “Christ, Margo.”
Then I rode him, and all he said was my name, over and over, in a plea, a chant, praise and need and wonder.
“Margo,” as he gripped my hip.
“Margo,” as he mouthed at my nipple.
“Margo,” as his thumb traced the now-familiar circle around my clit.
Right as I came again, gripping handfuls of his hair and saying I don’t know what, he flipped us so I was propped back on that nest of blankets. And then there were no other words, just the way he moved in me, hard and fast and deep, like at last he’d figured out about how we should be racing and racing through this fuck, Like he’d realized the sooner we poured all our energy into it, the sooner we could do it again. Like he knew how utterly peaceful it would be, after we came, to lay in the silence, his weight pressed to mine, our hearts beating at each other through our chests.
How we’d be full, and good, and ready for more passion to come our way.