I swallowed, stunned and slightly embarrassed by my boldness in asking Nate to strip for me. "I mean...if you want to. You don't have to, though. Of course."
His deep blue eyes gleamed in the candlelight, and his mouth twitched with a smile. "Oh, I definitely want to. It would be my pleasure, actually. But first, I want you to sit back and relax. I want you to enjoy yourself."
I did as I was told, kicking off my heels and sinking back into a stack of plush, king-sized pillows at the head of the bed.
With his movements slow and his gaze locked on my eyes, he removed his jacket, tie, and white Oxford shirt, his long, strong fingers lingering on each button. His muscular chest was covered by only a thin white t-shirt, which I wanted to rip off so I could run my fingers over his bare skin. But I knew I had to wait.
Next, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and let them fall in a puddle at his feet, which he stepped out of, one long, muscular leg at a time. My breath hitched in my throat when I saw the outline of his already-erect manhood through the fabric of his boxer briefs. For one thing, I couldn't believe he was already hard just from kissing me and undressing in front of me. And for another, I couldn't believe the size of that hardness. No doubt about it, it seemed exceptionally long and thick. An ache low in my belly that had developed when we'd been kissing intensified, becoming more urgent. I suddenly wanted to feel him inside of me, right then.
But he was committed to his leisurely pace. Standing at the side of the bed, just a couple of feet to the left of me, he slowly peeled off his thin white t-shirt, revealing well-defined shoulders, a chiseled chest and toned abs. Now, the only thing between him and complete nakedness was his boxer briefs, which I wanted to see him take off, immediately.
Realizing the feminine folds between my thighs had become incredibly slick, I inched over on the bed, wanting to get a closer look at the hardness straining against the fabric of his underwear. "Please take them off. I want to see all of you."
With his eyes gleaming in the golden light from the candles on the dresser, he stepped a little closer, positioning his hips directly in a shaft of moonlight slanting in through one of the bedroom windows, which illuminated his manhood. I couldn't help but think it was intentional: he wanted me to see all of him up close. And that thought sent my pulse racing even faster than it already was.
After hooking his thumbs in the sides of his boxer briefs, Nate ever so slowly pulled them down, let them fall to his feet and stepped out of them. My breath caught in my throat. He stood in front of me, his long, thick shaft pointing at the ceiling, the sight making me absolutely desperate to feel him. Even before I realized what I was doing, I extended my hand out and grasped him, moving my hand up and down the rock-hard length a few times, making him groan. The ache low in my belly became nearly unbearable.
"I want you right now, Nate. I can't wait. I need you."
He covered my hand with one of his own to stop my stroking and looked at me with his breathing heavy and eyes glassy. "What you have in your hand right now is just for you...just for your pleasure. And I want you to use it in whatever way will give you the most pleasure."
I was so aroused his words that I made a whimper. I could think of a thousand different ways I wanted to use his manhood to give myself pleasure. But right then, one rose above all the others. My voice came out in a near-whisper.
"I want to ride you."
My words seeming to have the effect of increasing his own arousal, Nate moved his hips, sliding his hardness through my hand, his breath came out in a hiss. "I'd love for you to ride me. But before you do that, I need to make sure you're completely ready."
"Oh, I definitely am. I'm...I think I'm beyond ready."
"But I have to check, though. I have to make sure you're wet and achy enough."
If I became any more wet and achy than I already was, I was pretty sure I'd scream. Or cry. He slid into bed next to me, gently rolled me onto my back and lifted up the front of my short black dress, revealing my swelling womanhood covered only by a scrap of black lace barely big enough to be considered a pair of panties. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, and he slowly pulled the panties down to my thighs.
"Gorgeous. You're absolutely gorgeous."
Panting, I arched my back, desperate to have him touch the aching, throbbing bud at the center of my womanhood. And to my great relief, he began probing my slick feminine folds with his long, strong fingers, soon located my most sensitive spot and began stroking it with a single fingertip, his touch gentle yet firm. I ground my head back into the pillows, crying out.
"Don't stop. Don't stop. Please."
Slightly increasing the pace of his stroking, he moved his mouth to my ear. "I won't. Not yet. Because you're right that you're wet, which I find incredibly beautiful and sexy but I want to make sure you're the wettest you've ever been in your life before you ride. So I want to keep teasing your gorgeous, throbbing pearl just a little while longer."
That was just fine with me. He continued stroking me, making me wetter and wetter, definitely the wettest I'd ever been in my entire life. But before long, he stopped, inserted two fingers inside of me, and began working them in and out with exquisite slowness.
I moaned, clutching the blanket. "Oh, God. Nate."
He spoke near my ear, his voice so low and husky it was barely more than a growling whisper. "So gorgeous. You have no clue how gorgeous you are. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes."
He continued working his fingers in and out of my slickness, periodically kissing and nibbling on my ear, as well as moving his thumb to stroke my throbbing bud. Before long, all the different sensations combined made me squirm and I began to feel myself heading toward climax.
Within a few moments, Nate seemed to sense this and spoke near my ear once again. "Now I think you're ready for riding pleasure."
I panted, the stopping of the movements of his fingers making me desperate. "Yes, please. I need you inside of me."
He brushed a lingering kiss against my mouth. "Let's get you out of your beautiful dress first so I can see your gorgeous body."
He gently rolled me on my side, unzipped the back of my dress, then helped me to sit. I lifted my arms above my head, not even caring that it was somewhat of a childlike move, and he pulled my dress up and over my head and set it aside. Next, he removed my bra, his breathing coming as more of a series of low growls while he surveyed my full breasts and hardened nipples.
"Every single part of you...stunning."
He lowered me back down to lie, then brought his face to one of my breasts, took the aching nipple in his mouth, and began flicking his tongue across it while circling my other nipple with his thumb. Sighing with pleasure, I reached for his hardness and wrapped my hand around it, the ache low in my belly absolutely desperate for release. The touch of my hand made him groan, and he lifted his head from my breast and rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. Unable to wait a second longer, I positioned the head of his thick, granite-hard member at my entrance and slid down the length of his shaft, taking every inch of his impressive length inside of me, the action making us both cry out in unison.
After a few moments spent getting used to his size and extreme hardness, I began rocking my hips slowly, panting. He grabbed my full hips and began helping me in my movements, grunting each time I took him inside. Throwing my head back, reveling in each stroke, completely giving myself over to the sensation of pure pleasure.
After several minutes of slow riding, I felt a sudden and desperate urge to increase my pace, and as I did so, my breathing increased. Nate gripped my hips even tighter, growling, and I rode him faster and faster, breasts bouncing, completely unselfconscious, in a way I'd never been during intimacy before in my life.
Nate moved one of his hands to the soft curve of my belly and began stroking my slick bud at the center of my womanhood with his thumb, the sensation of being stroked and filled at once almost immediately sending me over the edge. I cried out, shuddering, every muscle in my body tensing and releasing while he cried out along with me, fully lifting his hips off the mattress, driving every inch of his shaft deep inside of me.
When the last spasm of ecstasy had passed, I rolled off of him, completely and totally satisfied. He took me in his arms, whispering how gorgeous I was. I twined my fingers with his and fell asleep within a minute.
I slept fairly hard, only waking once, briefly. Nate tightened his strong arms around me, and I drifted off again, nestled in his strength, comfort and warmth. I had several dreams during the night, all of them pleasant and hazy.
*
I awoke in the morning realizing, with disappointment, that Nate's arms were no longer around me: he wasn't even in bed. But I soon smelled the aroma of bacon and eggs, figured he was making breakfast for the two of us, which made my heart nearly melt into a puddle. I dashed into his bathroom to freshen up a little. After using the restroom, splashing my face, and helping myself to some of his mouthwash, I climbed back in bed and covered myself with a sheet just a few seconds before he came into the bedroom, carrying a tray set with breakfast for two.
"Good morning, gorgeous."
Clad in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, his lightly tanned, smooth skin golden in sunlight slanting in from the windows, I thought, he was the gorgeous one. One chunk of his dark, sleep-tousled hair hung over his forehead, and his deep blue eyes sparkled in the light.
I smiled, just the sight of him causing butterflies to dance in my stomach. "Good morning yourself, handsome."
He set the tray across my lap, gave me a kiss and climbed in beside me. "How did you sleep?"
"Wonderfully. And...."
I glanced at the tray, smiling. Mugs of coffee and little cups of fruit and yogurt sat alongside plates of eggs, bacon and toasted croissants. He'd folded a white paper napkin on my side of the tray into a swan, complete with eyes done in black ink and a heart drawn on one of the wings, the letter J for my name written inside it.
"Nate, thank you for this. I feel absolutely spoiled rotten."
He gave me another kiss, grinning. "Exactly how a woman like you should feel. Every single day."
We enjoyed a long, leisurely breakfast, talking, laughing and even sharing various stories and memories from our childhoods. Nate told me how he'd been so poor growing up with a single mother, who'd had him when she was sixteen, that he'd often had to live on baloney sandwiches for weeks at a time.
"And that was when we had money. That was on payday. Which was never really that much of a banner day since my mom only made a few dollars an hour cleaning houses. The first few days after payday, we'd have baloney and mayonnaise sandwiches, maybe some macaroni and cheese, or cheap canned soup, or fried potatoes and hotdogs for dinner, if we were lucky. Then that would all run out, and we'd have baloney sandwiches for lunch and dinner. Then, after a few days, the baloney and mayonnaise would run out, and we'd have just bread. And then, sometimes, maybe the day or two before she got paid again, we'd just have nothing. Which makes me appreciate all I have now even more."
I listened attentively, amazed at how far he'd come in his life. He told me a few more memories from his childhood, adding that he never blamed his mom for their poverty.
"She did the best she could without anyone to help her and with a very limited education. She always encouraged me in whatever I did, and when I began planning my first internet venture in my early teens, she was the first one – the only one, for a long time – who said I would succeed. When I did succeed, and sold my first company at sixteen, I bought her a house and a new car, and told her she'd never have to clean another house again in her life. That was one of the happiest days of my life. Just to see her face light up when she stepped into the kitchen in the new house...I'd had marble counter tops installed because she always admired them in the fancy houses she cleaned. I'd filled the fridge with all her favorite foods, along with many different kinds of food she'd always wanted to try but we'd never been able to afford, and she just cried. I was so worried that I'd somehow upset her that she had to keep reassuring me that they were happy tears."
I sniffed, realizing that my own eyes had become a little misty. "That's beautiful."
Nate studied my face for a moment, then leaned in close, chuckling and gave me a kiss. "No, no tears. I never want to make you cry, ever."
To that end, he changed the subject from his mom and asked me to tell him more about my own parents. I'd only touched on them briefly before because it was kind of an unpleasant topic for me.
I sighed. "Well...my mom passed away from breast cancer when I was eleven, leaving me and my brother in the care of our dad, who always worked hard doing construction but had some serious, serious problems with drinking, and at times, drugs, too, in addition to just the general out-of-control anger problems. He never beat us or hit us or anything, he was a yeller. A complete rager. He'd storm through the house, breaking things and smashing things, and he'd get right up in my brother's and my faces and yell at us about how worthless we were and how he wished we'd never been born. He never apologized the next day or anything, either, like how some parents might after a fit of rage. But of course, he was always so drunk, I don't even know if he even remembered any of it after it happened. Eventually, my brother and I learned to just never be home, and if we did need to be at home, usually just to sleep, we'd hide. We'd literally sleep under our beds."
I paused, suppressing a shudder at the memory, and took a deep breath. "I don't have much to do with my dad these days. It's for my own mental health. The drinking and the raging I could forgive, because I'm a pretty forgiving person, and I know sometimes people in the grip of addictions have a hard time controlling their actions and thinking things through, probably like the guy at the coffee shop the other day. But it's more than that, it's the fact that I can never once remember him telling me that he loved me. Not once. And even when I'd grown up, even after I'd graduated college and had made a success of myself, he still never displayed any kind of warmth towards me. Although he did hit me up for money a few times when he'd boozed through a paycheck at the bar. So...I just don't have much to do with him these days. Every year, for maybe the past five, I send him a card at Christmas. But I've never gotten one in return. So that's that."
Nate looked at me, his expression serious and pained, how it had been the entire time I'd been speaking. "I'm so very sorry, Justine. I'm sorrier than I can even say."
I gave him a little smile, fighting a sudden surge of sudden mistiness that his tender and compassionate words had caused. "Thanks. But it's okay. I have an aunt and uncle I lived with while I was in college, and they're really more like parents to me now. So that helps. It helps to have them in my life as stable, loving parent figures. And in fact, they just sent me an early birthday gift, even though my birthday's still ten days away. They're just wonderful."
"I'm so happy about that. I'm so happy you have family like that in your life. You deserve to be supported and cared for, always, and I'm glad your aunt and uncle are there for you." With his eyes beginning to twinkle, Nate took my hand. "I'm also glad you happened to mention your birthday. Especially since spoiling you have become one of my favorite pastimes."
I smiled, thrilled. "Oh, really."
He smiled in return, his bright white teeth glinting in the sunlight coming in through the wide windows. "Really."
"Well, thank you, but don't feel compelled to go out of your way, and I really mean this. Birthdays are never very good for me, so they've kind of just become another day. I'm honestly fine with that."
"Why aren't birthdays ever very good for you?"
"Well...here are a few highlights. When I was five, my beloved cat got hit by a car and was killed on my birthday. On my thirteenth, my dad drunkenly staggered into a cake a friend had made for me and accidentally crushed it. At least, I tell myself it was accidental. On my fifteenth birthday, my best friend stole my boyfriend. On my sixteenth birthday, a different boyfriend dumped me. On my twenty-first, my boyfriend at the time drank too much and vomited in my lap at a party. On my twenty-sixth, someone ran a red light, plowed into the side of my brand-new car, that I'd just purchased that morning, and totaled it. And then, two years ago, on my thirty-fifth birthday, I caught my husband in bed with another woman. Last year, my birthday fell on a weekday, and the couple of friends that actually remembered it were too busy to meet up for dinner and help me celebrate. So, yeah, birthdays never seem to go well for me. So after last year, I resolved to try to think of them as just another day. That way, I'll never be disappointed again."
Nate shook his head, his expression serious. And in fact, he looked kind of appalled. "No. This is so wrong. So, so wrong. This ends this year. This year, you're going to have the birthday you deserve." His sober expression softened, and his deep blue eyes began twinkling. "And I'll have to give this some further thought, but I already have a few ideas."
Intrigued, I fought a smile. "Gimme some hints?"
"Never. Well, wait. Maybe just one but you'll have to kiss it out of me. Minimum of two kisses, I'm thinking. Minimum."
Giggling, I leaned in and kissed him, and again, then a third time, just for good measure, letting my lips linger a little. "All right. I expect a really good hint for all those kisses."
He grinned, pulling me into his arms. And then he gave me a hint so tantalizing I couldn't even breathe for a few moments, wondering if what he'd hinted about could possibly be what I thought it was.