I have never wanted a woman more in my life. As someone who grew up in a science-only, clinical family, the juxtaposition of everything that makes this woman tick is tripping the circuits of my brain in the most enjoyable way. Hannah is shy but self-assured at the same time. She’s passionate but cautious. She’s eager but composed.
She wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips as I lift us out of the tub, my good arm bearing the weight under her lush ass, and stride back into the house. I kick the door closed behind us and drop her down on the rug in front of the fireplace. My clothes are in a pile next to one of the leather sofas by my ankles, but I ignore it for now. My goal is to extinguish that very faint flicker of hesitation behind her smoldering brown eyes. I want desperately to hover over her, pinning her in with my arms on either side of her head and explore her body with my lips, but I can’t put my body weight on my bum shoulder just yet, so I cut to the chase. Her legs are still around my waist, so I grab both her knees, as she uses her arms to lower her back onto the rug, and I hold them apart and settle in between them.
She doesn't pretend she doesn't want it, or even tense up. In fact, her knees drop farther apart, and she kind of lifts her ass a little in expectation. And as soon as my tongue touches her, she buries her delicate fingers in my hair. She's wet, and the taste of her on my tongue makes my cock swell even more. It so wants to join the party, but I don't want her to stop making those little breathy moans. It's music to my ears. She's trembling now and writhing, and I know she's about to break apart. So I stop.
“Jeremiah…”
"I need to feel you come, gorgeous," I tell her grabbing my jacket and yanking out the row of condoms in there and tearing one off.
I’d tossed the box in a garbage in the pharmacy parking lot, shoving just the foil packets in my pocket. I didn’t want to come home with a bag so Hannah would ask what I’d bought, and I didn’t want a box-like bulge in my jacket either. Now I realize an added benefit is that it takes me less time to unwrap it and roll it over myself. She’s sitting up now, on her knees in front of me, leaning forward and kissing my neck in the perfect spot. It’s like she knows my body and all its sweet spots already.
I sit back, stretching out my legs, which she straddles, as my back settles against the front of the sofa. I find her mouth and cover it with my own, press a hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and use my other one to hold my cock and angle it so it slides through her folds and finds its way to her opening. She doesn’t need further instruction. Just like with everything else, Hannah knows what I need. She lowers herself onto my cock while my tongue dances with hers and my hands run up her bare back as she arches it.
We both groan into an endless kiss as she comes to rest on my lap. And then, as she curls into me, her face in my neck, she begins to ride me. We’re moving against each other with a hungry pace. Muscles contracting, hands and tongues roaming. It’s raw and real and intense.
Finally, our foreheads come together, and she sobs out a breath, and I feel her thighs tremble, and with my weak arm around her waist and my good one on the ground for balance, I hold her tight and slam my hips up into her over and over as she comes, whispering my name like a Gregorian chant. And I clench my jaw to bite back the swears I want to moan as I let go too, coming long and hard in the aftermath of her release.
It takes a good five minutes before either of us does more than breathe hard and ghost each other's shoulders and necks with kisses. But then, with a shuddering breath, she lifts herself off me, reaching back and grabbing the soft-looking throw off the back of the couch, to cover herself. Her head tips back, and she closes her eyes. I stand and disappear into the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the evidence. I make sure to bury it deep in the trash so if Jayden does show up, he doesn't find it. When I get back to the living room, she's curled up under the throw on the rug in front of the fire. She must have added one of the logs I brought in earlier because the flames are dancing with renewed vigor. Or maybe we relit the fire with that epic sexcapade.
Anything is possible, I think to myself as I wordlessly lie down beside her, lifting the throw and slipping in to be the big spoon to her little one. She lifts her head to use my bicep as a pillow and I kiss the back of her head. Her silky hair smells like citrus shampoo and fire smoke. “Are we good?”
She rests an arm over the one I have draped across her side and down her belly. “We are perfect,” she whispers sleepily.
I close my eyes, exhausted, but a smile pulls at my lips. Because, yeah, we are.