I’m surprised when he reaches for my feet and brings them up to his shoulders so he can get deeper inside me. It’s slow paced, but every stroke is deliberate. And oh so powerful. Nothing he does to me is unintentional.
He finds his voice between thrusts. “You. Feel. So. Damn. Good.”
But all good things must come to an end, and this does too when everything inside my pelvis tenses and the sensation radiates down my thighs and curls my toes.
When I feel Paige spasm around my cock, it sets my undoing into motion. I watch her face as I thrust into her one last time and I discover something about her. I already knew she was beautiful, but she’s even more so when she comes.
I’m propped on my elbows and still inside Paige when I lower my face to kiss her. This is where I want to be right now. Inside her. And it’s where I intend on being quite a bit over the next three months.
This is the part where things always get messy in regular relationships. This is when women want to talk about love and commitment, but not Paige; we aren’t like that, so I can relax.
I kiss her again and then pull out. She frowns at the loss. “Don’t worry. The caveman will be right back.”
I hear her laugh as I go into the bathroom to throw the condom in the trash. I pull it off and tie it in a knot before I give it a toss. I hate them, but they’re a necessity in any sexual relationship outside of a monogamous marriage.
I walk back to the bed and Paige has no reluctance about ogling me. There’s no shame in her game and it’s a turn-on to see her almost salivating as she gapes at my body. I work hard for it, so I enjoy the pleasure I see in her eyes as she’s admiring it. “You might as well be the devil.”
“Baby, you’re the one holding the apple.” I slide into bed next to her and she immediately climbs over and straddles me. She slides her hands from my pecs, down to my abs, and then up again. She leans forward and runs her tongue over each of my nipples before she glides down my body. Her legs move from my outer hips to between my thighs as she migrates south. She’s slow about going down because she’s giving me the time I need to get hard again.
I know she’s about to take me in her mouth. I wait for it and then I feel a warm rush of breath on me. She runs her soft, wet tongue over my tip and I twitch in response. It’s been a long time since anyone has done this for me. Too long.
When she finishes licking me from base to tip, I can’t silence the groan that comes out when she takes me completely in her mouth. Damn. This isn’t going to take long because this woman has mad oral skills.
I run my fingers through her hair while she sucks me off, and I tap the top of her head when I’m about to erupt. She doesn’t stop and I wonder if Americans don’t know about the universally known signal to stop, so I tap her again. “I’m about to come, Paige.”
She sucks harder and that’s when I realize she has no intention of stopping. It shocks me because no woman has ever let me come in her mouth. Damn, it’s hot.
I’m about to explode and I hear myself grunt, “Ooh, shit,” as I flex my hips up to Paige’s mouth. When I’m done, she licks one last time and then peers up at me with a mischievous grin and laughs. “Mmm. Tastes like chicken.”
I’m laughing after a blowjob. Those two things aren’t supposed to go together, but I see they do with her. I think the odds of her killing me with sex are good, but what a way to go. At least I’ll die happy.
When I wake the next morning, I feel very rested and I know it’s the great sex. It’s always like a sleeping pill for me.
Paige is asleep on her stomach, the sheet scrunched down over her perfect little ass. I can’t help but study the arch of her back. Some men love asses. Some, tits. I love the curvature of a woman’s back, especially the part at the small of her waist where it dips in.
And Paige’s dip is beautiful. It’s so deep I could drink from it. Maybe I’ll do that sometime.
I push the sheet away so I can better see the slope of her back. I’m relieved when I don’t find a tattoo in my favorite spot because that ruins the beauty of it for me. I don’t think she has any tattoos, and the only piercing I’ve found besides her ears is the dangling jewel in her navel. I don’t mind that one at all.
I can’t resist putting my fingertips against her upper back and slowly following her spine downward. Her skin is so soft and smooth. So perfect. And I can’t wait to have her from behind.
She stirs a little so I lift my fingertips because I don’t want to wake her. I place a butterfly kiss against the skin of her lower back and then leave her to sleep.
I get the newspaper and have my first cup of coffee at the bar in the kitchen. Nothing of much interest in the headlines—mostly last-minute Christmas deals.
Christmas is in two days. I smile when I think of the delivery Paige will get from me while I’m at my parents’ house in Sydney. I’m a little sad I won’t be with her when she opens it. I’d love to see her face.
I’m on my second cup when Paige sneaks up behind me. She steals my MO when she snakes her arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. Her lips are warm and wet against my skin. “Good morning.”
I turn my face toward her and kiss the corner of her mouth. “And good morning to you. Want some coffee?”
She inspects my cup. “Hmm … I guess not. I only drink flavored coffee with lots of creamer and sweetener. It ends up being dessert by the time I add everything I like. I’ll take some juice if you have any.”
She walks around the bar and goes for the cabinet above the dishwasher. “Glasses?”
She almost guesses right. “The one to the right.”
“No. I wanted to wait for you so we could eat together.”
She waltzes over to the fridge and takes inventory. She’s wearing the khaki shirt I stripped off and tossed to the floor last night. It hits her high on her thighs and when she bends over to see what’s on the bottom shelf of the fridge, I see her black lace panties peeking out just below the hem.
I love having a woman in my life again.
“Mrs. Porcelli stocked the refrigerator well before she left. Want me to cook something?”
I don’t want her to think I brought her here to be my cook or housekeeper. “I don’t mind eating a bagel or cereal.”
“I’m no gourmet chef like your sister.” She stands with the door open, searching another minute while she sips her juice. “What about an egg and bacon sandwich?”
“A sanger for brekkie,” she repeats (with her southern accent I find so charming) as she pulls out the bacon and eggs and sets to work. It doesn’t take her long to prepare our breakfast and so far, so good. We’re finishing up when I hear my phone ring in the living room. I dash to catch it before it stops ringing.
It’s my mum. I wouldn’t answer except I know she’ll keep calling until she gets me. We haven’t spoken in a few days, so I’m sure she’s calling to finalize plans for Christmas Eve. “Hello, Mum.”
I walk into the kitchen and Paige is clearing our breakfast dishes. I walk over to her and whisper, “Don’t. I’ll get it. You did the cooking.”
“Who are you talking to?” Damn. My mum has sonar ears. That’s why I never got away with anything as a kid.
She’s going to love this. “Yes, Mum. It’s a woman.”
“She must have spent the night if she’s at your house this time of the morning. I can’t believe you have a girlfriend you haven’t told me about. Are you bringing her home with you for Christmas?”
“I want to meet her, son.”
Of course she does. “It’s not that kind of relationship.”
I hear her huff. Really? My mum huffed at me. “And it never will be if you just said that in front of her.”
I try to steer her in a different direction. “I think you were calling to touch base with me about your plans for the holidays.”
“That’s right. Everyone will be here around five, and we’ll eat at six.”
She doesn’t have to tell me this. It’s the same every year. “Okay, Mum. I’ll see you then.”
“Please, consider bringing her. It would make me very happy.” Wrong. What she and I are doing wouldn’t make you happy at all.
“You break my heart, but I still love you, son. Be careful driving in.”
When I hang up, I feel like I need to apologize to Paige for talking about her while she’s standing right in front of me. “I’m sorry about that.”
She shrugs. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
The old girl thinks it’s a tragedy to be almost thirty and unmarried without any prospects. She wants to marry me off to a wife who will start pushing out babies before our first anniversary, like my brother’s wife did.
Not. Gonna. Happen. Hell will freeze over first.
I help finish the dishes and then we’re free. “I’m going to work out. Want to join me?”
She frowns and shrugs. “I didn’t bring the right kind of shoes or clothes for working out. Plus, you don’t have the right kind of equipment for what I do, so I think I’ll take a shower and get ready.”
“Okay, but I’m installing a pole in the gym.” Or maybe the bedroom. I haven’t decided.
She smiles and dismisses my statement with the wave of her hand as she walks toward the bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”