Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(6)

She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra. I groan as the straps slide down her arms, revealing pert nipples and perky breasts.

My fingers flex on her hip. “I would really like to touch you.”

A slow smile spreads across her full lips. “I would like that too.”

I skim the swell of her right breast with gentle fingertips, circling her nipple, watching it pucker further, and then I lean in, taking the taut skin between my lips, sucking softly.

She climbs into my lap and when her fingers skim my belt buckle, I pause. “Just to be clear, I don’t have any expectations here, so if at any point you need to call a timeout, tell me and we can dial it back, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods.

When she goes for the button on my pants, I move back on the bed and flip us over. “Can I focus on making you feel good for a while?”

“You’re already making me feel good.”

“I’m aiming for orgasmically good.” I kiss my way between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach. “You okay with me taking these off?” I tug at the belt loop on her jeans.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

I fold back on my knees and pop the button, then drag the zipper down. “Like unwrapping an early birthday present.”

She laughs, and it’s a little breathless. “How old are you? Wait. Don’t tell me. Mid-twenties? Or maybe early? But definitely over twenty. You must be. That’s the only way you could have the body you do. Years of training.”

“Do you want me to answer that or not?” I kiss below her navel and drag her pants down her legs, tossing them over the edge of the bed.

“Yes. No. Yes.” She shimmies out of her panties, and they join the rest of the clothes on the floor. “You don’t have to be specific. But you’re in your twenties right?”

“Yeah, I’m in my twenties.” I place another kiss below her navel and stretch out between her thighs.

“Okay, that’s good.” Her toes curl against my side. “Are you being honest?”

“I wouldn’t lie. It doesn’t do either of us any good if we’re feeling guilty.” I turn my head to the right, kissing the inside of her thigh, sucking lightly on the skin.

“You are such a tease,” she groans.

“Just building anticipation.” I drag my tongue along the length of her, and she bows up off the bed.

“Oh fuck, yes, please.” Her legs fall open, and she grips the hair at my crown.

I make her come with my mouth, and then a second time with my fingers, because watching her come is damn well addictive. She’s gorgeous and sexy, and it’s so much more gratifying than when I’m with someone closer to my age, where everything is tentative and they’re worried about losing control.

As soon as Clover regains control of her limbs, she pushes on my shoulders. I flip over so I’m on my back, and she straddles me. Our mouths connect in a hungry kiss, her long hair tickling my skin. She pulls back and braces her hands on my chest. “I’m so glad I fell asleep this afternoon and floated into your dock.”

I laugh. “Me too. And here I thought tonight was going to be another boring beach party.”

She shimmies back, and suddenly the lightness of the moment disappears. Her excitement is overshadowed by my anxiety as she pops the button on my jeans. I shimmy out of them and toss them on the floor, leaving me in black boxer brief. Clover tugs the waistband down and frees my erection.

For a few seconds, I’m met with stunned silence. The look on Clover’s face says it all.

It’s better than the nervous laughter I sometimes get—or worse, the slack-jawed head shaking or the “there’s no way that’ll fit.”

It didn’t matter how much my dad drilled into my head that lube would forever be my best friend when it came to sex, it never fully prepared me for the realities of being exceptionally well endowed.

I’m not packing in the boyfriend-dick, fits-so-nice kind of way.

More in the this-might-be-uncomfortable-even-with-all-the-foreplay way.

“Holy wow.” Her eyes flare. “Sweet baby Jesus riding a unicorn.” Her gaze flips between my face and my cock, which is now lying on my stomach.

I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I have lube.”

Her eyebrows rise, and she nods slowly. “Yes. Yes, I bet you do.”

“But we don’t have to have sex.”

Her fingers circle the shaft. “Now I understand your attention to foreplay and why you were trying to get your entire hand in my vagina,” she muses.

“Foreplay is the best part of sex,” I offer. “And essential.”

“I can see why you feel that way.” She shifts forward, pressing the length against her stomach. The head covers her navel by half an inch. “I hope you have condoms, because I don’t think the ones I have are going to be the right . . . fit. You’re definitely way above average.”

“I have some in my wallet.”

It’s on the bed beside us. I flip it open and pass her one, pulling out the small packet of lube as well. She plucks the foil packet from my fingers, tears it open, and rolls it down my length while I open the lube and squirt a little onto the tip.

“Just take it slow,” I warn her as she braces a hand on my shoulder and lines my cock up with her entrance.