July (Calendar Girl #7)(22)
Moments later, when our breathing was more relaxed, I pulled his head from its hiding spot against my neck until Wes’s eyes sought mine. He grinned lazily. “Hey babe. Missed you.” I noticed the shy timbre in my voice.
He chuckled and rubbed his forehead against mine. “I got that. Obviously not as much as I missed you since I attacked you at first sight.”
I grinned and kissed him, putting all my joy, happiness and regret for the time spent apart into the kiss. “It’s okay. If you had noticed“—I clenched around his softening, still semi-hard member within me—“I was all about it.” I winked and unwound my legs from his hips groaning when we disconnected.
“Want a drink? A nap? Another go?”
He laughed and the sound reverberated like a drum within my chest. I loved hearing him laugh. “Perhaps not in that order but I’m thinking, shower, food, another go, then a nap.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I smoothed down my skirt. “Now that you mention it, I am pretty hungry.” Probably because I hadn’t eaten anything because I was too nervous about seeing Wes again. “How about I call for takeout while you shower?”
He frowned. “Wanted to shower with you, sweetheart.”
“Then we’ll never get to the food part of your plan,” I cocked my head with a hand on my hip. His eyes took in the stance and he smiled then shook his head.
“Shower that way?” He pointed towards the back end of the apartment.
“Yep. I’ll order us some food. Go wipe off the travel and um, you know,” I pointed to the general vicinity of his lower half.
“My cock? You want my cock clean, sweetheart?” He grinned and the sexy quirk of those lips went straight to my * where a blossoming throb became a pounding rhythm.
I squirmed, squeezing my legs together and huffed trying to pretend that this crass discussion didn’t affect me. “Hey, you want a dirty dick, that’s on you. I’m most certainly not putting my mouth on it after a six-hour plane ride and a sweaty f*ck against the door. Go shower. I’ll take care of food and then we can catch up.”
Wes turned on a heel and headed towards the bathroom. “As long as part of that catching up is me spending a great deal of time between your thighs, with this”—he gripped his denim-clad cock in a vulgar display that had me chuckling—“and these”—he wiggled his fingers—“and this”—he tapped his mouth—“my life will be complete.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, ignoring him so he’d leave, even though he knew it affected me the way he intended it should. That was when I started to feel our combined fluids slipping down the inside of my thighs. Shit. He’d ripped my underwear off. No barrier. I needed a towel and then maybe I would join him in the shower.
***
Our bellies full of Miami’s primo sushi and egg rolls, Wes and I were snuggled up on the couch, his hand methodically running through my hair. I’d let it air-dry while we ate and talked. Now we were content just being in one another’s company. I couldn’t remember a time when being with a man I had feelings for was so simple. No demands on time, no stress, no drama just being with one another. It was nice. More than nice, it was exactly what I wanted to set roots around, and let it grow into something even more than nice, something long lasting.
Without comment Wes stood up and grabbed my hand. I followed because, well, I’d probably follow him anywhere right now. He led me to the bedroom. The sky outside the windows had turned to a hue of pinks, oranges, and blues as the sun began to set.
Wes turned me around facing the view. We were in a high-rise overlooking the ocean. The ocean always reminded me of my time with him. He slid his hands around my waist and leaned close. “Tomorrow morning we’ll surf.”
I smiled and leaned into his back. “I’d love that.”
He hummed against my neck and slipped his fingers under the tank dress at each shoulder. I’d thrown it back on sans bra after our shower. Hey, a girl could hope. He pushed the material down until it fell in a puddle at my feet. I stepped out of it and kicked it to the side. Wes’s hands went to my waist and slowly slid up my ribcage. Gooseflesh prickled along my skin. His large hands came up to my breasts and cupped them reverently. Gasping, I closed my eyes and pressed into his hands.
“Missed these. Best tits I’ve ever seen.” He placed tiny kisses along my shoulders. “Best I’ve ever touched.” He squeezed them, setting up a rhythm that had me thrusting my hips forward as if on autopilot. “So sensitive to touch,” he murmured against the nape of my neck.
“Only your touch,” I mumbled rubbing the back of my head against his pecs.
“Is that right?” He hummed again. I focused on the feather-light touch of his fingertips as they played delicately over my breasts and around the nipples in a caressing, petting massage. Heat built all over, a slow, simmering sensation from the tips of my nipples, through my chest and around, to nestle heavily at the apex of my thighs. Then he spoke again, blowing me away, reminding me of one of the best nights of my life.
“Rule one,” he started and I smiled wide, not able to contain the sheer happiness of what I hoped he was about to do. “We’re going to have an insane amount of sex over the next three days.” Three days? He squeezed hard on each erect peak cutting off further thought. I cried out, remembering this feeling, overjoyed that I was finally in his arms like this after so long. Any fear or anxiety was completely obliterated by this man. The only man’s touch I needed, craved, wanted more than any other. The space between my legs softened and clenched at nothing. I needed him there, right there. Taking me to bliss.