Nope.
He probably wanted to put me on a ninety-day plan, where he thought like a woman and didn’t act like a man. Either way, I was not happy about the decision, and then I looked like a damn moron because I was sitting there with . . . not a trench coat but a wool one. I was sweating my ass off, literally.
Then the dream fast-forwarded where the coat dropped and then he ravished me.
The dream was so good; it felt like I could still smell us in the room. His woodsy aroma with our scents combined. It was so real. I wanted to touch his hand, but when it moved, I screamed.
“Holy shit,” I screamed again.
“Ivory, what’s wrong?” I heard in the distance.
“Huh?” I turned around as I tried to focus. Someone was calling me, but they seemed so far away.
“Ivory,” the voice called again, and then I started rocking on my side.
Blinking rapidly, I focused and saw that last night was not a damn dream. The sexy doctor was naked behind me, looking just as dreamy as McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy.
“Ian?” I called.
“Yeah, babe.” He smiled at me. “I’m here.”
I didn’t want to say anything stupid like, “It wasn’t a dream,” so I just smiled back.
“How are you feeling?” He rubbed up and down my body, which was naked too. “I think I got a little out of hand because . . .”
Ian patted my hip, where I felt a sting.
“Fingerprint bruises.” He pointed.
The night came back to me in more detail, and I could have given a damn about some stupid-ass bruise. It had been a while since I was in a bed with a man, so I forgot about that morning breath etiquette. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him on the lips, and whispered, “I’d love a morning fuck.”
Shit, why did I say that? The man who told me to ride him yesterday was gone. Nope, the man that was here with me this morning flipped my ass on my back, spread my legs, slid that condom on his hard dick, and inserted it right away. Talking about a morning wake-up call.
I held on to him for dear life as he kept pulling all the way out to make sure that I got all of his inches.
Holy shit.
He was fucking amazing, and I did not want him to ever stop. This could be addictive. That was my thought before I started to feel the fire coming down my spine, right before I climaxed.
“I’m cumming!” I yelled and raked my nails down his back. “Ian, I’m cumming. Harder.”
He began to pound in me with the vigor of a ferocious lion, and I held on until I climaxed, right along with him. There was a slight pinch on my neck, but I did not care. Damn, I was in heaven.
After we cleaned up and Ian gave me some clothes (because, clearly, I had not thought through the madness), the man made me breakfast. We had turkey bacon, egg whites, toast, and almond milk at his table.
“I really like your apartment,” I shared out loud while we ate.
“Yeah, I lucked out,” Ian shared after swallowing his food. “The doctor at the hospital that I worked for before I opened the clinic moved out of state and did not want to break the lease on his apartment, so he subleased it to me, and I rent it now.”
“Hmm, that’s smart. It’s a pretty good amount of space.” I finished my food and put our plates away in the dishwasher.
While I was cleaning up (since he cooked), his arms wrapped around my stomach, and my body was pulled into him.
“How are you feeling?” Ian asked me again.
Turning around so I could look him in the eye, I whispered with a small smile, “I feel great. How about you?”
“Amazing.” He was rubbing my arms up and down. “I feel fucking amazing.”
“Yeah.” My head nodded, then leaned on his hard chest.
“Ivory, I don’t want this to end,” Ian said in a stern tone. “I want to explore this.”
Explore?
This caused me to pull back and look at him. “What type of exploration are you talking about?”
That word wasn’t giving me good vibes, and I woke up with great vibes.
“You and me,” Ian said with his eyebrows pushed together. “Us.”
“Like together? Or sex?” I need a little more clarity than “us.”
“Yes. Dating. Exclusively.” He held up his hands. “Don’t panic or anything. I just think we have something.”
“I’m not panicked. I thought you were saying to just fuck.” My head was shaking at the thought. “I like the idea of us being together.”
“Fuck,” he sighed. “That’s great news.”
This caused me to laugh at him, but Ian had other plans. He began to kiss me and placed me against the counter.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asked as he nibbled my ear.
“Sure.” I laughed.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked again.
“Sure.” I continued to laugh.
“The night after tomorrow, I’m off, so we can go out, and I can take you on a proper date.” He bit my neck.
“Damn, you’re sweet. Can’t do it on Thursday, but Friday, I’m free.” I placed my hands on his chest so we could have a serious conversation without him licking me up and down until I told him to stop.
Lyrics, lyrics. They were always in my head.
“Okay, then Friday. I have the early shift. We’ll go on a date then,” he countered with a smile.
“Deal,” I confirmed. “Now you get ready for work because I must do the same.”
Moving from out of his grasp, I grabbed my wool coat and shoes and opened the app to call an Uber. I looked like a hot mess in the daytime. I was wearing too-big clothes, and only God knows what my hair looked like. The man did not have a shower cap, and the tips of my crochet braids got wet. That meant they would frizz up. Ian said he saw some website called blackhairmatters.net, where they sold shower caps. He said he would order one for me. I told him that wasn’t necessary, but he said it was on some sort of checklist, and he needed to get it.
Okay, whatever.
What kind of checklist was he talking about? I needed to go to that damn site. Do these guys have cheat codes?
The rest of the week went just like we said it would. We tried playing around with different sexual positions. My favorite was when he had me bending over and grabbing my ankles while he fucked me with a finger in my ass. I have never cum so hard in my entire life. He told me it would be hot and shit—the man was right.
On Thursday, I did what I do every third Thursday, unbeknownst to anyone, but it was too late to call him because I didn’t get in until two in the morning. Ian had called several times and left some messages. I’d call him back tomorrow to get the details of our date.
Ian Crain was the perfect gentleman when it came to us going out to eat dinner. He picked me up from my apartment, opened my doors, helped me in my chair, and let me order the wine.
By the time we got back to his place, the foreplay had already been done, so I slid on my knees and took him right inside of his front door. I loved the ways he got weak when I began to suck him off sloppily. That was one thing about him—he let me know when he liked something.
Our month continued that way and the next month. On our days off, we went out, or sometimes we stayed in. Thursdays were still a no-go, but by the third month of us dating, I was beginning to feel bad for not telling him, even when he outright asked me what I did on those days. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him; I just didn’t trust me. The joke was on me because I should have told him.