“Can you do some bodice-ripping?” Tennessee blurted out eagerly, like a schoolgirl at her first theme park outing. “Or maybe just shirt-ripping? Any kind of ripping would be good, to be honest. I’ve always been such a fan of the whole guy-tearing-a-woman’s-clothes in books.”
“Honey, consider it my contribution to society to destroy your clothes.”
With that, I grabbed the collar of the shirt I’d purchased earlier and ripped it in one smooth movement, her perfect, round breasts popping out in front of me. Pear-shaped, with nipples the color of flamingos.
I crashed my mouth over hers, breathless.
My brain still couldn’t comprehend that this was happening. She bucked her hips toward me, moaning, and I moved my lips to kiss her tits, lick around her nipples, dip my tongue into her navel.
“I’m so mad,” she groaned, as I rubbed my stubble all over her inner thighs. “All this time I could’ve enjoyed all of these things without having sex with anyone. What a waste.”
I bit her inner thigh, shooting my arm up to squeeze one of her tits in warning.
“Not all hookups were born equal.”
“No blip, Costello. You think Rob held a candle to what’s happening here the eight months I was with him?” She laughed softly.
My hard-on lowered to a semi just from hearing his name. A cool feeling washed over me, like someone threw a bucket of ice into my gut. I pushed through it, but it was the first time I found Tennessee to be less than absolutely delightful.
Bringing up an ex in bed was a dick move. I didn’t care how inexperienced she was. She wasn’t dumb. She was just so used to fucking up relationships, she didn’t care what came out of her mouth.
Rob’s mention did give the desired result of pissing me off, and so I ripped her underwear from her waist with little regard to the fact they snapped over her skin in the process.
She groused but immediately angled her hips toward my mouth, chasing my tongue.
I pressed my palm against her pussy, lowering her ass back to the mattress, looking up, my eyes meeting hers.
“A few ground rules, Turner.”
She blinked at me rapidly, waiting.
“No ex-talk in this bed. That’s not sporting.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry.”
“If something gets too much, just say the word.”
“What word?”
I almost forgot she was the most literal geek in the whole, entire world. With her undiagnosed ADHD and puns and aversion to profanity. I thought about it for a moment.
“Banana.”
“All right.”
“And promise me one thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I won’t fall in love with you.”
My chest tensed, but I threw her an offhand smirk.
“Cute, but what you choose to do with our mutual attraction is none of my business. You’re a big girl. No. I want you to promise me you know I will not let you get pregnant, so don’t worry about it. Just let me make it good for you.”
She hesitated, her eyebrows pinching together.
“I don’t—”
I shook my head. “I’m not Rob.”
“You just said no ex-talk in bed.”
“This trumps all the rules. I’m not him. I’ll never do that to you. Or to myself. Or to our hypothetical baby. Trust me that much, at least?”
She gulped, her eyes dancing in their sockets. I could tell when it happened. When she decided to put her trust in my hands. To let go.
Her hazel eyes shone, and her lower lip trembled.
“Yeah,” she rasped. “Promise.”
“Good girl.”
I sucked her entire pussy into my mouth.
She whimpered and sank her fingernails into my skull, so deep I could almost feel them digging into my brain.
I made her finish first, got another orgasm out of it—because I was that kind of gentleman—then ascended over her body, dropping kisses and bites along her skin as I glided one finger in and out of her, pressing my hot, swollen erection against her stomach.
I filled her mouth with my tongue again and every inch of her skin was chasing mine.
“I’m going to get a condom now, sweetheart. I’ll put it on, then I’ll make sure to pull out before I come, too, okay? I’ll do both. I promise.”
I would promise her my whole house, newly mortgage-free, if she said yes. So I made sure to highlight how much I was going to be careful about it.
She shook her head, still kissing me. “No, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that.”
Anything?
I wasn’t bastard enough to suggest anal, although let the record show it did cross my mind.
“Sweetheart…” It wasn’t the sex she was scared of, it was pregnancy. But—
“Banana! Banana, banana, banana!”
She grabbed my shaft between us and squeezed at the root, moving her hand up and down, trying to get me off. I wanted to try to convince her one more time, but she said the safe word, and even though I was attached to a dick, I wasn’t one. “You’re supposed to stop when someone calls the safe word.”
“Here,” she mumbled into our dirty kiss, not stopping her hand. “I’ll get you off, too.”
The worst part was that my cock, which was not known for its astuteness, was absolutely okay with the deal. It sprang in her hand happily, bobbing along each time she gave it a thorough stroke.
I could feel my balls tighten and knew I was going to come all over her chest. I ripped my mouth from hers, looking down between us as she jerked me off, my cock angled between her tits.
I didn’t want to miss it when it happened.
“Am I doing that okay?”
“Maybe go a little faster.”
She did.
I closed my eyes, dropping my head backward.
“Faster?”
She went faster.
I was at her mercy.
I was never at women’s mercy when it came to sex. I dated good old-fashioned belles who did what I told them to do in the bedroom. Took instructions well, always over-performed, and never suggested anything outside the box.
“Shit, sweetheart, I’m close.”
“Awesome,” she breathed underneath me, and I could feel the tips of her tits bouncing to the rhythm of her movements.
And then it happened.
My cock shot white congratulatory confetti at her breasts for making me come. This was hands-down the best orgasm I’d ever had. And I’d had many.
I plopped beside her, jerking her into my arms and kissing her forehead.
“That was amazing.”
For the next few minutes, she didn’t talk. Just pressed herself against me.
After a few moments, her breathing became slow and shallow, and I realized she’d fallen asleep.
In my arms.
It was almost romantic, if it wasn’t for the soft snores coming from her little nose.
Or for the fact that my cock was now completely happy, but something else inside me sure wasn’t.
My entire life, I’d never slept in.
My body wasn’t programmed to sleep beyond six-thirty A.M.
From a young age, I’d had school, football practices, Sunday mass, summer jobs, volunteer work. You name it, I woke up early for it.
So, of course, the one and only time I slept in, something catastrophic happened.