Faster.
He grunted so hard, I felt it inside me as I trembled through the end of my orgasm and clutched him to me.
Another grunt.
Then he wrapped his hand beneath my jaw, pressed my head to the side, sunk his teeth into my neck, buried himself completely, and groaned into my flesh.
Wow.
I felt the tremors swell through him, absorbed them, still soaring, but alas, coming down.
I coasted my hands over his skin, wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh, and I knew he was coming down too when he curved my other leg around his ass.
Then he was lapping at where he bit me, nuzzling my neck, and finally, he lifted his head.
“Okay,” I stated the minute his eyes caught mine, “I’ve been crushing on you for a long time, but that was way better than all my fantasies. Like, it was all my fantasies rolled into one. It was just that…scary…amazing.”
He stared down at me, body fixed.
As he did, I realized what I just said.
All of it.
Damn.
A new kind of heat crept in, and I tensed to untangle myself from him and do what, I didn’t know, but whatever it was would be a form of escape.
Rix still had his hand wrapped around my jaw, though, and it tensed.
“You had fantasies about me?”
Oh my God.
This was humiliating.
“What kind of fantasies?”
“Ummmm…” I hummed to his hairline.
“Okay, Al, put this one away. I like her a lot, but right now, bring the other one back who took one look at my dick, latched on, and deep throated me.”
My eyes fell to his.
He was grinning.
Teasing.
Being Rix.
I relaxed.
“Baby, you gotta know, it is so far from a turn-off it isn’t fuckin’ funny that you fantasized about me,” he declared.
“I think my point was, that was good,” I lamely explained.
“I think I got your point,” he replied, still grinning. “Though I was there with you, so I know it was.”
“Okay, good,” I mumbled.
“So back to these fantasies.”
My eyes slid to the side.
He kept going.
“Because I’ve been jacking off to you for a while…”
My eyes darted back.
“…and I got a good imagination, sweetheart. But you bearing down on me, twice, like a goddamned champ was not part of them.”
“Rix.”
He bent, touched his mouth to mine, but didn’t go far away.
“That was amazing, honey,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
I watched the warmth twinkle in his gaze then he muttered, “Get rid of this condom.”
He was semi-hard, but still, there was a lot of him, so it felt nice when he pulled out.
He rolled off, rolling me to my side at the same time hooking both of my knees with a hand and lifting them so I was slightly curled into myself.
Then he reached out, and the covers fell on me.
God, he was so sweet.
He rolled again, twisted, and he was sitting by the side of the bed.
I watched him bend, realized what he was doing, reached to touch my hand to the small of his back, and offered, “I can take care of—”
I stopped speaking when his shoulder dipped, and over the top of it, his gaze seared into me.
All righty then.
Rix was going to get up and dispose of the condom.
He turned away from me, put on his legs, which required him standing and sitting, twice, before he stood one last time and walked to the bathroom, did his thing, came out and walked right to my light.
This was when I got my first top to toe of Rix.
Yeah, he had great thighs, and I knew that even if they were now covered in sleeves, they were just that great.
I licked my lips.
The light went out.
I felt the bed depress when he sat on it, the thumps of him taking off his legs, then the mattress rocked, the covers swished, he settled and turned to me.
Then I was dragged the few inches that separated us, and I was plastered, front to front, to Rix.
“I clean up after we fuck,” he decreed.
Okay, yes.
As suspected.
I’d messed up with the offer.
He kept speaking.
“Me, and I clean you too, when we decide I can go in ungloved.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not a problem, putting on my legs. I do it all the time.”
“Okay, Rix.”
His tone was getting rougher, and I’d know it was with impatience when he demanded, “Don’t be freaked I’m laying this out, Alex. This is life for me. You in it, it’s the same for you.”
“Of course.”
“So we just got to be real.”
“I can do that.”
“No timidity. No hesitation. You got a question, you ask. You got something to give, you offer. But you gotta be up for it when I lay out how it’s gonna be.”
Erm.
Hang on a minute.
“Was I not up for it?”
“I’m just saying.”
He was just saying, but the problem was, that was all he said.
So I requested specifics.
“What are you saying?”
“You’re bashful.”
Um.
Bashful?
I laid a hand in his oh-so-delightful chest (yes, I could say that, even in the dark, it was the chest hair, and the expanse, not to mention the solidity), and I used it to push up to an elbow.
“I’m bashful?”
He used his oblique to push up to his elbow.
“Yeah,” he clipped. “You’re bashful.”
“Did you actually just use the word bashful?”
“Yeah, because that’s what you are.”
“Bashful?”
“Babe,” he growled, and I’d heard him growl, and obviously he’d called me babe before, but I’d never heard the way that came out of him in either sense.
And when it did, I knew we were going to have to fuck again.
“You’re not some chick who’s shy,” he continued. “Shy is not you. You’re a dork, sure. A goof too. You can be a klutz. Shit comes out of your mouth that’s fuckin’ adorable. You got a dimple. The softest hair imaginable, and a lot of it. You’re an amazing kisser, which probably should have been a heads up when you got to the point you wrapped your mouth around my cock, but…fuck. It didn’t. You got great tits. A tight pussy. You know when to use your nails. And you get off on a solid fucking. That’s not shy or timid or anything generic like that. It’s cute and hot. It’s bashful. Now stop givin’ me shit, hey?”
Being all of that (even the first bits, though I kinda wanted him to explain the distinction between a dork and a goof), but also polite, I waited until he was finished before I asked, “How many condoms did you bring?”
He was silent.
Then I wasn’t on my elbow anymore.
I was on Rix.
And his hands were all over me.
But all his lips said was, “Baby.”
I planted my hands in his chest and arched up. “That doesn’t answer my question, Rix.”
“Got us covered,” he muttered, his fingers trailing up my spine, my neck, into my hair, and my arch was a memory.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Our mouths met.