“Great choice. I love the calamari.”
“Thanks again,” I said.
“Absolutely.” He reached into his pocket and produced a business card. “I’m James.”
“Teddi,” I said. “And Devin.”
He smiled. “Stop in anytime.”
I handed Devin the card and turned toward the door, wishing we hadn’t stopped in. The ring was nothing more than a gorgeous reminder that in time, Devin would be with his motorcycle club, I’d be single once again, and I’d never have such a remarkable diamond on my finger unless I bought it myself.
Devin draped his arm over my shoulder as we stepped through the door. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” I lied. “Just fine.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Devin
Freshly showered and following the lure of frying bacon, I stepped into the kitchen. Wearing a pair of sweats, an old T-shirt, and slippers, Teddi stood in front of the stove, staring into a skillet. Although I wasn’t accustomed to the look, it suited her well.
“You look cute,” I said.
She glanced at me and smiled. “Thank you.”
It seemed something had fallen apart during our dinner date. Short-tempered a little more than normal, less talkative, and lacking interest in sex, she’d gone to sleep without saying much more than good night after we returned to her home.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah. You?”
I kissed her neck. “I did.”
She wedged my face between her shoulder and her jaw. “Stop it.”
“Stop kissing you?”
“Stop kissing my neck,” she said. “It drives me nuts.”
I pulled away and moved to the other side. I kissed her neck twice, hoping it would bring her out of the foul mood it seemed she’d slipped into.
“I’m going to burn the eggs,” she complained.
Her hair was fashioned into some kind of an “I’m in a hurry” bun. Errant strands of blond hair danced at either side of her face as she shuffled from side to side in an effort to escape my attack.
I considered slapping her on the ass but feared doing so wouldn’t be well received. Instead, I gave her side-armed hug. “I had a good time last night.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”
She removed the skillet from the stove and rushed to where she had two plates sitting. She slid eggs onto the plates and handed me one.
“Eat it before it gets cold.”
“Perfect timing,” I said.
“I started frying the eggs when I heard the shower turn off.”
I poured a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. “What’s your favorite type of egg?”
“Fried, over medium,” she said. “But I rarely eat them that way. Scrambled is the norm around here.”
“Why?”
“They’re healthier. Less fat.”
I gazed across the table at her as I nibbled my bacon. She was a remarkably beautiful woman. I couldn’t believe she found interest in me beyond sex. While she fidgeted with her eggs, I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.
It wasn’t surprising, considering she was in the privacy of her home. For some reason, however, I was fascinated by it. Her boobs were small by today’s “often enhanced” standards but large for her small frame. Swaying from side to side as she cut her toast into bite-sized pieces, they were nothing short of amazing.
My cock began rising against my shorts. Surprised by my unsolicited state of arousal, I began to daydream about playing with Teddi’s boobs.
The next thing I knew, my cock was as stiff as a steel rod.
For most men, an erection in such a setting would have been an everyday occurrence. For me, it was a much more noteworthy accomplishment. For as long as I could recall, I needed aggressive sex to obtain an erection. At minimum, the knowledge of rough sex being on the horizon was required.
Yet.
I sat across from Teddi with a stiffy so significant, my head was swimming.
Wondering if the entire thing was nothing but a fluke, I diverted my attention to my food. Mindlessly, I nibbled my toast and ate my eggs, fully expecting the swelling to subside. Ten silent minutes later, my food was gone, and I was still as stiff as a pubescent teen in a strip club.
I glanced at Teddi. She’d eaten her food and was staring blankly at the center of the table. Sporting my embarrassingly rigid hard-on, I stood, grabbed our plates, and took them to the sink. After rinsing them and placing everything in the dishwasher, I was still as erect as if I were face fucking a willing participant who lacked a gag reflex.
I tapped Teddi on the shoulder and tilted my head toward her room. “C’mon.”
“C’mon what?” she asked.
I glanced at the horizontal tent I was pitching. Her eyes naturally followed mine.
“What’s that about?” she asked.
“That’s all you,” I said.
She beamed with pride. “Why?”
“Because,” I replied. “You’re sexy as fuck.”
“In this?”
“In anything.”
I took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. In what I expected was part experiment and part wishful thinking, I took a position at her side on the bed. A few minutes of playful kissing followed.
Still as stiff as a stone, I removed my shorts and shirt and tossed them aside. She followed suit, stripping herself of her morning’s attire entirely.
I positioned her with her head at the headboard, flat on her back. I nestled myself between her legs and kissed her gently.
In the past, the positioning and the sexual temperature wouldn’t have been enough to arouse me more than a soap commercial.
My throbbing cock twitched against her inner thigh, itching to feel the pleasure of her warm confines.
As we kissed, she guided it between her legs. Free of dirty talk, ass slapping, choking, or hair pulling, I carefully slid my length inside.
Not so small that it was uncomfortable but tight enough to evoke caution in my manner of proceeding, her pussy fit me like a custom-made glove.
Nearly overcome with excitement regarding my newfound ability to have meaningful sex, I made love to her like it was my first time. In many respects, it was. My previous sexual encounters, although not in their entirety, had been driven by thoughts of violence, hate, and domination.
The sex that was underway was fueled by nothing other than deep-seated feelings for the woman who lay beneath me.
I made love to her tenderly, and in silence, enjoying the feeling of her naked body against mine. Our two bodies managed to become one, neither of us requiring instruction from the other to proceed with fulfilling our sexual desires.
My forestrokes were met by her aft and vice versa. As if choreographed, we continued, holding one another tightly as our hips moved in perfect timing with one another. I feared if I released her, the magic would somehow come to an end. It was a chance I wasn’t willing to take, so I held her like our time together was to be our last.
Each stroke brought me measurably closer to climax. Our eyes met. We didn’t speak. Words would have only tarnished an otherwise perfect meeting of two souls meant to share an equally perfect lovemaking session.