Dawn Atkins - Very Truly Sexy

AJ’s hands slid upward from her butt, lifting her dress, exposing her thighs all the way to the tops of the lacy bands of the thigh-high nylons she’d worn. Then he moved his hands to the front of her dress. The bottom half dropped down, warm against her thighs, just as he cupped her breasts through her bodice.

Hot lust shot through her so swiftly she had to catch her breath. She broke off the kiss.

“Too fast?” he asked, searching her face as if she were some fragile creature who might run, or faint. She didn’t want to be fragile. She wanted to be bold.

“No. You’re perfect. Keep it up. Please.”

He smiled, then brushed her nipples softly. They tightened in response, sending electricity through her. She had to touch him, too, she realized, to give him the kind of pleasure he was giving her. As best she could, she grasped him through his pants.

He felt thick and long, and she had a fleeting thought that he would be too much for her. But he would be careful, she knew already because of how sensitive he seemed to be to her reactions. He would take it slow, make sure she was comfortable.

Then he surprised her by sliding his hand down her body and putting one finger gently against her cleft. He was right on target, and it took her breath away. Her parts seemed to loosen and swell, ache and dissolve, all at the same time. Her legs trembled and she thought she might swoon like some Victorian virgin in whalebone. “Let’s get…in…bed,” she managed to say.

If only they could whisk themselves there and clothes would disappear without any jiggling or tangling or hip-hopping out of panties.

AJ stopped touching her and held her gaze. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Just close your eyes while I change.” She was too modest to strip with him watching her.

“Don’t ever change,” he joked, but he closed his eyes.

That gave her a second to look at his face again—the strong brows and cheekbones, deep tan, the golden bristle emerging from his skin, his lush mouth with its knowing smile. Wow. And he was about to make love to her.

“No peeking now,” she said.

“You’re beautiful, Beth.”

“Humor me,” she said, and wobbled over to turn off the lamp, then punch off the entry light. She would definitely skip this part in her column—this dashing around, ripping off clothes while he hid his eyes, like some demented game of hide-and-seek.

She shook off her shoes, unzipped her dress and shoved it down, rolling her panties and the tops of her hose down along with the dress. Last, she unclipped her bra and took it off.

“Ready or not?” he teased.

“Not.” She shot a glance at him, crossing her arms over her naked breasts. His eyes remained closed, though he was grinning.

Wrapping her underthings into her dress, Beth placed the bundle neatly on her purse, her shoes beneath the chair, just as she did for a gyno exam, then started for the bed. Halfway there, she remembered the condoms in her purse. Note to self: Before things get too hot, extract condoms from purse and discreetly place on nightstand.

Beth rushed back for the squares of protection, deposited them on the nightstand, then whipped back the bedspread and slid between the sheets, pulling them up to her chin. The pillowtop was deeply soft and she seemed to sink for miles into its luxuriance. She turned the bedside lamp to the lowest glow—just enough light for AJ to see the condoms, but not enough to reveal too many of her physical flaws. Then she rested her arms along her body, over the sheet. “Now you can look.”

AJ opened his eyes. “But I missed the good part.” He walked to the bed, looking at her. He seemed to see right through the thick-ply fabric to where she trembled, her nipples taut, her sex tight.

“There are plenty of other good parts.”

“Sure, but a chance to see you naked—a little at a time—now that’s not to be missed.” Still watching her, he lifted his shirt over his head, then tossed it over the chair, where it wafted over her dress like a caress.

He opened his belt, undid his zipper and slid off his pants and boxers with quick grace. His arousal looked natural against his abdomen, which was flat with light muscle. His thighs bulged from what must be regular exercise, and his chest bore a feathering of golden hair.

She sighed and he slid under the sheets and enveloped her in his arms, radiating heat like a human furnace. Maybe Sara had a point about warmth. She spread her fingers against his back, reveling in the ripple of muscle, the pressure of his chest against her breasts, his penis and belly against her stomach, his thighs against hers.

“You feel so good,” he said, sliding his lips down her neck. He nipped, then sucked at a spot below her ear. “I want to look at you,” he said, and before she could object, he’d pushed the sheet down to her waist.

Feeling exposed, even in the dim light, she had the impulse to snatch the covers up to her chin, except AJ’s worshipful expression quelled that urge. He ran his hand over her breast, looking at it in wonder, like a geographer mapping beloved terrain, relishing each millimeter he skimmed and studied. “I wanted to touch you the minute I saw you in the bar.”

“You did?” she said.

“Oh, yeah.” He pushed the sheet farther down, making it rustle, exposing her pubic area and thighs to the brush of cool air, then his warm fingers. She tightened her tummy, to reduce the slight pooch, but he cupped it with affection. “Your body is amazing.” No man had looked at her with such frank appreciation, as if her flaws were part of her charm.

He traced the edge of her ear with his tongue while his fingers brushed lightly back and forth across her stomach, then breezed over her pubic hair.

“Oh, oh, wow,” she said, loving his teasing tongue, the surprise and grace of his skimming fingers. Her nerve endings were on fire in places that had never been ignited before. Was it possible to melt any more? Somehow she seemed to manage it. Waves of tingles washed down her arms and legs and pooled in that spot between her legs, which grew hotter, tighter and more hungry every second.

Pushed by need, she reached for AJ and curled her fingers around his shaft—velvet on the outside, sturdy underneath. She slid her hand up, stalling at his crown. He closed his eyes and pushed into her grip.

They would get serious now, and here was where her performance got iffy. “I should warn you that sometimes, when I’m nervous, I can’t…get there, you know…so don’t wait for me. Just go for it. It’ll still be great for me.”

“This isn’t a race, Beth,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

“I know, but I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Don’t worry. I’m enjoying every second of this. How about you?” He slid his finger into her cleft and gently pressed the spot above her clitoris, sending a wave of heat surging through her. “Are you disappointed?”

“N-n-no,” she managed.

“Doesn’t seem like it. You’re wet and swollen,” he said, exploring her gently, “and…so soft…. Are you nervous?”

“Uh-uh,” she said, so swept away by his touch, she sounded like a slack-jawed idiot. “Sometimes, I just get…oh, never mind….” She didn’t care about past history, about explaining herself, about anything but what his finger was doing to her flesh.

AJ gave a slow smile. While still stroking her sex, he kissed her neck with gentle suction. He kissed his way down to the swell of her breast and then took her nipple into his mouth.

She arched into the electric tug, feeling as if her very being was being sucked into his mouth. “Oh, oh, oh,” she said. Instinctively, she opened her legs wider and AJ took the hint, and moved his finger more rhythmically over and alongside the flesh that covered her clitoris—now a tight knot of need.