Shanna Germain - Leather Bound

Kyle pulled away to look at me.

‘How much time?’ he asked.

‘Five minutes,’ I breathed.

‘How do you know?’

‘Internal clock?’

‘I think you’re full of it…’

‘Listen,’ I said, panting. ‘I can use my mouth to argue about it or I can use my mouth to kiss you while you fuck me.’

He snapped his fingers in the air as if signalling someone. ‘I need this gift-wrapped.’

Laughing, I reached out and grabbed a condom from the dresser. In the dark, I couldn’t tell which side of the condom was up. Of course, I got it wrong the first time, trying to roll it down the wrong way over his head. I flipped it, got it wrong again, and then flipped it one last time. This time it worked perfectly.

‘They should paint glow-in-the-dark arrows on these things,’ I groused, even as I slid the rubber down over his erection. Condoms were a necessary evil, but there was something I liked about rolling them down, stroking the length of him in the process. There was something he liked about it too; I could tell by the way he arched his hips, pressing his cock upward against my touch.

‘It’s like a USB plug,’ I said, when I had it on.

‘What?’ He put his hand over mine, urging me to stroke him.

‘Um. Hot man with beautiful cock, about to fuck me,’ I said. ‘Will explain technology later.’

‘Geek,’ he said.

‘A geek you’d like to fuck,’ I said.

‘Isn’t that a song?’ he said.

‘Don’t know, don’t care. Why are we talking about this when I could be riding you?’

I rose over him, letting my legs rest on either side of his hips. I loved being on top, loved that moment when I first started to lower myself down over his cock, that moment of connection, when I knew what was to come. He sighed beneath me, eyes meeting mine, his hands settling on my hips. He didn’t pull me towards him, just let me ride myself slowly down on his cock, feeling it fill me, displacing the emptiness inside me with the lovely fullness of pleasure.

For all our playful banter beforehand, our actual sex was quiet. The only sounds we made were a lot of signs and groans, underwritten by the soft slap of our bodies coming together.

I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, our hips rising and falling in unison, the strokes between us starting slow, a grind that left both of us groaning each time we came apart.

From this position, I could feel the way his cock curved against the hollows of me. Every time I rose off him, his head slid against that sensitive bulb of my g-spot, making me gasp.

His fingers curved tighter around my hips, lifting me higher with each stroke, setting me down harder on him with each return.

‘Touch yourself,’ he said. ‘Please. I want to watch.’

‘I’ll fall.’

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. He shifted his hands slightly, moving them down to cup my curves more fully, holding me up.

Leaning back slightly, I pressed two fingers to the sensitive tip of my clit. He watched me as I touched myself, green eyes lidded with desire. He lifted me in time to the circles of my fingers, matching stroke to stroke.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said. ‘I love watching you.’

His fingers tightened, nails digging into my skin, his breath as fast and ragged as mine. I couldn’t stop looking at him looking at me. Getting myself off was hot. Getting myself off while getting fucked and watched by a beautiful man was so far off the scale of hot I had no words for it.

I tried to wait, to keep breathing through the pleasure that rose up through me, to stretch out that delightful moment before I came, but at the sound of Kyle’s broken groan of my name, I couldn’t hold off any more. He arched up under me, nails biting my skin, eyes closing. The pulse and clench of him brought my own orgasm, a quiet rippling sweetness that spread outward on threads of pleasure, until I could feel them all the way to the tips of my fingers.

We stayed like that for a moment, me still on top of him, our breaths catching and releasing, kissing softly. He felt different after sex, his lips softer and fuller, his touch gentler, and I relished the changes in him for a moment, knowing they’d been brought about by a pleasure similar to my own.

‘You’re awesome,’ he said with a sigh.

‘You’re awesome too,’ I said. ‘But I have to run. Have a bookstore to run and all that.’

‘We can’t do this again? I’ll be quick.’

‘I wish,’ I said, with a true sense of wistfulness. Maybe it was the fact that I was quickly approaching thirty or maybe it was just that my life had slowed down to a steady routine lately so I had more time to think about sex, but it seemed like my lust clock was always in overtime these days. My uterus didn’t want kids, but my clit wanted sex. Pretty much all the time. Even with Kyle around a couple of times of week, I’d made pretty good friends with a whole community of vibrators in the last year. Turning down sex these days was akin to turning down coffee – something I only did with a great deal of reluctance.

I kissed Kyle’s nose, with a sigh of regret.

‘Sadly, if I stay I really will be late, which Lily will certainly hold over my head all day long if she can. Maybe longer.’

‘You’re afraid of Lily? Just threaten to mess up her hair.’

That made me laugh, as Kyle often did. My best friend did have perfectly coiffed hair. The kind that’s so perfect you have to hate her, just a little, for having it.

‘No go,’ I said, as I pulled myself from the bed.

Getting dressed was me rushing and tumbling while Kyle watched me from his sprawl under the covers. Too late to do more than pull on whatever was closest, I grabbed a simple black dress from the closet and threw my dark hair into a messy ponytail. My store key on its red ribbon around my neck for pseudo-jewellery, my little librarian glasses, and I was calling it good.

When I sat on the bed to pull on a pair of knee-high boots, I caught Kyle’s glance. He looked oddly serious for post-sex reverie, his usual grin replaced with something far more contemplative.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked.

He reached out and touched my arm. ‘I just got fucked by a beautiful woman. How can I not be good?’

‘Good.’ I grinned at him before I kissed him, letting my lips linger against his for a long moment. ‘You know how to get out, right?’

He nodded, reaching out to run his hand along my arm as I turned away.

I was at the bedroom door, mind already turning to work and the bookstore, before he spoke again.

From the depths of my bed, he said in that sexy, post-orgasm voice that never failed to turn me on, ‘Janine. Marry me.’

The heel of my boot caught on the area rug, sending me sprawling against the doorjamb.

‘Funny man.’ Laughing, I turned to shake my head at him, at his impossible joke.

And in that moment, standing there in the doorway, I saw that he was serious. That he was, really and truly, asking me to marry him.

Shit.

* * *

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was my refrain the entire fifteen-minute walk from my house to Leather Bound. What the hell was Kyle talking about, marry him? We had a perfect, lovely, sexy thing. Get together a couple of times a week, have dinner, get hot and heavy. Good fun sex on the kitchen floor. Or the couch. Or behind the couch. Then he went home and I curled up with a cup of coffee and a couple of books.

Lust. Not love.

Marriage. Was that why he’d been so quiet all night? Who the hell asked a girl to marry him from bed anyway? From her bed, no less. And, more importantly, why?

I was still turning a million questions over in my brain when I reached the bookstore. The door was locked – we didn’t open for fifteen minutes or so – but the back lights were on, letting me know that Lily was already inside. Webster, the store cat, was snoozing in the big front window display, his grey striped tail tick-tocking, probably in time to some mouse-hunting dream.