by Jill Winters
He wasn't pushing inside her, just letting his cock rub her, over and over, making her moan and break their kiss, and whisper brokenly, "Wait... God... I remembered what I was going to say..." She gave a light shove to his chest to get his attention; he pushed up on his arms and looked into her eyes. "I'm not on birth control," she said, still catching her breath, "and I—"
"Don't worry," Rick rasped huskily against her cheek. Trailing soft, slow kisses along her throat and down to her collarbone, he said, "I'm not going anywhere yet." He paused; then she got his meaning.
"I've got condoms," he added—and it was a relief, because she sure as hell didn't carry any around with her.
Why didn't it surprise her that Rick had some on hand? Not that he was some kind of sex fiend; he was just a man who was prepared... bringing her to the heart of her next point. "Rick, wait," she said gently, flattening her palms to his chest to stay him, to keep their eye contact. "This... this is moving really fast for me. Can we maybe slow it down a little?"
"Yeah," he said suddenly, rolling to the side to free her, to give her space. She could finally breathe easily again, bur she wanted him back on top of her anyway. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"
"No, no, it's okay," she interjected, turning to face him. They were lying side by side, and she gave him a faint, shy smile.
"What's wrong?" he said again, speaking gently to her as he brought his hand up to smooth her hair away from her face, caressing her cheek as he did it.
"Well... this just isn't my usual. I know you probably can't tell by what happened in the elevator and... stuff," she added, thinking about the other time in her apartment and their torrid, untamed first kiss in his truck. "But the truth is, I don't have that much experience, and—"
"Shh, don't worry," he coaxed. "We won't do anything you don't want to do."
Don't want to do? No, that was hardly the problem. She wanted to—and planned to—but she had to know some stuff first. "I want to, Rick," she said, "bur it's been a while for me."
"Okay," he said tentatively, like he wasn't sure what her point was. Truly, what was her point? This was sex, not leaving out your pierced earrings too long. She was still a functioning female with a higher sex drive than she had even realized she possessed. She was frantic for him, sweaty and shaken, and right now, even the thought of Rick making love to her was enough to make her writhe on the bed, spread her legs, moan, beg...
And it really hadn't been that long when you considered how long Gretchen had waited to have sex in the first place. But "it's been a while" just seemed like the thing to say when you were about to introduce the next, more delicate topic.
"Uh... how many partners have you had?" she asked cautiously, afraid of the answer. Not like the number itself would tell her much, but it seemed like good information to have. She braced herself for something terrible. This was where it would all fall apart; this is where he'd say something like "two hundred" and she'd have to bolt.
Or what if he said something even worse, like: I lost count?
Dear Lord. There couldn't possibly be a respectable number when it came to a guy as hot as Rick. He was so confident with her, especially when he touched her, kissed her—surely that expertise came from somewhere. Cringing, Gretchen waited for his answer.
He thought for just a second, then answered, "Nine."
"Nine?" she echoed, horrified. "Nine different women? Oh my God!"
"What?" he said with a surprised kind of laugh. "Is that bad?"
"It's just... so many," she said with a touch of disgust.
Though in truth it was better than what she'd feared. He was thirty-two years old after all, and unbelievably sexy. With his dark, dangerous looks and his simmering intensity, Rick had probably started having sex in high school, and in light of that, was nine so terrible?
Still... it was nine times as many as her.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, looking eager to please. That alone touched her heart. Then he said, "Oh, wait, you know what? That number's wrong." No, don't lie, she thought fretfully, Don't reduce the number just to keep me from changing my mind. "It wasn't nine," he said. "It was eleven."
Her jaw dropped. Her eyes bugged out of her head. Her dismay was ludicrously apparent. "Eleven!" she yelped. "Holy cow, I can't believe it—eleven?" Clutching her neck, she murmured, "Oh, I feel faint..."
"Jesus, would you calm down?" Rick said. "I just forgot about these two girls in the Air Force for a second, that's all."
"Two girls... oh, no," she said, getting a little panicky again.
"You mean... two as in...?"
"As in what?" he asked, clearly confused. (jeez, he was kind of slow at times, wasn't he?) Then Rick let out a bark of laughter, getting it. "What, you mean two at once? No—Jesus! Two different girls I dated, that's all. What do you think I am, anyway?"
Heaving a dramatic sigh of relief, Gretchen pressed her head back into the pillows, gulping in a breath of air before looking back up at him. She could see the traces of amusement in his face. Explaining herself, she began, "Well, I know a lot of guys fantasize about—"
"Sure, a fantasy's one thing," he interrupted, rolling closer, cupping her cheek with his palm. His blue gaze burned a path from her eyes to her mouth. His playful expression was gone, replaced by a look of raw, smoldering desire. She breathed in, waiting for him, and then he kissed her. Gently working his lips across her cheek, he sucked on her earlobe before whispering into her ear, "But I'm all about one man on one woman." Her pulse quickened. Yes. She hoped he meant that literally; she might have limited experience, but for her, sex was at its finest when the man was on top, doing most of the work. "Grinding against each other, kissing and licking every inch of her body," he added thickly. "And I like to concentrate." Then he slid his tongue inside her ear, making her tremble and clutch at him. "Mmm... like with you and me... I have a feeling you'll be more than I can handle—almost."
"I doubt that," Gretchen managed weakly. More like the other way around. In fact, would she even be able to walk after this?
Her words gave him pause. Pulling back, he scanned her face and quirked his mouth. "why, how many people have you been with?" he said.
"Um..." She supposed she "had" to tell him since he'd told her and it was the "right" thing to do. (Don't you just hate that?) But she felt a little silly saying it, even though she shouldn't.
Gretchen hesitated for a long moment and Rick arched his eyebrows expectantly. Finally, she copped to it. "One," she said and waited for the requisite shock, confusion, and questions that would follow.
"One," he repeated, nodding, taking it in; then he squinted at her and tilted his head. "Wait a second," he said, and rolled over her, pushing himself all the way up on his hands, so he was bracketing her in, looking down into her eyes. She couldn't help but noticing the way his biceps flexed as they took his weight.
"You broke up with your ex-boyfriend how long ago?"
"Almost a year," she said.
"And how long were you two together?"
"Two years."
"So then... do you mean to tell me..." Jeez, how long did they have to drag this out? "You're telling me you lost your virginity at, what, twenty-three?"
So he wasn't great at math; he was still cute.
Unless maybe he forgot and thought she was twenty-six instead of twenty-seven. Either way, no sense in correcting him. "Yeah, I guess," she hedged. "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing... Nothing at all. I'm just shocked."
Here it came. She'd had the "I'm shocked" conversation with Tristan, too, only then the answer had been zero.
Rick seemed still to be absorbing the information. Gretchen couldn't help wondering why guys made a big deal about it. But then she supposed they could ask her the same thing. Why had it been a big deal to her? Why had she waited?
"Well, you don't have to have a moment of silence about it," she threw in, and he chuckled.
"I'm sorry. I just never saw that coming. But it's nice. Diffe
rent."
"All right already, I'm not an exhibit at the zoo."
Now he laughed. "I'm sorry, baby," he said, and her whole chest warmed at the way he'd said that. "It's just, you're such a fox, that's all. I mean I'm really dying to know—"
"Twenty-three's not so long to wait," she said quietly, running her hands up his arms, over his smooth, sleek triceps.
"You're right," he conceded.
"I was waiting for my soul mate," she added by way of explanation.
"Huh, and how'd that work out for you?" he quipped.
With a breath of laughter, she shoved at his shoulders and said, "Oh, shut up, will you."
And then he was on top of her again. Kissing her thoroughly, aligning their bodies perfectly. Squirming beneath him, she adjusted to his weight and moaned softly at the feel of his naked body on hers. The heat that radiated off him seeped into her bones. When he spoke, his smooth, rich voice seemed to caress her skin. "You set the pace," he said, and the words warmed her body like a blanket, sent waves of both longing and tenderness rolling through her.
Her breasts were like flattened pillows against the wall of his chest, and her legs like a vise around his hips; she glided one bare foot down the back of his leg, then the other, slowly and softly, and after another moment, she pulled his head closer for a kiss.
One kiss turned into many and throughout, his hands ran over her body with blatant possession. She felt every inch of him, listened to his breathing, his grunts, all his sexy words—and she honed in the movements of his body, the flexing of his muscles, the heat that rose like steam off hot pavement. Nearly choking, Gretchen finally felt Rick's fingers sliding inside her, and spearing white heat right between her legs. Rocking on the bed, she rode his hand, never able to get enough, feeling how wet he was making her, how frustrated. On a thick groan, she said, "I want you so much..."
"I want you, too," he replied huskily, withdrawing his fingers and thrusting again. "God, you drive me crazy..."
"And you said you have a condom...?" she gasped, reminding him because she didn't know how much more she could take. His foreplay had her so turned on that her body was quivering. She wanted to tell him, just fuck me—please, but she'd never said anything like that before, and she was too shy to say it now.
Quickly, Rick reached over, which pressed his weight on her even more, would've crushed her if she didn't love the feel of him too much to care; when he pulled back he had a condom in his hand and he was paused to tear the packet open with his teeth.
"Thanks," she breathed with a faint smile.
"No, problem. I'm used to wearing rubber," he said, grinning, and a second later, he slid inside her. It hurt and she winced; he was so big and she automatically tensed up, maybe from lack of practice but there were searing sparks of pleasure on the fringes of the pain. He withdrew and drove into her again. Gretchen gasped.
All hints of pain burned into hot, seeping pleasure. As he rocked his hips in gentle motions to warm her body to his, he lit flames of erotic sensation through her, arousing her to the point of urgency. She gripped his back and urged him on with her hands, her sighs, her undulating hips. Again and again, he thrust himself inside her.
They rode together—both of them panting, sweating, clinging to each other, and it seemed to go on endlessly, each stroke of Rick's cock heightening Gretchen's arousal, driving her toward ecstasy. Rick's hand moved down to where their bodies were joined and with two fingers he started rubbing her. Gretchen was stunned. For some reason it had never occurred to her to be touched like this during sex—to have both. It certainly wasn't one of Tristan's moves.
Her excitement climbed as the sensual sensations he stirred in her spiraled higher. The harder he rubbed, the closer she was to—
She started to come. Thrilling shocks of fire raged between her legs. With her blood ringing in her ears, her heart thundering in her chest, her back arched, her muscles tight, she buried her head deep into the mess of Rick's covers, and tried to express how good this felt, but her throat was too dry and the climax was too strong. All she could do was moan and ride it out, as contractions rolled through her, making her body throb to achieve satisfaction.
Breathing hard, Rick rose up higher, balancing on his arms again. He jerked his hips, thrusting harder, faster, hammering into her until he climaxed, and a long, hoarse cry ripped from his throat.
Moments later, he rolled off her, his chest rising and falling. He slung his arm across his eyes with an exhausted sigh.
Gretchen would've laughed or agreed or said something if only she'd had the strength, but her eyes were already drifting shut. She rolled over, curling into Rick's side, and drifted to sleep. Soon after, she was cradled against him with his warm sweaty body faintly sticking to hers and the blanket pulled up over her hips—something Rick must've done before he'd fallen asleep himself.
* * *
A few hours later, Gretchen woke up to an empty bed. The room was dark and she was alone. Then she heard noises in the apartment, outside the bedroom. "Rick?" she said. He didn't answer; then she heard another noise, like a cabinet slamming closed. She shot up in bed, covering her bare breasts with Rick's blanket as unease coiled in her stomach.
Then the bedroom door opened, and Rick came in, carrying a brown bag and two cans of soda under his arm. He stopped to hit the light switch with his elbow.
"Oh, good, it's you," she said, smiling.
"Who else?" he said with a questioning grin. He wore a pair of sweatpants and no shirt, his strong, hairy chest a thoroughly arousing image to wake up to. "I'm glad you're awake. I'm starving," he said, and sat down on the bed, dropping the sodas down, too.
"Hi there," Gretchen said softly, stretching sleepily, then leaning up and over to kiss his cheek. His arms snaked around her bare back and hugged her tightly; heat and comfort spread through her chest like a warm drink of cocoa or flannel sheets on bare skin. Rick was here with her and this night was real, not one of her fantasies, and on top of everything that was already wonderful, it smelled like Chinese.
"Are you hungry?" he said.
"Yes, starving." She hadn't even realized it till right this second. "Good," he said, unrolling the bag. "I didn't want to wake you so I took a chance. Sweet and sour chicken, rice, egg rolls."
"Yum," she said eagerly and reached for some napkins and a plastic fork. "When did you get this?"
"The delivery guy came about ten minutes ago, but you were asleep."
"Wow, where did you find a place to deliver in the middle of the night?"
"Middle of the night? It's only eleven thirty."
"It is?" she said, surprised.
"Yeah," he said, biting a chunk out of his egg roll. "We cut out of TCN around eight. And by the time we got back here you were pretty anxious to get in my pants. But I guess I don't have to tell you that part."
"Oh, right, I remember now—smarty," she said with a smirk, then climbed up on her knees, keeping one hand on her breasts to secure the blanket and wrapping the other around his neck. She kissed his cheek and let her lips linger there. "And wow," she breathed, "was it worth not waiting for."
He let out a laugh, his face creasing into a smile against her lips.
"Thank you. I tried real hard, ma'am."
Gretchen giggled, then suddenly had a thought. "Hey, I just remembered something," she said, pulling back a fraction to look at him. "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who left the fire extinguisher at my apartment that day."
"Oh. That." With a brief nod, he said simply, "Yup. Why, how many times have you used it so far?"
"None," she replied with her hand on her hip, smiling sardonically at him. "I totally forgot about that until just now." Tenderly she added, "That was sweet."
Their lips met for a soft, supple kiss; then Rick ducked his head to go lower. When he had kissed his way across her chest, he nudged at the blanket with his fingers to pull it down.
She squirmed back, so he tugged harder. She grasped his wrist to still his
hand.
"Why are you so shy all of a sudden?" he asked. "Not all of a sudden. I am shy."
"You weren't shy when you were jumping my bones tonight," he teased, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, remember that night when I came back to your place to get my phone and you were all mad at me?"
"I wasn't mad. I was just upset." And all mad. "It seemed like you just came in and barely even noticed me at all—"
With a bark of laughter, he said, "Are you kidding me? Of course I noticed. But what was I gonna do? Grab you and start copping a feel right there in the doorway?" She weighed that in her mind; hey, she would've gone with it (but only because it was Rick). "I didn't want you to think I was a jerk," he added like this should have all been pretty obvious.
Then he put down his half-eaten egg roll and leaned over. "It's not like I didn't want to touch you," he said and kissed her bare shoulder, "and rip your nightgown off." He dragged his mouth up to suck the curve of her neck, drawing a sigh from her lips. "It's not like I didn't want to kiss you right here," he whispered, nuzzling the same spot he'd just sucked, "right here where you smell like a little apple."
Sighing again, she thought, Apple... now I see, and combed her fingers through his hair. "It's my conditioner," she explained weakly.
She sensed by the way he seemed lost in her right now that he wouldn't be overly interested in the "Organic Orchard Gift Basket" Dana had sent her last year, which included an array of apple-scented beauty products.
When Rick pulled back and looked at her face, he smiled and said, "Hey, you're blushing. How come? Don't get all embarrassed on me now."
"I'm not—I can't help it," she mumbled, and hugged him.
Rick urged Gretchen backward, shoving the food and unopened cans of soda out of the way, and they ended up lying on their sides, bodies entangled. Now the blanket was well on its way past covering any part of her and she wasn't so embarrassed from this angle. Strumming his fingers along her arm, Rick said, "What I want to know is how the hell you lost your virginity at twenty-three. That's what I want to talk about."