40-Love

by Olivia Dade

  “Why—” After clearing his throat, he started again. “Why me?”

  “You’re smart. Perceptive about people. I think you’d help me see possibilities and drawbacks I haven’t considered.” But she wasn’t going to pressure him if he wasn’t interested. “If that doesn’t sound like a good time, though, I completely get it. I can work from my hotel room like I’ve been doing before now.”

  “No.” The word was abrupt. Loud. “No, I’ll help. I want to help.”

  His hand covered hers, pressing both over his heart. And he was looking at her…

  Well, she didn’t quite know how he was looking at her. But she’d never seen such naked emotion in a man’s eyes before, not directed her way.

  “I’m glad,” she whispered, and licked lips that had abruptly turned dry.

  His eyes followed the movement. He swallowed, the effort visible, and hectic color washed over his cheekbones as he studied her mouth.

  That look, she recognized. She’d seen it several times over the course of a long night spent with him around her, above her, inside her.

  She still didn’t like mess. But she wasn’t aching or exhausted anymore, and she hadn’t lied. Competence turned her on. If he had some creative suggestions as to how they should spend their night together, she was more than willing to listen.

  “Tess.” It was a near-rasp, one that did nothing to diffuse the heat suddenly billowing between them. “I bought a vibrator today.”

  Wow. He’d had an extraordinarily busy day. Pies and vibrators and booties, oh my.

  “Someday,” he said, “when my face is buried between your legs, I want to slide that vibrator inside you and feel your thighs tremble as you come.”

  Her breath hitched. Hitched again.

  “But not tonight. Tonight, if you’d like, we can find out how it feels against your clit. What intensity you like. Which settings you prefer.” He leaned forward. Ducked down. Nuzzled that sensitive spot at the base of her throat as she gasped and squirmed. “And I have very good hands, as I’ve told you before. Let me remind you how good. No mess necessary.”

  His fingers gently fisted in her hair, and he turned her head away from him. When he licked a slow line up the back of her neck, she shuddered.

  “I’ve heard that orgasms help with cramps,” he whispered in her ear, and the sensation sharpened an ache between her legs that had nothing to do with her period. “What do you say?”

  What could she say, really?

  Her lips curved in an anticipatory smile. “Let’s find out.”

  Twenty

  As soon as Tess emerged from the bathroom, Lucas tugged her into his arms. “If you decide you’d rather just sleep, or you’re too uncomfortable doing this, let me know. Tonight doesn’t have to be about sex at all, like we said earlier.”

  It was an ongoing, earth-shifting revelation for him.

  She liked his body, sure. She enjoyed the way he could please her in bed.

  But she also wanted to hear his thoughts. About tennis, but also about her professional plans. Because she thought he had something to offer.

  Her faith in his judgment disoriented him. It swept his feet from beneath him, like that dangerous riptide at the rocky, visitor-prohibited stretch of beach beneath the overlook. It bore him inexorably away from the only land he’d known for years.

  He might drown in the end, of course. Suddenly, though, because of Tess’s inescapable pull, he could see other destinations. Other welcoming shores, waiting patiently in the distance.

  One fresh discovery he’d already made: The way she valued him for non-physical reasons made him want to give her more orgasms. As many as she could handle. Ironic, that.

  “I’ll tell you,” she promised. “Where do you want me?”

  Everywhere. In his life. Within touching distance as often as humanly possible.

  “You’ve cooled off a bit, right?” When she nodded, he guided her toward the bed. “Then let’s cuddle for a minute or two first.”

  Her eyes rolled to his shadowed ceiling. “Men. Always with the cuddling.”

  “We can’t help it.” Taking his time about it, he located the hem of her flowing turquoise t-shirt and began to raise it. “Your cuddle-ability levels are just that high. Off the charts.”

  She lifted her arms, and he tossed her shirt onto his nightstand, then took a moment to study her newest sports bra. This one didn’t offer much support and boasted zero hooks. Instead, it slipped on and off over her head and clearly showed her nipples through the soft cotton fabric.

  He approved.

  Cuddling suddenly a distant second in priorities, he sat on the edge of the bed and positioned her between his legs.

  “This is only a bra in the loosest sense. It’s mostly there to absorb under-boob sweat.” Her feet shuffled a bit. “I would have worn something sexier, but I didn’t think we—”

  Ducking his head, he licked the fabric over her left nipple. Licked again, as she gasped and fell silent. Once the cotton was wet, he played with her there. Circled the tight nub now pushing against his tongue. Nuzzled it with his nose. Bit gently through the fabric and watched her reaction carefully, since she might be especially sensitive at this time of the month.

  His hold on her hips kept her steady when he switched to her other breast.

  “Take off my bra. Take off your shirt.” It was a murmur. A husky plea couched as an order, even as she arched her back and offered herself to him. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

  She could have whatever she wanted. She could have everything.

  He reached back to strip off his tee, but her hand closed over his.

  “I changed my mind,” she said. “Let me.”

  In her fist, the fabric crumpled and rose. Every inch of flesh she exposed, she stroked with her free hand. His belly. His chest. His nipples, which she rubbed with her thumb. His collarbones and shoulders and neck, which she traced with her tongue.

  He shuddered, again and again.

  When the shirt lay on the floor, she lightly tugged the hair at the back of his head, and he cursed at the jagged bolt of sensation to his groin. Helplessly, he fell forward into her. Rested his face against her shoulder. Wallowed in her softness and heat for a moment before recovering himself and remembering what this was about.

  Not him. Only her.

  No hurry. Just lazy pleasure, a gift freely given.

  Her sports bra was tricky to maneuver over her head, but he managed. Then he moved her further in between his legs, pressed their torsos together, and went exploring, the loose waist of her cotton shorts and her generously sized panties allowing him plenty of room to maneuver.

  “Easy access.” One hand he slid down over her ass, cupping an ample, soft-skinned cheek. The other stroked her warm belly, the crisp hair between her legs. “Nice.”

  She kissed him then, her lips urgent, her tongue demanding entry. As she swept inside his mouth and claimed it as her own, he lightly rubbed his forefinger over her clit.

  The small sound she made, he breathed in. Her knees sagged as he circled the hardening nub of flesh, and he tightened his hold on her ass.

  With a tampon inside her, she wasn’t going to get wet. He’d have to supply his own moisture. Breaking the kiss, he switched their positions, easing her back onto the mattress as he stood between her legs. Then he licked his fingers and got back to the most pleasurable work he’d ever known.

  There was something unexpectedly erotic about watching his hand move beneath the fabric, the contrast between what was hidden from view and her very visible reaction. The way her thighs convulsively opened and closed on his forearm, her lips parted and wet and her breath fast.

  He leaned down and sucked that glorious curve of flesh between neck and shoulder, teasing her puckered nipple with his free hand. “Still feel good?”

  She was swollen and twitching beneath his fingers now, raising her hips for more pressure. But he didn’t make his touch any firmer. No, he intended to make th
is feeling last and last for her.

  “Oh, yes. Lucas…oh, God.” Her eyes drifted closed, and her chin tipped back as she squirmed on the bed.

  Fuck, Tess on the verge of orgasm was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen.

  Gentle, gentle.

  The shush of skin against fabric was the only sound other than her panting breaths. He kept circling, lightly rubbing, glorying in the occasional spasms that told him she was close.

  Then she moaned, her brow pleated, her flesh pulsing beneath his touch as she bucked and trembled and came. He bent down to kiss her, to take those whimpers of reaction into his mouth, and kept stroking her until her body relaxed and subsided into the mattress.

  When he raised his head, her eyes were still closed.

  “Want to sleep now?” he whispered.

  Given the rampant state of his body, he wasn’t sure he could drop off anytime soon, and he’d had other ideas for their evening together, but she needed her rest.

  She blinked open heavy-lidded eyes. “No.”

  “Good.” Urging her to lift her hips, he stripped away her shorts. “Because I want to test out the vibrator tonight, if you’re willing. You know, for scientific reasons. To find out whether using it helps your cramps.”

  Her lips curved in a sudden, wicked grin. “I don’t know if my orgasm helped my cramps, but it certainly did a lot for my mood.”

  “Noted for future purposes.” He mimed scribbling the information on his palm. “Now for our next experiment. Let me get the vibrator from my—”

  “Let’s save that for morning.” She caught his hand and tugged him down beside her. “Right now, I have other priorities.”

  “Cuddling, I hope.” He frowned at her. “You deliberately distracted me earlier, and I didn’t get my promised allotment. It was all very unfair.”

  She gaped at him for a moment, then closed her mouth with a snap. “I mentioned under-boob sweat, which is possibly the least sexy thing in the world, and the next thing I knew, your hands were in my panties. How on earth can you blame me for that?”

  The sweep of his hand encompassed all of her, from her rumpled hair to her cute pink toes. “You were standing there in just a sports bra and shorts. So the better question is: How was I supposed to resist that sort of temptation? It was entrapment, really.”

  Despite his best efforts to stifle a grin, she gently poked a fingertip into his dimple. “It was a faded cotton sports bra and baggy shorts, smartass. Not to mention my period panties, which are enormous.”

  “It was you,” he said simply.

  She faltered for a moment, swallowing hard. “You’re the one who took off my shirt.”

  “Then I hereby accept the blame for the offending orgasm.” He inclined his head, his tone lofty and gracious. “And now claim the cuddling time due to me.”

  When he tried to tip them both back onto the mattress, her hand on his bare chest stopped him. “Not so fast.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re reneging on your cuddle-related promises.” His stare was mournful, even as his lips twitched. “I may cry.”

  She wasn’t even trying to hold back her own grin anymore. “Strip, Karlsson.”

  “Naked cuddling, I’ll accept.” Quickly, he shucked his shorts and boxer-briefs, then urged Tess back against the pillows at the head of the bed and wrapped her in his arms. “Sorry about, uh—”

  “Mr. Perky isn’t a problem.” Her hand closed over him. “Mr. Perky is a bonus.”

  He’d been prodding her soft thigh, despite his best efforts, but now…

  Fuck. Her hand was strong and agile, the pressure on the sensitive underside of his cockhead perfect, and this wasn’t what he’d intended. At all.

  He rocked his hips against her touch, helpless. “Älskling, I didn’t mean—”

  “Hush,” she said, and licked her palm before gripping him once more. Then her fingers paused. “Unless you don’t want to do this? It’s okay if you’re not in the mood, or—”

  “Oh, I’m in the mood. Trust me.” He blew out a breath. “I just wanted tonight to be all about you. Not me.”

  Her brows rose in emphasis. “And what I want is to make you come, just like you made me come. Giving you pleasure makes me feel…”

  Her grip tightened as she trailed off, and the wash of pleasure stole his breath. “Makes you feel what?”

  “Connected to you. Powerful. The way you look at me right before you have an orgasm…” She bit her lip. “I want that. Again. But only if you do too.”

  They both looked down then, and the sight of her long fingers wrapped around his ruddy cock, her pale, plump thigh gleaming in the light of his bedside lamp, the swollen wetness of her lower lip…

  The urge to rut into her hand, against her giving flesh, overwhelmed him. He had to close his eyes for a moment to regain even a sliver of control.

  When he opened them again, she asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

  Silently, he shook his head. Closing his fingers over hers, he tightened her clasp.

  She didn’t move a millimeter. “I need words.”

  “Don’t stop. Please.”

  His voice was hoarse, and maybe he would have been embarrassed by that, by his pleading, another time, or with another woman. But not now, and not with Tess. Not with the way she immediately responded.

  Her smile, the slow slide of her hand along his aching flesh, were his rewards, and they were more than enough. He helped her find the rhythm, then let go and lay back, helpless before her.

  “You never have to beg.” She leaned over him, arching her back until her breasts were within reach of his mouth, and God, he didn’t deserve her. “Unless begging turns you on.”

  The edges of his vision were already turning white, and he couldn’t deny the truth. “It does. With you.”

  Her silky hair fell around their faces, hiding them from the outside world. He smelled sweat and peachy apricots and edelweiss, and it was yet more enticement to buck his hips, to pump into her hand and groan in exultant agony.

  Raising his head, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, licking it and taking it carefully between his teeth. Then fell back when he couldn’t concentrate anymore, couldn’t moderate the pressure of the bite.

  He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t.

  Her rhythm never sped up. Each stroke of her hand remained slow and excruciating, even as he threw back his head and made low, rough noises and panted.

  “Look at you,” she murmured. “You’re so swollen and thick now. So wet. Gorgeous.”

  With her thumb, she gathered more moisture from the tip of his cock and spread it, adding a slight twist of her hand until everything was slick and unbearable.

  He was delirious with need, thrusting jerkily into her grip, against her lush thigh. Her breasts swayed with his near-violent movements, but she still didn’t speed up. Didn’t take him over the edge into glorious nothingness.

  Then he understood.

  “Please,” he said, his voice strangled.

  Her hand paused. “Say it again.”

  “Please make me come.” He heaved upward and captured her mouth in a brief, desperate kiss. “I need you.”

  Her slow smile was gorgeous. Befitting a benevolent goddess bestowing her favor on a worthy mortal.

  Her fingers tightened on his cock, and suddenly she was pumping him without pause, her pace magnificent and unforgiving. He shouted, the ecstasy of it like lightning forking up his spine.

  In seconds, he was moaning and heaving and spurting all over her belly and thighs and hand, his mind absolutely, wonderfully blank. She nursed him through it, her grip turning gentler, her lips on his sweet and coaxing. Then she sat back and let him recover, stroking his chest with one hand.

  He was jelly on the mattress. Incapable of movement. At least until he caught her subtle squirming, the way she was rubbing her thighs together the tiniest bit.

  “Did that turn you on?” he managed to rasp out.

  “That”—she lifted her
slick hand with a rueful smile—“has never made me hot before. But…yeah. This time, it did. You did.”

  Somehow, that felt almost as good as his orgasm.

  With a fingertip, he traced the edge of her panties along her belly. “You want me to take care of it? Take care of you?”

  Her head dipped in a little nod.

  “Words,” he reminded her.

  She swayed toward him, above him. “Yes. I want your hand between my legs again.”

  “Can these come off?” He tugged at the elastic of the waistband. “And do you want us to wash up first? I know you don’t like mess.”

  “I think these can safely go,” she said, and wrestled her panties down her body and onto the floor. “If I’m wrong, so be it. I don’t care about mess right now.”

  Her hand guided his between her parted thighs. Then he was stroking the softest, hottest flesh imaginable, her vulva puffy, her clit still swollen and stiff from her earlier orgasm. She was already near the edge, so near that after only a minute of playing and circling and rubbing, she was grinding against his fingers and trembling, her flesh pulsing into his hand as she moaned loudly and came again.

  Later, when he was soaping her sticky belly in the shower, she suddenly laughed.

  He looked up from his task, smiling at the sight of her cute scrunched-up nose. “What?”

  “My cramps are totally gone.” She grinned and patted his hand. “Doctors should prescribe your fingers, Lucas. Women everywhere would be lining up for a monthly dose.”

  “I’m afraid the supply is exclusively yours.” Angling her into the spray, he rinsed off the soap. “Sorry, pharmaceutical companies.”

  When she stepped closer, her wet breasts pressed into his side, and he had to work hard to concentrate on the conversation.

  Her grin had disappeared. “Really? Just mine?”

  Those hazel eyes of hers slayed him. All that tentative hope, all that fear.

  “Just yours,” he told her, each word firm. Decisive.

  “Good.” Her palm cupped his cheek and urged him down for a kiss, which he gladly gave her. “Good.”