Sure Thing

by Jana Aston

  “Okay.” I grin, loving the way she can’t even look at me right now.

  “When I go down, I hear a rip.”

  I laugh and then she does look at me.

  “It gets worse. This super-cute guy from my dorm stops to help me up, but I don’t want his help because I suspect my ass is hanging out of my pants, you know? So I try to wave him off but he thinks I’m offering him a hand to give me a boost to my feet. Once I’m up I grab my butt to determine how bad the damage is and I think I’m playing it off as if I’m just wiping the seat of my pants off, but he thinks I’m hurt so he asks if I’m okay and somehow this ends with him looking at my ass. Literally, because this was freshman year, when I decided to assert my newfound independence by wearing thong panties.”

  “That’s pretty bad,” I agree with a sympathetic nod.

  “I couldn’t make eye contact with that guy for the rest of the semester.”

  “But did you make it to class on time?” I attempt to ask this with a straight face but fail.

  “Ha ha,” she snaps and glances quickly away, but a moment later she mumbles, “Yes.”

  “You went to class after that? You really were a nerd.”

  “Yeah. The very worst part is that I was wearing sensible boots. My sensible boots did not save me from falling on my ass.”

  “Bit of a disaster, weren’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “Did you get laid at all in university?”

  “Not till junior year.”

  I laugh out loud then. This girl.

  “I’m still traumatized by the sound of ripping denim.”

  “I’d imagine so, love. I’d imagine so.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Violet

  The sexual tension in the backseat of the car on the way back to the hotel is off the charts. At least, it is to me, but there’s no way he’s not feeling it too. It’s like a tangible line strumming between us. His arm is wrapped around my shoulder, fingertip lightly stroking the outer curve of my breast. My hand is on his thigh, leisurely caressing up and down. Quiet kisses leave no doubt how tonight ends.

  The car—a car service, not an Uber, I learned when the same SUV was waiting for us after dinner—drops us at the front door of the hotel. Jennings takes my hand and we walk inside, the motion-activated doors whooshing behind us. We’re quiet as we head to the elevators, hands entwined, and I imagine we look like a couple who’s content with one another instead of one who’s only just met. I feel comfortable with him.

  When we reach the door to my room he stops and turns me to face him, leaning down and kissing me. His lips press softly against mine, one hand behind my neck and the other resting on my hip. He nips my bottom lip between his teeth before breaking the kiss and taking a half step back, running his hand across his jaw and lower lip. “Good night,” he says, a heated spark in his eyes. Then he turns around and starts walking back to the elevators.

  What. The hell?

  “Where are you going?” I whisper-yell it at his retreating figure, because it is late and this is a family-friendly hotel.

  He stops, turns, but doesn’t walk back. There’s three or four feet separating us when we should be naked with nothing between us besides a thin layer of latex covering his cock.

  “My room.” He points a thumb over his shoulder toward the elevators. “First date. I’ve escorted you to your door and kissed you good night accordingly.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor.

  “No?” He raises one brow in challenge. “I assumed coming in was off the table on a first date. I seem to recall you mentioning it in your litany of first-date rules.”

  “For normal guys. You’re not normal.”

  “So I’m special? Or odd?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and cocks his head to the side. I don’t miss the grin that sneaks across his face either.

  “Are you trying to make me beg? Besides, they were guidelines, not rules,” I add as I stand taller and lift my chin in defiance, arms crossed over my chest.

  “Ah, guidelines. So they’re optional then?”

  “They’re guidelines. You know, to guide. Like a suggestion, not a law.”

  “Ahh. I see.” He nods but he’s still not moving. “I do rather like the idea of you begging, love. Now that you’ve mentioned it.” He takes one step towards me and stops. “Invite me in, then.”

  He really is making me work for this.

  “Would you like to come inside?” The words come out softer than I intended, more seductive, and I blush at the double meaning and tap the keycard in my hand against my forehead with a tiny groan.

  Jennings grins, studying me with mirth-filled eyes, then steps forward and takes the key from my hand.

  “Undress,” he commands the moment the door clicks shut behind us.

  “Just like that?”

  “I can do it for you if you’d rather.”

  “Okay.” I shrug. “You do it.”

  He pauses, appearing caught off guard for a moment, and then a slow smile covers his face. He stops in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt and meets my eyes. I think he’s stealing my three-second eye-contact trick and being on the receiving end, let me tell you, it’s very, very effective. My breath is caught in my throat and I feel on the verge of trembling when he closes the short distance between us and stops. He runs a single fingertip across my collarbone and I feel it—everywhere. My pulse races, my nipples harden and I’m so wet he could take me right now with ease.

  “You continually surprise me, love.”

  “Do I?”

  “Indeed.” His lips replace his fingertip and I shudder. Then he moves to my earlobe and nips the shell with his teeth before removing my earrings, first from one ear then the other. How that’s erotic is beyond me but the gentle touch of his fingertips as he slides the loops free from my ears is having an effect.

  “I like it.” I pause for a moment, unsure of saying this out loud. “I like it when you take charge. When you’re a little bossy.” Heat floods my core just hearing myself say it and I fidget both for relief and out of awkwardness. Is it weird to admit that?

  “I know,” he replies with amusement in his tone and my gaze snaps to his. He winks.

  Holy crap, that does things to me.

  “Would it be embarrassing if I came before my clothes are off?” Because it’s a real possibility.

  “Not for you, no. It’d be embarrassing if I came before your clothes were off, though, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.”

  “About?” he questions as his hand skims the hemline of my dress, his fingertips stroking the outside of my thigh.

  “Sorry that you can only come once while I get to come multiple times. It’s hardly fair, is it? I never realized that it was possible. I mean, I knew it was possible for some women, like porn stars and sexual-type people who are gifted or just lucky, but I didn’t know it was possible for me.” Oh, my God, stop talking.

  I can’t see his face but I hear his soft laugh in my ear, his breath warm against my neck. “Happy to provide an education, love.” He kisses the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and I shiver. “Turn around.”

  I turn, my eyes on the window. The sheer curtain is covering the window for privacy but the blackout curtain is still open, allowing the parking lot lights to filter into the room.

  The zipper of my dress is making the slowest progression down my back in the history of zippers. Inch by lackadaisical inch. I’m hyper-aware of him standing behind me, the descent of the zipper and the heat of his body driving me slowly insane.

  Then he’s slipping the material from my shoulders, the fabric sliding down my arms and over my hips. Jennings crouches behind me with the material around my ankles and instructs me to step out before he rises with the dress in hand. It makes a barely audible whisper of a sound as it lands on the dresser and then he’s ba
ck, gathering my hair and sweeping it over one shoulder and caressing the other with his lips.

  The clasp of my bra gives way beneath his fingers and is quickly discarded on top of my dress, his lips never leaving my neck. His chest presses to my back as he pinches my nipple. I gasp, my head falling forward to watch his hand cupping my breast and twisting the nipple between finger and thumb. His other hand is splayed across my lower stomach, holding me to him. The buttons from his shirt press into my back and I grind my ass against him, reassured to feel that he’s as affected as I am.

  Then his hand dips into the front of my panties and I moan. I wasn’t expecting it and the mere skimming of his fingers over my skin has me saying a silent prayer he’ll give me the relief I’m aching for.

  “I adore how wet you are for me,” he murmurs into my ear while his fingers slide through my slit, dragging the moisture to my clit.

  It feels a little obscene, watching his hand dip into my underwear. Dirtier, somehow, than if I was simply naked. I can’t take my eyes off the sight, his thumb visible above the waistband while his fingers delve below.

  I grind my bottom harder against his erection and am rewarded with him increasing the pressure with his hand, pulling me tighter to hold me still. The result is more friction exactly where I need it and I buck my hips against his hand with the limited amount of movement available to me because I still want more. More pressure. More contact. More Jennings.

  His cock is rock hard against my bottom. I imagine it straining against his pants, eager to be inside of me, and I emit something resembling a groan. I’m so close to release.

  He slips two fingers inside of me and I bite my lip. So close.

  “You’re awfully assertive for a woman who just told me she likes to defer control.”

  I grin, knowing he can’t see it. “I know, it’s just that I’m so fond of your hand.”

  “I can tell. You’re riding it so shamelessly my cock is getting jealous.” He pinches my nipple again and I clench around his fingers. “You’re soaking my hand, love. I’ll have to suck my fingers clean when you’re done.”

  “Jennings.” I exhale his name in a rush. My thighs tense and the pressure builds to the point I don’t think I can take any more. I feel so uninhibited with him, like the only thing that matters is enjoying each other, and it’s the most incredible turn-on I’ve ever experienced.

  I’ve still got my head tilted down, watching the motion of his hand as he works me. Watching as his thumb slips under the waistband of my panties and presses against my clit, as he curves his fingers inside of me and nips my earlobe with his teeth, and I shatter.

  I’d be on the ground if I wasn’t pressed so firmly against him because my legs are useless. A strong arm wrapped around my ribcage keeps me from going down as his other hand pushes me to ride the orgasm longer than I knew was possible.

  When the wave subsides, I test putting weight on my legs before stumbling, a little orgasm-drunk, from his grip as I turn to face him.

  “Holy crap, how are you still fully clothed?” I blink at him, trying to recall how we got here. “Like how is it possible that I just came that hard when only one of us is naked?”

  “You can take off the knickers now.” His eyes are on mine as he unbuttons his shirt, his movements steady and unhurried.

  That’s right. I’m not even completely naked. I hook my thumbs into the material and slide them over my hips until they hit the floor.

  “Hand them to me,” he instructs.

  I grab them from the floor and feel my face flush as I hand them to him, which is ridiculous after what he just did to me. Yet it’s still sort of mortifying to hand him a pair of panties that he just helped me make extremely damp.

  “Lie on the bed,” he instructs as the last button from his shirt is freed. I do so, keeping my eyes on his hands as they move to his belt. What is it about watching a man unbuckle his belt that is so freaking arousing?

  “Face down.”

  That I wasn’t expecting. I blink at him for a moment, watching the leather slip free of the buckle, and then slowly roll over with my arms bent and tucked to my sides.

  “Ass up.”

  Oh, holy fuck. Okay. I wonder if my ass is blushing as much as my face is. Is that a thing? I’m so stimulated right now I feel as though I must be flushed everywhere. I slide my knees up and push myself onto my elbows so that my ass will be higher than my head, thinking that’s what he wants based on the limited instructions.

  Then I wait.

  I hear his pants come off, the belt buckle making an iota of a sound as it hits the floor, but enough for me to guess where he’s at in his disrobing process. Then his hands are on my hips and I’m sliding across the sheets until my knees and ass are at the edge of the bed.

  Then the tip of his cock is nudging my entrance. I fist the sheets with my hands as he slams into me with one solid stroke. He grunts. I groan and dip my head, focusing on steadying my forearms against the bed so I don’t end up on my face.

  Jennings grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pounds into me. The room is silent apart from the sound of skin slapping against skin and labored breathing. I’m a vessel for his pleasure and I love it. My tits are bouncing with the force of his thrusts and his balls are hitting my clit. He’s so damn deep like this and the angle is bliss.

  I need to see what he looks like right now.

  I need to see the expression on his face that accompanies the grunts leaving his mouth. The look in his eyes as he’s whispering filthy things about the view of my ass. The clench of his jaw as he flexes his hips and pounds into me. I need a snapshot in my mind of what he looks like to remember this by.

  I look over my shoulder, my hair sweeping across my back and half covering my face, but it’s enough for a glimpse.

  His eyes burn into mine, hooded and intent. His lips are slightly parted and his tongue swipes his bottom lip as I watch. It immediately makes me think of his tongue on my clit and I clench around his cock, shocked I’m this close to coming again. I turn back with a moan, dipping my forehead to the mattress, arching my back and pushing my ass higher up.

  It doesn’t last long though because a second later Jennings yanks my hair and pulls me into a kneeling position in front of him with his lips against my neck.

  The words, “Did you want to watch, love?” are not even out of his mouth before I’m coming hard on his cock.

  It’s too much, too much stimulation too quickly. I might fall apart from the pleasure and I don’t think I can take it, but Jennings holds me against him and stills as my pussy clenches painfully tight around him. I drop my head onto his shoulder and try to push him away because it’s too much; I’m ultra-sensitive and in an orgasmic free fall.

  As I come down Jennings slips out of me and places his palm over my pussy with soothing hushed words in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am and how amazed he is with me. His hand cups me intimately, but not erotically. He’s not thumbing my clit or fingering me. His dick is still hard and pressed against my ass between us and his hand cups me, the sensation warm and soothing and loving.

  He settles me onto the bed, on my back now, and braces himself on top of me, his arms pressed to the mattress on either side of my head to keep from crushing me. His cock slides back into me like it was always meant to be there.

  Slow strokes, deep and measured. I wrap my arms around his neck and bend one knee, my ankle resting on his ass. Our lips meet, matching the pace of our sex, deliberate yet soft. My heart is racing but it’s so much more than adrenaline.

  “Is this real?” I whisper it, meant more for myself than him, but his eyes answer my question; his gaze moves across my face with tenderness before a, “Yes,” is pressed onto my lips. I pull him closer so I can bury my face in his neck, my nipples pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and soap and maybe a hint of clove or nutmeg—something I can’t put my finger on but is uniquely Jennings.

  The we
ight of his cock when he slides into me is pure rapture, heavy and thick. Each penetration fills me with warmth and fullness, each retreat met by a buck of my hips begging for his return. The intensity escalates with each thrust but in a quiet way, the frenzied pace of earlier abandoned, replaced with a different sort of passion. Tender and affectionate. Nothing else matters but the two of us, right here, right now.

  “This is a really great date,” I say softly.

  “The best ever,” he agrees, his forehead touching mine. I run a hand over his jaw and he presses a kiss into my palm before pushing back onto his arms and adjusting the leg I have wrapped around him. He hooks my knee over his elbow and thrusts deep, the penetration making me cry out his name as I come again. His cock pulses as he joins me, thrusting twice more before stilling inside of me.

  He rolls us so I’m lying atop him, still inside of me as our heart rates slow.

  “I can’t move,” I tell him, even though I’m the one on top. I’m not making an effort to be light, splayed on top of him, my limbs limp noodles and my head using his chest as a pillow.

  If I’ve ever been this satiated before in my entire life I can’t recall it.

  Jennings cups the back of my head and rolls me onto my back, kissing my forehead before he rises. I grunt at the upheaval and whine about the loss of his body heat.

  “Don’t move,” he says.

  “I just said I’m incapable, you sex maniac.” I flop my hand halfheartedly onto the mattress. “I might never recover. I’ll probably get fired tomorrow because I’ll be unable to move. I’ll point to the attractions as we pass them and say, ‘Sorry, folks, we can’t get off the bus because I’m unable to walk due to the sex marathon I had last night.’ That should go over well.”

  “You won’t get sacked,” he calls out on his way into the bathroom. Holy crap, he has a really nice ass. How has that escaped my attention? I think I might be an ass girl. Wait. That didn’t sound right even in my head. His ass, not mine. Nope, still not right.