I both love and hate how rational he is. At least one of us has enough sense to not do anything more than actually sleep as we share the bed. It’s a first for me, not actually fucking before sleeping next to each other, but hey, I’m willing to try out new things.
Chapter Five
Emma
I toss and turn and still can’t get comfortable. Uncertainty gnaws at my insides. Why isn’t he trying to touch me? Sneaking in with an accidental thigh graze to test the waters so I can shoot him down? It’s like I’m not even here. With a fed up sigh, I flop to my back and stare at the ceiling. We’re acting like we’re married, not fake boyfriend and girlfriend.
“Are you done, yet?”
Is he serious? Why isn’t he just as anxious as I am? I turn to my side, my back to him. Still nothing. Unbelievable. I jump to my other side. Oh, my God. His fucking eyes are closed. “Ryan?”
He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes. “What?”
“Why aren’t you even looking at me?”
“Because I wouldn’t be able to see you.”
Okay, that at least makes sense. Sort of. Still, I feel like the fat girl picked last in gym. He’s not even the least bit interested in me. I’m being rejected by the king of the nerds. Talk about a self-esteem boost.
“But you can feel me.” I hate how pathetic I sound. Jesus, I’m practically begging him to touch me. Hookup sex is never about pride. I’m not afraid to admit it. I want him to want me.
This time he does open his eyes. “How can I not when you won’t quit bouncing on the bed? Is this what it’s like sleeping next to someone?”
Shock hits me hard and I swallow several times as I collect my words. “Are you a virgin?” He turns from me. “Ryan?”
“It’s late.”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“Oh, my God.” I slap my hand to my mouth. “You’re still a virgin. You’re like Steve Carroll in that one movie.”
“His character was forty,” he growls over his shoulder.
“Well, then we’ve still got time.”
He chuckles and rolls to his back. “I guess, since you’re my trainer or whatever you want to call it, I should be honest with you. No, I’ve never slept with anyone. I’ve come close—in the literal sense.”
“Oh.” I drop my gaze. “Get a little too excited, did you?”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
“If you want me to turn you into the player of every woman’s dreams, I need all the facts. If you have a problem with preemie sperm spit ups, we need to fix it.”
He closes his eyes with a groan. “Can we please just go to sleep?”
“No. You are not allowed to be in the same bed with a half-naked woman and not want to have sex with her.” I grab my pillow and smack him with it.
“Hey!” He jerks into a sitting position. “And you aren’t allowed to hit a blind man. That’s like shooting a guy in the back.”
I push myself up. “At least I’m acknowledging you even exist.”
“Why are you mad?”
“Because I’m right here,” I point out through clenched teeth and even grab my boobs to demonstrate.
“What are you saying?”
“Oh, my God!” I thrust my fingers through my hair to pull it off my face. Could he really be this clueless? “We are never going to get you laid if you don’t know how to make the first move.” I scoot closer to him. He stiffens. When I touch him on the shoulder, a nice little tent starts to sprout between his legs.
And keeps going. And going. My mouth falls open as I focus on the size of his rigid cock. No fucking way. How does a nerd get so lucky as to have junk so big it should star in a porno?
I force my attention to his face. “Let’s start with the basics. Kiss me.”
His face falls slack. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to father my children. It’s just a kiss. Don’t think about it. Just do it.” He leans into me, his mouth wide open, tongue out. I stop him with my hands on his hard chest. “Whoa, there. What the hell are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
“You are about to suck in the entire bottom half of my face,” I correct and run my hands up his impressive pecs to rest them on his even more impressive shoulders. I shudder and relish in the feeling, if ever so briefly. “Okay, let’s try this again. Keep your mouth closed this time.”
He thins his lips and then attempts to speak. “Like this?”
I giggle and slap his shoulder, drawing a grin from him. “Be serious.”
“How about this?” He puckers up.
“You’re killing me. Just relax. She’s going to be nervous, too. It’s actually better when she’s a little nervous.”
“Why?”
“Then you know she wants it as much as you do.”
When he smiles, I return the gesture. “Maybe I should put on my glasses for this.”
“You don’t need to see,” I say as I stop him from reaching for them. He turns back to me as I scoot closer. “You only need to feel. Now, reach up and fist my hair.”
He does and then yanks down. “Ow!” He immediately drops his hand. Jesus. I’m going to have to do everything for him. “Like this.” I slowly weave my fingers into his hair and then gently squeeze. “See? No pain involved.”
A deep-seated groan escaped his lips. I’ve never had a guy growl like that when I touch him and it makes me want to take it a step further. I scrape my nails against his scalp and goose bumps pepper his skin. His head rolls in whatever direction I move my hand. The tent in his PJs stands at perfect attention and I so want to let him free.
But this isn’t about sex, not between us. This is about showing him how to be more like a Delta and less like, well, what he is. Sure, it may turn into sex, but it’s purely physical. He needs to learn how to be a lady’s man and I’m willing to take one for my gender.
“Now you try.”
He fingers my hair and massages my scalp. Oh, dear Jesus on a vine. That feels so good. When he fists my hair with a little more force than I did his and pulls me to him, I lose my ability to breathe. He rests his forehead to mine. No words. He just rests there, waiting. The warmth of his breath tickles my face. The anticipation is killing me. I keep trying to lift my chin but he stops me with his hand in my hair.
Slowly, as if time doesn’t matter, he lowers his lips to mine and barely touches them. He then pulls back before doing it again. Chills whisper across my skin and tighten my nerves. My nipples twist as pulses of erotic energy attack my clit. My entire body throbs and I squeeze my thighs together to ease the ache.
He traces my lower lip with his tongue and I lose control. He’s not allowed to be able to tease like this. I grab his head and force him to me, kissing him so deep I swear to God I feel him inside me. His tongue is rabid, striking against my lips like an angry snake. I slow him down by directing the pace. He follows me and soon we have a nice rhythm. I could really get used to this. He tastes like a cross between beer and male awesomeness. After some serious kissing, I end our make out session and pull back.
“There,” I say, out of breath. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been on a roller coaster. I can’t feel my legs.”
“That’s because all your blood is between your legs, buddy.” I pat him on the shoulder before squeezing it. He has damn fine shoulders. Damn fine shoulders. I squeeze them again and take my time tracing his muscles with the tip of my fingers. “See? You did that without—”
“Oh, shit.” He grabs his cock just as he loses all control.
Oh, shit.
“I’m sorry.” He jumps off the bed and runs out of the room, and I feel bad for him. My motor may have started, but without a little fuel, it will die fast. Seeing how embarrassed he is from having an orgasm simply by kissing me kills my libido. Tonight can’t be about me. He needs me more than I need to come.
When he doesn’t return after a few minutes, I call
out for him. He doesn’t answer me, no matter how many times I call him, so I get up and pad out of the room. I find him sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. “Ryan?”
He looks up and me, tears in his eyes, and I suck in a breath as I cover my mouth with my hand. He drops his head once again. “I’m sorry.”
I sit down next to him and lean my head on his shoulder as I take his hand. He tries to pull away but I won’t let him. I curl my fingers around his and stare at our hands together. He does the same. We sit there in silence. I don’t know what to say to make him feel better.
“Emma,” I say after the quiet ringing in my ears is too much.
“What?”
“My name is Emma.”
“Emma,” he repeats, just as softly. “I’m sorry, Emma. I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Because you had one preemie spit up? Oh, please. Like I’ve never had that happen.”
He looks at me. We’re close enough that I have a feeling he can see me just fine. “How often has it happened?”
If I tell him a lot, I sound like a whore. If I tell him not that many, it discounts what just happened. I know when to change the subject in order to protect myself. It’s sort of like pleading the fifth, without having to be on trial. I touch his ear. “Are you sure you won’t let me pierce you? You’d look great with a diamond stud.”
He laughs and turns to me, leaning our foreheads together. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I whisper back. I then add, “I mean, after all, I am your girlfriend. Fake or not, what good am I if I can’t cheer you up, right?”
“Right. Take the bed. I’ll stay on the couch.”
“The hell you say.” I stand, pulling him with me. “We are going to sleep in the same bed tonight and every night until we get this down.”
“Do you really think we’ll get this in time for the DASH?”
I think about that. It’s only the first night. We have time, but not a lot. “We may need to pull some doubles.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
I lead him to his bedroom. “It means I hope you’re ready for round two, lover boy. We’re going in.”
“Emma—”
I turn and kiss him to shut him up. We make our way to the bed and, without instruction, he lowers me down onto the mattress and covers me with his body. I’m impressed he even knew how to do that much.
His cock presses against my hip and I shudder. That’s a lot of flesh. My body throbs in challenge, daring me to try and take him all inside me. It’s a challenge I’m willing to accept. He parts my lips with his tongue and kisses me like he’s dying for my taste and my taste alone. I shudder again as a soft whimper escapes my mouth into his.
Shock excites me when he pulls off his boxers and slips a hand between my legs. Every cell in my body hums with need. He cups the moist heat. I’m so wet, growing wetter by the second, as he kisses me like he’s worlds beyond me in experience. Damn, he’s a fast learner.
He slides his knee between mine and forces them apart, spreading me for him. I want to stroke his rigid cock in a pace I want him to take with his fingers inside me. But I don’t dare for fear of another preemie spit up. I want this session to last longer than it takes to boil water.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispers against my lips and my heart flutters. The innocence in his voice mixes with his fear and melts me from the inside out.
“Take off my panties. Slowly. Tease me.”
He tears them off my body—literally. The elastic snaps and he tosses them aside. Holy heaven with handrails. That’s way hotter than what I wanted him to do. “Like that?”
“That works.” I’m breathless as he rests his lips on mine. I swipe my tongue out, catching his as he does the same. Wow, that is extremely erotic, kissing without using lips. I’ve never done it before.
He slips a finger between my saturated folds and sinks it deep into my pussy. He then presses the heel of his palm against my aching clit and angles his wrist, rocking his hand with perfect precision. Holy shit. Where did he learn to do that? No one has ever done that to me before.
I writhe as he strikes gold, touching me exactly as a man needs to touch a woman to make her explode. He has me close with his steady friction. I grab his cock and squeeze before matching his pace with long strokes of my own.
“Emma,” he whispers against my lips. “Oh, my God.”
I kiss him and stroke faster. He follows my lead and rocks his hand in rhythm with mine. I roll my hips, fucking his palm as everything inside my body tightens, a burning need igniting a fire in my soul. Pulses of sharp energy attack my clit. I vibrate as my orgasm hovers just out of reach.
And then he flicks my clit with his thumb and I detonate. Crying out, I move my hips, riding my climax. I stroke his cock and he stiffens, hollering my name. We continue to rub each other, aggressive at first, but then both slow to gentle touches as we come down from our joint release.
“That was,” he says and gasps for air, “unbelievable.”
I have to agree. Even though it was a hand job, it was an incredible orgasm. I lay there as he leaves the room and returns with a towel. Ryan cleans up his mess before tossing the towel aside and joining me on the bed. He props his head on his elbow as he glances at me, still in recovery mode.
“You’re not what I expected.”
“Ditto, Romeo.” I mimic his position so I can be face-to-face with him.
“Is this where I ask if it was good for you?”
“No,” I laugh and push at his shoulder. “You are never, ever allowed to say that to a woman. Got it?”
“Got it.” He grins as he stares into my eyes. I’m not at all uncomfortable as I stare back into his. “So, what do we do now?”
“Well, since we didn’t really do the deed, as a player, you’d try to get into my pants.”
He drops his gaze to my half-naked body. “You aren’t wearing any.”
I snort and drop to my back. “Oh, Ryan. It’s a saying.”
He rolls to lean on top of me. “I know. I may be a virgin, but I wasn’t born under a rock. Now can we sleep?”
“You don’t want to seal the deal?”
“I’ve just had two orgasms. That last one may have thrown out my back.”
I laugh louder and cover my mouth with my hand. “You are such a nut job.”
“And for nine whole days, I’m your nut job.” He gives me a quick kiss. “Now sleep, my lovely, lucky gal, for tomorrow I shall make you breakfast.”
He has a terrible British accent, but I say nothing and instead curl into him. He wraps an arm around me and pulls the comforter up over us. I fall asleep on his chest, a smile plastered on my lips.
Chapter Six
Ryan
I wake to an interesting smell. What is that? Is something burning? I jump out of bed, grab my PJ bottoms, and walk out of the bedroom. Hazy smoke is floating in the air, thick, burning my eyes. I wave at it to cut a path to the kitchen.
“Oh, shit.” Emma dumps a pan of flat black somethings onto a plate to join several other equally black somethings. She spots me and smiles. “Good morning.”
I stare at the dead meat on the plate and lift one up. “What is this?”
“Bacon.”
I drop it back to the plate and it shatters. “Dead bacon,” I correct.
“I still have a few more slices to practice with.” She lays them into the pan and flames shoot up. “Jesus Christ with a flying frying pan.”
I rush over and turn the burner off high. I then face her and can’t help but laugh at her saying. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”
“What? My mom taught me to cook the shit out of meat. Literally. That’s what I’m doing.”
“And how’s your mom’s cooking?”
She drops the spatula onto the counter. “Good point. Sorry about the mess. I was just trying something new.”
“What? Cooking?”
That comment earns me a heated glare. “No, sm
artass. Being nice. Did you know the corner store is open all night?”
Yes, I did know that, having had to grab snacks at three in the morning when I’m in the middle of an online video game battle. I grab the bagels off the top of the fridge. “How about breakfast sandwiches?”
“I don’t do eggs.”
“I have eggs?”
“You do now.”
“Why don’t you do eggs?”
“They intimidate me.”
I turn and look at her. “They what?”
She grabs the spatula and flips the bacon too soon. Having grown up spending more time with nannies than parents, I had time on my hands to pick up a few things. One of the nannies liked to cook. I paid attention. There was nothing else to do since my brother wouldn’t even acknowledge that I existed.
“They intimidate me,” she repeats. “No single food item should have so many different ways it can be cooked. It’s just wrong. I like bacon. You just cook it.”
“Or kill it,” I mutter as I split a bagel and drop it into the toaster.
“Comments like that will not get me to cook you any more meals.”
“My luck is improving.”
She slaps me with the spatula and I jumped out of her swinging range. “Ouch.”
“You deserved it.” She wipes off her utensil of assault and flips the bacon too late. It’s black. “Shit.” She dumps the bacon on top of the pile of charcoal that used to be bacon, grease and all. I shudder at the sight. No bacon for me this morning.
I’m so fixated on watching her that I forget about the bagel in the toaster until I smell it. “Shit,” I repeat and force the toaster to pop up the halves. They’re just as black as the bacon. Apparently I didn’t pay enough attention to the cooking nanny.
Emma laughs that throaty, husky laugh that already has my cells humming with nervous energy. “If we’re forced to cook for each other to survive, we are both screwed.” She grabs the plate of bacon and dumps the contents in the trash.
I do the same with the charred bagel halves. At least she made coffee without burning it. After helping myself to a cup, I lean on the counter, trying not to let the sight of those long legs boil in my blood and tighten my balls. She’s so beautiful standing there in one of my shirts that rests right below her curvy ass. I want to sneak up behind her, rip that shirt up over her head, and have her give me another lesson.
Contemporary Nights Volume One Page 36