The Promise of Lace

by Lilith Duvalier

  I laughed and climbed onto his back. He tucked his broad warm hands under my bare thighs and stood up.

  “Point me in a direction,” he said.

  “Forward,” I replied.

  He hurried to the end of the block and stopped at the red light. He brushed his index fingers across my inner thighs and I rocked against him before I could stop myself.

  He laughed.

  “You’re a filthy cheater,” I hissed as he kept grazing my thighs with his thumbs, stroking back and forth over the sensitive skin.

  “I don’t think there are set rules for this,” he opined.

  “Take a left,” I told him, fighting a crazy urge to rub my hips against his back the whole way there. “And hurry.”

  “What if I don’t?” He laughed and slowed his steps down to a comically slow pace.

  I pressed my mouth to his ear and, feeling bold, look the lobe between my teeth. “Then you’ll pay for it later.”

  He staggered, but sped up.

  By the time we reached my block we were both laughing like idiots.

  He was running, purposefully bouncing me so that I couldn’t tease my tongue against his ear, which also meant that he had to hold my thighs tighter and couldn’t tickle me anymore.

  I yelled, “Stop,” when we reached my building. I probably didn’t pull away from his ear in time before I did. He jumped as my voice cut out into the air and I kissed the side of his face apologetically.

  He crouched down again and I slid off his back, wobbling a little bit as I hit the sidewalk. I jammed the key in the door and spun it hard. I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the big atrium that my building always boasted about on their website. I skidded to a less-than-graceful stop in front of the elevator, punched the up button too hard and slid on the tile. Dieter caught me just as the elevator opened.

  I ducked in, and tugged him toward me. Trusted that he’d follow my lead because I couldn’t physically move him if he didn’t want to be moved. I swept my hands up his damp shirt, across the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss me.

  A thrill ran through me when he opened the kiss immediately. I congratulated myself on my mint gum maneuver. I slid my hands up into his rain-damp hair and cried out when he hauled me up against the elevator wall.

  I linked my ankles behind his back and tightened my grip around his shoulders. I shouldn’t have been thinking about having sex with him. Not on a first date, but I was already wet and thinking about stripping him out of his clothes, throwing him on my bed and climbing on top of him. I rocked down against his body just as the bell sounded and the doors opened.

  Mrs. Huber, who lived across the hall from me and was always forgetting her keys, was standing in the doorway. I could easily see the lobby behind her. We hadn’t actually pushed the button for my floor. We had gotten into the elevator and been too distracted by making out to actually do anything about it.

  “Apologies,” Dieter managed. With me braced against his hip he leaned over and punched ‘door close’.

  “Which floor?” he asked.

  “Four,” I answered.

  He hit the button to my floor and set his forehead to mine. We both laughed hysterically for a moment, but by the time the elevator opened again, we were back to making out and I could feel his erection through his jeans.

  I was impressed.

  He set me back down on my feet and I pulled him down the hallway toward my place.

  I practically kicked the door inward. In my eagerness I did slam it shut behind Dieter, but he didn’t say anything. I quickly flipped the locks behind him.

  “This is a really nice place,” he said. It was charming how out of breath he was for such an expected polite remark.

  “Thanks, I can save you the tour, it’s a studio, this is all of it,” I told him. I was very happy with myself for leaving the futon down in bed-mode this morning. Now I didn’t have to stop and unfold it. It was an expensive futon, and I slept like a goddamn rock on it, but people saw it and expected it to be shitty dorm furniture instead of comfortable loft furniture.

  I stepped out of my shoes and set them by the door.

  “Come here,” I whispered. It was a longer distance to pull Dieter down into the kiss this time, but it was easier to pull the last couple buttons on his vest open. I pushed it off his shoulders and started guiding him back toward my bed.

  “Hey, Roxanne?” he whispered.

  “Yeah?” I answered, kissing him again and concentrating my efforts on unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I umm… I don’t sleep with girls on the first date,” he replied.

  I laughed before I could stop myself and he pulled away, lips pursed. I caught him by the shoulders.

  “Shh… I’m sorry,” I said, a little bit too much mirth still in my voice. I slid my fingers back up to the hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just…”

  “No, I know. Guys aren’t supposed to say that.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a Jesus thing. It’s just something that I don’t do.”

  “That’s okay,” I told him. “I don’t mind.” He was inching his body back toward mine, letting my hands in his hair and my arms around his shoulders bring him closer to me. “So, uh, what do you do on a first date?”

  The smile finally started to creep back onto his face. “Make you feel good,” he said.

  “I can work with that.” I grinned back at him and tiptoed up to kiss him. He started moving forward, pushing me toward my bed like I had been pulling him. The edge of the bed hit the back of my knees and I sat down and scooted to the far side. Dieter settled in beside me. He wrapped his hand around my waist and used his other to brush my hair away from my face.

  I wasn’t sure if I was happy or disappointed that he’d gone from pinning me against the wall, to gentle and a little bit shy now that I had him in my bed. I was going to respect his ‘no sex on the first date’ rule. I was sure had a good reason, and I’d made more than one mistake that could have prevented or at least mitigated by getting to know someone a little bit better before jumping into the sack with them.

  But it seemed like a waste to lie here kissing chastely after I’d been carried home in the rain like my life had turned into some goddamn RomCom. If sex was off the table I could work with that, but I was going to take it as a challenge to coax that manly-man side back out of him.

  I hooked my leg around his waist, ground against him for a moment, and then rolled myself over with just enough force to push him down. Now I was straddling him and he was looking up at me the same way he’d looked at me in the restaurant when I started inching my toe up his ankle. Turned on, and theoretically helpless. He let out a heavy breath.

  His hips moved up against mine, just a little, and then he snorted out a laugh.

  “Umm… sorry.” He set his hand at my thigh and pushed up a little. I lifted my body up and he dug his shiny green cell phone out of his pocket and set it on my nightstand.

  “The twenty-first century just does not do romance well, does it?” I asked.

  Dieter shook his head and swept his hand through my hair. He pulled me down into another kiss. It wasn’t the open, desperate kiss from the elevator. At least not at first. But then the tip of his tongue pressed experimentally to my lips, begging entrance. I let him open the kiss.

  I was arched over him. He had one broad palm splayed over my waist, the other around my face, thumbing over a surprisingly sensitive spot behind my ear. My body rocked down against his and a soft moan escaped my lips at the feeling of his rock hard erection moving between my legs, but four layers away. He echoed, and the hand around my hip tightened, suddenly bruising.

  Our shy movements against each other’s bodies became a steady rhythm. Gasps and stutters started to fill the air between us. The pressure at my waist released and Dieter’s hands moved up my body, over my stomach. He cupped my breast and I cursed my decision to war such a heavily padded bra. I could barely feel his hands through
it.

  Well. That could be fixed.

  I undid the last button of his dress shirt and pulled it open. I pressed my hands to the thin, clean white cotton of his undershirt and ran my hands up his stomach and chest.

  Most of the guys I’d dated over the last few years were young professionals. To a man, they had been naturally scrawny with a slight layer of fat from the stress, booze, and sedentary lifestyle. I’d been the same before I’d freed up the money to join the yoga studio down the street.

  But Dieter had abs like a stevedore. I’d noticed how nicely toned his arms were in his tight tee shirt, but he was slimly built and I hadn’t expected this kind of musculature on him. He was like a statue in a museum, only warm, and with no one to keep me from touching him. I pulled out of the kiss so I could watch the revelation of his firm skin as I pulled up his undershirt.

  He blew out a harsh breath as he watched me push his shirt all the way up to his neck, revealing abdominal muscle after abdominal muscle and sparse black hair scattered across his sculpted pecs. The right one was tattooed, flowers and vines, detailed work moving from his chest over his shoulder. I’d need more time to go over everything in it.

  “Someone does not skip the gym,” I laughed. He gulped and nodded. He seemed nervous again. Did he not want to be undressed?

  If I had a body like his I’d walk down the street totally naked and call it a public service.

  I balled up the cotton in my hand and pulled up. He didn’t react, just kept watching my hand.

  “Take this off,” I said.

  Whoops. I really had meant to say ‘can I’ before that, and I was about to rephrase, but he sat up and whipped the shirt off like shirt removal was some kind of Olympic event and he was determined to make gold for 2016.

  He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me forward, suddenly all passion again. His hands moved over my back, spasming whenever I rocked down against him, digging his fingertips into my back every time he pressed up into me.

  He found the top of my dress and undid the hook and eye with no instruction. I felt the dress fall open before I’d even noticed him pulling down the zipper down. The airy fabric fell to my waist, pooling between us.

  He brought his hands back up to my entirely-too-padded bra. Again, I took a moment to regret wearing it, but it was the only pretty one I had, and the only one with panties to match. It had seemed like the only appropriate thing to wear on a date with a guy who spent all day surrounded by pictures of underwear models.

  He pulled back from the kiss, a slow grin spreading over his face as he slid his thumb along the edge of the cup, which was light blue with a little white floral lace edging it.

  “Cute,” he said. He flashed a grin up at me, then set his lips to my collarbone and kissed down my sternum. His hands tightened around my hips again and held me down in his lap so that every movement of our hips gave me just enough friction to rev me higher, but not nearly enough to get me off.

  The sudden swipe of hot tongue between my breasts made me jolt and press myself down against his cock. He moaned and suddenly the light green fabric of my dress was around my face, then gone. I saw it fly across the room and then waft down to the floor after it reached the top of its arc. Now I was perched in his lap in my underwear with him still kissing my breasts. His skin was warm where we pressed together and I wanted to feel so much more of it.

  I wormed my hand between our bodies, grabbed the button at the top of his fly and twisted the button open. Dieter’s hand seized mine immediately and he pulled his lips back from my body with a gasp.

  “Umm, hey,” he managed. I tugged my hands out of his set them at his shoulders.

  “Sorry,” I kissed his cheek apologetically. I hadn’t expected to startle him. “I just figured that I’m down to my underwear.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat, and I startled to think that his ‘no sex on the first date’ rule was more solid than I’d thought and maybe I had pushed too far.

  “Ummm…” he started, then pressed the heel of his hand to his crotch and sucked in a breath.

  “Do you… want to stop?” I asked. He shook his head. That was encouraging. I moved forward, letting my hands slide down his chest. I kissed him again. “Alright. Do you want to keep doing this?”

  “Absolutely,” he answered. His chest rose and fell under my palms, fast and deep.

  “Alright.” I set my hands behind his head and he dropped his head back into them as I kissed him again. “Do you want a blow job?” I offered. He shivered underneath me.

  “I really like you,” he replied breathlessly.

  “Back at you.”

  “I don’t sleep with girls on the first date,” he repeated. He sounded much less sure about this than the first time.

  “And that’s still just fine.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted me. I wanted him, but there was some other factor at play here. I decided not to do anything, just let him work himself to whatever end he needed to get to. I rubbed my fingers against his scalp and just sat there, letting him think for a couple moments. His breath settled.

  “So, what’s the verdict? Does… oral count or not?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I liked how young I sounded when I asked him.

  He looked up at me, smile a little strained. “Uh, I guess not.”

  Before I knew what was happening, he was flipping me over. I landed hard on my back. Dieter’s hands were underneath me. He’d already gotten my bra unhooked. I laughed and held my arms up so he could pull it off. It joined my dress on the other side of the apartment.

  He dropped another blazing kiss to my mouth, then worked his way down to my bare breasts. His mouth covered each of my budding nipples in turn, sucking lightly, then scraping his bottom teeth against me just enough to punctuate the sensation. I threw my head back and rocked up into the hot, wet, wonderful feeling of his mouth, whining when he abandoned my breasts in favor of my stomach, but only until I felt his finger hook under the waistband of my panties. He pressed a kiss right above where the lace had hugged my hips, and I squirmed as he inched the fabric downward. His tongue traced a line down my skin in their wake.

  I was trembling in anticipation as the cotton slipped down over my thighs, waiting for that first swipe of his hot tongue over my clit.

  I didn’t have to wait for long. Dieter dove in like he’d been holding himself back from doing this since he’d seen me walk up to the restaurant. He flicked his tongue back and forth over that tight bundle of nerves, his hands petting over my hips and thighs as he went. If this was how he got around his first date rule I hoped he had rules for second and third dates as well. One hand skimmed over my stomach up to my breast, thumbing over the nipple. It was just enough of a tease to add punch to every other sensation rocking through my body.

  His hand at my thigh crept up to my apex as his tongue worked and I shuddered when I felt a fingertip brush across my folds.

  “Roxanne?” He chocked. “Can—”

  “God, do it,” I replied, breathlessly.

  I moaned at the feeling of his finger slipping inside me, moaned louder at the introduction of a second, and nearly screamed when he curled them upward and sucked gently at my clit at the perfect moment.

  Maybe Hailey had sent him that diagram after all.

  He slowed, sliding his fingers back and forth inside me, laving his tongue over me, then suddenly speeding up. He did this a few times, bringing me up to just below the peak, letting me drop down a little, then bringing me back up until finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face between my legs. He moaned at the rough treatment, worked his fingers into me harder and harder and I finally came with a yell that probably woke a couple of my neighbors. I practically boxed his ears with my knees.

  His face popped up. His smile was like the sun rising between my thighs. He wiped his hand across his face and came up to kiss me. After I’d gulped in enough air to be able to process thoughts again I slid my palm over
his groin. He was so hard I could practically feel his cock throbbing against my hand.

  He swept my hand away with a gruff, “It’s fine.”

  “You’re kidding, after that you don’t want anything?”

  “It’s not a transaction. You don’t owe me.”

  “I know that,” I scoffed. I rolled into him, pressing my naked, sweat-shined body against his half-clothed one. I traced my pinky over the outline of the vine that swept through the detailed tattoo flowers covering his shoulder and one side of his chest. “I want to make you feel good too.”

  He chuckled and kissed me. “You did. It’s okay.”

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “No, no.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I just…It’s sort of…it’s hard to explain, but there’s nothing wrong. It’s not a bad thing.”

  Well. Now I was worried. What was he hiding?

  “Okay. If you’re sure. But… is this some big huge secret?”

  He bit his lip. “Not exactly. Maybe I could um… maybe I could tell you about it on our second date?”

  He ran his thumb over my knuckles. And I went through several thoughts very quickly.

  1. This was really suspicious.

  2. That was such an intense orgasm that my legs were still shaking.

  3. He seemed like a really nice guy and I really liked him.

  4. On a scale of “Embarrassing Birthmark” to “I can only get hard by thinking about killing puppies with my bare hands” how bad a secret could this possibly be?

  “Yeah,” I kissed him again. “You can tell me on our second date.”

  Chapter Six

  “So…what the Hell could it be?” Hailey demanded. We were all out to brunch again. If this kept up I’d have to either stop ordering waffles or start going to yoga more often. At least this was another nice place and not the art school dive we had accidentally gone to before.

  “I don’t know!” I sighed. “I mean… we had fun. He clearly wanted to do more than just, you know…go downtown.”

  Noah chewed his enormous mouthful of bacon and eggs. “Speaking as the guy here, I have to wonder about a guy who would lie to get out of sex.”