by Mimi Strong
Zach, taking his seat after returning from the washroom, said, “That's a little more than I wanted to know about your ex-fiance.”
I swore and knocked some silverware off the table by accident. A refill on our sangria arrived, so I busied myself pouring and slurping, so I couldn't say anything else for a few seconds.
Renee explained to Zach, “Her ex has been having second thoughts. He's been talking about her to our friends, in order to get her attention.”
“No way,” I said. “Lars is not that clever.”
“Well, you won't return his calls,” Renee said.
“I blocked all his numbers ages ago.” I turned to Zach. “Lars and I are completely finished. Now you know the whole story. I'm going to drink! Let's talk about anything else. Let's talk about politics or religion. Something light.”
Zach and Renee both thought this was amusing.
“How about that pope?” Renee said, smirking.
I was stumbling on the short walk home, limp from the effects of sangria and laughter. Zach was getting along with my best friend, and we'd even tentatively planned a date with Renee and her boyfriend.
When we stopped by Renee's house to see her home safely, she hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”
After she'd gone in through her door, Zach said, “You know I heard that.”
“Figures. You know that saying: What she lacks in size, she makes up for in volume.”
“That's a saying?”
I hiccuped. “Sure, why not? You should hear Renee yell. You'd go deaf.”
“And she works as a babysitter?”
“Nanny,” I said, sticking my chest out in exaggerated pride. “Not everyone can be a CEO or the assistant to the buyer who assists the owner.”
He provided his elbow for me to hold for the walk home. “Not everyone can be a power couple like us!”
We were almost to my place when we walked by the most heavenly night-blooming jasmine. I stopped to smell the flowers and Zach grabbed me from behind and ground up against my buttocks. He was joking, but I still felt him hardening from the brief contact.
I reached down to give him a promising squeeze. He moaned and urged me to hurry up and take him home, so I did.
We stopped to kiss four times in the stairwell, and we were only going to the third floor. By the time we got to my front door, I was more turned on than I'd ever been before. I'd already been with him earlier that day, but I was eager for more. By the urgency of his kisses, so was he.
Princess and Duke were prancing to go for a walk, so Zach took them both out and I got ready for him with a speed shower, after which I applied some sweetened body powder. The silky white powder smelled and tasted of honey, and had been a bachelorette party present from Renee. I'd never used it until that night, when I used the giant puff to apply the powder everywhere. Liberally.
Zach came in the front door, chatting away to the dogs, and then knocked on my bedroom door, which wasn't closed all the way. I was impressed by how polite he was, in matters not involving my junk food predilection.
I threw on my nicest silk robe and pinched my nipples through the soft fabric to have them stand at attention.
“Welcome to my boudoir,” I said dramatically as I pulled open the door.
His gorgeous, pale blue eyes swept up and down my body several times, drinking me in. I felt an energy field pulling, as if he was devouring a nibble of my soul every time he looked at me like that. My knees went weak, and it wasn't from the sangria.
“You're so beautiful, Laura, and you smell amazing.” He reached out and ran one finger across my collarbone and then down along the edge of the silk robe, running between my breasts. “You feel amazing.”
I took both of his hands and pulled him into the room.
“And you, Mr. Mikhelson, are an incredible, handsome man.”
He snorted and looked down at the floor. “You don't need to lay it on so thick.”
I pulled his hands onto my waist and held them there. “I don't lie. You're not just handsome, though, you're also sexy. Come on, with that dark hair and those icy blue eyes, I'm sure women say that to you all the time.”
He scrunched his lips, seeming to consider this. “Not really. I've been busy for much of my life, running my family's business. And before that, I was scrawny. The real runt of the litter, the weird little Russian boy.”
“Scrawny?” As I ran my hands over his hard chest and his thick, muscular biceps, I found that hard to believe. Then again, people do change. I'd had a boy's shape for most of my teen years, only getting hips once I'd practically given up on them, and then, getting more than I'd wanted. I'd been shy about my hips, trying to minimize them by always wearing black or gray, never bright colors. I hadn't realized how voluptuous I was, until I'd gotten the magical makeover at the B&B.
That sexy confidence had stayed with me, and as I stood before Zach, I felt every bit the beauty he saw.
I wanted him to see himself the way I did, so I unbuttoned his shirt and led him over to my bed. As I removed his jeans and underwear, I let my own gaze devour him.
He laughed nervously, jumped on the bed, and pretended to cover himself with a pillow. “What are you doing? I feel like you're eating me up with your eyes.”
I grabbed the pillow and tossed it aside, flashing my eyes at him. “Oh, I am. I'm going to devour you, you gorgeous, handsome, sexy beast of a man.”
After another long, delicious look, I started using my hands in addition to my eyes. My fingers grazed the hot flesh of his chest, his hard nipples, and those locks of dark hair under his armpits. With my robe still on, falling open at the front, I sat astride him, my pussy resting on his hard shaft. I ran my fingers across his stomach and along his sides, then through the dark trail of fur below his navel.
He protested, saying, “You're tickling!” and playfully bucked me off of him. He wrestled me to the bed and kissed me, his body on top of mine. I sucked on his lips and sought his tongue with mine, our breath becoming one.
He rolled to the side and reached one hand down between my legs, where he thrust a finger between my folds and dragged it, wet with my juices, over my clit. I clenched my jaw and pulled back as he rubbed a little too roughly.
“Uh,” I said, pulling back. I caught his wrist in my hand, and said only, “Um.”
He pulled back, his pale blue eyes wide with concern. “I'm so sorry, Laura. Did I hurt you? Tell me what I did.”
I thought of what Renee said, about Lars telling our friends I was frigid. As I struggled to unscramble my thoughts and feelings, my mouth went dry with panic. This was it. Zach and I had one great encounter, where everything went well, and now he was going to know I was actually rotten in bed. Frigid. A terrible sex partner who didn't know how to pleasure herself, much less how to instruct a man to pleasure her.
My hands went to my face, trying to hide my shame.
I rolled away.
He didn't say anything, but I could hear him breathing.
“You don't have to stay overnight,” I said. “This was a mistake.”
“But I don't even know what happened,” he said.
“Me neither.”
He put his hand on my shoulder, and I startled at the touch.
“Tell me what's bothering you,” he said.
I thought for a moment, asking myself what a sex goddess would do. She'd tell the guy what the problem was, assuming a sex goddess ever had a problem like mine.
“I'm not very good at sex,” I said.
He laughed. “I thought you said you don't lie.”
I rolled over to face him. “My parts don't work all the time. They work great sometimes, like this afternoon, but other times they shut down.”
He kissed me. “Then we'll just cuddle. Don't tell me you don't like cuddling.” He grinned, those boyish dimples appearing again. “All I have is Duke, and he's good for snuggling on the couch, but we don't really cuddle, you know? I shoulda got a cat. Cats are go
od for cuddling.”
I curled into him. “I'll be your cat tonight.”
He stroked my hair. “Sounds good.”
As we lay there, with no pressure on me for sex, I found myself wanting it, more and more. The heat between my legs grew more insistent, until I got up the nerve to talk.
“It's my clitoris,” I said, shocked I was saying the word out loud. “If it gets too much direct contact, it's overwhelming.”
“Oh.” He nodded.
I'd figured that out with Lars, but he kept on forgetting, and would grind a thumb against it when we were making love. He kept insisting I had to get friction there so I could orgasm, and had only stopped crushing my sensitive nub when we got into the habit of the doggy-style position. I'd put my hand over the area and pretend I was rubbing myself, even though I wasn't. In retrospect, that had been awfully close to lying.
I said to Zach, “I guess it's not bad to be sensitive, though, right?”
“Not at all,” he said. “We just have to be mindful. I'm sorry my fingers were a little rough, I just got excited.”
“You didn't know. It's fine.” I nudged my pelvis against his hip, enjoying the pressure.
“My tongue wasn't too much, was it?”
I giggled. “No, that was nice. But I can't ask you to keep doing that.”
“Ask me? More like let me. I like going down on you.”
He sat up and helped me slip my robe all the way off. His penis, which had been relaxed, seemed to wake up as soon as I was completely naked.
Zach lay me on my back and started kissing my shoulder. “Mm, you smell good,” he said.
He kissed and licked his way over to my breasts, then said, “Am I imagining things, or do you actually taste like honey?” He sniffed my chest audibly. “Is this your perfume I'm smelling? What is it?” He took one giant lick upward between my breasts. “Tasty.”
“It's body powder. Totally safe and edible.”
“Mm.” He kept licking, not just with the tip of his tongue, but with his whole tongue, licking my breasts like they were ice cream. I giggled at first, but then I got quiet. It felt so perfect to have him licking and sucking on my skin, devouring me not just with his eyes, but with his mouth.
He went slowly, all the way down my stomach, until he positioned himself with his torso between my legs. He brought his lips to my mound and kissed it, then continued with the licking, circling around and around my pussy, paying special attention to the delicate skin on the insides of my thighs. “Mm,” he said.
My breathing was deep and relaxed as he finally sunk his tongue in my most sensitive, most private area. This time, he didn't go directly to my clit with the tip of his tongue, but worked his way around it, licking in broad sweeps with the thick part of his tongue, up and down.
I felt a clenching and a releasing, simultaneously, and then it was happening, I was coming, having another beautiful, blissful orgasm, right on his tongue.
He hummed with pleasure into my pussy and kept up the gentle pressure. I'd had so few orgasms to date that I usually didn't pay much attention to the physical reactions. This time, though, I was aware of the pulses within me. The feeling came from my pussy, but I felt the squeezing pleasure radiate everywhere. I felt it in my skin—such pleasure, my heart pounding, the arteries in my neck bulging out, throbbing.
I let out a long, happy sigh, and Zach slowly pulled away. The previous time, he'd plunged into me as I came, but this time he didn't, I guessed because we didn't have the condom in place.
He sat up and reached over the side of the bed for his jeans, muttering about how he didn't think he had a second one, but would check anyway, being the eternal optimist.
“Don't worry about that,” I said, pulling him down to the bed. We switched positions, with me now nestled between his legs. “I'll do it however you like. Give me some ideas about how much pressure, and how fast or slow.”
He gave me a dimpled grin. “Just put it in or near your mouth. Honestly, you could spit on it and rub it in your armpit, and I'd probably come. My cock is not that picky.”
I gave the head a lick and stuck it in my armpit, joking, but my eyes widened when he got harder from the contact. “Wow, you weren't joking,” I said.
“It's you,” he said. “I wouldn't like any old armpit, but yours is just right.”
I reached for a pillow to help me get more comfortable, and I spotted the honey-scented powder on the nightstand. I asked Zach to hand me the bottle, and I shook the silky powder onto his cock. I took a taste with my finger, just a dab. The powder had a pleasant, subtle sweetness. I gave the container another three shakes, powdering his skin and dark curls with white.
“Mm, powdered doughnut,” I said.
He put one hand over his eyes, laughing. “I can't look.”
“You don't have to.” I moved down on the bed, my breasts nestling in between his legs, and I began to lick his honey-scented cock, all along the shaft. The powder gave the taste of honey, without the stickiness. His skin underneath the dusting was musky and salty, natural, and combined with the sweet powder, his amazing cock tasted like salted caramel ice cream.
I moaned into his flesh as I sucked and bobbed on the head, enjoying the pulsing sensation of him inside my mouth as I pleasured him. I took a few breaks to nuzzle the powdered curls on either side, drinking in the musky scent of him. At last, when I sensed he was ready to crumble underneath me, I took him in my mouth and grasped him tightly with one hand, pumping him hard and fast, relentless as a freight train.
He came, groaning, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest.
When he was done, I rested for a moment with my cheek against his stomach, one hand still gently wrapped around the base of his cock.
3: Sunday is for Sundaes
I was groggy on Sunday morning when I caught Zach sneaking out of bed.
“Where-you-going?” I mumbled.
The room was bright, but it was still early to be getting up—way too early, considering I hadn't slept in the day before. I counted on the weekend to top up my sleep needs, and Zach had kept me up late Saturday night.
“Gotta run to one of my stores,” he said. “I'll take the dogs with me, and I'll be back in no time. Close your eyes, and when you open them again, I'll be here.”
“Mm-kay.” I rolled over.
When I did open my eyes again, it was because I smelled bacon and coffee.
I pulled on some cute shorts and a top, tidied my hair, and padded out barefoot to the kitchen.
Zach was shirtless, looking yummy in just his jeans and bare feet. He had all manner of food spread out on the small kitchen island—food he must have bought on his trip that morning, as it certainly hadn't come from my fridge. Some cooked bacon was draining on paper towel on a plate.
“Frying bacon shirtless?” I said.
“Danger is my middle name.”
“That's unusual. My middle name is Rebecca.”
“Well, Laura Rebecca, how did you sleep in your freshly-painted apartment?”
It was my first time seeing the apartment's open-plan space in the morning light, with the east-facing windows letting in bright sunshine. The pink, which seemed opulent and rich in the evening, was as pale as magnolia blossoms in the early light.
I answered, “I slept well, and, you know what? I love this paint color.”
He said, “Is it wrong that I feel proud of the paint job? Even though I didn't do it myself?”
I ran my fingers over the bright, creamy-white trim around the window frame. “You should feel proud of how well you delegated, Mr. CEO. Yesterday was a fantastic day.”
Zach stuck his finger in his mouth and licked fruit juice off it. “A fantastic day, indeed.”
I grinned at him until he matched my expression, those boyish dimples appearing.
Princess pranced around at Zach's feet, her toenails clicking on the floor.
“Don't give her any scraps,” I said. “Her previous owner spoiled her, and I'm trying to ge
t her over to a more appropriate diet.”
He chuckled. “How ironic.”
“Enough about my junk food stash. It was at the back of the cupboard, for emergency use only, but now it's gone, okay, Mr. Butter Spoons?”
“Speaking of which, look what I got.” He opened the freezer compartment and pulled out a half-dozen ice cream containers, unlabeled.
“For breakfast? You're the bad one!” I pulled off one of the lids to find a swirling rainbow. “Cool. What flavor is this?”
“We don't have names yet. I was hoping you'd help me with your thoughts.” He handed me a spoon from the cutlery drawer.
It was a bit early for ice cream, but I couldn't refuse.
The rainbow-hued ice cream curled onto the spoon, then melted in my mouth. “Raspberry Rainbow?”
He chuckled, those pale blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Okay, that was a rather obvious one, I suppose. We're thinking Ravishing Raspberry Rainbow, if that's not too silly.”
“There's nothing silly about ice cream.”
The next container held pale blue, nearly-gray ice cream. This flavor was sweet, but mild, with a hint of booziness.
“Stormy Sailing,” he said. “There's a hint of vodka.”
“You could call it White Russian? After the drink.”
He nodded. “That'll be in the description, but we like some of the names to be more mysterious, more emotional.”
“Stormy Sailing.” I took another taste. “No, that's perfect. That's the perfect name, and it's definitely not a kids' flavor or name.”
We were standing by the kitchen island, between it and the fridge, and he grabbed me and pulled me close, so that our legs were touching. He kissed me, licking the flavor off my lips. “Even better tasted this way,” he said.
At his touch, my thoughts about flavors and the smell of the coffee and bacon all disappeared. I wasn't even hungry anymore, not for food. His thickening bulge rubbed against me, and my body responded, sending blood flow to swell the area between my legs in anticipation.