by J. L. White
We work our way closer to the transept, where the Botafumeiro will be performing its act. “Right here,” he says quietly, pointing to a small space next to a woman in a blonde ponytail. She gives a welcoming smile when she sees us eyeing the space next to her.
As I settle next to the woman, I wish Connor and I were still touching. Soon enough, I get my wish. As the mass continues, more pilgrims enter late and a few end up squeezing in next to us. We shuffle a few inches to make room, and ultimately Connor and I end up pressed close to each other, his hand on my back again. My left arm and hip are connected to his right shoulder, chest, and thigh. We settle in this way, and linger.
Just so you know. I. Am going. To hell. Because I’m officially feeling zingy in places that prolly shouldn’t be zinging when you’re in church.
Maybe if I were Catholic I would at least try to focus on the mass, but no. Apparently I am a weak and lustful woman. The longer the mass goes on and the longer I’m standing right up next to him, the weaker my resolve and the worse things get. My mind’s really running away from me now. I’m back to envisioning Connor naked, but there’s no tub in my imaginings this time. It’s just him and me and those hands of his all over my body. Did I mention that in this fantasy I’m naked too? Way naked, people.
Even when the priests lower the massive silver incense burner, I’m completely distracted. The priests add the incense on top of the burning coals in the Botafumeiro, but I’m the one burning. I wonder if Connor can feel the heat coming off my body. Or am I feeling the heat coming from him? My entire left side is hot and humming where we touch.
The priest gives the giant censer a push and steps out of the way as it starts to swing. The priests with the rope give it a tug so it bounces higher. Its swing widens on the rope. We do have a good view, Connor and I, and I have to turn my head to the right to follow its path as it swings past. When it comes back I turn my head to the left, toward Connor.
My eyes leave the Botafumeiro, and land on him. He’s not looking at it either. He’s looking directly at me. In my peripheral vision, the censer swings back down and out of sight behind me. His eyes are holding mine. He glances at my lips for a brief moment. There’s that subtle gasp from the congregation that I know means the Botafumeiro is reaching new heights. My heart is pounding.
Again the giant censer comes into my peripheral vision, swinging up high behind Connor. I don’t look at it. I can’t take my eyes away from him. I really, really want him to kiss me, and he looks like he’s about to. Right here in church!
The smoking censer swoops back down and out of my vision. His eyes drop to my shoulder and he leans close. For a split second, my heart leaps in anticipation of a kiss. As soon as I realize he’s not going for my lips, but rather getting next to my ear so he can whisper something, disappointment drops through me.
“I shouldn’t be having thoughts like this in the middle of a mass,” he whispers. His breath tickles my ear and sends shivers over my skin.
He pulls back only the tiniest bit, staying close, following the curve of my jaw. His mouth comes near and I turn my head just a bit, to bring my mouth closer to his. The massive censer speeds past. He presses his lips to mine. Everything else falls away. I hear nothing. My breath catches. My heart flutters against my chest.
I kiss him back, exhaling slowly, pressing my lips against his. My left arm curls around him, my fingertips brushing his shoulder blades.
It’s a brief kiss, a stolen moment, and it leaves me smoldering. He ends it gently, but stays close, holding my eyes. My awareness expands again, and all these people around feel like an intrusion. I want to be alone with him.
He gets next to my ear again, his soft scruff rubbing gently against my jaw. “Want to get out of here?” he whispers.
I nod. I’m going to hell anyway. Ditching out of church isn’t going to change anything.
There are people everywhere. In the hall. In the courtyard. On the street. In the hotel lobby. We’re walking close, my hand in his. The memory of our kiss is lingering on my lips like a physical presence. I just want to be alone with him. I want him to kiss me again, longer this time. Deeper.
As we wait for the elevator in the hotel lobby, two other people are waiting as well. Connor and I look at one another. No longer a wondering look, this is a look of desire.
The doors open and we all file in. Connor hits the number 7 as we enter, then pulls us into the back corner. We let go of hands and slide arms around waists instead. One of the men hits the number 3 and the other says, “Quattro, por favor.”
It takes forever. Connor looks at me, his thumb subtly rubbing along my side, making my nerves dance. I’m taking in those blue eyes—god, they’re so intense—and running my hand slowly up his back... then slowly down to his waist.
Second floor.
He leans in close to my ear, to whisper something I thought. Instead he plants a soft, hot kiss just under my earlobe. I want to close my eyes and lean my head back, but the people. I hold my breath, scoot closer, tighten my hold on his body.
Third floor.
The car stops. The bell dings. Connor and I look at the doors expectantly. It is an eternity before they finally bloody open and the first man steps out.
We’re faced forward now, as the car finally starts to move again. We’re both keeping a sharp eye on the digital number above the door, watching as the three changes to a four, eager for the last occupant to leave the car so we can finally, finally be alone.
Fourth floor. Connor’s hand spreads on the side of my waist, pressing firmly, holding me to him. The bell dings and I’m hardly breathing. The doors slide open and there is a quiet moment of panic as we see there’s a woman and her child on the other side, waiting to get on.
The man leaves, the two start to get in before realizing this car is going up when she wants to go down, and they mercifully step back to wait for another car.
As the doors begin to close, seconds away from giving us our privacy, our hold on one another tightens. As soon as the gap in the doors disappears, he angles me back against the wall, his body in front of me, pressing against me. He cups my jaw with one hand, my lips part slightly, and he pauses.
Only for a moment.
Just long enough to hold my eyes and make me see him before his lips are on me and my arms are around him and his body is against me hard. Good lord. Our kiss deepens and the warm taste of him heightens every nerve in my body. I put my hand to his cheek, caressing the soft whiskers.
It seems mere seconds pass when already the bell is dinging and the doors are opening to the seventh floor.
He backs away, eyes on me, and I take a shaky breath. He takes my hand again and leads me out of the elevator on weak legs. We take quick steps down a long hall, my hand in his and my heart pounding the entire way. As before, when we were walking to the restaurant, our eyes are on each other more than on the floor in front of us.
We stop in front of a door at last, but he brings me in for a kiss. Our lips are soft. They open slightly so our tongues can briefly brush against the other. And again.
He breaks our kiss and gives me another intense look before turning his attention to the door and the keycard. When we go into the darkened room, he brings me toward the lamp and nightstand next to the queen-sized bed. As the door quietly closes behind us, the light from the hall steadily narrows, then disappears. As he leans down toward the lamp, there is a moment when it is all shadowy silhouettes and a sliver of midnight blue through the tiny crack in the drawn curtains. His body is close to mine and I would contentedly keep us wrapped up in the dark like this if he wanted to.
A metallic click precedes the soft bloom of light from the lamp. This is good too, because now I can see his handsome face and the shape of his broad chest underneath his tee.
He pulls me in and kisses me, bringing his hand into my hair at the base of my neck. Now that there’s nothing to hold us back, I take him in deeply. Our tongues play together. Our grip on each other tightens. His
hand slides down my back and to the curve of my ass.
Every passing second, every movement, increases the heat in my core. My entire body is buzzing so hard, it’s all I can do not to attack him like a crazed lunatic. I don’t know if it’s him or the fact that it’s been so long since I’ve been with a man like this or both, but I’m already so wet and aching, I’m afraid just one touch in the right place will push me over.
He brings his hands to my face, cupping it as he kisses me. “We stop when you say stop,” he says breathlessly. “We don’t have to do any more than you want to.” My face is in his hands and he’s again kissing me fervently.
I nod, barely hearing him. “Okay,” I say, kissing him back, arms firm around him, hands roaming.
“I mean it,” he says, stopping and pulling back just enough to look me directly in the eyes. He’s smoldering, but he’s serious.
I nod again. “I know. It’s okay. Don’t hold back.”
At that, he doesn’t. He backs me against the wall until I’m pinned, my heart pounding in my throat and his hard rod pressing into my upper thigh.
God, just a few inches over and you’ve got me.
Practically squirming, I kiss him hard, gathering up the material of his tee to lift the hem. He backs up and removes his shirt in one smooth movement, muscles flexing. Oh yeah, I’m definitely grateful for the light now. I put my hands on his pecs, exhaling in appreciation and taking him in.
His movements halt for a moment. I glance up at him, blood coursing through me and hands still caressing his chest. Except for his slight panting, he’s perfectly still, watching me. I return to his chest, rubbing my hands up to his firm shoulders.
He exhales and cups my face again, kissing me intently. I bring my arms around his neck and press against him, feeling his torso against mine. There’s too much between us. I want my bare skin on his.
Hurriedly, we both reach for my shirt at once. He gently pushes my hands away and lifts my shirt off himself. I start to go for my bra, but he pulls my hand down to my side, firmly holding it in place as he undoes the hook with his other hand. I let out a tight exhale.
Releasing my hand, he slides the straps down my arms, and his eyes fall to my breasts. My bra drops to the floor and he cups the underside of both breasts in his hands. I exhale shakily. I feel like a teen again, trembling at every touch.
His thumbs rub gently over my nipples. Then he brings his eyes to mine and does it again. My mouth is slightly open and he puts his mouth over me, tongue tasting me eagerly. I grip his firm biceps and moan lightly.
He breaks away, dipping down to my breasts. I arch my back to meet him. When I feel his wet mouth on my nipple, I close my eyes and throw my head back.
Too long. God, it’s been too long. I forgot how good this feels.
His arms tighten around me, hands spread wide on my back, and he sucks on me more firmly. I run one hand down his back and one into his hair. He teases my nipple, circling it with his tongue before taking it back into his mouth. I look down and watch him move to my other breast, squeezing it while his mouth sucks and pulls on my nipple.
Suddenly, he pulls away and says, “Oh, shit.”
“Whaa?” I say, which is all I can manage. What I’m thinking is, Why the fuck are you stopping?
He straightens and looks at me, a mixture of heat and dismay on his face. “I didn’t... pack for this.”
I blink at him. What?
“I don’t have protection,” he clarifies.
“Oh!” I’m not on anything either, thanks to my non-existent love life. “Oh, shit.”
“Exactly.” He pauses for a second then holds up a finger, looking determined now. “I’ll take care of it.” He gives me a quick kiss then grabs his shirt from the floor. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” He kisses me again, then wrestles his shirt on. “Two.” He kisses me again. This time he cups my face in his hands and lingers, kissing me deeply and eagerly.
Pulling back but staying close, he looks into my eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Don’t worry,” I say heatedly. “I won’t.”
He kisses me once more, then hustles out the door, leaving me alone in his room, shirtless and breathless. “Ahhhh....” I exhale, half swooning, half collapsing on the bed. “Oh my god.” I sit up, putting my hands in my hair. I’m so tingly and flushed I can hardly think.
One glance at my hiking boots changes all that. I hop up and hurriedly unlace them, tucking them in the corner away from the bed, along with my socks. I take my shorts off, too, but leave on my underwear, even though they’re not exactly the sexiest thing I could be wearing. Plain cotton, but at least they have soft lace trim and a cute pattern.
I took a bath just a few hours ago, thank god, but I still want to freshen up my feet. I’m probably being paranoid, but taking off hiking boots just is not as sexy a feeling as kicking off heels. I dash into the bathroom and flip on the light. It feels too bright after the soft light in the main room. I grab a washcloth and quickly wash my feet in the tub and pat them dry.
I check my appearance in the mirror, hastily fussing with my hair. Even though I wasn’t really able to style it earlier, its natural wave is working to my advantage and it actually looks pretty good. My face has a vibrant flush, too, thanks to Connor’s magic touch. God. And, since I’ve always detested shaving and got the full-body laser treatment a few years ago, my legs are smooth and I’m fully groomed.
I quickly grab the little container of lotion, wondering how long it’ll take him to track down condoms in a foreign country, but I already hear the keycard in the lock. Heart leaping into my throat I throw down the lotion, flip off the too-bright lights, and hustle to lean casually against the door frame of the bathroom. I manage to put a relaxed, sexy expression on my face before he enters the room.
He comes in, takes one look at me and freezes, the door halfway open but shielding any view of me from the hall. The heated expression on his face starts warming me right up again, but as he releases the door and it slowly swings closed, I can’t help but notice he’s empty handed.
“Did you strike out?” I ask, trying not to sound like I’m pouting. Which I may or may not be doing. It’s not an important point, really.
“No,” he says distractedly, eyes still taking me in. “I got a couple.”
Thank god. “Just a couple?”
His eyes swing hard up to mine then and I give him a wicked grin. He takes three decisive steps toward me, removing his shirt and tossing it aside, then scoops me into his arms. I hang onto his neck and he kisses me—the tip of his tongue brushing the tip of mine—as he carries me to the bed.
He lowers me and releases me just above the mattress. I land with a soft bounce. He doesn’t join me though. He kneels at the foot of the bed, reaches up and hooks his hands around my upper thighs, and yanks me down until my ass is right on the edge. Right under him.
Now it’s his turn for a wicked grin. Good thing, because I can barely breathe. Arms still hugging my upper thighs, he brings one hand down the front, scoots the damp crotch of my panties out of the way, and exhales like I’m the most desirable thing he’s ever seen.
Then slowly, so slowly, he dips down to me. His soft, wet tongue brushes the base of my folds, then slowly slides up, covering me with heat and moisture. My eyes slide shut and my hips relax open. I let out a slow exhale, matching the slow advance of his tongue up my seam. My core trembles in anticipation before he gets there, and when he touches my aching clit I exhale sharp and loud, arching my back.
Oh god.
He tightens his embrace around my thighs, and circles the wet tip of his tongue around my clit before flicking it directly.
Oh god.
He sucks on it gently before rubbing the flat of his tongue side to side over the tip.
Oh god. This, this, this.
My breaths come short and hard. My channel is hot and aching, my legs are spreading wide, my head is back, my mouth open. It’s been so, so long and it all feels so good
I almost can’t handle it. I’m almost embarrassed to come so soon but with his tongue on me like that, it’s a force I can’t stop. It rushes through me and grips me hard and I’m trembling and moaning in a mind-tilting climax.
I curl in, shaking and helpless, and he keeps licking me, making a sound like he’s enjoying it more than I am.
Not possible. My entire body is flushed with pleasure. It’s thrumming through my skin and face and pulsing at the peak of my breasts. And still he continues, keeping me coming. I gasp for breath. I think my heart stops for a second. I throw my head back, crying out, arching myself up and he grips me hard against his mouth.
I bite my bottom lip. “Ffffff...” I say.
Translation: Holy Fuck.
At last, my climax breaks and releases me and I come down in crashing waves. When he finally takes his mouth off me, I’m weak and panting on the bed.
He slowly comes to a stand, watching me. “Uuuhhhhhh,” I say.
Translation: You are divinity.
And there’s that half smile. And those incredible, smoldering blue eyes. And that chest. His muscles are flexing as he undoes the button of his shorts. I want that chest all over me. I want to take a little bite out of it. Or a big bite. I want—
“God, is that thing real?” I say suddenly.
He’s slipped down his shorts and briefs—or boxers, I wouldn’t know because it all came down together—and the sight of his cock has brought me up on my elbows, gawking.
“You’re about to find out,” he says, slipping off my panties and dropping them on the floor.
“Uuuhhhhhh....”
This is porn star perfection, right here, and it’s either going to break me or deliver me to the highest heaven.
“I’ll go slow,” he says as he opens the condom wrapper and rolls it on.
Did you get a king-sized one? I want to ask. As I fully take in his length and girth, I want to say, Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie. But I keep my trap shut, because if I open it, the only thing that’s going to come out is, Uuuuhhhhhh.