It’s About Time

by Erin McCarthy

  “I wouldn’t be that cruel,” he managed to say, though he was feeling something like a two-by-four had been taken to his head.

  He should have known Trish would be different from his ex, but he hadn’t really had time to follow the thought through. April would never have sat on him, baring her breasts so enticingly. Nor would she ever have spoken out loud what had happened in a sexual dream, though Caleb doubted she’d ever even had any. April had been inhibited sexually.

  And hot damn, it looked like Trish wasn’t at all.

  “Then touch me,” she said, leaning forward and clasping one of his hands in her own. “I’m still wet from my dream,” she added, like this was a selling point.

  He’d been sold the minute she’d dug in his jeans for the bike keys.

  With a groan, he reached for her breast with the hand she wasn’t holding, took the fullness and squeezed. Trish gasped, her eyes drifting closed. He dragged his thumb across her nipple, felt the tight plumpness of it, felt the tremor that stole over her as he whispered her name.

  Her eyes snapped open. “Caleb, oh, I want you so much.”

  His briefs were too tight, his cock strangled alongside her inner thigh as she rocked over him, her breast heaving in his hand. Heat from her sweet spread reached him even through her tight shorts and his underwear.

  Still holding her small, soft hand in his rough one, he sat up and swiped his tongue across her nipple. “I want you, too.”

  His intent was to settle her firmly in his lap and suck her nipple into his mouth for a good long taste. But Trish had other ideas. She pushed on his chest.

  “Lay back down. I need to take my shorts off.”

  He did as he was told, and she collapsed on his chest, hot, perky breasts fitting over him. Caleb stroked her back, kissed her chin, while Trish wiggled around, pulling on her waistband.

  “Dammit, I can’t get these off. Help me.”

  “I’m just going to enjoy what you’re doing for a minute or two.” All that moving around felt pretty good, in a painful, torturous kind of way.

  “It will feel better with my shorts off.” She buried her head in his shoulder as she lifted her hips and shoved.

  He felt the fabric of both shorts and panties go down, felt her hot skin hit his, right above his briefs, felt the soft, feathery touch of her pubic hair on his midriff, and he swallowed a bucketful of saliva.

  Then when he cupped her tight ass he swore at the pleasure of it. “You feel so incredibly good.”

  Caleb stroked her in delicious exploration, rolling his thumbs across the swell, slipping into the dip between her cheeks with his middle finger as he palmed over her. He breathed hard, so primed just from touching her that he was afraid he would embarrass himself. Damn, he had waited so long, and she felt so fucking right.

  “Your hands are huge.” She gave him a glassy-eyed stare. “How big are your fingers?”

  “Not too big,” he assured her, not wanting to scare her. Shuddering, he lay still, battling his need into submission. “Look, Trish, anything that you’re not comfortable with, just say so. If I’m hurting you in any way, yell or slap me or whatever to let me know.”

  He’d castrate himself if he hurt her.

  But Trish shook her head and licked his bottom lip. “I wasn’t concerned. I was actually hoping your fingers would be big.”

  Damn.

  And she rolled off of him and onto her back, slipping her shorts the rest of the way down her legs, kicking them off with a little flip of her toes. Her hands lifted over her head and one knee elevated. Her stomach dipped in, her breasts rose and fell, and her mouth turned up in a wicked smile.

  “Hurt me, baby.”

  Caleb watched her for a second, all laid out for him to touch and taste and fuck, and he felt something akin to awe.

  “Now that’s a beautiful thing, Trish.”

  Then he reached for her.

  When one of those rough hands of Caleb’s cupped her between the legs, Trish gasped, rising up into his touch. His mouth played with her nipple, sucking lightly first one, then the other, while his hand just sat there and she squirmed in agony.

  Trying to encourage him to do something besides letting his hand lie like a crotch-potato, she squeezed the solid muscles right above his waist. Then promptly did it again, enjoying the tight, wide feel of him.

  He pulled away from her breasts. “Am I hurting you? Should I stop?”

  Not in the way he meant. Trish wiggled again and his hand started to retreat.

  No, no, no. Wrong answer.

  “You’re not hurting me at all. I want you to show me how big your fingers are.”

  Her voice must have driven her meaning home because he nodded his head. “Aah, I see.” Then with a grin, he lifted his hand off her completely and held it in the air. “This is what my fingers look like.” He wiggled them.

  Never having entered into a study of finger-size comparison, Trish could draw no immediate conclusions. Caleb’s fingers certainly looked bigger than average, and his hand looked like he could palm a watermelon, but there was only one way to really tell.

  “I don’t want to see them, I want to feel them.” She took his hand and guided it to her, sliding his index finger across her slick folds.

  She rolled her eyes back in her head.

  Caleb moaned. “Oh, shit, Trish, you feel so damn good.”

  Look who was talking. His finger pushed inside her, filling her, and sending her muscles into little jerks and spasms of pleasure. He retreated, came back, went deeper, pulled out to swirl moisture around the swollen button her clitoris had become.

  Her hand still rested on his wrist, his movements dragging her with him, and Trish decided this was indisputable proof of a much-argued maxim.

  Bigger was definitely better.

  “Like that? Not too big?”

  “Absolutely not,” she managed, the thought of him withdrawing striking terror in her sex-crazed heart.

  “Try adding another one,” she suggested.

  His green eyes darkened to the color of a dense forest. His mouth covered hers with a moist, demanding kiss at the same time another finger plunged into her, stretching her and setting off a climax that she couldn’t stop.

  Holding on to his arm with both hands, Trish let his tongue take her while she came with tight, shattering pulses. She yanked her head away from his to suck in air and let the pleasure take her under.

  For a long, quiet second after she stopped shuddering, he held his fingers inside of her until she finally gave him a shrug and a smile. “Oops.”

  Caleb pulled back and laughed. “Don’t give meoops. You knew what you were doing.”

  “What areyou doing?” It appeared he was taking his underwear off, which left one thought in her head.Yes, yes, yes.

  Struggling to sit up for a better view as he bared his skin, she asked curiously, “Are you…proportionate?”

  His briefs were off and he rolled back toward her on his side.

  Her question was answered. Oh, God, that thing was astonishing. Trish gulped.

  “Yes, I’m proportionate.”

  “I see.”

  “I know you claimed I’m a freak of nature, but honestly, Trish, I’m not that big.”

  She’d be the judge of that. “You look like you take your vitamins to me.” Ripping her eyes off of his fully engorged penis, she slid closer to him, licking her tongue across his chest. “I’m impressed.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  Closing her mouth around his nipple, she sucked, her fingers digging in his chest hair. “Put a condom on, Caleb. Before I throw a temper tantrum.”

  He went still. “I don’t have any condoms. I…I just don’t.”

  A thousand angry no’s went screaming through her head. Then she picked her head up off his chest and dragged her thigh off of his as hope restored itself. She resisted the urge to grind herself against him and sat up. “Don’t panic. I think I might have some.”

  Crawling off the
bed, she rushed across the room to her dresser. “My friend Ashley decided to become a Pleasure Party consultant a few months ago.”

  “What’s a Pleasure Party consultant?”

  “Someone who sells sex toys. Officially, they call them romance-enhancing products, but they’re really sex toys.” Trish dug through the drawer. “Come on, they’ve got to be in here. I was trying to support her, you know, so I bought some lingerie and stuff and condoms.”

  Her hand closed over them. The condoms had been a joke. Because they were glow-in-the-dark pink.

  But they were fully functional.

  She ripped a row out of the box.

  And turned and collided with him. “Oh! I didn’t know you were so close.”

  Hitting that much immobile man sent her bouncing back into her dresser, and she nearly took a handle in the butt before Caleb steadied her. With hands that were now sliding across her backside and making interesting little crossroads into her inner thighs.

  All while that impressive erection nudged her in the belly.

  “Condom,” she said, holding the packets up in front of his chin before he distracted her with his talented tongue, currently running along her neck.

  He took them and moved out of her space. Dammit.

  Caleb ripped the pack open and got one out. And dropped it.

  “Holy shit. It’s pink, Trish!”

  “Novelty condoms.” She shrugged.

  “I can’t slap a pink rubber on my dick.” The look of horror on his face made her laugh.

  “It’s not like I’m going to doubt your masculinity.” Unable to stop herself, she wrapped a hand around him and stroked. No, no question there. “Come on, it’s this or it’s nothing. I don’t have any other ones.”

  He was tense, grinding his teeth together. But it didn’t take him long to decide. He bent over and retrieved the pack, knocking her hand off him with the motion.

  “Don’t laugh.”

  “Of course not.” Hilarity was not the overriding reaction his presence brought on.

  Turning slightly from her, Caleb rolled on the condom.

  “Need some help?” Trish asked, fingers itching to lend assistance. She should be shocked at herself. She’d never been quite so voracious about sleeping with a guy before.

  But analyzing her rioting emotions wasn’t top on her to-do list right now.

  “I got it, thanks.” Caleb turned back, an endearing and adorable stain on his cheeks-Trish glanced down-that matched the hue of the condom sheathing him.

  Five

  He was wearing a pink condom and Trish was laughing. Somehow this wasn’t the way Caleb had pictured events playing out.

  Hands on his hips, he grimaced and fought the urge to cover himself with one of Trish’s red pillows. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

  She covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to.” She struggled to wipe the grin from her face. “Sorry. Okay, I’ve got it.”

  Then she glanced down and nearly suffocated herself trying to hold in a laugh, fingers pinching her nose.

  Granted, he was a little embarrassed. The thing was pink. Shocking pink, not-found-in-nature pink. But he was still turned on, and watching Trish was a joy. She was so direct, honest, so up-front about what she was thinking and feeling, and he liked seeing her laugh, especially since she was doing it naked.

  “It’s not really your color.”

  What would be, he wondered. “I can take it off,” he said, brushing his thumb over her nipple.

  Her laugh cut off on a thin moan. “No, you can’t do that. Don’t worry about its color, pretend it’s just normal.” Fingers clung to his arms. “Better yet, just-hide it.”

  When her breath hitched like that and she got that excited, aroused look of anticipation on her face, he thought he could wear a spotted or floral condom and not give a crap. At least, the spotted. Floral would probably be too much to handle with a straight face.

  “Where should I hide it?” Caleb pressed against her body, before giving in to impulse and lifting her into his arms.

  “Whoa!” she shrieked, grabbing at him. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I’m hiding the condom from your view.” Caleb bounced her a little, adjusting her in his grip, her bottom nestled against his abdomen, her breasts brushing over his chest in a torturous tease.

  “Really? Well, I had a better way to hide it than this.”

  He just bet she did. “I’m taking you to the bed, so you can show me.”

  “Perfect.”

  She was. When he laid her down on her crisp white sheets, the red bedcover piled on the floor, he forgot about pink condoms, and without any thought or plan or warning, pushed inside her moist opening.

  Caleb held still, pleasure pulsing through him. Her hot little body writhed under him and tight, moist walls clamped down on him, making him grit his teeth.Holy shit. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be in a woman, how much he’d missed it.

  But he didn’t want to finish before he started. And he didn’t want to crush her with the weight of his body, so he held himself over her and pulled back for a nice, long, slow stroke, savoring the snap of acute ecstasy in his nerve endings.

  “More.”

  Another thrust. Another demanding “more” from Trish. Pausing, Caleb stared down at her, thrown off his game, not sure what she was really asking for.

  “What…” he trailed off when she pushed on his chest.

  “You’re holding back,” she accused, giving another little shove.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Neither did he want to be talking. He stared at her in confusion.

  “You won’t. Now get on your back.”

  For a second he just lingered there, half in her, half out, feeling like a gigantic goofball who didn’t know how to please a woman. Then because he wasn’t sure what else to do, he rolled onto his back, Trish gripping his arms and following him, until she wound up on top of him.

  A bolt of lust shot through him.

  It had possibilities.

  Trish splayed her hands on his chest and arched her back. “You’ve got to understand something about me. I’m not a nice girl. I send men to prison every day and I enjoy it. And when I want something, I really want it.”

  She moved, lifting off and on him, with sure, confident strokes, and Caleb couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was gorgeous-mouth open, eyes glazed with pleasure as she rode his cock slowly at first, then increasing in speed.

  “And I…want…you.”

  Her carefully painted nails dug into her mussed, but still stylish, hair as she went up and down with frantic thrusts.

  Caleb held the small of her back, fought to keep his eyes open. “You’ve got me, gorgeous.”

  She was smooth, slick over him, pushing herself down so hard that he went deep inside her, and the little bud of her clitoris pressed into his pelvis. It was almost too much, too fast, sensation winging through him, and he knew he couldn’t stand that hot, wet friction much longer.

  But without warning, Trish dropped her hands onto his chest, eyes wide, and convulsed against him in an urgent orgasm, so damn sexy that Caleb gave up holding off and joined her.

  He heard his own moan rushing past his ears, forced himself not to maul her too hard as his body jerked in its release, hard and satisfying. It went on for a good, long, hot minute, and when he finally relaxed back against the pillow, exhausted and satisfied, Trish gave a throaty laugh.

  “My sentiments exactly.” And she draped herself across his chest with a sultry sigh.

  While he liked having her there, he knew he was sweating, and probably smelled rank. He gave her a gentle nudge. “You don’t want to lay on me, I’m all sweaty.”

  “So?” Trish played with the ends of his hair and yawned. “After we take a nap we can hop in the shower together.”

  With an enticing little lift of her hips she moved off of him, then resettled on his thigh. “But first, I have to sleep. It’s hard to settle into good REM sleep when y
ou’re orgasming.”

  Caleb laughed and wrapped his arm loosely around her. But instead of sleeping, he tugged off the pink condom and listened as Trish’s breathing evened out. Wonder stole over him at how amazing she was, and how right she felt in his arms.

  Trish was fascinating. She didn’t care that he was sweaty, she talked casually about her sex dream, and already had a shared shower planned.

  He liked it.

  Sleeping across a hard, naked man was therapeutic. Trish woke up rested and satisfied, more relaxed than she’d felt in months. She stretched her legs and snuggled back into his chest, glancing up to check him out. Caleb, the little cutie, was still asleep, a small snore emitting from his mouth.

  Trish really thought he was just absolutely adorable, which struck her as funny. The man was huge, and yet she was constantly pulling out adjectives likecute,sweet, andadorable to describe him. But he was.

  He was probably one of the nicest guys she’d ever met, which maybe didn’t say much for the company she’d been keeping. But Caleb was just a good, solid, loyal kind of guy who worried that he might hurt her, and she might be interested in exploring where the whole thing could go beyond her bedroom.

  Except that she didn’t cook, didn’t own anything appliqué, was ambivalent about children at this point, and worked relationship-killing hours. Not exactly marriage-making material.

  So that left her this morning to enjoy Caleb.

  She tickled his ribs.

  He jerked in his sleep, making an “unnnn” sound of protest, but didn’t open his eyes.

  Trish shifted a little, found his penis, and stroked it.

  This jerk was enough to almost knock her off his chest. Green eyes locked with hers. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you a hand job.” That hadn’t been her original intent, but he felt pretty dang good beneath her fingers. “But I’ve been going for like ten minutes now and my hand’s tired,” she teased. “So I’d better stop.”

  He groaned. “Next time, wake me up first so I can enjoy it.”

  Next time. The fact that it pleased her to think there would be one had her sitting up, annoyed with herself. She’d just given herself theGet A Grip lecture and here she was, already fantasizing about waking up like this with Caleb every day.