by Tasha Fawkes
He leads me to the bedroom, taking me in his arms as he kicks the door closed behind us. I expect a fast, deep kiss, one that takes us right back to the place we were before I freaked out on him, but his lips are gentle against mine. He lets the fire between us gradually build as he traces my bottom lip with his tongue. I open my mouth as I push myself on my tiptoes, my arms winding around his neck. I can feel his erection pushing against my stomach, and my pussy clenches in reaction.
“Anthony,” I moan his name as he moves from his slow exploration of my mouth to planting soft kisses down my jaw, and then down my throat.
I'm barely aware that he's undressing me until I'm down to my panties and bra and the heat of his hands is scorching my skin. Then it's all about getting him naked, and my fingers shake as I tug at the bottom of his shirt. He takes a step back and pulls it over his head. I trace his muscles with my fingertips, feeling them jump at each pass. His body is a true work of art.
I go for his jeans next. I didn't get a chance to see him before, and the need is almost too much. I go to my knees to help him from his jeans, then realize that I'm at a good place to try something new, something I never imagined I'd want to do. When I reach for the waist of his underwear, he sucks in a breath, but doesn't stop me.
I swallow hard as I see him for the first time. Thick and arching up toward his stomach, he's even bigger than I thought. For the first time, I'm grateful that those gymnastic classes at the Y when I was a kid had taken care of my hymen. Things are probably going to be a bit uncomfortable even without that added issue.
“You don't have to—”
“Do you want me to?” I cut off his statement with a question.
He shudders and reaches down to run his thumb along my bottom lip. “Fuck, yes, Jane. But only if you—”
Whatever else he planned to say is lost in a strangled groan as I take the tip of him into my mouth. I can only get a couple inches, but based on the curses I'm hearing, I feel confident that he's enjoying what I'm doing. I may be a virgin, but I grew up with a lot of kids who weren't, and when there's two or three girls in a single room, information is shared.
Information that I'm currently putting to the test as I circle his tip with my tongue, stroke the base of his shaft with one free hand while the other moves a bit lower. He puts his hand in my hair and his hips move forward, sliding a bit more of his cock into my mouth. The skin is impossibly smooth against my tongue, the flesh beneath it hard.
“Jane, sweetheart.” His voice is rough as he takes a step back. “Too much.”
For a moment, I try to follow him, wanting to feel him come in my mouth, but then I remember that there's something else I want more.
He takes my shoulders and pulls me to my feet. I'm not there long as he eases me back on his bed. He leans over me, his mouth covering mine in a deep kiss as his hands rid me of my bra and then my panties. When he finally straightens, his eyes slide down my body, and I fist my hands in the blankets to keep from covering myself.
“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” His fingers curl around my ankles, spreading my legs so that he can kneel between them.
The compliment sounds like a line, but I know it's not. I can read the sincerity in his eyes. He truly thinks I'm beautiful.
It's on the tip of my tongue to share one of my two secrets: the one that's a bit more relevant to the current situation. But then his mouth closes over my nipple, and all thoughts flee.
I arch my back to encourage him, pushing myself into him, holding the back of his neck to pull him closer. I cry out his name as his teeth lightly scrape the tight flesh, then curse when he takes the tip between his teeth and tugs. My eyes flutter closed when he starts to suck.
His hand slides between my thighs to stroke me, and I almost see stars when his fingers press against my throbbing, aching flesh. His thumb passes over my clit as a finger slips inside. This time, all I feel is the pleasure that comes with each stroke. The past stays where it belongs and leaves me with him.
“So sweet,” he whispers as he works his way further down my body, a second finger joining the first. “So tight.”
My hips move, rolling in circles, as he drives me crazy with his fingers, his thumb. His mouth. His tongue laps at the sensitive skin between my thighs, and I whimper. It’s too much, sensory overload, the way my body screams for more combined with his own moans. Knowing I’m turning him on just adds to my own arousal.
I arch again as I come, shivering and shuddering. I let go and let myself fly, knowing he'll be here to catch me when I come down. It's pure bliss.
When I come to, he’s making little patterns on my stomach with his fingers. I reach for him, skimming his taut, chiseled body, learning all the little dips and planes. He’s beautiful, perfect, and he wants me. Me! It’s the most incredible feeling, just knowing that the thick, long dick he rolls a condom down is hard because of me. I hold my arms out to him and welcome his weight as he lowers himself over top of me.
He waits, looking down into my eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice softer than I've ever heard it. He’s shaking with the strain of holding back, and yet he’s still taking the time to ask me that. That’s all I need to tell me that I've made the right choice.
“Yes.”
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. When the pressure gets stronger, I do my best to relax as he eases his way inside. I don’t regret any of this, not one bit, even as the discomfort rounds the corner into pain and I can't stop the gasp. While I hate the circumstances that led to my remaining a virgin, I'm glad I waited for him instead of having some awkward tumble in the backseat of a car with some random guy. He prepared me well, and it doesn't take more than a few seconds for nature to do its work, slicking the place where the two of us are joined.
“You okay?” he murmurs, the question strained.
I nod wordlessly. I can’t speak. Tears sting behind my eyes, but they’re not tears of pain. There’s so much happening in my head and my heart, I can’t focus on just one thought or one feeling. I wonder if he feels it, too. If he understands just how much this moment means to me. Not because I have some naive romantic notions linked to my first time, but because he's taken care of me so well.
He’s right above me, his lips skimming my forehead and cheeks and throat. I tilt my head back and he presses his face into the curve of my throat, his breath hot against my skin, but it’s a good heat, just like the pressure deep in my core as he begins to move is a good pressure, sweet and right. So right.
The whole thing is right. The way his body rests on top of mine, and the way I raise my hips to meet his steady strokes. I don’t even have to think about it. It’s instinct, deep and natural and ancient. Even that initial pain is part of it, though it's since faded under the sweetness that comes with every perfectly angled thrust.
I run my hands up and down his back, grip his firm ass, and kiss his shoulder. I close my eyes, sinking into the sensations, letting the heat building between us carry me away to that place beyond thought or reason.
I moan, my breath coming in short little gasps as I near the edge again. He pulls back so that our eyes can meet, and I see so many emotions swirling there that I can't name them all. Sliding his arms under my shoulders, he holds me closer. I wrap mine around his neck, my legs tightening around his waist, not a sliver of space between us. We’re together, our bodies joined as one, riding the waves of pleasure that are building and growing. He speeds up, and his breath comes faster, harder, more ragged.
“Yes…yes…Anthony, yes...!”
I’m going to come again, and this time, he’s coming with me, driving himself into me with hard, fast strokes. He grunts and pants like an animal, and I want him to, I want all of him. I scream into his neck as my body convulses underneath him. His cries ring in my ears, and I clutch him as hard as I can.
I hold him close as we float, then slowly descend back into reality. Even though he doesn't know about my past, and doesn't know that he's my
first, I feel like being with him washed clean everything that my uncle sullied. Now, when I feel the ghost of a touch, it will be Anthony's. It will be his face I see. His scent and his body.
He pushes himself up a little and slides out of me. I feel a sense of loss I can’t explain, like he’s leaving. Only he’s not leaving. He rolls onto his back and pulls me close, wrapping me in his strong arms where the aftershocks make me shiver.
“Are you all right?” He skims his fingers over my arm in a soothing gesture that warms me more than any blanket could have.
I rest my head on his chest, knowing that I still need to tell him my secrets. But not yet. Soon. But not now. “I'm great,” I answer honestly. “When can we do it again?”
Chapter 22
Anthony
“I don’t think two weeks have ever passed as fast as these two.” I shake my head as I rearrange the notes for the presentation. I should have these all memorized by now, seeing as I've been through them dozens of times.
“Two weeks haven’t passed,” Jane reminds me with one of her patented wry smiles. Her eyes dance. “It’s only been ten days.”
“Cute.” I have to smile, because she is cute. More than cute. Beautiful and sexy and smart and sweet...she’s everything.
It’s amazing that we’ve been able to get any work done at all, really. We’re in that amazing bubble a couple lives in during the early days of a relationship. And it is a relationship, much to my surprise. Even more shocking is that it doesn't freak me out to use the 'r' word.
When we’re not having sex, we’re sleeping in between sessions or making out or talking on the phone when we can’t be together. And, somehow, in the middle of it all, we’ve put together a killer presentation. A lot of it, I know, has to do with the fact that Jane multi-tasks during sex, and I don't mean that just because she does things with her mouth and hands that should be illegal. She actually likes to brainstorm for ideas while we're cuddling. Or, not cuddling, because I don't do that. I'm sure there's a more manly word for it. Whatever it's called, I’ve gotten more done in the time I'm with her than I normally get done in weeks. Maybe months.
And what we're coming up with is really, really good. I keep asking myself if I’m not being just a little overly optimistic, but every time I look at the ideas Jane and I have come up with together, I can’t help but feel proud. I couldn’t do any of this without her, and I know it. What’s more, so does she. But she needs me, too. We need each other, and that's something completely new for both of us.
It's strange that we grew up in two totally different worlds, but there's still so much we have in common. A feeling that it's us against the world. Loneliness even when we're surrounded by people. Wearing a mask.
I know there are things she's hiding. I can see it on her face and in her eyes that she wants to tell me but can't. Not yet. My gut tells me that at least one of those things is the reason why that first night ended with her running away. But as much as I want to know, I want to prove to her that she can trust me.
“Where should the stats go?” she asks from where she’s creating charts of competitor sales. “I mean, there’s an argument for putting them in the beginning of the presentation, just to get them out of the way, but there's also one for putting them in the middle and opening with something really strong to catch their attention, reel them in.”
“Let’s go with the middle and run through the presentation that way. We’ll see how it feels.”
It’s bizarre, working on an actual presentation, molding the ideas we come up with together, turning them into something better than I ever could’ve imagined. I feel like a real, honest-to-God ad man. Me. The guy who used to swear I wanted nothing to do with Dad’s business. I'm actually good at it.
“Where do you want to do dinner tonight?” I ask when my stomach rumbles.
She pouts as she turns. “We’re taking time out for dinner?” She reaches out and toys with one of my buttons.
Another appetite roars to life within me. “You’re insatiable.”
“It’s all your fault.” She stretches up and plants a soft kiss on my waiting lips. Even that little bit of contact is electric, but it doesn't keep me from seeing the hint of a shadow that crosses her face.
One of those secrets.
I don't call her on it, though.
“I hate to spoil things for you, but I need to eat if you want me to have any energy. Sorry.” I toss her a wink and dedicate myself to finishing for the day so we can get the hell out of the office. And into a bed.
Now that she has me thinking along carnal lines, I can’t think about anything else but being inside her, feeling her underneath me, above me. Fuck. I have it bad.
“To answer your question, it doesn’t matter where we go for dinner. You know me. I’m pretty simple when it comes to things like that.” Her smile is warm and genuine. “I’m just happy to be with you. Happier than, well, than I can remember ever being.”
I wish I could explain to her how she makes me feel when she says things like that. Like a king. Just the thought that I could make a woman like her happy is unreal. She’s turning me into a better person just by being with me because I want to be better for her.
“You don’t want to go to some big, fancy place?” I joke. “What’s the point of sleeping with the boss if you don’t take advantage by going out for expensive dinners?”
Her laugh reminds me of the sound of bells. “Please. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself in a big, fancy place. Or even a small, fancy place. I could hardly handle eating dinner in your apartment that first night.” She flushes.
That gives me pause, but not because I remember what happened after dinner. I look up from my laptop. She’s sitting on the sofa against the wall, working on her own laptop.
“Hang on a sec. Does it make you uncomfortable going to places like that with me?” I get up and cross over to her. “I’m used to it. I barely even notice it anymore. I didn’t think about your feelings.”
She blushes. “That’s sweet.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That I didn’t think about your feelings?”
“That you even thought to ask me at all, dope.” She shakes her head with a giggle. “I love life here. I love what we’re doing together. Working with you, I feel like a kick-ass career woman in a rom-com or TV show.” She pauses, then adds, “But really? I sort of miss the simpler life.”
I smile at the confession. “You mean the way you grew up?”
“Yeah, but minus the foster home.”
Another of those shadows crosses her face, vanishing a bit slower this time.
“Country life. I miss that.” Her expression grows wistful. “Or maybe I just miss what I always thought it could be. Quiet mornings, the smell of coffee in the kitchen. Taking a cup out to the front porch and watching the sun rise. Watching fireflies at night in the summer. Knowing the neighbors. That kind of thing. Everything’s so crazy, but so isolated at the same time here, you know? So many more people, but so much less connection.”
She never ceases to amaze me. She’s not only deeper and kinder than any woman I’ve ever known. She manages to make small-town life look appealing, something I never would’ve imagined possible before meeting her. Just another way she makes me a better man.
I reach for her hand and pull her up hard enough for her to crash against my chest. “Forget eating out. We'll order in.”
With our eyes locked together, I reach down and slide my hand between her legs. The door's closed, but we're both aware of how easily someone could come in. She doesn't stop me, though. Instead, she lets out a little moan and rocks her hips forward, a clear encouragement.
I move my hand higher, then stare down at her in shock as I meet bare flesh. Her cheeks are stained red.
“Are you trying to kill me, Jane?” My voice is hoarse. My cock presses painfully against my zipper.
She bites her bottom lip and peers up at me through her lashes. “I thought you said you were hungry.”
&
nbsp; Fuck.
Who the hell taught this woman to be so damn innocent and seductive all at once?
I can't get enough of her. She’s right outside my office door and somehow I'm even more aware of her today than I was yesterday. Part of that could be because now every time I look at my desk, all I can picture is how last night I picked her up and put her on my desk, then dropped to my knees and made her scream.
Sort of.
We were at work, so I couldn't actually make her scream, but I ate her out for at least a half hour and gave her five orgasms, so I feel pretty confident that she would’ve been screaming if she hadn't bit down on the side of her hand.
I wonder if she's thinking of it, too. If the faint marks on her hand remind her of what it was like to have my face buried in her pussy, her hand in my hair, egging me on.
Dammit.
I'm rock hard, and there's no relief in sight.
She's so close, but so far. We weren’t far apart earlier this morning in the shower. I smile a little at the memory of our soapy bodies sliding against each other as I picked her up and took her against the wall.
Yeah, that's not really helping the whole erection problem I have right now.
A brisk knock at the door stirs me back to reality, and I wave in the random clerk who hands me an interoffice envelope. It’s a good thing I wait until I’m alone to open it because the envelope holds only one thing: a pair of panties I remember watching Jane slide into earlier.
I reach down and adjust myself and take all of thirty seconds to consider the possible ramifications of what I want to do before hitting the intercom button.
“Miss Ward, I have a situation here that needs your immediate attention.”
Judging by the smirk on her face when she comes in, she knows exactly what the situation is. She closes the door, turns the lock, and then makes her way across the office.