Hidden Summit
Page 13
She laughed. “I don’t know if we have a lot in common or nothing in common.”
“It’s really too soon to tell.” He parked the truck in front of her little house. He turned in his seat and faced her. “Let me come in, Les,” he said.
“Oh, right. The making out part,” she teased.
“Or coffee,” he said. “But I’m not done yet. Are you?”
“I am not,” she said, surprisingly happy about it.
He came around the truck to help her out. He lifted her to the ground. His arm around her waist both supported and hurried her, and when they were inside the house with the door closed, he swept her up to him, his lips on her lips, kissing her deeply once again as though he’d waited all night to do it. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave herself over to this kiss, wondering how she’d made it this long without it.
And that fast she decided—she was going to enjoy her life rather than subject herself to some kind of torture of denial to avoid ever being hurt again. If he wanted to devour her with these fabulous kisses, and more, she’d just have to endure it.
He backed off the littlest bit and said, “You have a very good mouth for this. Perfect, I think.”
“Are you just getting it out of the way again?” she asked.
“Nope. Just getting started. Do you have to listen to messages or let the cat out or anything?”
She shook her head. “Are we going to stand inside the door and make out?”
“I could. Where do you want to make out?”
She thought about saying the bed. Or the shower. Or maybe up against a wall? “Sofa?” she asked.
“You don’t sound too sure,” he said, slipping the blazer from her shoulders. He shed his lightweight jacket and tossed them both on the living room chair. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. “Do you need anything? A drink? A little more conversation? How’s the mustache? Too bristly?”
She just shook her head, bringing a chuckle out of him. Once she was seated on the sofa he knelt on one knee and helped her out of her boots. Then he sat down and took off his. And then he had her in his arms again pulling her across his lap, going after her mouth with all his heat and power.
“I don’t want to jinx this,” he whispered, “but you’re a natural.”
“Are you saying I’ve missed my calling?”
He reclined with her on the sofa. “I’m saying, you’re very tasty and desirable and I could do this clear into next week.”
Then, with a hand on her butt pulling her against him, he pressed into her. She chuckled against his lips. “No, you can’t,” she said. He was hard. Ready. “All you want is sex.”
He grew still and serious. He gave her lips a little peck. Then he kissed her nose. “No, Les. That’s not all. But it’s not a bad place to start.”
Leslie could remember making out, but she certainly couldn’t remember anything like this. And she’d never been romanced this way—with a truckload of flowers and comments like, that’s not all, but it’s not a bad place to start. Although Conner was a large man, they somehow managed to lie on the couch together, bodies pressed close, mouths pressed closer. And hands, gliding up and down bodies. Leslie kissed his mouth, his chin, his brooding eyebrows, his cheeks, the place where his dimple would be when he smiled. She licked his upper lip, touching the mustache with her tongue, and made him moan.
“You like that, I think,” he said.
“I like it,” she confirmed. She tugged his shirt out of his pants so she could run her hands up his hard belly and over his sculptured chest. “You’re hard everywhere.”
He unbuttoned her crisp white shirt to find a very sexy, transparent lace bra. “And you’re soft everywhere. Did you wear this for me?” He bent his head and kissed the lace.
“I might’ve, yes. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I did think about having the right underwear for it.”
His big hand slid down to the crotch of her jeans. “I can’t wait to see the matching panties.”
“One thing at a time.”
“You’re right.” He popped the front latch of her bra and enjoyed himself for a little while with her br**sts, first fondling and then kissing and finally sucking. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “How’s that bristle on your br**sts?”
“It’s very good,” she said breathlessly, without opening her eyes.
“Les, are we gonna get naked?”
“You mean more naked?”
“It’s up to you,” he said. “And if the answer is yes, let’s trade this couch in for a bed. If the answer is no, let’s put on the coffee.”
“I’m very nervous. I wonder if I’ve thought it through....”
He chuckled and ran a rough finger down her chest all the way to her navel. “You have no reason to be nervous. And I have a couple of brand-new condoms in my pocket. One week old.”
“You planned this?”
“No, sweetheart. I wanted this. Hoped for this. Wanted to be prepared for this.”
She bit her bottom lip for a second. “Will we still be friends after?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Oh, Leslie, better friends, I hope. Are you worried I’m just here for the sex? Because I’m here for the sex with you, but only because it’s you. I haven’t felt this in a long time. I was a little afraid I’d never feel it again. But…” He started to pull her shirt closed over her br**sts. “I want you to be ready. This has to be about both of us, not just one of us. We can put on the coffee....”
She grabbed his wrists. “I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”
“Are you nervous because it’s me?”
“Because it’s been so long and because I really like you. And because I’ve never done anything like this before, this ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing.”
“It’s more than that,” he said. “I think it’s friends with chemistry. You really turn me on.” He nuzzled her neck with a low purr that almost turned into a growl. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Leslie.”
“What if I don’t take real good care of you?” she asked him.
He looked surprised. “Not possible.” He put his lips against hers, and then in a remarkable move, never breaking the kiss, he shifted her weight until she was sitting on his lap again. With one arm behind her and the other under her knees, he lifted her. “Which way?”
“Left,” she said.
When he reached her bedroom, he stood at the side of the bed, holding her, looking down. The comforter was folded back, the pillows fluffed. “Perfect,” he said. And he slowly lowered her.
Leslie lay on her bed in her jeans, socks and opened blouse and watched as Conner went through the ritual of emptying his pockets onto the bedside table. He took out condoms and wallet; his watch joined them. Then he pulled off his shirt and opened his belt. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, his process of getting ready for her. But it was hard to concentrate. He had an enormous bulge in his dress pants. And when he lowered the pants, leaving only black boxer briefs, it was all she could do not to gasp.
He knelt on the bed and gently touched her, his fingertips gliding over her lips, then her neck and br**sts, her belly. Then he opened her jeans and gave them a little tug. She lifted up so he could draw them off, and he groaned at the sight of her transparent lace panties. He tossed the jeans and ran a finger around the elastic. “God,” he muttered.
She reached for the waistband of his briefs. “Come on,” she said. “I’m cold.”
“You won’t be cold for long,” he said. And he quickly got rid of his boxers, removing the mystery. She bit on her lower lip to keep from saying, Wow. It was a little intimidating. Very large. Very hard.
He sat down on the bed and pulled her into a sitting position. He pushed the opened blouse and unsnapped bra over her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“And these?” she asked, her hands going to her panties.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.” He ran his finger under the elastic again. “Let me play with these awhile. God, Leslie. What an incredible beauty you are.”
“Because I say no to pie,” she weakly informed him.
“No, you can still take on plenty of pie and be beautiful. But, my God, I’m losing my mind.” He ran his fingers under the elastic at her legs, first one, then the other. “Hmm, you’re killing me.”
“We can take them off,” she offered.
“Not yet,” he said. “Let me have my fun.” And then his hands were spreading her, and his fingers were moving into that very personal territory beneath the panties. Of course she was completely ready. Swollen and hot and wet. He leaned down to her lips just as he let one finger slide into her, and his kiss carried a deep throaty moan with it. “Man, I’m having a very hard time waiting for you.”
“You don’t have to wait,” she offered. And without meaning to, without planning to, her pelvis rose into his hand. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait long.”
“Good,” he said, nibbling at her lips. “Good.” He sat up again and slowly, tenderly, drew down those lace panties. She was waxed except for a small patch on her pubis. He met her eyes, smiled, lifted one brow. “Maybe I should see your barber.”
She reached out and touched his mustache. “Don’t you dare.”
He tossed the panties and reclined, pulling her into his arms, holding her close. His hand was on her again, now rubbing that sensitive little bump that brought all the joy of the universe to her. “Stop,” she whispered. “I can’t wait if you do that.”
“Ready?”
“I’ve been ready since you brought me lantana in three colors.”
His laugh was a deep rumble. “I knew when it got down to it, you were easy.” He rubbed more ferociously. He put a finger inside and rubbed with his thumb.
She reached for him, filled her hand with him and said, “So, you wanna play dirty?” She stroked him. Not gently. She brought deep noises from him, and he pinched his eyes closed.
He kissed her again, deeply, wetly. “Dirty is the only way I want to play.” But he pulled his hands and lips away and went after that condom, suiting up. Then he covered her body with his, holding his massive weight off her. With a gentle knee, he parted her legs. “I just can’t right now. I’m on a pretty short leash.” And again he touched her with his fingers, getting her hotter than hot.
With slow and smooth searching, he found her and let himself inside just a small amount, checking her reaction. She nodded at him, and he pushed in a little more. Again she nodded and again he gave her more. Then he took her mouth, his tongue playing with hers, and he slid all the way in. She gasped.
“Okay?” he asked her.
“God,” she whispered. “Okay,” she said weakly.
“Tell me if it’s not comfortable. Don’t put up with anything that feels wrong.”
“God,” she said again. “It feels right....”
And she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes along with his smile. Then he began to move in and out, slowly. Too slowly. He kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, over her breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth. In and out.
She rose against him. “More.”
“Try this,” came his throaty whisper. “Just try it this way. Let me get you there nice and easy. Let it build. Then when it’s time—”
“Oh, God, it’s time....” she nearly cried, pushing against him.
“You’re killing me,” he told her. “Almost time…”
“It’s really too soon to tell.” He parked the truck in front of her little house. He turned in his seat and faced her. “Let me come in, Les,” he said.
“Oh, right. The making out part,” she teased.
“Or coffee,” he said. “But I’m not done yet. Are you?”
“I am not,” she said, surprisingly happy about it.
He came around the truck to help her out. He lifted her to the ground. His arm around her waist both supported and hurried her, and when they were inside the house with the door closed, he swept her up to him, his lips on her lips, kissing her deeply once again as though he’d waited all night to do it. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave herself over to this kiss, wondering how she’d made it this long without it.
And that fast she decided—she was going to enjoy her life rather than subject herself to some kind of torture of denial to avoid ever being hurt again. If he wanted to devour her with these fabulous kisses, and more, she’d just have to endure it.
He backed off the littlest bit and said, “You have a very good mouth for this. Perfect, I think.”
“Are you just getting it out of the way again?” she asked.
“Nope. Just getting started. Do you have to listen to messages or let the cat out or anything?”
She shook her head. “Are we going to stand inside the door and make out?”
“I could. Where do you want to make out?”
She thought about saying the bed. Or the shower. Or maybe up against a wall? “Sofa?” she asked.
“You don’t sound too sure,” he said, slipping the blazer from her shoulders. He shed his lightweight jacket and tossed them both on the living room chair. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. “Do you need anything? A drink? A little more conversation? How’s the mustache? Too bristly?”
She just shook her head, bringing a chuckle out of him. Once she was seated on the sofa he knelt on one knee and helped her out of her boots. Then he sat down and took off his. And then he had her in his arms again pulling her across his lap, going after her mouth with all his heat and power.
“I don’t want to jinx this,” he whispered, “but you’re a natural.”
“Are you saying I’ve missed my calling?”
He reclined with her on the sofa. “I’m saying, you’re very tasty and desirable and I could do this clear into next week.”
Then, with a hand on her butt pulling her against him, he pressed into her. She chuckled against his lips. “No, you can’t,” she said. He was hard. Ready. “All you want is sex.”
He grew still and serious. He gave her lips a little peck. Then he kissed her nose. “No, Les. That’s not all. But it’s not a bad place to start.”
Leslie could remember making out, but she certainly couldn’t remember anything like this. And she’d never been romanced this way—with a truckload of flowers and comments like, that’s not all, but it’s not a bad place to start. Although Conner was a large man, they somehow managed to lie on the couch together, bodies pressed close, mouths pressed closer. And hands, gliding up and down bodies. Leslie kissed his mouth, his chin, his brooding eyebrows, his cheeks, the place where his dimple would be when he smiled. She licked his upper lip, touching the mustache with her tongue, and made him moan.
“You like that, I think,” he said.
“I like it,” she confirmed. She tugged his shirt out of his pants so she could run her hands up his hard belly and over his sculptured chest. “You’re hard everywhere.”
He unbuttoned her crisp white shirt to find a very sexy, transparent lace bra. “And you’re soft everywhere. Did you wear this for me?” He bent his head and kissed the lace.
“I might’ve, yes. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I did think about having the right underwear for it.”
His big hand slid down to the crotch of her jeans. “I can’t wait to see the matching panties.”
“One thing at a time.”
“You’re right.” He popped the front latch of her bra and enjoyed himself for a little while with her br**sts, first fondling and then kissing and finally sucking. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “How’s that bristle on your br**sts?”
“It’s very good,” she said breathlessly, without opening her eyes.
“Les, are we gonna get naked?”
“You mean more naked?”
“It’s up to you,” he said. “And if the answer is yes, let’s trade this couch in for a bed. If the answer is no, let’s put on the coffee.”
“I’m very nervous. I wonder if I’ve thought it through....”
He chuckled and ran a rough finger down her chest all the way to her navel. “You have no reason to be nervous. And I have a couple of brand-new condoms in my pocket. One week old.”
“You planned this?”
“No, sweetheart. I wanted this. Hoped for this. Wanted to be prepared for this.”
She bit her bottom lip for a second. “Will we still be friends after?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Oh, Leslie, better friends, I hope. Are you worried I’m just here for the sex? Because I’m here for the sex with you, but only because it’s you. I haven’t felt this in a long time. I was a little afraid I’d never feel it again. But…” He started to pull her shirt closed over her br**sts. “I want you to be ready. This has to be about both of us, not just one of us. We can put on the coffee....”
She grabbed his wrists. “I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”
“Are you nervous because it’s me?”
“Because it’s been so long and because I really like you. And because I’ve never done anything like this before, this ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing.”
“It’s more than that,” he said. “I think it’s friends with chemistry. You really turn me on.” He nuzzled her neck with a low purr that almost turned into a growl. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Leslie.”
“What if I don’t take real good care of you?” she asked him.
He looked surprised. “Not possible.” He put his lips against hers, and then in a remarkable move, never breaking the kiss, he shifted her weight until she was sitting on his lap again. With one arm behind her and the other under her knees, he lifted her. “Which way?”
“Left,” she said.
When he reached her bedroom, he stood at the side of the bed, holding her, looking down. The comforter was folded back, the pillows fluffed. “Perfect,” he said. And he slowly lowered her.
Leslie lay on her bed in her jeans, socks and opened blouse and watched as Conner went through the ritual of emptying his pockets onto the bedside table. He took out condoms and wallet; his watch joined them. Then he pulled off his shirt and opened his belt. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, his process of getting ready for her. But it was hard to concentrate. He had an enormous bulge in his dress pants. And when he lowered the pants, leaving only black boxer briefs, it was all she could do not to gasp.
He knelt on the bed and gently touched her, his fingertips gliding over her lips, then her neck and br**sts, her belly. Then he opened her jeans and gave them a little tug. She lifted up so he could draw them off, and he groaned at the sight of her transparent lace panties. He tossed the jeans and ran a finger around the elastic. “God,” he muttered.
She reached for the waistband of his briefs. “Come on,” she said. “I’m cold.”
“You won’t be cold for long,” he said. And he quickly got rid of his boxers, removing the mystery. She bit on her lower lip to keep from saying, Wow. It was a little intimidating. Very large. Very hard.
He sat down on the bed and pulled her into a sitting position. He pushed the opened blouse and unsnapped bra over her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“And these?” she asked, her hands going to her panties.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.” He ran his finger under the elastic again. “Let me play with these awhile. God, Leslie. What an incredible beauty you are.”
“Because I say no to pie,” she weakly informed him.
“No, you can still take on plenty of pie and be beautiful. But, my God, I’m losing my mind.” He ran his fingers under the elastic at her legs, first one, then the other. “Hmm, you’re killing me.”
“We can take them off,” she offered.
“Not yet,” he said. “Let me have my fun.” And then his hands were spreading her, and his fingers were moving into that very personal territory beneath the panties. Of course she was completely ready. Swollen and hot and wet. He leaned down to her lips just as he let one finger slide into her, and his kiss carried a deep throaty moan with it. “Man, I’m having a very hard time waiting for you.”
“You don’t have to wait,” she offered. And without meaning to, without planning to, her pelvis rose into his hand. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait long.”
“Good,” he said, nibbling at her lips. “Good.” He sat up again and slowly, tenderly, drew down those lace panties. She was waxed except for a small patch on her pubis. He met her eyes, smiled, lifted one brow. “Maybe I should see your barber.”
She reached out and touched his mustache. “Don’t you dare.”
He tossed the panties and reclined, pulling her into his arms, holding her close. His hand was on her again, now rubbing that sensitive little bump that brought all the joy of the universe to her. “Stop,” she whispered. “I can’t wait if you do that.”
“Ready?”
“I’ve been ready since you brought me lantana in three colors.”
His laugh was a deep rumble. “I knew when it got down to it, you were easy.” He rubbed more ferociously. He put a finger inside and rubbed with his thumb.
She reached for him, filled her hand with him and said, “So, you wanna play dirty?” She stroked him. Not gently. She brought deep noises from him, and he pinched his eyes closed.
He kissed her again, deeply, wetly. “Dirty is the only way I want to play.” But he pulled his hands and lips away and went after that condom, suiting up. Then he covered her body with his, holding his massive weight off her. With a gentle knee, he parted her legs. “I just can’t right now. I’m on a pretty short leash.” And again he touched her with his fingers, getting her hotter than hot.
With slow and smooth searching, he found her and let himself inside just a small amount, checking her reaction. She nodded at him, and he pushed in a little more. Again she nodded and again he gave her more. Then he took her mouth, his tongue playing with hers, and he slid all the way in. She gasped.
“Okay?” he asked her.
“God,” she whispered. “Okay,” she said weakly.
“Tell me if it’s not comfortable. Don’t put up with anything that feels wrong.”
“God,” she said again. “It feels right....”
And she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes along with his smile. Then he began to move in and out, slowly. Too slowly. He kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, over her breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth. In and out.
She rose against him. “More.”
“Try this,” came his throaty whisper. “Just try it this way. Let me get you there nice and easy. Let it build. Then when it’s time—”
“Oh, God, it’s time....” she nearly cried, pushing against him.
“You’re killing me,” he told her. “Almost time…”
