Livvy (27 page)

“Later.” He blows on his hands slowly, then rubs them together before slipping them beneath my shirt and grasping my sides. His thumbs barely skim my breasts, but I tremble in anticipation at his touch. I unbutton the shirt for him, not wanting his hands to leave my body even for a second, and slide it from my shoulders.

His eyes watch his hands move up my body, sliding slowly up my chest to the back of my neck. His torso is warm against mine as he kisses me slowly. While he’s distracted, I push the rest of my pajamas to the floor before wrapping my arms around him and finding strong, tense muscles in his back. His hands glide over my back slowly, and don’t stop when they reach my panties.

I feel his lips strain in a smile as they continue to move against mine. His fingers dip beneath the cotton fully until his palms are pressed against my rear. “You don’t need these, do you?” he whispers once he pulls away and steps back, eyeing my underwear.

“No.” I form the word, but no sound escapes as I have no breath to speak. Swiftly, he pulls them to the ground, and on his knees, helps me to step out of them and my pajama pants. Wet kisses adorn my shins and my knees, my thighs and my hips.

“Lie down,” he says as he stands up. I sit down on my bed and scoot back, resting on my elbows as I watch him. He undresses himself and joins me on the bed, pulling one of my knees up and straddling my other leg. He kisses the knee again before moving his lips to my ribcage and breasts, still stretching my leg closer to my body. I feel like he’s being overly-cautious; overly-
gentle
. He doesn’t need to be. I’m
more
than ready.

“Hurry,” I urge, anxious and on fire. I lift my other knee slightly, just enough to graze his thighs. He lets out a quiet grunt at the touch.

“I intend to do a lot of things with you tonight, Olivia,” he says, dragging his palm down to my calf and straightening my leg. He kneels up so both hands can caress it, starting at my foot and slowly inching toward the top of my thigh. “Hurrying is not one of them,” he adds, moving his right leg over my left. My breath hitches as he touches me, the pad of his thumb gliding across, teasing me, as his right hand moves to my other leg.

As he holds my ankle and kisses my calf, his thumb lingers and continues to brush against me.

“Oh, wow,” I sigh, closing my eyes and reveling in the intimate contact that I had missed for months. I remember a time when this is all I knew of him, sexually. It was enough then, but now that I’ve learned more, I
want
more. I open my eyes, hoping he’ll see the need in them. I can tell from his sly smile that he does, in fact, see my need. The expectant reaction of my body to his teasing confirms it, too, if there had been any doubt. After a few more pulsing strokes, he drags his thumb up the center of my body, lying down beside me once he stretches out. His thumb drags against my bottom lip boldly, back and forth. I touch him gingerly as I stare at him, unblinkingly, waiting for his next move. Finally, I decide to provoke him myself when he smirks at my impatience.

When my tongue barely touches the tip of his thumb, Jon leans into me, kissing me hungrily, and I laugh, proud of my successful efforts. The palms of his hands cover my ears as his fingertips massage my scalp and neck, relaxing me fully. I turn on my side and drag my right arm and leg over his body, holding him closer as our kiss carries on messily and passionately.

There’s no mistaking the fact that he’s as turned on as I am, and just when I try to reach for his wallet on the other side of him, he pushes me back into the bed, moving my legs together and straddling them with his.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I whine, still smiling, though.

“I don’t think you’ll be saying that in an hour,” he says with bravado. “There are parts of your body that haven’t been touched in months, and I don’t think it’s fair to leave even the tiniest freckle in such a condition.”

“And exactly where is the tiniest freckle?” I ask him.

“Turn over,” he says, helping me onto my stomach. I feel the weight of him on my back and feel his breath before he speaks. “It’s sad that you’ve never even seen it,” he adds, kissing my earlobe briefly. “I used to think it was here,” he continues, kissing a spot in between my neck and right shoulder. I feel his teeth scrape against my skin lightly, too.

“But?” I ask.

“But that was before I’d seen you without your shirt on. Then I realized it was here,” he says, then drags his tongue down and across my back to the base of my spine. A few soft kisses linger there as his hands knead into my backside. “But...” I hear him say again.

“What?” I ask, pushing up slightly on my elbows and turning my head to look at him. I watch as his lips move down further, over my rear, his kisses close together. He stops at a spot right where my outer hamstring begins. I feel his teeth again, and jump slightly at the ticklish sensation, falling into my pillow and burying my head in it.

“Then I found this little guy one day when you were sleeping.” He presses his lips against it a few more times.

Smiling, I lift my head to speak again. “So are all the freckles good?”

“One more,” he says as he wedges one knee in between my thighs, and then the other. I watch him, curious. He starts to nudge my right leg, forcing me onto my side. He holds my leg at an angle in front of him and kisses a patch of skin just above the back of my knee. He helps me onto my back and places my leg onto the bed gently before he reaches for his wallet on the nightstand. He tosses it carelessly on the bed, but within reach. “Not yet,” he says when he sees my eager expression.

“But–” And then I shut up. His thumb has returned. His fingers, too. They’re long and strong and find their destination immediately. One hand busy conducting its own symphony with my body as its sole instrument, his other arm tucks beneath my shoulders and brings my mouth to his.

His chaotic kisses return as I feel my arousal ascending to heights I’m not familiar with. I claw at his back and whimper with desire and pleasure until I finally turn away from him, letting out frenzied cries as he nips at my neck and ear. After the repressed tension is finally released, he removes his hand and puts one of his legs over mine and starts to move it against me, and the excitement immediately begins to build again. Jon puts his hand on my rear and holds my body close to his so I can’t escape the building friction. I’m grateful, but I want him.
All
of him. My hand touches the leather of his old wallet, and my fingers fumble around until I find the condoms. I grip them tightly, with the fitted sheet, too, as a swelling high overtakes my senses again.

Then I let go of everything–the condoms, the sheet, my inhibitions–falling into my own Jon-induced nirvana, hoping to stay there forever.

In addition to a never-ending string of expletives, cries and gasps, I think I tell Jon it’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I’m hoarse by the time I attempt to express my appreciation verbally, and decide it’s not enough.

By touch, my fingers find the condoms again. Jon shifts, putting his hand on top of mine. I open my heavy eyelids and try to focus on him. He has the most self-satisfied smile on his face that I have ever seen.

“Ever?” he asks, squeezing my hand.

I simply nod, trying to moisten my lips with my tongue, but my mouth is totally dry.

“Let me help you with that,” he says, first taking my top lip between his, and then repeating with my bottom lip, wetting them lightly. Still parched, I hold his head to mine and kiss him fully in an effort to rehydrate. Eventually, he reaches to the night stand, producing a small glass of water.

“Where’d that come from?” I ask with a raspy voice before taking a sip, wondering if he wants any.

“I planned. I know your needs. You should know that.”

“Yeah, you do,” I agree, blushing. After he declines my offer to share the water, I drink the rest of it, feeling refreshed. He puts the glass back.

“So, where were we?” he asks.

“You were about to join me in carnal and spiritual bliss,” I tell him.

“Yeah?” I help him open the foil packet.

“Yeah,” I say. “Take me there again.”

“My pleasure,” he responds just before his next kiss, which seems to fluctuate between gentle and intense, continuing well into the early morning hours.

I can feel the warmth of the sun as I lie in bed, and its color burns brightly behind my eyelids. It seems to have stolen our night too soon, as I’m sure I saw dawn just before my exhausted body forced me to sleep. I roll over, away from the windows and into Jon’s chest. I burrow under the covers to create the darkness I want back. I’m not sure if he’s awake, but his arms envelop me and hold me tightly.

Our bare legs tangle together, and I feel his warm feet with mine. He jumps suddenly. “What is wrong with your feet?!” he asks as he tries to maneuver his toes away from mine. “Did they lose all circulation?” he laughs.

“It’s quite possible,” I mumble against him, wondering if he can understand me. As I remember bits and pieces of last night, I kiss his chest and lightly run my fingernails up the backs of his thigh. With no warning, he lets go of me and throws the covers off of us. I sit up hurriedly, pulling my knees to my chin to hide my naked body. Jon isn’t quite as modest as he saunters down the bed, stopping at the edge. On his knees, he pulls the sheet back over himself as he takes my cold feet into his hands and starts rubbing them slowly. “That feels nice,” I tell him.

“I’m doing it for my own benefit,” he informs me.

“I could get some socks,” I suggest.

He shakes his head slowly and stares at me with a slight grin. “Socks are just the beginning of ‘getting dressed,’ and I’m not remotely ready for that yet.”

“No?” I ask, glancing at the clock. It’s just a little after nine.

“Not a chance.” I loosen my arms as he tugs at my legs, eventually putting my feet between his thighs. His skin is still so warm against mine that I have no doubt he’s uncomfortable. I try to pull my feet away, but he holds me still by my shins.

“I know they’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“
I’m
cold,” I tell him, hoping he can recognize this on his own by the goosebumps that spread across my skin in the apartment that didn’t seem this cool last night. In fact, I was hot. We were both sticky with sweat, and the only time I felt the slightest chill was when his body left mine, even for a brief second. Fortunately, he was never gone longer than that.

I lie back down on the pillow, stretching my arms over my head to try to get the blood flowing again. My posture must seem like an invitation to Jon. Bringing the blankets with him, he lies on top of me, nudging his legs between mine. He kisses me once, then leans back a bit and smooths down my hair. I can’t even imagine what it looks like after last night, but it must not be too bad.

“How are you?” he asks me before pressing his lips to my cheek.

“Warming up,” I tell him honestly as my feet caress his calf muscles.

“How are you after last night?” he amends his question.

I think about my response, and smile as I answer him. “Happy.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Olivia, but what I’m trying to get at is–”

“You don’t have to tell me, Jon,” I laugh. “You’re lying on top of me. I can feel you.”

“I can’t help myself,” he says almost apologetically. “I think about having to wait another week for this, and I just don’t want to let you out of my grasp. I can’t,” he says, then swallows. “I still need you. I need more of you.”

“I could always stand to be a little happier,” I tell him, reaching my arm to the night stand for his wallet. I find two more condoms inside, and take one of them out, handing it to him.

He raises his eyebrows, looking at me curiously. “Really?” he asks. “Because I can honestly say I’ve never been happier.” I move with purpose beneath him, causing both of us to smile.

“I’m perfectly happy, too,” I tell him. “But something mystical–
spiritual
–happens when you make love to me. It goes beyond happy. It eclipses anything else I feel when I’m alone... when you’re not a
part
of me.”

“I feel it, too. The way we move together... it’s perfect syncopation.” After he says this, he starts to move with me. I close my eyes briefly to revel in the feeling, but I want more.

I take the small package back and open it with my teeth. Obviously turned on by my lack of patience, Jon works with me quickly, and doesn’t make me wait any longer.

The phone wakes up both of us in the early afternoon. I try to clear my throat before answering, but my voice is still scratchy as the words come out. “Hello?”

“You’re not still asleep, are you?” my mother asks.

“I answered the phone, didn’t I?” I lie back down into Jon’s awaiting grasp. He keeps me warm by rubbing my arms briskly. His breathing is slow and even, and I can tell he’s still not ready to get up.

“I thought you were coming for lunch,” she says.

“I didn’t say when I was coming, did I? I just said I’d stop by today.”

“It’s two-thirty. The day’s more than half over, and we don’t want you driving back late.”