"Yes," I said.
"Why?"
"Because a very wise and dear friend told me I was going to f**k this up, and I don't want to do that."
He smiled and his face softened. "If you do ever pick one of them to actually marry, and it's Nathaniel, I get dibs on being best man."
"I don't think that's going to come up," I said, "but if it does, you'd be our first pick."
"You didn't ask Nathaniel," he said.
"She didn't have to," Nathaniel said.
Jason walked toward the bathroom, shaking his head. "Too dominant by half."
I called after him. "You know I have to be the better man in any relationship, Jason." I meant it to be a joke.
He turned at the bathroom door, and said, "Fuck, Anita, you are the better man. Just because you don't have the right equipment, doesn't change what you are." He closed the door behind him, firmly, until it clicked.
We were left alone in the bedroom. Nathaniel raised up and looked down at me. "You don't have to finish tonight, Anita. Jason's right, the way you touched me, I know if not this time, then next. The sooner you feed the ardeur the better you'll feel."
I smiled at him, then unfolded my arms and slid my face down, until I was as far between his legs as I could get. He wasn't as excited now, and the skin was loose. I licked that most delicate of skin and heard his breath go out in a long sigh. I drew the loose skin into my mouth, pulling it gently out and away from his body. The skin didn't stay loose for long, and when it was tight and I could lick the balls inside that skin, I told him, "On all fours."
He did it without being asked twice.
I drew his balls into my mouth, one at a time, carefully, so carefully. I rolled them in my mouth with tongue and lips, until they were wet and slick. I caught glimpses of the rest of him, just in front, but not all, and not well. I'd only seen him nude from the front three times. Once when I first met him, once when I made the triumvirate between him and Damian, and earlier in my office.
"Roll over," I said, and he spilled himself over onto his back. He lay thick and quivering against his stomach, pointing like an exclamation mark against his own body. "I don't remember you being this big the first time I saw you nude."
"I was in a hospital. Someone had almost killed me. I wasn't at my best."
I gazed down at him, and said, "I can see that." I reached for him, slowly, and laid my hand against the warmth of him. But I was losing my patience. Another time I'd be slower, but now I wrapped my hand around him, let the thick round hardness of him fill my hand. His upper body spasmed, raising a little off the bed. I slid one hand to his balls and massaged them, while I stroked the thick velvet warmth of him. "So soft, and so hard, all at the same time."
I stroked him, until his eyes lost focus and his neck spasmed, so that he was closed eyed, and didn't see me bend down. I slid my mouth over the tip of him while he wasn't looking, and he cried out, as I worked my mouth down the length of him. I knew what I wanted. I wanted all of him inside my mouth, down to his balls, at least once. Next time I'd start with him smaller, now I had to fight for it. I'd gotten better at deep-throating, because sharing a bed with Micah, it was either get better at taking more, or stop doing one of my favorite things. Practice paid off, I sealed Nathaniel inside my mouth in one hard, clean line, until my lips touched the top of his testicles. I could only stay for a moment, then I had to come up. Up to breathe, up to let the wetness from my mouth trail down the shaft of his body.
I raised up on my knees, between his thighs, and the look on his face was worth all the effort. In fact, worth so much, that I had to do it one more time. Then I came up more shallow on him, so I could move better, thrusting him in and out of my mouth. Licking him, rolling him, sucking him, and when he was making enough noise, very lightly, I used teeth.
"Oh, God, yes, yes, please."
I moved off him enough to ask, "Please, what?"
"More teeth, please."
I frowned at him. "Most men think that hurts."
"I'm not most men," he said, and there was something about the way he said it that made me press my mouth back over him. I sucked him, pulling hard and firm, then forced my mouth down on the shaft, not as far as before, and bit him, not too hard, but harder than I'd bitten any other man I'd done this with. I kept my eyes on his face, so I could see if it hurt him. The look on his face had nothing to do with pain. His eyes were wild, and he said, "Harder."
I looked at him.
"Please, Anita, please, you don't know how long I've wanted this."
It wasn't my bits being bitten, but I was reminded that Nathaniel had once had no stopping point, no danger-do-not-cross sign. I could do what he wanted, but it was up to me to make sure it didn't go too far. I was finally doing what he'd always wanted. I was topping him.
I went down on him fast and hard, and this time I bit him hard enough that my teeth closed around that thick, meaty flesh. I had a momentary flash of not the ardeur, but of the beast, and its craving for flesh between teeth. I pushed it away, but I also came off of him and didn't do it again. But I'd done enough, because his eyes were rolled to whites, and he was writhing on the bed. His hands had grabbed mounds of the sheet, and his body strained, and bucked against the bed.
I waited for him to lie still, though his eyes stayed like butterflies, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. When I caught a glimpse of lavender eyes between the fluttering, I stroked him gently. I stroked him with my hands, until I had his eyes looking at me instead of the inside of his own eyelids.
He looked up at me, his lavender eyes lazy, and his smile was like the cat who got the cream. I wrapped my hand around that warm, thick, length. Wrapped my hand and squeezed. "I want this inside me."
When his eyes opened, he said, "You haven't had any foreplay."
I squeezed him again, watched his spine bow, and his head throw back, sliding the long braid of his hair off the bed, like something escaping off the edge. "Trust me, Nathaniel, I've had foreplay."
When he recovered enough, he said, "You're not the only one who hasn't gotten to touch someone below the waist."
I closed my eyes. "Please, Nathaniel, please, just make love to me. I want you to finish what you started in the office, please."
He looked at me, and there was something in that look that was very male and very grown-up. "You liked that, did you?"
I gave him a look, then said, "You were there, what do you think?"
He sat up, and I was suddenly surrounded by his legs, his arms. He kissed me, and the kiss was gentle, but not chaste. He explored my mouth the way I'd explored his legs, and ass, lightly, delicately, savoring it. But one hand was sliding down the front of my body, until his fingers slid over me. My body reacted to that light touch, but his hand didn't stop. He traced a finger around the opening to my body. "You are wet."
"I told you so."
He slid the finger inside of me and stole my breath. Then he pushed two fingers inside of me, and with the tips of his fingers found that spot. He flicked the tips of his fingers, just the tips, flexing them fast, and firm against that spot. And it was as if that part of my body had been waiting for him, as if all the work he'd done earlier, was still there, because those quick, firm touches, brought me. Brought me screaming, nails digging into his shoulders, and back.
He caught me with his other arm around my waist, or I would have fallen back to the bed. He slid his fingers out from inside me, and said, "Now, you're ready."
Since all I was seeing was the inside of my eyeballs, and speech was not an option, I tried to nod, but I really don't think I needed to. As they say, actions speak louder than words.
51
I watched his face above me, as his body worked in and out of mine. He stayed propped on his arms, his legs were bent toward me, so that he acted as a frame for his own body. Seeing him sliding inside me threw my head back, spasmed my body, but I fought for control. Fought to see him. To watch him, this first time. This first time after so many false starts. I fought my body, fought the amazing sensations that were filling me, fought, because I wanted to see his face.
Propped up like he was, it was shallow, and usually I liked it deep, but something about the angle, or the depth, or lack of it, or the rhythm, which was quick, so quick, began to bring me. I could feel it starting. I remembered in time to gasp, "When I go, you go."