Page 58 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

My heart misses a beat, then does a little tap dance. I’ve thought about this for so long. I desperately want to say yes.

But she’s had a terrible shock today. She’s been in tears, and she’s feeling vulnerable and emotional. There is a possibilitythat she might wake up tomorrow and regret going to bed with me. I hope she wouldn’t, but that would make me very sad.

“Not today,” I tell her.

She moves her head back, her eyes widening with surprise, and looks at me. “Seriously? I thought that was what you wanted?”

“I do. When you’re feeling better.”

“I feel fine.”

“You’d say that even if you weren’t. You’ve had a shock, and your blood pressure was up.”

“Fractionally. I’m fine, Joel.”

“Even so. No sex today.”

She blows out a breath and glares at me. “We’ve just made out for, like, twenty minutes. You’ve got me all riled up. What’s the girl equivalent of blue balls? Blue vulva?”

That makes me laugh. “I didn’t say we couldn’t do anything. I think a relief of tension would be very good for you.”

Her eyes meet mine, curious, a little shy. “What do you mean?”

I pull her leg across my hips, lift her arms around my neck, and shift so our bodies are now completely flush, and she’s pressed up against the back of the sofa. My erection is nestling right where it needs to be, against her soft mound. As I rock my hips, she inhales, and her eyes flare.

“Here?” she asks.

“Right here.” I kiss her again, stroking her over the top of her yoga pants and tee. My hand travels over her outer thigh, the curve of her hip, into the dip of her waist, and up her back. If I were an artist, I’d have to sketch her using circles and ovals; she has no angles, no sharp edges.

She opens her mouth, allowing me to delve my tongue inside, and continues the movement of her hips, driving my erection through her soft flesh. Argh, this is going to backfire onme big time. There’s something extremely hot about doing this fully clothed, and she’s so uninhibited, giving herself over to me as we move together.

I stroke up from her waist, pausing on her ribs, waiting for permission, and receive it when she lowers a hand and moves mine up to her breast. She’s not wearing a bra, and I groan, plunging my tongue into her mouth as I squeeze her breast gently, then run my thumb over her nipple. It tightens in my fingers to a tight nub, and as I tease it, she sighs against my lips, her nails digging into my back.

We kiss like that for ages, stroking and touching, letting our bodies awaken and stir beneath the rays of the warm summer sun. I want it to last forever, but eventually her hips begin to move faster, her back arching as I play with her nipple, and when I pluck it lightly, then more firmly, she gives a long, sexy moan and whispers, “Joel…”

“Come for me,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. I slide my hand down again to her butt and squeeze the muscle there, pulling her as close as I can.

“Oh my God,” she says, her brow furrowing, and her breaths come in deep, ragged gasps, and her teeth tug at her bottom lip, and then her lips part and she screws up her eyes as her orgasm sweeps over her. “Ahhh… Joel!” Her hips jerk against mine multiple times, and I hold her there, feeling the muscles in her tummy and further down contracting, and seeing her pleasure mirrored on her face and in her sighs.

I kiss her as she floats back down to earth, and she exhales and relaxes back against the sofa, then opens her eyes to give me a dreamy look and a small smile. “Mmm,” she says. “That was nice.”

“Feel better now?”

“Mmm.” She moistens her lips. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then returns to my eyes. “Mmm.” She says again. Then she kisses me.

I sigh and kiss her back, enjoying the movement of her lips across mine, the probing of her tongue, and the way she glides her fingers over my back beneath the tee. She lifts my hand to her breast again and continues to rock her hips against mine. Amused, I play along, wondering if she wants another orgasm. If so, I’m more than happy to oblige.

We kiss for a while, and she continues to rock against me, stroking from the root of my erection to the tip. Once there, she circles her hips, so the tip presses into her softness, making me groan.

“Getting turned on, Joel?” she murmurs, doing it again.

“Temptress,” I grumble, squeezing her breast and tugging on her nipple.

“Mmm.” She moves her hips from side to side, then rocks again. Then she stops, moves back a little, and looks down. I follow her gaze and discover that her light-gray yoga pants bear a small, dark, wet patch.

“Sorry,” I say, “these shorts are very thin.”

“I think it was me actually.” She means where her moisture has soaked through. Fuck me, that’s hot.

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