Page 47 of Strider's Misstep

He lifts me, carries me to the bed and lies me gently down. He removes my boots then my jeans. At last, he pulls my panties off my ankles.

All action stops. I’ve been writhing in anticipation, head thrown back, eyes closed. After a moment, I lift up to glare at him. He’s staring at me with such reverence it takes my breath away. If the author part of me was trying to describe a look of adoration, then that’s what I’m seeing here. His lips are curved in pleasure, his eyes hooded, his cheeks flushed. His jaw tightens as he gives a little shake of his head.

“It should be criminal to have such a glorious pussy.”

I snort. “Hey, fella. Perhaps you can touch it and worship it rather than just stare at it.”

He catches my eye. “Say, please, Colt.”

I’ve already capitulated and don’t want to delay anymore. “Please, Colt.”

I rest my head back down, but still, he holds back.

“You want me to eat your pussy?”

I’m half-annoyed, half-amused and taut with expectation. “Please, Colt,” I repeat.

I must have forgotten how talented this man is with his tongue, as within moments, my muscles are spasming. My reaction spurs him on. He licks my clit and puts a finger inside me, and then one more. He knows exactly where to curl around to hit that spot that drives me wild.

I scream and bend forward, the orgasm so extreme it’s almost too hard to bear. My vibrator hadn’t compensated at allfor the loss of him over the past months. As my body tenses and releases with aftershocks, he brings me back to earth.

“I’ve got to get inside you.” His voice is gruff.

“I want you.” I can’t wait to feel that large cock of his again. My arousal is building up at the thought of welcoming it back like an old friend. Strider,Colt, has moves, and I want him to remind me of them.

I hear boots falling to the floor, a zipper being lowered, then the rustle of fabric. Watching him through lazy eyes, I see his tee ripped over his head.

He hasn’t changed at all since I last saw him naked, though maybe he’s even more delicious than he was before. He’s a big man, but it’s all hard-earned muscle.

Bringing his body down over me, I feel his dick against my entrance.

I bat my hands against him and shout, “Condom!”

He rears back. “You’re not on the pill?”

“Not since I left here. It didn’t seem worth it.” And just to make sure I’ve made it clear, I say, “There’s been nobody else.”

He looks like he’s battling with himself. His mouth works, then he swallows as if changing his mind about what words to use. He’s still as a statue when he raises his eyes, closes them, then opens them again as he looks down. Seriousness is written all over his features.

“There’s nothing more I’d like than a child with you.” He places his finger over my lips. “I know with all the past that comes between us that you’re unsure. I’ll protect you for now,” his lips quirk, “as best as I’m able to.” It makes me remember that it was a condom that broke before. “I’ll wait until you're certain of me, Jasmine. But please, understand, a future with you, a family, is what I want.”

He doesn’t wait for my response, which is lucky, as I’ve no idea what to say. Raising his body off mine, he leaves the bedand rummages in a drawer. “Must be some in here somewhere.” Finally, he fishes some out. He squints and holds them up to the light. “They’re still in date, thank fuck.”

Wait a moment. Sitting up, I narrow my eyes. “When was the last time you used them?”

Looking at me, he shrugs. “Last time you were in my bed, Jassy. Ain’t been anyone else.”

Wow. As I watch him roll on the latex, I realise I’d been sure that while I was pretty certain he hadn’t had anyone else while I was still in the club—club girls aren’t known for being discreet—I’d convinced myself he’d have had a revolving door on his bedroom once he’d known I was gone for sure.

His task finished, he looks up and meets my eyes. “Didn’t want anyone else, Jasmine. And I knew it was only a matter of time before I found you again. Wasn’t going to stop looking.”

As he repositions himself and eases inside me, I close my eyes, relishing the feeling that’s like coming home. When he starts to move inside me, my body responds automatically, meeting thrust for thrust. It’s slow, as he promised. It’s not a frenzied coupling. It’s making love.

He’s worshiping me with his slow penetration, making me feel loved.

So different from our first time together. I was a club girl, there not even for a night, just for the time it took for him to get off. I knew the score and wasn’t disappointed. Next night, it was the same, the following no different. I don’t know when it happened, but slowly, it changed, so gradually, I didn’t really notice. He was always a generous lover, not expecting a club girl to be disappointed. But he didn’t need to go down on me, didn’t need to kiss me, didn’t need to make me feel like I was cherished.

And that’s exactly what he’s making me feel now. Cherished.

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