Page 6 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
He pins an errant curl behind my ear and smiles. “Neither am I.” Then, Jordan kisses me. His lips are firm, and his kiss is assertive, but not pushy. Like he’s testing the waters. He pulls away and gives me a look. I tip my head up to him, and he kisses me again. This time, there’s no hesitation. His hand caresses the side of my neck and I get chills.
But then the refrigerator beeps. The door is still open, which may have something to do with the chills. Our kiss stops, and we both smirk. I tell the refrigerator, “So sorry to keep you waiting.” Then, I pull out the panna cotta and berry sauce. “I think it’s time for me to switch to wine. Would you like some, too?”
“No, thank you, I’ll stick with bourbon for now.”
There’s a swing in my step when I walk to the wine fridge in the pantry. That was a damn fine kiss. Truthfully, I’m not sure I’ve ever been kissed quite like that. My whole body feels warmer, despite the chills he gave me.
When I get back to the table, he says, “I need the restroom?—"
“Down the hall?—"
He chuckles, “I installed the toilet, Stella.”
“Oh,” I blush, then awkwardly blurt, “Well, good work.”
He smiles, then finds the restroom. I pour merlot into my empty rocks glass and drink it straight away, then pour another one. I need liquid courage to get my nerve up. There are all sorts of reasons not to do this. I could play a drinking game with myself, thinking about why I shouldn’t do this.
He’s my neighbor. Sip. He’s at least ten years older than me. Sip. He would be a link to me. Sip. I’m in Witness Protection. Sip. It’s been over three years since I got laid. Glug.
I pour another glass. When he walks back in, he has another odd look on his face. I wonder if I keep thinking his unusual expressions are weird, because he’s just an honest man, and I keep looking for hints of dishonesty. Doesn’t matter. He is handsome and rugged, and I need to get laid. I stand up and kisshim. But, then he says, “Stella, I didn’t come here for anything more than supper, and I didn’t expect that in the first place, so don’t think?—"
“Jordan, all I do is think. Help me stop thinking.”
“How?”
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. He picks me up and carries me upstairs to my bedroom. Then he sets me to my feet and asks, “Are you sure? I know you’ve had more to drink?—"
“This house is infested with overthinkers tonight.” I smile and pull my sweater dress off. I hope my blue lace bra and panties are enough to get the point across.
“Well,” he looks me over, “I’m done thinking.” Then, he kisses me and we both work on his flannel’s buttons. I giggle into his mouth, as we fumble over getting his clothes off. I grab his cock, and it’s a little more than proportionate to the rest of his large frame. The skin is soft, but he is very hard.
He kisses his way down my chest and ends up on his knees. My heart beats so fast that I am lightheaded. I unclip my bra, and his tongue twirls around my nipples. I run my fingers through his hair, holding him close. Jordan’s fingers pinch the sides of my panties, but he waits.
“Yes,” I nod.
He pulls them down and I step from them. He looks up at me with awe. Then, Jordan wraps one thick arm around my thighs, and throws me onto the bed, before he climbs on top of me. He’s careful not to let his full weight down, but I pull his mouth to mine once more. He takes my hands and pins them to the bed, and there’s something in his right hand. My fingers form around it. He asks, “Do you mind?”
I look and it’s a condom. “Not at all.” He must have had it in his pocket this whole time. Maybe I’m easier to read than I think.
I pass it back to him, and he gets the rubber permission slip on. Just as I think he’s going to thrust into me, he pauses. He kisses me again, only this time, I’m waiting for him and he knows it. So he takes his time kissing me. His hands explore my ribs, my tummy, my thighs, my cheek. His lips trail along my chin, my throat, my sternum.
He’s touching me everywhere, but the usual spots.
It’s like a blur of high school make out sessions, and I’m losing my damn mind. I’m shaking. My moans fill the room, until finally, I beg, “Jordan, please!”
He smirks, then slowly slides into me. I gasp from his girth and he grunts something low and guttural. Suddenly, his thrusts become fast and deep. Jordan’s switch is flipped, and he isn’t gentle anymore. He hikes my hips up against him, until I wrap my legs around him and hang on tight. I grab onto his ribs for leverage. His cock is almost too much inside me. He keeps massaging my G spot and his pubic bone rhythmically presses against my clit at this angle.
My body tenses up. Oh my god, am I going to come? And then, my orgasm hits. I cry out wordless nonsense beneath him, amplified by my utter shock. I throb on his cock and he carefully moves my legs from his waist. Then, he rolls over, with me still on him.
But I’m spent and my face rests on his hairy chest. Jordan grabs my hips and thrusts me up and down. I ramble, “Oh god, oh god,” as he makes me pulse against him. I’m so close again, and before I know it, a high pitched keening sound pours from my throat as I come again.
He growls as his body locks up. He hisses, “Close.”
“Yes!” I exhale a roar.
His back arches, and he holds me tight against him as he comes. Jordan pets my hair, then kisses the top of my head. Hecarefully rolls me from him, and I fall asleep, spooned in his embrace.
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