Page 449 of S is for SEX

“Did you hear me?” he asked

“Uhhmm, yeah, you asked me what day of the month it was?” I was daydreaming and not paying attention.

He asked me something else and I wasn’t listening He’s going to be mad and use this against me…

“You didn’t hear me, did you?” he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I was daydreaming,” I held my hands up and smiled.

“Take off your pants,” he pointed to my waist and turned toward the couch.

Thank God.

As he sat on the couch, I kicked my flats across the room and unbuttoned my jeans. Trying to act like I wasn’t excited, I pushed them to my ankles and pulled one leg through them. Using my foot, I picked the jeans up and kicked them to the doorway of the bedroom.

As I stood there naked from the waist down, he sat and smiled. He raised his eyebrows and rotated his wrist like he was winding a toy.

“More?” I asked.

He nodded.

Yaaay!

I unbuttoned my top and slid my arms through. I wadded it up in my hand and tried unsuccessfully to toss it toward the bedroom where my jeans laid. About a third of the distance, it opened like a parachute and fluttered to the floor. He laughed as he watched the shirt fall, and rotated his wrist again.

I pulled my sports bra over my shoulders and around my head. I held it in my finger and twirled it in a circle, smiling.

He held his hand in the air, and curled his index finger back and forth toward his palm. I walked to his feet and stopped, facing him.

“You are fucking gorgeous baby girl. Just fucking gorgeous,” he slowly shook his head and tried to hide a smile.

You can never say that enough.

“Now, undress me,” he pointed to his chest with both hands.

I dropped the bra where I stood and knelt down.

I unlaced his boots, and tried to pull one off.

“Pull hard,” he laughed.

I pulled as hard as I could, and as the boot came off, I almost toppled over. I tossed it beside the jeans, and grabbed the other boot. I opened the laces a little more and pulled it off without as much effort. I tossed it toward the growing pile.

I scrunched my nose and pulled his socks off his feet. I threw them to the pile.

He pointed to his waist and smirked.

I stood, leaned forward, and unbuckled his belt.

“Raise your arms please,” I pointed to his hands.

As he raised his arms I pulled his shirt over his head. I remained bent over, close to his chest, and stared at his tattoos. I squeezed his shirt tight in my hand and pulled it to my face. I inhaled slowly, smelling him. I lowered my arm to my side and smiled.

He raised an eyebrow and didn’t speak.

I straightened my knees, stood, and admired him. He flexed his muscles, making his chest jump up and down.

Who, in their right fucking mind wants a man on a horse with a bouquet of flowers when they can have a tattooed Erik fucking Ead?

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