Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [61]
We were left looking at each other, both too serious for being in bed naked. Both of us thinking too hard for what we were supposed to be doing. I wondered how to get us past this and into something else, or whether it was time to put the clothes back on.
“I love watching you think,” he said.
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means that even in the middle of sex, sometimes something will happen and I’ll watch you think. Not about your day, or about something extraneous, but about the sex, about the man you’re with, about what you’re doing.”
“How can you be sure that’s what I was thinking?”
“Fine, what are you thinking?”
I tried not to smile, and failed. “Wondering how to get you from this to sex.”
“See?”
“What are you thinking, right now, Mr. Serious-Face?”
He smiled. “That I want to watch your face while you stare up at me while we make love.”
“So you get to be on top?” I asked, and tried to make a joke of it. The joke fell flat in the face of his serious eyes.
“Eventually.”
“Eventually, huh.”
He leaned in toward me, and that smile crossed his face, the one that if the customers at Guilty Pleasures could see it, they’d empty their bank accounts. “Yes.”
I started to ask what he wanted to do first, but he kissed me, his hands slid over my body, and I didn’t have to ask what he wanted to do first. He showed me.
25
JASON SHOWED ME with his hand between my legs, his mouth on mine. He showed me that he was done with his doubts, done with everything but my body and his.
I’d never been with him alone when the ardeur was not riding me. I’d never been with him when we could pay attention only to each other, without anyone, or anything, else to distract us, to distract him. He was all hands, and mouth, and teeth, and need. He brought me with his fingers between my legs, then slid his fingers inside me and found that sweet spot. He brought me again, and again, with a flick of fingers and flex of hand. Brought me until I shivered, twitched, and writhed, and damn near convulsed on the bed, while he knelt between my legs so he could find just the right angle for his hand.
I managed to gasp, “God, Jason, God!” Then he stole my words with the pleasure of his hand inside me. He left me with my eyes rolled back into my head, so I was blind to everything but the sensations of my body. Only then did I feel him above me. Feel the press of his body, the weight of him settling on top of me, making me cry out again. I struggled to open my eyes, to see his face hovering over me. The look in his face was everything you want to see in that moment. There was no uncertainty, only the knowledge that he had done this, that his body, his touch, his expertise had brought me to this moment, when the innocent lay of his weight above me could make me cry with pleasure.
He whispered, “Now I’m going to fuck you.”
I whispered back the only word I could think of. “Yes.”
He smiled, and I would have tried to decide what kind of pleased smile it was, but he chose that moment to work his hips between my legs and push himself inside me. I was so wet, so ready from everything he’d done that he slid inside me in one strong movement.
It rolled my eyes back into my head again and tore a sound from my throat as my neck bowed backward, and my spine bowed underneath us both.
His voice came from beside my ear, against my hair. “So wet, so tight, so ready.” He shoved himself as deep inside me as he could, made me cry out again, and writhe. Then he kissed me, kissed me with our bodies buried as close as they could get. He kissed me, as if the kiss were all, and he weren’t beginning to move himself in and out of my body. He kissed me, explored me, fucked my mouth as he fucked my body. He’d done his foreplay right; it seemed only minutes and I was screaming my orgasm into his mouth, squeezing it around his groin, clawing it into his back and shoulders. My hands slid in the glisten of sweat on his back. I screamed for him, and he fought to keep his mouth on mine, his body’s rhythm inside me. The only thing he changed