“Thanks.” It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been with men who’d been content with the opposite. “I like making you feel good. It feels as good as sex to me, just now.”
“Can I keep going?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He paused to get his shorts off, and when the blanket slipped away, she seized that moment to memorize his naked body in the low light. He pulled the covers back over them, surely for discretion and not warmth—the room felt about a hundred degrees now.
He stroked against her, and the motions of his body and the friction through her underwear was as explicit as actual sex, after walling these feelings off for so long.
“Does it feel okay for you?” he whispered.
“It feels amazing.” Truly amazing—she’d forgotten the way the desire gathered, spurred by every sense. Beyond the thrill of his rushing cock, there was the feel of his bare skin under her palms, the weight and heat of him above her, the sounds of his panting, the smell of him, the divine spectacle of his strained face. She drew that face close and kissed his mouth, needing to taste him. He groaned softly, hips speeding.
And all at once, she felt it—a rushing, building pressure, that warm wash of sensation.
Holy shit. She was going to come. She hugged his waist a little higher, seeking the friction that had the pleasure rushing low and hot and frantic.
“Casey.”
She had no other words. She could only clasp the back of his neck and grip his arm, and hold on tight. He caught on in a blink—realized what was happening. His body tightened and the motions intensified, his pursuit going from pleasure-seeking to a focused mission. His every breath was a stifled moan now, desperate little seething huffs escaping in time with his racing hips. Her shirt had ridden up, and his head glanced her belly with every thrust. She could feel slickness there, evidence of how close he had to be himself. And that was what did her in, in the end.
“Casey.” She held him tight and shut her eyes, lost to it—a rushing, rising force, as startling as it was pleasurable. It came to a head at the point where his hard cock stroked her seam, dropped her from the sky and back into her body. She came down breathing hard. Panting. Shocked and exhilarated and thrilled.
Her nails were dug into his skin and she let him go in an instant. “Sorry.” Shame chased the pleasure as the dusk chased the day—inevitably, inextricably.
“Don’t be sorry. Did you . . . ?”
“Yeah,” she murmured, barely able to believe it. “Yeah, I did.”
“Awesome.”
She laughed, feeling tipsy now. Like the orgasm had been a shot of something strong, leaving a warm buzz in her muscles and her head. Even as a very young, deeply religious girl, she’d had a hard time believing God had made her body capable of feeling this good, only to proclaim it a sin. “I just need a minute.” A minute for the burn of the shame to mellow, and a minute for her clit to recover enough for Casey to continue.
But for now . . . “Here.” She reached between them, and Casey scooted up, straddling her thighs so she could clasp him. He groaned as her fingers closed around him, his hips jerking. She pumped him slowly in her fist.
“Fuck, that feels good. Little tighter.”
She gave him that, trying to ignore an ugly pang as her brain fixated on that word once again. It didn’t warrant dwelling on. She turned her focus to this moment, to watching his excitement mount.
“Could you . . .” He trailed off, looking lost to the pleasure.
“Anything,” she prompted.
“Spit in your hand,” he said. “I want to imagine it.”
Imagine us actually having sex, she thought as she wet her palm. She slicked it along his shaft, then again. The rubbing became gliding, and she didn’t know how anything could ever feel even half as intimate as this.
He put his hand over hers, speeding her touch. Showed her what he liked, curling her fingers around him just under his crown, working him in tight, short pulls. “Like that. Exactly like that.”
She shivered at those words, excited all over again.
“Feels fucking amazing, honey. Don’t stop.”
“I could use my mouth . . .”
“No, no. Just like this. I’m so close.”
“Good.”
“Say my name,” he murmured, eyes shut.
“Casey.”
“Yeah.”
She drew him down by the shoulder, said it again, and again, whispered it against his neck and kissed him there. She bet he was noisy in bed, normally—right now it seemed it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut. Every grunt and groan came out muffled and wild, a barrage of moans and hisses.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m gonna come. Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.”
“Say my name.”
She raked his earlobe softly with her teeth, then said it, right there.
“Fuck.”
His hips were bucking into her grip. He was there. She tugged her top up to her bust, held him against her belly as he came—a long, warm, body-wringing release. She could feel his cock throbbing in her grip, then softening, spent. He was panting like he’d just fled a burning building, pulse thumping a million miles a minute against her palm.
“Jesus.”
She smiled. “Good?”
“Fucking unbelievable.”
He took a long moment to come down, then moved to the side, seeming to scout for something to tidy her with.
“My towel,” she said, and pointed to where it hung on the doorknob. She admired his naked back and butt and legs as he crossed the room, and hid a smile when he returned, holding the towel in front of him, wary eyes on the crib.
Abilene cleaned herself up and gratefully pulled her shirt back over her belly. Once Casey was under the covers, he urged her to face him, both on their sides.
“Hi,” he whispered, smiling.
“Hi, yourself.”
“You okay?”
Now, there was an understatement. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know I could still do that. Get there.” And so easily. Orgasms had never come easy to Abilene. She’d had sex well before she’d ever attempted to touch herself, and could never bring herself to give a man instructions. Casey, though . . . He hadn’t needed any, but she also bet he’d take them, and eagerly. She could imagine finding the nerve to do that—to tell him faster, or slower, or harder, or deeper. Could imagine him taking the orders with pure excitement in his blue eyes.
“Well,” he said, smiling, “you did. You got there.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Been a long time since I got to do that for a woman,” he countered.
She studied his face. “Really?”
He nodded, the pillow scrunching his beard.
She narrowed her eyes, intrigued. “How long, exactly?”
He laughed. “Ages, it feels like. Since last spring.”
“That’s the last time you dated anybody?”
“Well, no. I was seeing someone right before I moved back here, but . . . Jesus, you don’t want to hear about my exes.”
She bit her lip, grinning, and poked his chest. “Of course I do.”
“Liar. Chicks only say that to get you to talk; then they find something to hold against you for the rest of eternity.”
“Casey, you’re here because my ex is a violent gunrunner. You really think I’ll be all that scandalized?”
He smiled at that. “Fair point.”
“So tell me. Just about the last one.”
“She was . . . She was a little weird. Actually, all my exes are at least half-crazy. This one never let me get her naked or even touch her, really. It was just, like, making out and blow jobs for two or three months.”
“That is a little weird.”
“Anyhow, that made it extra nice to get you off, just now. Feels like way too long since I’ve gotten to do that. Since I got to give something, after feeling like I was getting spoiled, never allowed to reciprocate.”