I snicker as I pick up my wineglass. Waving it at him, I laugh, “Save the flattery, Mr. Holloway. You’re going to get laid tonight.”
I expect him to laugh with me, because I think I’m witty and charming, and he usually thinks so, too. Instead, his face falls sober and his eyes burn into me. “I’m not flattering you, Leary. I’m telling you the God’s honest truth. You are more beautiful every time I see you.”
A stillness overcomes me and I swallow hard. I set the wineglass down and return his stare. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asks, his head tilted to the side.
“Make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. The most special. The most desired.”
“Because you are,” he says, and the tight leash I’ve kept on my heart the last few weeks shudders, loosens, and then falls away.
His words are genuine, with not an ounce of ulterior motive in them. I can tell, because I’ve come to know this man fairly well during our time together. He truly believes that about me, and it’s a fucking revelation. No one else has ever felt that way about me before.
“We’re not in fuck buddy–dom anymore, are we?” I ask him.
Reeve stands from the table, walks over to me, and pulls me from my chair. Bending down, he sweeps me up in his arms and starts to carry me toward my bedroom. “I don’t think we ever really were, baby.”
He takes me to my room and somehow manages to remove my clothes and his before I even know what’s happening. He does it slowly, turning it from our normal frenzied fumbling to something sweetly seductive.
Then I’m on my back in the middle of my bed, and he’s on top of me, hard and heavy between my legs and content to just hold my face and kiss me softly. He does this for so long that I seem to lapse into a contented alternate reality, focusing on the feel of his lips and the texture and taste of his tongue. I imagine this is what a drug addiction feels like, so damn good that you would give up your very soul just to have a little bit more.
Reeve’s lips move from my mouth to my jaw, down to past my collarbone, where he takes his time with my breasts. I know Reeve is a self-admitted breast man, which makes him an ironic choice to defend Jenna’s case. But normally he’s devouring me, biting and pinching to get the most arousal out of me. Tonight, however, he’s gentle and careful, softly swirling his tongue with a humming noise in the back of his throat. It makes me want to arch my back and purr like a kitten in his arms.
His fingers work like butterflies between my legs, pulsing flutters across my most sensitive parts. He builds me up slowly, like a dull fire catching its first big flame from a tiny gust of wind. Then the fire takes hold, leaps, and fans, and with one perfect touch of his thumb against me, I come apart in a slow burst of magical fireworks within my body.
It’s the most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever had, and I know I’ll never forget it.
Pushing up on his elbows, Reeve hovers above me. His eyes are serious, a deep ocean of unstated emotion. “Tell me it’s okay not to put on a condom,” he says quietly, his voice husky with desire. “Tell me it’s okay to fuck you bare.”
“It’s okay with me,” I tell him quietly as my hand comes up to touch his face. My fingers graze along his temple, push back into his hair. He turns his head slightly, pushing it against my palm in a display of needful affection.
Nothing else needs to be said about the condom issue. The minute he asked me if it was okay, I trusted him enough to know he’s telling me that he’s clean. When I told him it was okay with me, that meant I was protected and clean, and he took me at face value, because he proceeds to fill me with his massive length in one sweetly sublime thrust.
Reeve slowly moves within me, leaning to the side on one elbow, his other arm locked out straight to give him more leverage. His face hovers over me, lips just inches from mine. I can smell the wine on his breath and hear the ecstasy rumbling in his chest.
We stare at each other, boldly, candidly, leaving no room for walls or barriers to the feelings that have developed. I feel, in this moment, closer to him than any man before in my life.
Reeve rolls his hips, pumps into me carefully, drawing out every bit of feeling and nuance as our flesh slides against each other. He makes love to me, all the while staring into my eyes. It’s a connection that starts to cement us together hard, and I know when both of us come, it won’t be broken.
At least not by any ordinary means.
My climax starts building again, and I can tell Reeve’s is, too, as his hips move a little faster. He lays his weight down on me, grabbing my hands with his and pulling my arms above my head. His fingers lace with mine, and I raise my knees up to his ribs to accommodate him deeper.
Both of our bodies now undulate against each other, slick with moisture, our chests heaving from exertion. Because Reeve’s body is flat against mine, every grind of his pelvis against me causes deep pulses of pleasure to fire throughout my body.
With one extradeep push, the buildup of pressure tears free, and I’m falling apart. I do so with a soft cry, arching my neck and biting at my lip.
I hear Reeve say, “So fucking perfect,” and then with one more hard thrust, he starts shaking. His head falls to my shoulder, and he lets out a soft groan of release while his cock jerks inside me as he comes.
My arms wrap around his neck, and I hug him tight as we continue to shiver against each other. This has been the most perfect sexual experience of my life, because I actually opened up my heart, and it made all the difference in the world.
I think I should have figured out after that first night we slept together at his house that Reeve could never be just a fuck buddy. It’s one thing to have sex. It’s quite another to sleep all night with a man. There’s something intimate in drifting off to dreamland, wrapped up tight in someone’s arms.
It’s not something I had with Ford. Ford and I were truly about the sex. We were friends, of course, and could talk about many things. But we weren’t snugglers. We didn’t express ordinary affection, or tell each other our deepest secrets while sharing a pillow.
From that first night, I learned that Reeve is a snuggler. He likes to be wrapped around me when he sleeps. He claimed it was only because he was used to snuggling up with Mr. Chico Taco, but I seriously doubt that, as the massive dog has his own gigantic bed on the floor. And poor Chico. On the nights that Reeve stays with me, he has to suffer with sleeping over at Vanessa’s house. This I feel bad about, for Mr. Taco’s sake, but secretly I’m pleased, because every time Reeve asks her to take him, he always tells her he’s staying at my house for the night.
Petty, I know, but I love it.
Right now, we aren’t exactly in full snuggle, time-to-go-to-sleep mode. Instead, Reeve is flat on his back and I’m pressed into his side, my head lying on his shoulder. My right leg is twined with his, slightly bent and raised so I can feel his softening cock against my knee, still wet with his release. His arm curled under me strokes my hip while my fingers play with the patch of trimmed hair that surrounds his dick.
“Looks like we’re back on the battlefield tomorrow,” I say absently. It’s the first time I’ve willingly brought up Jenna’s case to Reeve.
“Yup,” he says. “We should probably do a lot of glaring at each other across the table. You know, just so people don’t think we’re fucking each other.”
I snicker and give a playful tug on the hairs my fingers are skimming through. “I’m sure we’ll both conduct ourselves professionally.”