The Anti-Social Season (First Responders #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Thirteen

T he top of Thea’s head was going to pop right off and he hadn’t even touched her clit yet. Nobody had ever gone so far as to nearly manhandle her nipples, bringing them right to the edge of pain, but not quite. She hadn’t even thought of that when she touched herself.

He might be learning things about her body, but it was apparent that she was going to be learning some things about herself as well.

Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him backward until they both sank to the bed, his erection sandwiched snugly between them.

“One second. Have to be more naked,” he muttered, pushing himself back to standing, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, then grabbing the back of his collar and pulling it off over his head with his undershirt. Then he pushed down his pants and underwear, pausing to toe off his shoes before he could get them all the way off.

“Now you,” he said as he kneeled. She raised herself up on her elbows to watch as he unzipped her short boots and then stripped her out of the rest of her clothes. He seemed a little more frantic, moving a little faster. But when he finally stood, he did it slowly, as if he knew she wanted to look her fill, to see all of him in the low light filtering from the one lit lamp in the main part of the house. He made her mouth water, with his broad shoulders narrowing to a trim waist, and that lovely cock standing up with a slight curve, making it point back toward his belly button. When her gaze traveled back up to his face, she noticed one of his eyebrows was arched. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes. Very much yes.” She nodded her head with an eagerness that made him laugh, low and sexy. “Come here and yes me up.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He wrapped his fingers around her ankles, warm and sure, making her shiver. Urging her legs apart, he kneeled between them, running those lovely hands up the outside of her legs, then down the inside. She bit her lip as he repeated the slow slide of skin over skin, getting closer to where she really wanted to be touched, stroked, pleasured. The next time his hands swept up, they traveled from the top of her thighs, across her belly, then back down again. Her nerves were humming, zinging, crackling, and she was wound up with desire.

The next pass up led his hands to the sides of her breasts, then he rested his hands on the bed to either side of her body. She nearly growled with frustration, and he smiled, a slow, knowing thing that made her wonder what the hell happened to stern, rules-driven Simon.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I hope you think so.”

“But when did you—oh.” She nearly levitated off the bed when he repeated that trick with her nipples, this time with his mouth, sucking hard. The not-quite-pain shot straight to her clit and she couldn’t quite suppress a moan.

“When did I learn to map out a woman’s body?” His eyes seemed dark in the low light as he looked at her. She must be a mess. Not that she cared.

“So, did you take a class in cartography or something?” She tried to sit up, to reach for his cock, but he held her wrist in a firm clasp.

“Not yet. I’ve still got some things to learn about what makes you excited. And no, smart-ass, no class. But being one of the few straight guys in a graduate program that’s at least ninety percent women meant I had a lot of female interest. I like learning. I like giving people pleasure.”

“That simple, huh?” She’d been in a career with about 90 percent men but didn’t have the same latitude to date or experiment. The indignation that started to rise up in her was quickly headed off when he slid down on top of her, that glorious erection pressing into her belly as he found that sensitive spot on her neck and tweaked one of her nipples just right.

She couldn’t be indignant when she felt this good.

Simon hadn’t been lying when he said it had been a while since he’d been with anyone. But apparently, sex was like riding a bike. And Thea wasn’t shy about letting him know what she liked.

And he liked that she liked it.

“Are you going to fuck me anytime soon?”

He lifted his head and shook it, enjoying the way her eyes went wide.

“Please?”

“I like the sound of you begging,” he murmured into her neck, enjoying her squirming pleasure under him.

“Please, please, pleaseplease please ? Simon Says fuck me?”

“Just for that, I’m going to draw it out even longer.” He bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder. God, the friction created by her squirming underneath him was getting him closer than he wanted to be. He raised up on his elbows, kissing her long and deep. That quieted the squirms, but didn’t exactly take the heat off his arousal.

“What’s your game?” she asked when he raised his head again.

Game. Yes. Brain back in the game. He took a deep breath to center himself. “Like I told you. Mapping out your body. Finding at least some of the places that make you go wild.”

“What about you?”

“The game works both ways if you want it to.”

That brought a gratifying gleam to her eyes, even in the low light of her bedroom. God, this woman. She made him feel scattered and whole all at the same time.

“I want.” With those two low-voiced words, she went still under him. Softening, seemingly expectant.

“Were you so keyed up because you thought I wasn’t getting anything out of this?” he asked softly.

“Maybe. Partly. You said you wanted it to be equal.”

“Equal doesn’t need to be simultaneous.”

“Noted.” She stretched her arms over her head. “Do your worst. Or your best. Or both.”

“Hmm.” He shifted off her, lying on his side and tracing his fingertips between her breasts, down her belly, and then finally, lightly touching her clit. She hummed and her eyes slid closed. “Do you want to tell me what you like, or would you like me to figure it out?”

One eye slit open, looking at him. “I have no problem asking for what I want, but I’ve liked the part where you figure it out so far.”

“Okay. But also tell me if there’s something you don’t want. Or if I’m doing something wrong.”

“You got it.” Her voice sounded almost dreamy now, as if she was sinking into sensation, trusting him.

The sound made his cock twitch. He pressed on the tight bud, watching her expression closely. She sighed and a tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips. Then he slid his middle finger into her, using his palm to create friction as he pumped into her gently. He added another finger, watching all the while to get the feedback that told him he was on the right track. But when he pulled his fingers out, slick with her moisture, and touched under her hood, her brows drew together and her breath hitched.

“Too sensitive?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good to know. Sorry.” He filed that for later, wondering if a wet tongue was soft enough to engage her clit directly. For now, he slid his fingers back inside, gratified as her hips circled a little, helping him create the friction he knew she was craving. He leaned forward and gently bit her earlobe, gratified by an additional squirm. “Do you feel good?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Good. Do you feel sexy?”

She murmured another affirmative.

“Good.” He nuzzled her neck, kissing her in that spot he’d found before. “Are you going to come for me?” Her eyebrows had drawn together again, but this time in fierce concentration, like she was chasing her pleasure. Remembering how hard she’d gripped his thigh between her legs, he added some pressure, and she let out a low moan. “You’re close, aren’t you?” Her inner walls were clamping down on his fingers and her hips were grinding against his hand in earnest. If she’d heard him, she didn’t respond, just kept moving with him as he finger-fucked her. Finally, he bent down and sucked one nipple into his mouth, biting gently and tugging. She shouted, her head thrashing as her orgasm rippled around his fingers. He kept steady pressure on her clit until she shivered and went still.

Thea inhaled a huge, shuddering breath. That was definitely in the top five of the best orgasms she’d ever had in her life. She opened her eyes as Simon drew his fingers out of her, leaving her feeling a little empty and bereft. When he put those fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean, she felt her eyebrows shoot up.

“Why, Mr. Osman. You’re like Clark Kent but with sexy times. Your glasses come off and you become NastyMan. Like Superman, but better.”

His head ducked. “Sorry.”

She twisted, grabbing his head and kissing him. “What? No! I like it. I just never knew you had it in you. And now I have something to look forward to having in me...”

He gave a little chuckle at her joke, and she let go of his face, resting her cheek on her hand. “You know what this means, now, don’t you?” she asked.

His gaze, which had been down since she’d called him NastyMan, lifted to meet hers. “What?”

“It’s time for me to figure out what you like. Unless you want to tell me.”

He rolled to his back, his cock standing erect from its nest of auburn hair. “Oh, I’d love for you to find out.”

“Maybe I’ll even surprise you.” He’d surprised her, after all.

“Maybe you will.” His voice was like hot caramel drizzled over ice cream, warm and languid and slow.

“Hmm. Where to begin...” She considered his body, long and lean and absolutely mouthwatering. He folded his arms behind his head, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. She moved to the foot of the bed and grasped one of his feet, running the ball of her thumb firmly up his sole. He hummed with pleasure, but it was a that’s nice sound, not an oh god, I’m going to come sound. She clasped his ankles, spreading them a little, then ran her hands from his ankles up to his inner thighs. This time, the pleasurable hum was more intense and she could feel goose bumps rising on his skin. “I feel like I’m getting warmer,” she said as her fingers crept higher.

“Something’s getting warmer,” he agreed.

She didn’t answer, just brought one hand up to the apex of his thighs, stroking from his ass to his balls. He swore softly. Bingo. “Interesting.”

“You’re evil,” he said, but his eyelids stayed closed, apparently trusting her to continue. She continued to stroke upward, testing the depth of his belly button with one finger. That made him startle and twitch, face contorting.

“Okay, not that, then,” she said, heat crawling up her cheeks. But there were no recriminations. He just settled himself back into his supine pose, somehow vulnerable and confident at the same time. She moved upward, tested her tongue against his nipple, nuzzled his neck, tugged his hair. All of these achieved positive responses, but nothing like the electric surge of her “evil” touch between his legs. Returning to kneel between his legs, she grasped the base of his cock with one hand, stroking upward with a light, teasing touch, then gradually increasing the pressure until she found what made his breath hitch and his thighs tense. She tongued the crown while steadily stroking, watching his face contort and his chest heave. Then she touched his ass again, stroking up as his butt clenched and he groaned. She lifted her head, eagerly watching as his eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh god .” The strangled cry was accompanied by a hot spurt that splashed onto his belly as he came. She stroked him through the rest of his pulsating orgasm until his body shuddered to a stop. He groaned faintly and then cracked one eye, looking at her. “Okay, then.”

Thea laughed delightedly while he raised himself up on his elbows. “Kiss me,” he said. She immediately crawled up his body and lowered herself onto him, her kiss all openmouthed carnality, her body pressing his back to the bed.

“Now we’re both all sticky,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Shh. That’s what showers are for,” she said, tangling her fingers in his hair and deepening the kiss until they were both panting. “Come on,” she said, pushing herself up off him and standing by the bed, her hand extended. He took it, feeling sheepish at the mess he’d made of both of them. It was always like this—an odd sort of comedown after the bubble of sex. Reentering the real world. He followed her into the bathroom, a gorgeous expanse of white tile and glass that made him blink in the sudden glare.

“Sorry. I wish I had a dimmer in here,” she said as she went to the big glass-walled shower and started the water.

“This is... Wow,” he said as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and he was able to take in the big room, the shower with its multiple heads and the meticulous details. Like the rest of her home, this room was no contractor’s special.

Thea tested the water temperature, then beckoned him over. “Nope. Mrs. M’s son built this out because he thought she’d move in here in her waning years—which he also thought were imminent. She finished the build without the grab bars that he’d planned, but it’s still roomy and easy to get around.”

He moved to the shower stall, where she was testing the water temperature with one hand, his gaze roaming over her body. She was strong, the muscles in her shoulders defined, flowing into sculpted biceps. He trailed a fingertip over the swells and dips of those muscles, watching her face as the corners of her lips tipped up.

“Like what you see?” she asked, straightening her spine.

“Yes.”

“Well then.” She tugged him into the shower enclosure and stepped under the spray, letting it run over her hair and cascade down her body. He soaped his hands and ran them over her shoulders and down her arms, enjoying the slick, nearly frictionless feeling of his skin sliding against hers. She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes and squinted at him, grabbing the soap in her own turn and smoothing her hands over his chest, cleaning off the semen. “Someone was more than a little dirty,” she said.

“Someone was inspired.” He kissed her, stepping closer, their slick torsos meeting under the rushing water.

They continued to kiss and wash each other until Simon noticed his fingers resembled prunes.

Finally, wrapped in towels and with their hair still damp, Thea said, “Do you want to stay the night?”

Her question made his heart flutter and thump like a frightened bird. He knew what he wanted, but he had to know if she was just being polite. He knew better than most how sex could feel incredibly intimate, but could also be an illusion of intimacy. The fantasy of his adolescence was dissolving into a reality that might be even better than what he’d imagined all those years ago. But could he trust it?

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

To hell with it, then. “Okay, I will.”