GETTING TO KNOW YOU: WHERE'S THE BEEF (PART 6)
"Two days? Really?" He grabbed me and swung me around.
A heady rush of excitement surged through my veins. "Can you take that long?"
"Kate, I can take the time off, but are you sure you want me here that long?"
"I do. It'd be great for getting to know you. Do you have any other suggestions?"
Nuzzling the crook of my neck and chuckling he confessed, "No. I'm totally in favor of your plan."
Swooping me into his arms, he said, "Let's dance. This calls for a celebration."
The third song was the charm. Two steps forward, one step back, all the way into the bedroom where he dipped me low as the song ended and laid me down beneath him.
Tracing the contours of my lips and stoking the curve of my neck with one hand, he took the other and worked it up under my skirt pausing on my inner thighs. "Good God. You are so soft there. So incredibly soft."
I was too stricken to speak, but I sighed and heard myself moan as his fingers left and trailed back up my ribcage where he ever so slowly crept beneath my camisole to fondle--cup me with his palm and call my name out loud again. My belly and thighs tightened. My nips puckered and turned hard. Passion, like wildfire, raged in me as I raised my hips to meet his hovering above mine and wrapped my legs around his thighs.
Thrusting upward and forward I rocked with him as he moaned and buried his face against my neck and pleaded, "Fuck me Kate, I need you so . . ."
"Oh God, yes . . . yes . . . I want to feel you inside me. Don't stop."
"Never," he growled forcing my hand inside his open fly. "It's yours baby, all yours, take it." My fist encircled it's thickness and began stroking, pumping it, but I felt it deserved more. I wasn't sure quite what to do with it. It was so big and hard and silky smooth. I wanted to sit on it, do something with it, but then I panicked--pushed him off me--and then worried I'd hurt his feelings.
"Oh, Clint, forgive me . . . forgive me . . . I didn't mean to lead you on like that . . . "
"It's okay," he drawled, "It's okay. You just got skittish. Had a fit of anxiety. Fear was coming over me too."
"That if we kept carrying on like this, we'd need protection. Haven't needed any for a long time. Don't have any."
"Me neither. I've been celibate since my husband died . . . "
* * * * * * *
I'd no sooner spoken the words, when the proverbial light bulb went off in my head.
Jumping up, I grabbed my coat, felt for my keys and kissed him goodbye. "Clint," I yelled from the living room, "Stay put. I'll be right back . . . "
Locking Clint inside, I ran upstairs to the fourth floor and listened for Jon--the JFK Government School student--the one who only an hour before had carried down my breakfast tray.
No sounds came from his place, but across the hall the shower was running. I went over and tapped on the door which unexpectedly swung opened revealing Jon and what looked like through the steam, the bitch from hell who lived above me.
"Need some sugar?" he said with his characteristic smirk.
"No, but do you have some condoms I could borrow?"
"Sure baby, I got lots of them. Samples. My dad's a pharmaceutical salesman."
To Be Continued (Part 7)