aware I was holding my breath until he stepped out of his briefs and showed me his entire body, nude. No Prince Albert to be found. I let out the air in my lungs with a little squeak. I looked at his face. Confusion had joined the other emotions.
I’d tell him later why I’d hesitated. For now I had some deflowering to do. I stepped back and let my gaze sweep over him.
His cock twitched when I looked there again. I glanced up at his face. “Tell me what you want, Jack.”
“I want to…I want to take your clothes off.” He swallowed and licked his mouth. His eyes gleamed. His cock grew longer and thicker.
“So do it.” He reached for me at once, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Take your time.”
His eager hands slowed at my command. He manipulated the button and zipper of my jeans and slid them over my hips, but didn’t pull down my panties with them. I didn’t warn him about my boots, but he figured it out when the denim slid past my knees and he realized he wouldn’t be able to pull them all the way off without taking my boots off first.
It was perfect, really, the fumbling. Sweet and eager but controlled because I’d ordered it. Jack pulled my boots off one by one, then eased my jeans off, too. On his knees before me, he lifted my feet to peel away my socks. He looked up at me with a grin when I giggled at the tickling touch.
He straightened and his hands went to the mechanism on my bra that any woman can manipulate with one hand but often stumps even the most dexterous of men. He struggled a little more than I thought he had to, but I suffered it because it, too, was perfect in this scene.
When at last he’d unhooked the bra and stepped back to slide the straps down my arms, Jack paused before pulling the lace from my breasts. He took a few shallow breaths, ducking his head. I touched his cheek, turning his face until he looked up at me.
“Take it off.”
He did, fingers trembling with eagerness or anxiety or good acting, I didn’t care which. When the bra fell away, Jack cupped my breasts again. He moved so close I felt the flutter of his lashes on my skin just before he kissed each breast.
I put my hand on his silky hair. When he licked my nipples, I moaned softly. His hands moved down to my hips, hooking into the sides of my panties as he sucked gently on my nipples.
Jack wasn’t the only one trembling with eagerness this time. Together we pushed my panties down as he stood and our mouths met. Our teeth clashed from the force of our kiss but we didn’t stop.
“Sorry,” Jack muttered between kisses.
I said nothing, just pressed against him as soon as I was as naked as he. His cock was hard now. Thicker than I’d expected. It rubbed my belly as he moved his hips.
“Put your hands on me, Jack.”
He did, in as many places as he could manage. Passion glued us together in half a dozen places as we walked toward the bed, where we ended up in a tangle of limbs.
His erection pressed urgently against my hip as his hands roamed and his mouth tasted me. Jack nudged my head upward so he could feast on my throat, then lower. He sucked at my nipples, one then the other as his hands smoothed over my belly and thighs.
His hand slid between my legs, already parted. His thumb stroked the sensitive flesh of my upper inner thigh, and my body tensed in anticipation. I’d forgotten I was supposed to be teaching him.
Jack buried his face into my neck. His thumb pressed my clit and my hips moved, pushing my cunt against his hand. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of our mingled breathing.
I know women who’ve fucked more men than I have, but who would think I’m a slut for paying what they give away for free. There are a lot of differences between their choices and mine, but one thing I feel certain is the same. There’s always something unexpected about the first time you go to bed with someone new.
With Jack it was how readily and well he took on a different persona. How convincing he made his performance. How he picked up on my subtle cues and went with them—and how much faster and better he was at it when he was pretending to be someone else than the first time we’d met.
“Jack.” I opened my eyes. The ceiling swam into focus, then the edges of his profile. He’d been kissing my shoulder.
He looked at me and murmured. I touched his hair, falling over one eye. “I don’t feel like playing this game anymore.”
When I was in high school, slap bracelets had been all the rage. Stiff, thin strips of flexible metal covered by fabric. The trick had been to slap them when they were straight onto your wrist, where they’d curl. Straightening them made them stiff and flat again.
Jack went rigid like a slap bracelet. Tension infused his arms, his legs, even his belly. He pushed up on his arms and tossed the hair from his eyes.
“Okay,” he said, not moving. I gave him a moment, after which he said, “Why?”
I shifted a little. “Because I decided I don’t really want to teach you how to fuck. I want to see if you know how to do it already.”
And fuck, that smile again, this time made even brighter by the laugh accompanying it. My entire body went awash with heat. Jack rolled onto his side, one hand still on my belly.
“You’re sure?”
I got on my side, too, facing him. His hand slid to my hip. I slid my thigh between his. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He paused again, brow furrowed as if he was thinking. “But…I didn’t guess wrong, did I?”
About the fantasy, I understood him to mean, and it pleased me how he’d taken my advice to heart. “No. Definitely not.”
“Good.” He flashed a dimmer version of the thousand-watt grin. His hand slid back between my legs. “So I don’t have to pretend I’ve never done this before?”
“Not today.”
He pressed gently, in just the right spot. “Okay.”
We didn’t say anything for a minute. We didn’t move. Jack’s eyes were the color of an August sky without clouds, but thick black lashes cast shadows in them when he blinked.
He kissed me again, soft and sweet and slow. His fingers moved in small circles on my clit. When I sighed, he smiled.
He knew what he was doing, there was no question of that. He paid attention. He didn’t rush. Was patient, even though it was taking me a long time. And what I liked best was that he didn’t use my slow response as an excuse to trot out every sexual position or act in an attempt to get me off sooner. Jack kissed me and rubbed my clit in small, gentle circles without cease until I finally gripped his arm, my body tense, and whispered, “Now.”
He moved faster, then, to slide on the condom and get between my legs. But slow again when he slid inside me. Slow, too, when he began to move. The few seconds’ reprieve had faded my urgency, though not by much. Our bodies worked and moved together, each push and pull an experiment in timing.
Tension coiled, tighter and tighter. I made a wordless noise. He picked up the pace. My hands slid along the smoothness of his back, to the sharp curve of his shoulder blades and the shallow groove of his spine.
I came, finally, making no sound as my body tightened around him. Jack shuddered and lifted his head to look at me with heavy-lidded eyes. He closed them, hard, face tensing, and thrust once more with a low groan. He rolled off me after a minute.
I looked over at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, facing away. His shoulders had hunched as he took care of the condom. I yawned and stretched, letting the glow wash over me, but after another moment I sat up, too.
I got out of bed and used the bathroom, not hurrying. When I came out, Jack had pulled his jeans back on. Cool currents of air swirled in the room and I thought I smelled the faintest odor of smoke.
“Hey,”