No Strings Attached Ch 15

Jon was not sure what to make of what had just happened. Shit, it was even better than he remembered. But he was still struggling. As much as he wanted to believe all that bullshit about love not being tied to appearances, he lived in a world where children burst into tears at the sight of his face, where adults ignored him rather than face their insecurities and prejudices.

He had a choice to make. The same one he had struggled with all day: play it safe or go all in. Was that really a choice at all? "I think that is an excellent idea, sweetheart."

He watched her strip the gauzy sundress that had swirled about her all day, a tempting game of reveal and conceal over her head. Plain white bra and panties on her were as sexy as anything from those expensive lingerie shops though she seemed to blush as she reached behind her and released the fastener. The bra slid down her arms revealing breasts that were a bit larger than that night. He fought the need to reach out and touch them. There would be time for that later. The bathroom offered neither the space or comfort for the things he had in mind.

She was blushing by the time her fingers slipped inside the elastic waistband of her panties. He loved the way she bit her lower lip and looked up at him from beneath hooded eyelashes. "How about we do this at the same time?" she pleaded.

Jon shook his head, "Not this time. I want to enjoy watching you."

She sighed, and the pink stains on her chest, neck, and cheeks deepened almost to scarlet. But she complied, pushing the white scrap of nothing down her legs, and kicking them aside. Her hands on her hips, she looked at him. "Okay, your turn now. No more excuses."

He laughed. It felt good to laugh with her. Had he ever laughed during sex before? He did not think so. But as liberating as it felt, he was determined it would become a regular thing. He was not as graceful as she was, pushing his boxers down.

While undressing was easier, he still struggled with his damaged left arm being virtually useless. "Sorry," he mumbled as he stared down where his still hard cock had caught the cotton material, making the simple task more complex.

She stepped forward, her slightly chapped hands reaching inside to grasp his cock as her other one worked in tandem with his good one to complete the job. She gave his cock a couple of strokes, "We might have to allow extra time for these things in the future. It seems things keep coming up that distract me," she teased.

He laughed as she reached around him to turn on the shower, adjusting the water temperature. "Is that good for you?"

Jon was confused at first. How could Alicia doubt that her hand slowly stroking the full length of his cock was anything but good for him? Then he realized she was asking about the water temperature. He reached out with his good hand, "Yeah, that's fine."

"Only fine?" she teased again as she quickened the pace of the stroking.

Jon placed his hand over hers, and as hard as it was, incredibly hard, he stilled her motions. "You keep doing that, sweetheart and we're never gonna make it to the bedroom."

"Would that be such a bad thing, jarhead?"

Jon leaned down; his tongue traced the outside of her ear for a moment before he blew softly into it. "Yeah, it would. For what I have in mind. That tub or the toilet seat are not big enough for me to spread those silky thighs and bury my face in your cunt for an hour or two. A bed will be a much better option for both of us."

He loved the slight hitch of her breath at his words, but he appreciated the shiver that ran through her whole body even more as he bit gently into her earlobe.

"If you insist then," she teased as she reached behind him and grabbed a washcloth. She reached for the shower gel, but stopped and looked up at him. "Is this okay?"

Jon was not sure where he got the sense of mind to think, let alone answer her question. "No, too many perfumes and too drying. Inside my case next to the sink."

Alicia smiled and nodded as she opened the old fashioned leather shaving kit and found the rectangular plastic container with the bar of soap in it. She held it up and he nodded as she opened the box and spread soap on the washcloth.

"Turn around. Let me get your back first. Cause it seems I keep getting distracted with your front,"

she chuckled.

He turned and braced his hand against the cool tile wall as the washcloth, and her hands began to rub tenderly across his shoulders. If there was a heaven, this was it. The soft roughness of the cloth could not hide the warmth of her touch beneath. The only problem was how slowly she moved, back and forth until it was almost torture and he groaned.

"Is that good or bad?" she leaned forward to whisper against his cheek, the hard nipples just brushing his back.

"Both, sweetheart, both," he could not resist turning his head enough to capture another taste of her sweet lips. This had to be a dream, right? No way were they both naked in the shower with her hands moving slowly across his back and lower still.

Then she did the unthinkable as she dropped once more to her knees, her hands firmly kneading his buttocks as the cloth lathered it. Down his legs and calves, "Lift your foot," she demanded as she watched each of those.

"Now turn around, Jon."

His mind replayed the image of her on her knees earlier with his cock in her mouth, and he almost came on the spot. He sighed, unsure if they would ever make it to the bed this night. "Darling, do you have to torture me like this?" he asked as he turned.

"Oh, most definitely," she smiled up at him as she knelt on the cool porcelain of the tub. This time she worked in reverse, the cloth wedging gently between each toe, then up to his calf, across his thighs. Jon watched her, memorize each tiny movement, memories to store up for later, when reality struck and he was once again all alone.

He practically collapsed against the cool tiles when those dainty hands caressed the insides of his thighs, coming up to tenderly move the cloth across his balls that tightened and lifted at her caress. "Fuck," he whispered in sacred prayer.

"If we manage to get around to it tonight. But who cares? We have the rest of our lives. I'm sure at some point; we'll take the edge off this thing between us long enough to fuck our brain out, right?"

The combination of her innocent smile and dirty words had him lacing his fingers through her hair, even as she brought the soapy rag up and began running it up and down his still hard length. "Damn it, Alicia, I can't take much more."

She just chuckled, "Or what? What you gonna do? Pin me against the wall and fuck me right here?"

Her words were all it took, the image too enticing as his hand gripped her just beneath the arm, lifted her to her feet. He turned her and pushed her head forward until it rested against those tiles that seemed like hot coals burning through his memories.

He wedged his foot between her legs and kicked them apart. He stepped into that space, his fingers lacing through hers on the wall, his cock brushing against the round globes of her bottom, then slipping easily between her slick folds. He moaned in her ear, "Tell me to stop, sweetheart."

***

Alicia knew that she should slow things down. It had been seven long dry years since she had sex, real sex. With this man. But damn it, she did not want to. And her body was more than ready; it had been for days, weeks.

"Fuck me, Jon. Fuck me, here. Fuck me now," she pleaded or commanded, even she was not sure.

She felt him surge forward. Her body opening like the first rose in spring for his hard cock. She sighed as she pushed her bottom back to meet his forward motion. The head of his cock firmly imbedded in her wet cunt and her fingers flexed rhythmically on the wall, tapping out the perfect chorus as her ripe body sored to the heavens. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast.

"Holy fuck," he breathed against her ear as he fought the strong contractions of her body around his throbbing length. "Damn, sweetheart, you're even tighter than you were that night."

"Shut up, jarhead and kiss me before I wake this whole damned house with my screams."

He chuckled as he bent his head to do just that. But Alicia was not the mood for tentative or tender. She wanted this man. She had dreamed of this moment for seven years, her favorite fantasy. And she wanted it all. She bucked her hips faster and harder even as her tongue plunged into the recesses of his mouth.

She took the lead, and she kept it. Some part of her still frightened that he would change his mind, reject her again. His fingers flexed and tightened around hers. His lips drew back just enough to whisper, "Baby, please. It's too much. Fuck, I'm already on edge and I just came. What do you do to me?"

"Shut up and fuck me," she demanded, and she gave no quarter. Her hips moved faster as she felt the last couple of inches imbed inside of her. "Please, please, Jon," she tried begging instead.

He moved deeper and faster, pounding into her. Pushing them both higher, their orgasms hit them fast as they clung to one another beneath the chilly spray of water. Their lips melded to one another; their cries stifled in the kiss.

She clung to him. Complete for the first time in seven long years. But this night was not over. This was not a 'no strings attached' charade. This was the beginning of the rest of their lives. And that meant it was time for honesty. "I love you."

***

Jon shook his head as he reached around her to turn off the water that was now cold, as cold as the dark void in his soul. He wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that it was possible. That it was that simple.

But this was not some dream, some fantasy he made up. This was real life and that had not come easy for him in a long time, perhaps never. Love was not something he had a helluva a lot of experience with.

He was silent as he turned his back, using the excuse of reaching for a towel to compose his turbulent emotions. He brought it to his own face, not to wipe away the water from the shower, but his tears.

What did he say? How did he respond? It would be too easy, and completely honest to simply say, 'I love you too.' But would that get them anywhere? Would that solve anything? Was it the new beginning they needed?

"Jon?"

He heard the insecurity in her voice. That was not what he intended, what he wanted. He did love her. He had from the night that this woman took a broken and battered soul into her arms and bed. But they needed far more than a quickie in the shower to build a life together, a family for their daughter.

He leaned down and wrapped the towel about her shoulder. He brushed a tender kiss across her forehead. "We should get dried off. We can talk better in our bedroom."