There’s nothing sexier than having a man waiting for you when you get home from work.
Entering my apartment, I toss my keys and mail on the little table just inside the doorway and my gaze falls upon the scuffed pair of boots that lay on the floor several feet down the hall. Just past them is a crumpled button down shirt.
Smiling at the trail of clothes leading to my bedroom, I take off my jacket and toss it on the floor next to his boots. As I walk towards my bedroom- and the delicious man waiting inside, I discard my clothes one by one, adding to the trail until I am standing at the door wearing nothing but black thigh highs and combat boots. My tee shirt and slip dress, bra and panties lay behind me. Knowing how much he loves to see me dressed only in stockings and boots, I reach out and open the bedroom door.
He is laying on my bed, his big, naked body sprawled across the white down comforter, skin golden from the sun. His hand is wrapped around his cock; gently stroking it as he gazes up at me with a half smile and heavy lidded green eyes. Returning his smile, I lean against the doorjamb, content to just watch him, feeling heat ignite in my belly at the sight of all that naked flesh waiting for me.
“Are you going to join me,” he asks, “Or just watch?”
My smile turns into a grin as I push away from the door and move towards the bed, stopping only a few inches away from the gorgeous man that loved to tease me.
“I don’t know. You know I like watching you get yourself off.” I murmur, and he shoots a mock scowl at me, sitting up and grabbing my wrist, tumbling me down onto the bed beside him.
“You got to watch this morning. I’m in the mood for a little more active participation on your part.” He replied, and I laughed as he rolled me beneath him.
The laughter died as his weight settled on top of me, his body fitting between the open cradle of my thighs as his hands cupped my face. He stared down at me for long moments, and I held my breath, as always wondering what I had done to deserve this magnificent male in my life and in my bed.
As if divining my thoughts he shook his head, lowering his mouth to mine to brush a fleeting kiss across my lips, his eyes serious now as he stared down at me.
“You’re doubting again. I can see it in your face sweetheart,” he murmured, smoothing a lock of hair out of my face, “and I definitely don’t like it. What do I have to do to prove that I’m exactly where I want to be?” Again, one of those fleeting kisses, and I groaned, lifting my head to chase his mouth with my own, purposely not answering his question. I didn’t want this game marred by any serious discussion. The time for that was much later, if at all.
“Kiss me.” I murmured, twinning my arms about his shoulders, tugging his warmth down to me, reveling in the touch of his silky flesh against mine. With a laugh he complied, burying his hands in my hair, lifting my face to his as his mouth caught and held mine.
His tongue glided across my lower lip and I obediently opened for him, falling into a maelstrom of heat and light as he took possession of my mouth. It never took long for his dominant streak to emerge, and I waited for the kiss to end, for the teasing and lighthearted side of my lover to disappear.
Instead his mouth slid over my throat, his hands in my hair pulling my head back to give better access to my neck, gently though, as if I were made of glass and might shatter. He chuckled softly, sensing my surprise, and released my hair, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at me.
“I was reading one of your novels while I was waiting.” He murmured, and I flushed scarlet, my gaze moving to the night table beside the bed. Sure enough, one of my secret stash of romance novels lay on the bedside table. I winced when I saw the gaudy cover. Of all the books that were hidden beneath the bed, he’d chosen the most blatantly erotic of the lot.
He laughed at my embarrassment, cupped my face again in those big hands that had spent many hours gliding and probing every curve and hollow of my body with masterful dominance. His touch was gentle today, as if he expected me to break. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not.
“I decided it was time to explore a few of your fantasies for once.” He murmured, and I looked up at him helplessly, still deeply embarrassed that he could know me so well. We usually played out his fantasies- threesomes with girls who were skinnier and prettier than I was; psychological dominance using words that I hadn’t been altogether comfortable with when our relationship had began over five years before. My fantasies had never been broached, most likely because I hadn’t wanted to bring them up. Somehow, he’d figured them out, or was trying to. Something clenched in my chest, a sensation that would occasionally occur in our many conversations but had remained weak and ill defined. I knew, suddenly, what it was, but kept the feeling locked away.
He watched me for long moments, and when I said nothing there was a fleeting glimpse of something unnamable in his green, catlike eyes. Shaking his head slowly, he kissed me again, and the heat that rose between us was indescribable. I moaned into his mouth, one stocking clad leg rising to wrap around his hip, holding him close. I loved the feeling of his mouth against mine, had always loved kissing him, but he had been so sparing in doling out his kisses that I hadn’t even realized that I was missing out. I had always loved kissing- had never seen it as mere foreplay as he had, and remembered my disappointment when he’d first informed me that he only kissed girls that he really liked. Our kisses, up to this date, had always been perfunctory and fleeting. No hours spent leisurely exploring one another’s mouths, tasting and experimenting with what made the other hot. No, our kissing was just the first step on the road to full copulation, sometimes skipped altogether in favor of his fingers and mouth buried between my legs, my hands and mouth between his.
After what seemed hours of his lips moving across mine he lifted his head, a faint smile curving his full mouth as he watched me through pleasure-slitted eyes. I mewed at the loss, reaching up to pull him back down to me, and he laughed softly, catching hold of my hands and tugging me up, one hand sliding back into the fall of my hair, the other arm around my back, supporting me as his head descended again, this time to the arched curved of my throat. The pleasure of his mouth against my skin rocketed through me, and I was lost in the maelstrom of his loving.
