The drive had taken her two and a half hours. She corrected herself as she looked at the clock on her car radio. Two hours, twenty-seven minutes and some-odd seconds to get here, she thought. She sat, trying to decide if she'd knock on the door or turn around and drive back the way she'd come. Rain sluiced in little rivers down the windshield. She turned the wipers off and let the water rush down the cool glass until the world outside disappeared. Humming along with the radio, she grasped the key in her hand and finally, with a twist of her wrist, turned the car off. The radio played on. It would, she knew, until she opened her door, that final step she'd yet to take.
With a sigh she relaxed against the seat. She couldn't explain why butterflies crowded her stomach. They'd been talking for months. Months of laughing and joking on the phone. Months of seductive sighs and soft moans. But now...Now that she was here, now that he was finally here, she wasn't sure what to think. Wasn't entirely sure what he'd think of her. Oh, he'd seen pictures of her; several, as a matter of fact. But somewhere along the way, it had become more than a flirtation. Because now, she thought shakily, now...Her heart was at stake.
She ran a hand over her chest. Her heart was galloping madly. Not surprising, she thought wryly, considering that all she'd thought about on the drive was how good it would feel to finally have his hands and his mouth on her. It was hard not to, after everything he'd said to her.
Baby, you've never had my hands on you. Or my mouth. I'm going to do things to you no one's ever done before. Can't you imagine how good my tongue's going to feel running from your ass all the way up to your clit? Can't you feel my fingers pinching your nipples while I eat your pussy? Or maybe you can feel my fingers sliding deep so you have something to ride while I lick you until you cum.
She moaned softly, remembering.
Rub that pussy for me, baby. I want to hear you cum.
She'd done what he'd told her. She'd wished that her hands were his, especially when she'd slid two fingers deep in her pussy. She'd climaxed violently around them, moaning his name. All the while, she could hear his voice telling her every little thing that he was going to do to her. And finally, finally...She'd heard him growl as he came. And she'd been just as wet then as she was now. But she wanted to do more than hear him from thousands of miles away. She wanted to feel him moving in her; hear him tell her how good fucking her felt. She wanted to cum on his tongue, then his fingers, and finally, with his cock buried in her. Today she would, she decided.
She threw open the car door violently, as if daring fate to intervene. She grabbed her keys and threw them in her purse, making a mad dash for the door. Number twelve, he'd said. She stared at the door, then hesitantly raised a hand and knocked on it firmly. She heard his footsteps from within, and, seconds later, the door opened.
Her first thought was that he hadn't lied. He had gorgeous eyes. Bedroom eyes, he'd said. She wasn't sure who had told him that, but they'd hit the nail on the head. And those same eyes were smoldering as he looked her over. She stood still, mesmerized by his gaze. He took one of her hands and dragged her into the room and up against his chest. He hadn't lied about that either. Broad-shouldered and deep-chested, he was the sort of man who made women like her weak at the knees.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the embrace. She felt his face burrow in the side of her neck and she laughed, remembering his vow to smell her perfume. She unclasped her hands from behind his neck and took a step back, looking him over as he had her. Her gaze slid from his toes to his eyes, drinking in every little detail. He was everything she'd imagined and more. "It's good to finally meet you," she said, smiling at him.
He grinned back at her, his dimples flashing in his cheeks. "You're every bit as beautiful as I told you you were," he said softly, his voice gravelly and low. Sexy, just like the rest of him. He was every bit as smooth as he had been on the phone, too, although there was a sincerity about him that was more uncommon than not.
She blushed, something she would have sworn she was incapable of doing. "Thank you," she said, crossing her arms self-consciously beneath her breasts. His gaze flew to the plump mounds showing above the neckline of her dress and she flushed a deeper pink. She made herself relax. It was stupid to be nervous around him, she scolded herself. She'd been talking to him for the last five months, for God's sake. But five months of talking hadn't prepared her for him. Neither had spending two hours getting ready this morning, or wearing her sexiest underwear beneath the dress, because, despite all of those measures, she still felt slightly insecure.
She shook herself mentally. She was a pretty girl. No, not a girl, she corrected herself. She was woman. All woman. He'd said he liked curves, which was just as well, because she had plenty of them. She was far from a stick figure. She was a self-proclaimed Amazon: Tall, curvy, and (in her mind) a bit on the chubby side. But she was also extremely attractive. This she knew. And she also knew how to play up her best assets. She had an exotic flair about her that screamed sex appeal, or so she'd been told. Her legs were long and well-shaped, and her chest was...Impressive. Knowing this, she threw her shoulders back and sat on the edge of the bed, setting her purse on the ground as she crossed one leg over the other.
