Chapter Ten
It seems I was a little premature, feeling smug and thinking I had a few things to show Danny. Round one took the edge off of him, the two year build-up of sexual tension. And it made round two an eye-opening lesson for me on the difference between sex with a man and sex with boys.
I thought I’d had pretty good sex in the past. I mean it was fun and felt…good. But it was all fast-food sex; quick, serves a purpose, just the basics. I thought that was all there was until Danny introduced me to gourmet sex.
Sure, I had always assumed he’d be good in bed because one, who fantasizes about crappy sex and two, there’s something in his walk, an ease in his own body that just said that he would be uninhibited and confident. I got that part right. But I didn’t know that was just the tip of iceberg, the part of this incredibly sexy man that the world could see. What I got this morning is a fantastic lover; something I thought only existed in steamy romance novels.
The first idea he erases is that sex is just the actual act, tab A in slot B. After his mind-blowing blow job, he’s in no hurry to go again whereas I’m definitely ready. I try to move things along, reaching for him, wanting to get him hard again. But he takes my hand off and laces it with his then moves both my hands over my head and rolls half onto me. I’m trapped, in the best way, at his mercy for him to set the pace.
He leans in and nudges the tender skin on my neck with his lips and stubble. It sets off a ripple of sensations through my body.
“Slow down.” He whispers to me.
My knee-jerk reaction is to do the opposite because I hate it when someone tells me what to do. But then I realize that he’s right. I’ve wanted this, exactly what’s happening right this minute for years. I’ve dreamed about it and now that I’m here I’m going to rush through it?
I stop fighting him, pushing against him, and relax under his weight. It feels so good.
“That’s it.” He’s trying to encourage me but all I hear is patronizing. I’m having a hard time letting go of the fight that we’ve been having for the past two years and I tense up again. He notices.
“What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I’m me—uptight, neurotic, overbearing me.
“Vivey, relax.”
Nerves and frustration bubble up into a laugh. “Me, relax? When have you ever seen me relaxed?”
He knows me well enough to chuckle at the idea. “I haven’t. But I want to.” He leans in again and slowly presses his entire body to mine and gently slides up then down. “I want to make you feel good but I can’t if you won’t relax.”
He’s ignited nerves all the way to my toes; every inch of my body wants him. He’s exciting parts of me that I’d never thought about during sex. The front of my thighs can feel the hair on his legs and the muscle beneath and they want more. My belly feels soft against his and my breasts are tickled by the hair on his chest. He’s moved from kissing my neck to my shoulders then my clavicle. I doubt most other guy would know where my clavicle is let alone how kissing me there would fire so many sensitive nerves.
I can feel him starting to get hard again but he’s still in no hurry. He’s meticulously making his way down my body, blissfully torturing me. My urge to take over and get relief is overwhelming.
I try rubbing my hip against him but he pulls away, denying me access. I scoot closer but he sets his strong lower leg over my hips to keep me in place. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m turning lovemaking with the man of my dreams into a WWE grudge match.
I can’t begin to hide my tension. He stops kissing me and let’s go of my hands.
“I’m sorry.”
He rolls me onto my side and spoons me from behind. “It’s alright. First times together are never easy.” We lay there for a minute and I worry that he’s giving up on me.
“Don’t stop, please,” I say and immediately regret it. Wow, now I’m begging. Please have sex with the insane control freak.
I can feel his lips smile against my shoulder. “I haven’t. I’m still holding you.” But then he pulls away and I panic. I’ve pushed him too far.
He tells me to, “Stay right there,” as he gets out of bed. I’m so relieved he’ll be back that I ignore the fact that he just gave me a command. I roll over to watch him.
He finds his wallet and digs deep into the lining before producing a smashed, battered condom package. He flips it around in his hand. “Do these expire?”
I laugh and relax and fall more in love with him--the wonderful laid-back man who can stand there naked and make jokes. I hop out of bed and dash into the bathroom for my toiletries bag and my own supply of condoms. I toss five fresh condoms on the bed and Danny raises one eyebrow at me. I’m not sure if he’s impressed that I’m prepared or worried that I carry a supply with me.
“What?”
He picks them up. “Five?”
I laugh. “I can get more if we need them.”
He opens one and slides it on as I watch. His openness with his body makes me less concerned about mine. I take off my bra and toss it across the room then my panties which I slingshot in his direction. I miss by a mile but I’m having so much fun.
He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard and motions for me to join him. “Come ‘ere.”
I fight the momentary urge to go against his directive and climb onto the bed next to him. He uses my hips to have me straddle his lap, his cock so close to where I want it.
“We’ll do this your way, this time.” He pulls me in for a kiss and lets me push my hips into his, grinding against him. “But you will let me have my way with you eventually. We have two months to figure this out.”
With that he slides his hands down to my ass and lifts me onto him. I sink down then kneel up again, reveling in the sensation. “That’s it. You’ve got control. Make yourself feel good.” His permission is a gift, an acknowledgement that he understands me. It opens me up and releases my fears of failing him. As I drop back down I stop, overwhelmed. I lean in and kiss him, trying to let him feel how much he means to me. His moan of pleasure is music to my soul because I’m pleasing him. I’m in control and he’s not just tolerating it, he loves it.
I get out of my head and just feel and our sex moves into an entirely new realm—a dance of give and take. I don’t rush, pushing for my orgasm. I know it will come. I can feel it building. I slowly ride him and when he bends his knees, I fall back onto them, enjoying the different sensation of the new angle. When I speed up, he uses my hips to help me. I’m so close when I feel him piston his hips and he comes with another combination of my name, random religious sayings and cuss words. And I feel it, like I never have before. Because I’m not lost in my own head, worried about my performance, I can feel him pulsing in me. Oh my god, it’s a turn on. I’m so close. I reach down between us and use my fingers to push myself over the edge, almost screaming his name with each wave.
I fall back. A euphoric, spent pile of mush and I laugh at nothing. Because I don’t do it often enough. Danny’s catching his breath and smiling. I don’t know what to say. What I feel is beyond words. Luckily he doesn’t seem to be looking for conversation either.
He pulls me forward, against his chest and slowly eases himself out of me as we stretch out on the bed.
When I finally get the energy to speak, all I can say is, “Wow.”
He lazily rubs his hand along my arm. “Wow?”
He’s questioning this? Did he not just have mind-blowing sex with me? Or is he questioning whether he was that good?
It dawns on me then that, despite his substantial skills he hasn’t used them on a woman in a long time, let alone an appreciative woman. I know things were ugly in his marriage in the end. Could his crazy-bitch of an ex really have not appreciated sex like that? Or would they even have been having sex in the end?
I’d never gotten the full story, only bits and pieces that I overheard, but I do know that she left him for a guy with more money—a lot more money. She’s a member of the elite of Charlotte now, something Danny could never give her.
I lean up and kiss him on his chest. “Yeah,” I assure him, “Wow.”