Beautiful.
He drove in, pulled out, in again, and again, hands at my ass, mouth on mine alternately kissing me deep and almost brutal then soft and sweet then leaving his lips at mine, our heavy breaths mingling. If he was kissing me, we closed our eyes, if we were breathing, his eyes locked with mine, they were hot, fevered, staring deep, giving and taking.
I kept my legs tight around his hips, an arm tight around his shoulders but I pushed a hand between us to assist his driving c**k in taking me there.
Feeling him, seeing him, hearing him, pressed against him and touching him while he stroked himself, living a fantasy I played in my head with my fingers between my legs and no Ty, one that was way better in real life with him right there as close as he could get was so beautiful, so hot, I was primed. Way primed. My finger had to move on my cl*t for about half a minute before the noises I made went desperate. He heard them and one hand left my ass to curl around the back of my head which was good seeing as a second after it did, my legs spasmed around him, my arm got super tight, my back and neck arched and my head slammed his hand into the tile.
A little while later, my mouth was at his throat when his c**k thrust deep and his head jerked back with his orgasm.
A little while later, we finished our shower.
* * * * *
I was in a pair of panties and Ty’s tee, my hair wet, standing at the coffeemaker pouring him a travel mug.
Ty was standing beside me, body turned to me, jean-clad hip leaning against the counter, bowl of raspberries, blackberries, banana and yogurt mixed with some of his protein powder cupped in his huge hand held high and he was spooning it into his mouth.
It was Wednesday, two days after we became us. Two magnificent days after we became us. Asshole Ty was long gone. Taciturn Ty was a memory. He didn’t share much verbally but he shared.
Oh yeah, he shared.
And mostly he did this through sex. Lots of it.
He was making up for lost time, so was I, this was true. But it was mostly that it was just that good. We managed to eat and he went to work. Monday night, he worked out after work. Other than that, we were in bed (and once we were on the couch). We’d talk in between times, before we drifted off to sleep, or I would talk, he didn’t say much and I would talk mostly in whispers. This didn’t last long before he turned into me with intent. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear what I had to say, it was just that we had better things to do.
I shouldn’t compare Ty with Ronnie and wouldn’t tell Ty that, in my mind, I did.
But I did.
I couldn’t help it. I’d had two lovers and they were night and day.
Ronnie, hit and miss. He tried but sometimes he failed and I didn’t have the heart to tell him he did or where he went wrong. It upset him when I did; he’d go into himself or get mildly pissed so I learned to stop doing that.
Ty hit, every time.
This would have freaked me out, how good he was at it, but thinking on it, it didn’t. First, he had a great body and he was in command of it. Not just during sex but all the time. Second, he was strong as in very strong. Ronnie was no weakling and took care of his body as a matter of habit and survival. But the strength of his lean muscle was nothing in comparison to the power behind the bulk of Ty. And Ty used his strength during sex in a dizzying variety of delicious ways. Third, Ty was seriously hot and, prior to his incarceration, he had to have had his fair share of practice and then some. And last, Ty had already proved he was generous and sex was no different. He saw to me, sometimes twice (once three times) before he took care of himself. He never left me hanging or took care of me after. Not once.
It was phenomenal. So phenomenal, I didn’t mind that there was no further heart-to-heart sharing from Ty. What he was giving me, all of it, was just fine. Better. It was perfect.
I moved to him, set his travel mug on the counter by his hip, got as close as his bowl would let me, leaned a hip into the counter and instantly started bitching.
“Seven o’clock is a ridiculous time to have to be at work.”
His beautiful eyes on me, he chewed, swallowed and replied, “Told you, you don’t have to get up with me.”
Yeah, right, like I’d miss taking a shower with him. Not gonna happen.
I communicated this with my eyes and a tip of my head. He read it loud and clear and his lips tilted up at the sides.
Then he spoke again. “Seven o’clock means gettin’ off at four unless they need me to do overtime. I could do nine thirty to six thirty but I like the evenings clear. Don’t sleep late, that time in the morning would be a waste.”
“Mm,” I mumbled and his lips twitched.
“Mama, f**kin’ you in the shower, doable. We really start to play, I won’t wanna go and how are you gonna get deck furniture if I don’t have a paycheck?”
He had a point.
And he called me “mama” in his soft voice. That was a new one. I liked it.
Not to mention, I was discovering we seriously needed deck furniture.
“Whatever you wanna do, honey,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” he muttered back, shoved the last spoonful in his mouth, chewed, swallowed then dipped his head to touch his lips to mine and moved around me to get to the sink, saying, “Gonna hit the gym before I come home. Be back at around six.”
I turned with him so I was facing him when I replied as he put his bowl in the sink and walked back to me, “Right. Anything you want for dinner or are you gonna do a shake?”
“Food,” he said, making it to me, putting a hand light on my hip and leaning his face close. “Whatever you make, I’ll eat.” He again touched his mouth to mine then said against it, “Later, Lex.”
“Later, honey,” I whispered against his.
He bent his head forward an inch which touched his forehead to mine and he did this for half a second before his forehead and his hand went away because he’d tagged his travel mug and was sauntering to the stairs.
I watched him until he disappeared then I warmed up my coffee, took it out to the sunny deck and sipped it at the railing, taking in a view I knew I’d never get used to.
I saw the view, I loved the view but mostly I loved that standing at that railing, this time, I felt full. Sated. Replete.
And I hadn’t had breakfast.
Once I hit the bottom of the mug, I wandered into the house, refreshed my coffee and then wandered up the steps. I went to my lingerie drawer, dug under my stuff and pulled out the glossy violet and ice blue folder. I opened it, pulled out an eight by ten then replaced the folder in the drawer.