Home > Stories of September(6)

Stories of September(6)
Author: Fiona Cole

“So is Henry.”

A smile instantly blossoms on her lips and she tells me thank you.

“So … since this is a date-date, can we agree to one thing?” she asks, changing the subject.

“What’s that?”

“Can we can go slow?” she asks me.

“Slow?”

“I just think it’s best, with the boys and all.”

“Slow it is then.”

And just like that, the serious tension is gone, but both of us know what the other wants.

One small problem, though: there’s nothing about the two of us that I want to do slow.

 

 

Autumn

 

 

“You’re the one who said let’s take it slow.” Trent makes the comment as I catch my breath and lay my head back on the driver’s side seat.

Dinner and another drink at the bar after, and then some more flirting and small touches, took most of the night. It’s dark outside of the car. The moon is almost full, the stars on full display in the midnight blue sky.

Trent can’t get the grin off his smug, handsome face.

“And yet …” He lets the words hang in the air as he gestures to my house. I drove to my house after dinner. Not to his where his mother and both of our boys are.

Freudian slip is all I can say in defense.

“You just wanted to take me home. Admit it,” he teases and with his rough chuckle I can’t help but laugh.

He’s not wrong, though. Not in the least.

Something changed at dinner. My heart won’t stop thumping for this man.

I just hope it’s as real for him as it feels for me. Every time he breaks our kiss, I remember something Renee likes to say that serves to answer that nagging little question: You’ll find out by morning.

With a grin pulling at my mouth, I lean over the console and lay another kiss on his lips. Our hands don’t stop roaming. Both of us feeling up the other and enjoying the kind of making out I thought was only for high school and puppy dog love.

I suppose romance has layers. And I happen to really enjoy all of Trent’s layers. Every last little bit of every single one.

Very few cars have driven by but when they do, we’ve paused, caught our breath and teased the other for starting up the kiss again. It starts with a little touch, then inching closer … I just can’t get enough of him.

Ping. His phone goes off and this time I groan in protest, until I realize it’s his mother.

He reads the text out loud. They’re both fast asleep so stay out however long you want. Go to a movie or something.

“Are movies even playing this late?” I ask.

“She doesn’t have to know all the details.”

His words hang in the air. The pull between us only gets stronger as the seconds pass.

It’s his turn to lean in and kiss me, which he does. His right hand on my thigh, his fingertips grazing against my bare skin and then higher, pushing up the hem of my dress.

I moan into his mouth as my left hand does the same to him, slipping up his collared shirt and finding his taut muscles beneath the fabric as our kiss deepens. He’s got me every kind of hot and bothered.

It’s only when a pair of headlights flashes and drifts by that the kiss is broken, leaving me breathless and more than that, wanting.

A million questions about how we’re going to make this work and if it’s going to last bombard my mind, but the only one I ask is, “You want to come in?”

 

 

Trent

 

 

Maybe it’s because I’ve wanted her for over a year. Maybe it’s because her hands roam freely down my body like I’ve dreamed about. Maybe it’s because her kiss tastes like lust and sweet wine and everything I ever wanted.

Whatever the reason, the second we’re through her front door, I pin Autumn to the wall, my lips never leaving hers, and my hands reaching below her dress.

The sudden gasp from her lips only fuels me to deepen our touch. Her small noises are the only sounds I can hear apart from the blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding inside my chest.

“Trent,” she moans my name against my lips, our warm breath mingling. I don’t know how she has any time at all to speak. I want all of her, in every way, without any thing between us. Not even words.

My fingers inch up her thighs, the soft fabric taunting me until I reach the thin lace of her panties. Her smile against my lips is sultry and sinful, just like the words she whispers. “Tear it if you want.”

Fuck. As if I couldn’t get any harder for her.

The thin fabric shreds easily enough and I let it fall before pulling my shirt over my head. Her hands fumble with the buckle on my belt and I swear it feels like first love all over again.

Each of us wanting, needing, and desperate to take this to the next level.

With half our clothing a careless heap piled next to us, I make a move to lift her dress, but she stops me, breathing out heavily and taking in the cool air.

“Bedroom,” she murmurs against my lips and I never knew I could hate a word so much. Not daring to put space between us, I lift her in my arms and take the stairs two at a time. The lust still clinging to every inch of us, I rid us of the remaining clothing before falling onto the bed with her beneath me. With my forearms braced beside her head, she seems so small beneath me.

The windows are opened just inches, the curtains blowing with the cool evening breeze that dances along our bare skin.

Slipping my hand between her thighs, I run my middle finger up her slick seam, finding her hot and glistening with arousal. As I spread it over her clit, I leave gentle kisses along her neck and let her mewl and writhe under me.

I’m hard and eager, but I want this to be perfect.

It’s not until she’s begging me, whimpering both my name and the plea, that I stroke myself and rest the head of my dick against her sweet center.

I kiss her once, watching her lashes flutter down as her eyes close. Readying myself, I can barely push my head inside of her. Fuck, she feels like heaven, but the expression on her face tells me I’m the only one feeling this pleasure right now.

Pausing to give her time to adjust, I nibble her lip and wait for her expression to relax.

“It’s been a while,” she says, the confession leaving her in a whisper.

“I told you I’d go slow,” I answer with all sincerity, but a worried smile and a huff leaves her.

“That’s not quite what I mean,” she says, her voice low and holding questions I don’t have the answers to right now.

Her heart races against mine as I hover over her, leaning down with a kiss to silence her.

With her lips still on mine, I thrust forward, as easy as possible. Her lips part as she holds her breath, feeling every inch of me until I’m buried to the hilt.

The mix of pleasure and pain stirs in her gasps and moans, edging closer to pleasure with every thrust. I take my time, pulling nearly all the way out then pushing myself deeper and harder each time. It doesn’t take long before her nails are digging into my shoulders, her legs wrapped around my hips and her heel digging into my ass to fuel me on.

“Yes,” she begs and I happily oblige. Harder. Faster. I fuck her into her mattress like I’ve dreamed of doing. Each time I get close to finding my own release, I slow, pressing myself as deep inside of her as I can. She loses herself, pleasure racking through her body and her back bowing in ecstasy.

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