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I’m on the fence. I want to stay, but I’m afraid. Not of Jordan but of what might happen. I’m not sure I’m ready for sex with him regardless of what happened the other night. I think he knows what I’m thinking because he allays my fears.
“That doesn’t mean that we have to share a bed. I have several guest rooms.”
“You don’t want to have sex with me?”
“Emma, I do, but you told me about your history. You make the choice. That being said, you can still share my bed without sex. I’d like that very much.”
“Maybe I’ll share your bed,” I say softly. Before I can say anything else, he reaches for his phone and makes a call, then hands it to me after a short conversation.
“The woman on the line is my personal shopper at Saks; her name is Svetlana Krinski. Just give her your sizes, including any undergarments you would like and preference to color. I’ll be in the other room.”
I hold his phone in my hand as he walks towards the windows on the opposite side of the kitchen. The woman on the line has a slight accent. I think is Russian, and she asks me a multitude of questions. After ten minutes, I hang up with her assurance that she’ll send over things that will be my style. Jordan turns to me.
“All set?”
“Yes. She’s going to pick some items out for me, including shoes. Jordan, I’ll have to pay you back for these things. It might take me a while.”
He frowns, “Nonsense. These are a gift. I refuse to accept your money; it would be an insult to take it from a guest in my home. I do, however, request something in return.”
“And that is?”
“I want to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about your lips since we were last together.”
“Just my lips?”
“Emma, don’t push me. I’m having a hard enough time restraining myself. Your scent is stuck in my nose even from two days ago.”
My stomach tightens because it’s obvious what scent he’s referring to. My belly clenches with the knowledge that he’s seen me naked. He made me come not once but twice. I’m stuck between wanting him to fuck me and wanting to run out of there. But I steel myself and know that he won’t make advances without my consent.
Jordan types a message into his phone and then holds his hand out for mine. I offer it, and he takes me to the living area. It has several beige couches set up like a square, a huge square. He sits down and pulls me next to him. His blue eyes, that have now darkened considerably, focus on my green ones. He cups my chin and plants a soft kiss on my lips, which becomes more insistent.
He gently lowers me to the couch, and I feel the weight of his body upon mine, tongue curling around my own, hands tangling in my hair. My body starts to heat, from head to toe, and my core floods after a series of clenches in my womb. My hands stroke the strong muscles of his back.
Jordan moves his hips, pushing my legs open. I can feel his erection pressing against his jeans. The only thing that separates us is the thin jersey fabric of my dress, denim, and my lace panties. But that doesn’t stop him. He moves his body until he’s pressed against my sex. I can feel the head of his cock as he undulates, massaging my clit.
An orgasm starts to build, and my heartbeat is thrumming in my ears. I’m lost to the sensation; it feels so good. My moaning, our heavy breathing, and the sound of fabric against fabric are the only sounds in the room. I’m so close when his phone rings.
“Fuck!” he yells as he yanks his lips from mine, grabbing for the cell he placed on the table. “What?” he growls as he answers.
His eyes don’t leave mine as he tells whoever is on the other end that the contracts will be signed tomorrow. Jordan abruptly hangs up the phone and puts it back on the table.
“I’m sorry. Now, where were we?”
I want to blurt out that he was just in the middle of giving me an orgasm, but I keep my mouth shut until he reclaims it, and I begin to moan. He moves his hips again, and I realize that during his phone call, he never lost an ounce of hardness. His erection stayed pressed against my cleft. I can feel my release fast approaching, and I tilt my head back, which allows him access to my neck. He latches on and sucks as his pelvis continues to seduce me and I explode while calling his name.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and my mouth gapes open as my orgasm tears through me, leaving me weak. Oh God, if he can do that without being inside me, what can he do when he is? When I finally open my eyes, Jordan is fixed on my face. His hips are no longer moving, but he’s still pressed up against my sensitive flesh.
“I just love to watch you come. I can’t get enough. I’m going to have to do that more.”
More? I might only be twenty-five, but I’m not sure how many of those mind-blowing orgasms I can handle per night. I wonder how long he can last and how many times he can go. The most I’ve ever had sex is twice in one night, and it was with Ricky. Once Leo screwed me, he was out the door, and I only heard from him to return his leather jacket.
Jordan plants a kiss on the tip of my nose and slides off me. His erection hasn’t subsided, and yet he asks nothing of me. I feel guilty, him giving me all this pleasure, and he gets nothing. I reach over and run my hand over his jeans. He grabs it and holds it in his own.
“There’s no need for that.”
“Jordan, you make me feel guilty.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about. I chose to give you pleasure. I ask for nothing in return.”
