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“You don’t hear me arguing, do you.”
“I’m growing impatient, Jason.” She was bossy and demanding and smart—a woman who knew what she wanted.
He held his hand just above her pussy. “Do you believe me when I say you’re beautiful?”
“What happens if I say no?”
“Well, probably the same thing as if you say yes, but I’ll be a little bit sadder.” Her voice was teasing, but he was completely serious.
She moved her head enough to look at him. “Well, I don’t want you to be sad. And I like that you think I’m beautiful. So yes, I believe you.”
A completely Marsie answer. She couldn’t give a yes or no without a reason. “Good.” Then he leaned forward again and began to lick.
Her neatly trimmed hair prickled at his chin as his tongue explored her folds. He traveled around lightly at first, getting to know her smells, her movements and her noises. One hand grasped at his shoulder, and he must have hit a good spot because he could feel her nails digging into his skin. She must be using her other hand to brace herself.
“Like it?” he asked, blowing lightly on the inside of her thighs.
She put her hands on his head and pulled his mouth back to her pussy. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a chuckle that made her shiver.
With her hand clinging to his head, he licked until her breath slowed, then got faster and faster until it caught and she came with an exaltation to God. He must have done well, because it felt like her bones melted against him.
He kissed the inside of one thigh. Then the other. Then he took the hand resting on the top of his head in his hand, as he stood, and pulled her against him. He kissed her hard. “Congratulations on your grant. Any other time you want to celebrate, you let me know.”
“I’ll be able to say something clever. Very soon.” She was limp against him. He had done a very good job.
She roused herself enough to unbutton his pants and take his cock in her hand. The touch of her skin on his was enough. After a couple strokes, he came in a grunt. In her hand. Like a teenager.
“Next time, I’ll last longer, I promise.”
“I don’t think I will,” she said with a giggle. “It’s probably for the best. Unless you have a condom?”
“No, but I will next time. I’ve got lots of plans for next time.”
“You’ve said next time a couple of times.”
He smoothed his hand against her shoulder. “That’s because I’m not done with you. And I hope you’re not done with me.”
She smoothed down her skirt, then touched him again.
Spark.
“I’d only thought as far as ‘celebration’,” she said. Her voice was small, and only when she turned to look for her panties did it occur to him that something was wrong.
* * *
NEXT TIME.
His words clanged in her head, hard, loud and discordant. She wanted next time and the wanting scared the shit out of her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JASON’S SEX-DEPLETED MIND was slow to respond. In fact, it took him an embarrassingly long to time to realize that, for the first time since he’d known Marsie, there was no sheen of confidence in her eyes. To his surprise and horror, she stood, holding her panties in her hand and looking…scared.
He came to attention like he had been struck with a lightning bolt, each formerly relaxed cell in his body alert with danger. “God, Marsie, what’s wrong?”
Even though life was slowly entering her eyes again, she still looked like shit warmed over. Not like a woman who’d just had the best orgasm of her life. He was no longer horrified; he was terrified.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No.” She gave her head a quick shake. “No. You were great. Really. You, uh, know your way around.”
“Then why do you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here, with me?” It was the kindest way he could think to phrase it.
“I should go home,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Marsie, stay and talk to me,” he pleaded. Only when he took a step forward and his pants slipped off his ass did he realize that they were still undone.
“Um… I’m not ready to do that.”
