Page 20 of Homestead

He takes a couple of loud breaths. “We don’t have to… to do nothin’ tonight if you don’t want. If you’re not ready, I mean.”

I’m relieved one of us finally brought up the topic. “I’m ready.”

He turns around to face me, bending one of his legs onto the bed. “You are?”

I nod. “I want to. Do this. All the way.”

“Okay.” His face changes almost imperceptibly, but I don’t know him well enough yet to read it.

“As long as you want to too.”

“Course I do.” He gives me one of those disapproving frowns. “Told you you’re real pretty.”

“Oh. Okay.” I would have assumed there would be more to the decision to have sex than whether he found me attractive, but maybe not. Men are different after all. Maybe it’s really that simple for him.

It might make things easier. If my body is the most important thing to him, maybe I don’t have to try to impress him with a lot of deep connection or practiced techniques.

“Okay.” He reaches over to turn off the lantern on the bedside table, casting the room into darkness.

That will make it easier too. That the room is dark.

He stretches out on his side of the bed. I can feel his eyes on me although I can’t clearly see them. “How you wanna do this?”

My heart is pounding like a jackhammer. My pulse is throbbing in my eyes and ears. My mind is a complete blank, and the only thing I can think of—theonlything—is Paula’s advice to me.

Men like blow jobs.

So give him a lot.

“Oh,” I say, leaning over so I can touch his chest. It’s warm. Coarse. Nice to feel. “I can…”

I’m too embarrassed to say it, but I feel my way down his body until I reach his underwear. I brush my hand against the front of them and realize his penis is already starting to get hard.

I can feel it growing as I rub gently through the fabric.

Jimmy sucks in a harsh breath. His whole body tenses up. “We can… You don’t gotta… We can…” He can’t get a sentence out because I’ve pulled down his boxers to his thighs and wrapped my fingers around his cock.

I squeeze—still gentle since I don’t actually know how much force is appropriate for this particular pursuit—and he gets even harder, bigger.

It’s oddly mesmerizing. Gratifying.

When he’s as big as he apparently gets, I lean down and slide my lips across the tip of his shaft. He smells like soap—not the pear-scented kind I used but something more basic—and there’s just a hint of his normal, natural scent beneath it.

He makes a choked sound, and his hips come up off the bed.

I lift my head to look at him, wanting to make sure his reaction is a good one. My eyes have adapted to the dark, so I can see him better. Not the details, but the outline of his face and body and the general location of his features.

He’s staring at me fixedly. “Chloe, we can do somethin’ else first if you want.”

“You don’t like it?” Maybe I’ve already messed up. On the very first night. Darn it.

“What? You think I don’t like it? You out of your mind? Course I like it. But we can start slower. Might be easier for you. I can… I can do some stuff for you.”

I shrug away his offer since the most important thing for me is that he said he likes it.

I lean down again, and this time I take more of him in my mouth.

My only knowledge of male anatomy comes from what I saw in movies and on the internet before Impact and from the romance novels I’ve read.

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