Page 64 of The Good Guy on My Porch

He laughed, and then he stood with me wrapped around him and carried me upstairs to his bedroom. He set me carefully on the edge of his bed and dropped to his knees, awe on every line of his face. He unbuttoned my pants and helped me out of them, but he left my panties on. I was glad I’d chosen to wear my cute pink and purple lacy ones. He pressed kisses along the inside of both thighs and slow kisses along the edges of my panties. What was with this guy and delayed pleasure? Was he trying to drive me insane?

“Oscar. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please get down to it already.”

He chuckled, slid my panties to the side and slid his tongue down the center of me. That touch, after so long a wait, nearly made me leap off the bed it felt so good. I gripped the comforter in my fists and held on, prepared for him to continue, but he sat back. “What?”

He didn’t answer, he slid my panties off, and then he attacked me like a starving man. The sensations were overwhelming, his tongue and his mouth and his fingers. All worked me to the point of absolute bliss and then pushed me over the edge with an orgasm that made me scream with pleasure.

I wasn’t a quiet lover, but no man had ever made me scream. Maybe there was something to his delayed pleasure technique, I thought as I lay there a limp, quivering blob of pleasure.

He stood and looked down at me, his smile smug. “Nope, this is definitely my favorite look.”

He dropped down next to me, still in his jeans. He pressed soft kisses to my neck and played with my nipples, causing shocks of pleasure to jolt through me.

“Why aren’t you naked?” I asked.

“Trying to be a gentleman.”

I rolled my head to the side and glared at him. “Quit being a gentleman. I’m not in the mood for it.”

His grin made something pinch in my chest. Damn it, I really, really liked this guy. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You naked and inside me.”

Somehow, his gaze grew even more heated. He stood and took off his jeans and boxers, revealing his perfect body in all its bare glory. I wanted to taste every inch of him and have him inside me in every position. He produced a condom from a dresser drawer and rolled it on his hard length. Damn. I was pretty sure I’d picture this moment, his hands on himself, his focus on me, his body bare, every time I looked at him or thought of him from now on.

My only problem was, I couldn’t decide how I wanted him. I loved all the positions and all the angles. I just loved sex in general. It was fun and toe-curlingly pleasurable and all the good things.

He stepped to the edge of the bed. “Does a gentleman ask how you want it? Or does he tell you how he wants it?”

I grinned. “Tonight? The gentleman demands how he wants it and the lady will protest if she doesn’t agree.”

He climbed onto the bed, but sat up against the headboard. “I want you to straddle me, like you did on the couch, so I can see your face, can see everything you’re feeling.”

I climbed onto his lap and lowered myself onto him. He closed his eyes and breathed out with pleasure as I slid onto him, inch by slow inch. Once I was seated all the way on him, his eyes opened and he watched my face as I began to move, rocking myself to another orgasm in record time. He watched me and the lust and need on his face was the sexiest thing I’d seen in maybe ever. “Again,” he said, when I came down from the high.

“What?” Orgasms made me dense.

“Make yourself come again.”

“I’m not sure I can. Two in one night is already pushing my limit.”

“I’m in no hurry,” he said. “Do whatever you have to do to get there again.”

I did that and more, running my hands over myself, giving him a show as much as working myself toward another orgasm. In the end it was the look on his face and his tight grip on my hips that brought me over the edge again. He insisted on a fourth orgasm before he reached his own climax, his face twisting with pure pleasure.

After he disposed of the condom, he came back to bed and wrapped himself around me, pulling the blankets over us. “Stay with me, tonight,” he said.

I should have gotten up and left, because I knew how quickly I could get used to sleeping in his arms, how much it would hurt when it ended. But I stayed, because I didn’t have the strength to leave, to crawl away from his warm body and the safety I felt with him wrapped around me.

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