Page 14 of Just This Once

And I apparently do fuck guys named Dante.

He grabs the condom and opens it, carefully rolling it down his hard length, cupping his balls as he straddles me, his dark eyes bright, mouth slightly quirked up in the corner. “You don’t know how good you look right now.”

I seriously doubt that, with how I know I flush an unappealing red when I’m hot, but I play along anyway. “Yeah? How good?”

He places his hands on my thighs as he shifts backward, and it’s funny how in only half an hour, he’s taken me from afraid to take my clothes off to teasing him about my nakedness. Maybe it’s because he so obviously doesn’t mind how my breasts point east and west when I’m lying down like this or how I’m not offering to go down on him in return for his efforts.

Nope. He’s completely content. Happy, even.

“Hours wouldn’t be enough. I’d need days to do all the things I want to do to you. I need more than tonight.”

I hope my face doesn’t give away how surprised I am. While this is an indulgence for me, that’sallit is.

He’s practically a kid.

And I have responsibilities. A life. Children.

He may want to do a lot of things, and he can. Being barely out of his twenties, he doesn’t have half of the number of obligations I do. So, while I’m truly flattered, I also live in reality. “I told you. Just this once.”

His frown is fleeting, hisdare mesmile taking overalmost as quickly, but even that millisecond of disappointment settles behind my rib cage, and it takes Dante palming my breast, my nipple caught between his index and middle fingers, to bring me back to the moment. “We’ll see,” he says, then lightly bites a fleshy bit of my stomach. I shriek in amusement, and he shoots me a grin. “You can’t resist me.”

It’s true.

As hard as I tried earlier, I gave in, and I continue to let him have free rein now.

He bends down to press a kiss between my legs once more before leaning up and spitting.

My intake of breath is sharp as he rubs his saliva over my pussy. I’ve never… I wouldn’t…

I exhale in hiccups, shocked and turned on that I like it. And as if he can read my mind, he smirks and spits again, using it as lube, gliding the head of his cock through my soaking-wet flesh.

I never thought I’d like something so obscene, so dirty, but it’s strangely thrilling. Even better when he finally slides into me in one long, slow thrust, the muscles in his chest and abdomen tight, his biceps and shoulders tense as he holds himself above me, watching as he enters me.

He’s thick and deep, and it feels incredible, each drive sending waves of electricity into me, lighting up every nerve ending until I feel like a firework shooting into the sky. I wrap my arms and legs around him, keeping myself tethered to earth, digging my fingernails into his back, and he moans, his face buried in my neck.

In all my previous experience, I’d been complacent. Accepted that not-great was good enough, and now, at forty-two years old, I finally know I should never have settled.Thisis what I deserved.

A man who grunts his pleasure, who speaks soft wordsagainst my collarbone, who gazes down at me with admiration, and who wants me to find my pleasure. Even more than his own.

“You feel so good. Fuck, I can’t stand it,” he murmurs, reaching between us to finger my clit, pausing his thrusts to stroke the already oversensitized bud. All it takes is a pinch, and I’m gone again, another orgasm ripping through me, leaving me boneless and breathless. He follows soon after, his body rigid, his cock pulsing inside me, his breath hot on my neck, his chest damp against mine.

We lie together, our bodies entwined, until we come down from the high, my heart rate slowing to its regular pace, sensation eventually flowing back into my extremities from where it had coiled and exploded at the single point of contact between us.

Dante rolls off me, collapsing onto the bed, throwing his arm over his head with his eyes closed. He appears in no hurry to leave, and I watch him for a moment, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm, his dark hair a mess from my fingers. He’s at ease in himself, exhausted from what we just did, and maybe…blissed out? Because of me? Because of this extraordinary moment we shared.

And yet, I can’t think too hard about how it makes me feel. Howhemakes me feel. That rabbit hole is too narrow and winding, much too unsafe to tread.

The sooner I get rid of him, the sooner I can move on.

I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and dig through my pajama drawer for one of my sleep shirts, long enough to cover all the important bits. When I turn around, I find him focused on me, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Whose shirt is that? The ex-husband’s?”

I absently tug on the black cotton with the white logo forStone Ink in the middle. “It’s a hundred years old. My brother’s.”

He doesn’t reply, except to purse his lips. Before he can ask another question, I snatch his clothes from the floor and toss them at him. “Get dressed.”

“We literally just finished.” He waves at his now-limp dick. “Don’t even have the condom off yet.”

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