Page 36 of Running Into You
I want to ask her to stay the night, but I don’t want to push my luck. So far, I’ve been initiating all the physical stuff and I don’t want to come on too strong. I’m relieved when she settles herself in my lap on the couch. She leans in and kisses me with so much tenderness. I keep my arms settled around her, holding her but not advancing. She shifts her position and I’m instantly hard. Her mouth becomes more insistent, invading mine. She catches my bottom lip between her teeth, and I groan, tightening my arms around her. She rests her forehead against mine, her breathing labored.
“I really want you again, but I’m sore.” She blushes so deeply as she plays with the buttons on my shirt.
“I’ve got a solution for that,” I whisper back, moving her off my lap and setting her down on the couch next to me. I slide off the couch and kneel in front of her, leaning forward to kiss her again. My lips travel down her neck and my hands slide up her thighs, disappearing under the skirt of her dress. I hook my thumbs into her panties, and she lifts herself off the couch a few inches so I can remove them. They’re sheer black silk and I wonder if her bra matches. I slowly push the fabric up and settle myself at her center. When my tongue parts her folds and finds her clit, she thrusts herself closer to me, her hands in my hair holding me in place. I take my time, applying the slightest bit of pressure with my mouth as she moans and rocks her hips against me. When she’s gasping for air, I know she’s close and I add more pressure, sucking her most sensitive spot. She comes quickly, calling my name as her entire body shudders, her hands still in my hair holding me in place. I stay with her until she’s ridden the wave all the way. When she finally relaxes, I move back to sit on the couch. I rearrange her skirt around her knees, and I admire my handiwork. Her hair is messy and her face is flush. Her chest is still rising and falling heavily as she catches her breath, and her eyes look like they’re unable to focus.
“That was a great idea.” She breathes with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Time for bed?” I ask, standing in front of her. I offer my hands to her to help her up, but instead of taking them, she moves herself closer to the edge of the couch. Her delicate hands start to unbutton my jeans. “You don’t have to, Betts,” I tell her.
“I want to.” She’s looking up at me with those huge green eyes as her delicate hands pull my jeans down just far enough for my cock to spring out. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she slides a hand around the base and guides the tip into her mouth. I groan her name as I watch her take me deeper, her mouth and hand working as a team. She continues stroking and sucking me over and over until I can’t take it anymore.
“Tell me where to come,” I rasp, and she answers by quickening her pace and tightening her grip. “Betty… baby.” I come so hard in her mouth I barely keep myself upright. When she finally releases me, I tuck my still hard dick back into my pants and collapse on the couch next to her, pulling her down to lay against me. We’re quiet for a while, holding on to one another as our heart rates regulate.
“Do you want me to go home?” she asks sleepily.
“No, I don’t.”
We walk to my bedroom, and I give her one of my T-shirts to sleep in. It swims on her and she looks so adorable in it with her messed up hair. She snuggles into me in bed and within minutes her breathing has slowed. The last thing I remember thinking is that I can’t wait to see her in the morning.
Chapter 21
Betty
The charcuterie board I’ve just finished assembling is a thing of beauty. I’ve balanced the savory, salty, and sweet components perfectly. The thought of tearing it apart bit by bit almost makes me sad, but I’m starving, so I’m sure I’ll get over it. I start nibbling on some of the leftovers that didn’t make it onto the board. It was a whirlwind week and I’m looking forward to spending the evening with Maggie.
Things were busy at work. Several new accounts had been acquired and my week was filled with planning meetings and client calls. I ran into Andrew and Sara a few times in the break room and we’d chatted about work and running. When Andrew stopped by my office Tuesday afternoon to ask if I had any plans for the coming weekend, my heart sank. Between work, running, and not-dating Josh, my calendar was suddenly booked, and I didn’t want to lead him on. I told him that I had a great time with him on Friday, but that I think we should just be friends. He didn’t seem surprised at all, though maybe a bit disappointed. He seems like a good guy, but I’m sure after last week that I only feel friendship for him.
In a shocking turn of events, I’m enjoying running! I look forward to my run days and I’ve been doing light yoga on my off days. My body is still getting used to being forced out of bed at 5:15 a.m. and I don’t know if I would be able to make myself get up if someone wasn’t waiting for me. But someone is waiting for me, and what a someone. Josh is a great trainer; both patient and motivating. He keeps me moving; I keep him laughing and I feel good after every run.
Even on Wednesday’s run, which was particularly challenging. It was pouring rain when I got up and I assumed we would postpone, but then Josh was at my door wearing a garbage bag. A literal garbage bag. And he had a matching one for me. I hated every second of the run and complained the entire time. I thought it was ridiculous that we went ahead with it when any other sporting event would have been canceled due to the weather. I couldn’t believe it when we saw other people out running. I mean, what is wrong with people? When we were done, I stomped up to my apartment, water sloshing in my shoes. I practically closed the door in Josh’s face and then proceeded to strip my dripping clothes off me and walked naked to the shower. The hot shower melted away my anger as it warmed me from head to toe and I went from being pissed off to proud of myself for getting through it. Even if I got through it sulking like a spoiled toddler. I went to text Josh as soon as I was out of the shower and saw I had a text from him.
Josh:Feeling better?
Me:Much. I’m sorry.
Josh:It’s okay. You’re cute when you’re cranky.
We’d seen each other every evening this week, but we stayed at our own apartments. Having him beside me all night when I have to get up early the next day is a bad idea, as we are still having trouble keeping our hands off each other. I didn’t think it was possible for my attraction toward him to grow, but it had. The moment he walks into a room, I want to climb him like a tree. We’d already gone through the box of condoms that had lain dormant in my bedside table for more than a year.
Maggie knocks at six thirty on the dot, and I skip to answer it. She’s dressed in lavender sweatpants and a matching cropped sweatshirt and is holding a bottle of wine in each hand.
“Today I waxed an entire swim team from their necks down,” she says, raising both bottles. “So, I’m not sure what you’re going to drink.”
“Do you want to funnel the first one for maximum efficiency?” I ask, inviting her in. She drops her purse and collapses on the couch.
“No, a glass will be fine.” She laughs. “It wasn’t that bad, to be honest. Just… so much hair!” She shudders at the memory, then brightens. “They loved my products though and bought a ton of soap! The chlorine does a number on their skin.”
“Nice! That reminds me, can I get another bar of the Honey Oat Bar for Josh? He loves it,” I say, grabbing the charcuterie board from the kitchen. I proudly place it on the coffee table in front of her and look expectantly at her, but she’s staring at me with an amused expression instead of admiring my masterpiece.
“He’s tried my soap, has he?” she asks innocently and I can’t believe my error. I practically wrote “Josh has showered with me” on a banner and hung it from the ceiling.
“He has, and he loves it,” I say, deciding not to deny or confirm anything. “Now please appreciate the beautifully arranged fats and carbohydrates I have prepared for us.”
“Oooooh!” Maggie clasps her hands in front of her. “It’s so pretty!”
“That’s more like it,” I mumble and take my place next to her on the couch. The wine is poured and we cheers to making it through the week.
“I can’t believe you’re still running,” Maggie admits as she layers brie and prosciutto on a cracker.
