"I fucking love your curls, so yes, that seems like a good strategy."
"Are we still talking about the curls on my head, or are we talking about those..." I seductively wondered, taking his hand between us and sliding it under the hem of my dress.
His pupils doubled in size, and a flash of hunger crossed his face. He didn't tug his hand away, and when it reached the soft cotton of my thong underneath my dress, he even pressed a knuckle against the wet fabric. "I really, really like those too," he agreed with a low voice that had my heart and my center palpitating.
"You haven't seen them in nearly three weeks. Don't you want to check and see if they are still to your liking?"
Right this fucking moment, I was very proud of myself for taking the time to wax and trim earlier today. This chocha was in prime condition. Ready to be admired and worshipped.
"I have a prodigious memory, remember? I know the exact shapes, colors, and taste of your cunt, Andrea. I can see it picture-perfect in my head."
He was being heavily flirty, just like I was, and it was making my head spin. My fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, and his knuckle was drawing the lightest, slowest, most agonizing circles on the front of my thong. Our mouths were almost touching but not quite, so only his warm breath with its wine fragrance was fanning over my lips.
"Now you're just bragging," I replied, noticing how affected my voice was by all this.
"I'm only stating facts. Are you pretending you don't know exactly what my cock is like?"
Seeing an opportunity to get what I wanted, I gave him a playful smirk. "No, I don't. I think I need a quick glimpse and taste."
My hands traveled to the front of his pants, where he was erected and dying for my touch. Fuck, I was so deprived of him, I wouldn't even mind keeping it to sucking him off. My lollipop... I might even come by just doing that, deepthroating him to oblivion, bringing him the pleasures we'd been deprived from for so long now. My fingers barely had time to make their way to the opening of his pants and he grabbed my wrists firmly, stopping the torturous ministrations of his knuckle on my aching clit.
"Baby, I swear I'm fine," I whimpered, adamant to at the very least get this.
"Six weeks, Andrea. Doctor's orders."
With my eyes, I pleaded with him to give in, in desperate need of having him in me. Very slowly, he moved forward, as if to grant me a kiss. His course changed at the last moment, and he gave the tip of my nose a peck instead.
"Next question, Walker," he mercilessly declared, moving away from me completely. Fuck, I loved that he was so driven and resilient, but I also hated it right now.
When I picked the next question, my hand was slightly trembling from unsatisfied arousal. I took my wine along with it and downed the little that was left of it in one go. Lex took care of refilling our glasses as I read the next question. "What is a quirky thing about me that you love?"
"I love when you're listening to music and you bob your head and whisper-sing lyrics. You used to do that when we shared my office. I found it slightly annoying at first, but then it grew on me."
"I'm an acquired taste. I like when sometimes you're looking for your glasses, but they are on your head. It's amusing to watch you look around, pat your pockets, and then realize they are right here."
"Are you saying you purposefully watch me look for them and don't say a thing?"
"Maybe..." I admitted, not embarrassed at all. These brief moments where Alexander Coleman looked terribly human, like the rest of us, were all too rare. I wouldn't deprive myself of them.
We answered more questions, and with each kiss we exchanged in between, things got more intense. Every time our lips met, it lasted a little longer, was a little steamier, and ignited me a little more on fire. I was burning for him, inside out, and while he might not take care of me by the end of all this, it was all worth it. We hadn't been this handsy and flirty since my birthday, and I needed it all.
He picked "What do you admire most about your partner?" and I told him I adored that he was Nammota, and that he'd taken risks to try to correct some of the injustice of our world. When I asked it back to him, he told me he loved my forgiving nature, and that while I was a strong and independent woman, he found it commendable that I'd forgive him the way I had.
To the question about what we'd want to do when we retired, we didn't really have anything in mind, as long as we were together. I had the feeling we'd have a very full life, so we would assess when the time came. For the one thing we'd change about ourselves, I suggested bigger boobs for me, to which Lex wholly disagreed. So I settled on having a stronger upper body instead. For that, Lex suggested I could join him when he exercised, so he'd show me what I could do to build up some strength in my arms. His answer for it was that he wished he could be more receptive to people, until I mumbled that the only thing that needed to change about him was his family. He agreed that having better parents would have made a lot of things hella easier for him.
"What's our ideal romantic evening?" I read out loud.
"I think this is nice."
He was kind of right. We were cuddled up on the couch by the fireplace, with good wine, good food, and a beautiful view over Canim Lake at night. "Okay, but with sex afterwards."
"Fair enough. What sexual feature of your partner do you prefer?"
My answer came in a split second. "Your dick."
"How shallow," he pointed out, pretending to be offended.
"It's not like you have that many sexual features. I have more than you. I love your mouth for all the things that come out of it. But sexually, I prefer your dick."
"Makes sense. As you well know, I love your ass. I'll have to try it to know if I prefer it over everything else, though. So I guess I'll go with your pussy."
"How shallow," I teased back.
"No, but really. It's a work of art."
"Hmm, want to try adding some finger painting to it, Picasso?"
"For you, I'd even give tongue painting a go."
Seeing another opportunity to tease him into fucking me, I came close enough to him so we were breathing each other's air. "Prove it."
Before I could kiss him and drag him to the brink of sanity, his hand firmly grabbed my jaw. He stayed right here, so fucking close to me, but not quite. There was something knowing in his eyes, as if he was perfectly aware of the turmoil going on within me. Despite his strong facade, I suspected the same lustful tempest was raging within him.
With his eyes still locked into mine, he darted his tongue out. The wet, velvety touch of it on my parted lips had me moaning his name, and shivers ran all over my skin as he followed the shape of my upper lip, and then did the same on the lower one. His iron-clad hold on my jaw kept me right where he wanted me, and all I could do was pant and endure.
I thought he was done torturing me when he pulled away, but he tilted my face instead to gain access to that sweet spot under my jaw. With his tongue, he painted imaginary lines and swirls, making me so fucking horny I might actually come from only that. My insides were spasming, my legs were trembling, and my breath was short as if we were in the middle of sex.
"Andrea, I can smell how fucking wet you are from here."
"So fucking wet," I whimpered in agreement. Desperate to get closer to him, I moved to straddle one of his legs, half-perched over him. With my aching pussy pressed as it was against the firmness of his thigh, it was only a question of seconds until my arousal leaked through his pants to reach his skin.
"What would you do to have my cock in you right now?" he whispered in my ear before nipping its lobe and sucking on it.
"Anything... Please, Lex..."
"Would you beg for it?"
"Yes!"
His hand found its way to a breast, and he teased the hardened tip in the middle of it, managing despite the fabric of my dress. "Would you get on your knees and implore?"
"Yes! Anything..."
"What a hungry little slut you are... You're so starved for my cock you've lost all dignity."
"Aah! Fuck you, Alexander!" I tried pulling away from him – without much conviction – but he kept me right there, plastered against him.
"I thought you wanted me to fuck you?"
"Not if you're gonna be an asshole about it."
"Alright, I'll be more agreeable." As if to prove he meant it, he laid his lips on my cheekbone, kissing away a tear of frustration I hadn't known was there. "You want some of me in you?"
"You know I do."
"Then ask nicely."
"Please, Lex. Please... I need it."
His hand was still on my jaw, and he used his hold to push me away from him slightly. He then looked at my parted lips with famished eyes. Slowly but firmly, he opened me wider for him. Before I could even begin to see what was coming, he spat into my mouth with imperious assurance. The dollop of saliva landed on my tongue, its warmth feeling like hellfire. It was depraved and sacrilegious. So much so that I might need to find a church and confess in the morning.
As unexpected as it was taboo, the gesture triggered a plethora of different reactions in me. Master Alexander had come out to play, and he was fucking amazing at this.
My response to the dominant gesture was so strong, I released a shaky cry as my insides pulsated, my hips igniting a momentum of their own to grind against his thigh. His spit mixed with mine, the intoxicating taste of him spreading all over my tongue. Shit, I was about to come from him spitting in my mouth. How insane was that?
To my great distress, I didn't orgasm despite the intense quivering of my walls, the moans that came out of me, and the way my entire body writhed against him. I climbed up, nearly reaching it, and then seconds away from finding the sweet release I craved, everything slowly faded away, escaping my grasp.
Trembling from unsatisfied needs, I swallowed what he'd given me, suffering from the most terrible yet formidable kind of ache. I'd been so fucking close. So nearly there that even Lex was confused. "Did you just come?" he asked, incredulous.
"No... But shit, I wish I had. You have no idea how much I want you right now."
"You think I don't?" he asked with a humorless laugh, gazing down at his crotch between us. There on his charcoal pants, toward the tip of the defined shape of his erection, there was an unmistakable stain of colorless liquid. He was wet with precum, just as aroused and tortured as I was.
"Then why aren't we having sex?"
"Because a man who spent two-thirds of his life studying and practicing medicine said six weeks was optimal for your recovery."
"Then how dare you, you sadistic bastard, spit in my mouth and then tell me you won't fuck me hard afterward," I whined, shoving my face in his throat. Shit, had I ever been this horny before? I must have had, but I couldn't remember another time when I'd wanted Lex this fucking much.
"You asked for it nicely, remember?"
"I didn't mean that. I meant your dick."
"I'd ask if you didn't like the gesture, but we both know you really enjoyed it." I could feel the low vibration of his voice on my forehead as he spoke, and I remained there with the upper half of my face hiding against his throat. If I didn't cool down soon, I would spontaneously combust.
"I did," I admitted. "It was wicked and filthy hot. You're a sinful man."
"And you're a sinful woman for loving it so much you almost came."
"Fuck, you're right."
We stayed like this, in the silence surrounding us, with only the fire cracking behind me. Little by little, my body was returning to a more normal state, even though the strain of my denied orgasm kept tugging on my insides. When those six weeks would be over, he better make it so fucking good I passed out.
"Alright, one last card and then we call it a night and go to bed," he offered.
With my closed eyes still pressed on him, I vaguely nodded. His hand kept me against him as he leaned forward to pick our last card of the evening. "It's another wild card. It just says 'Confess something.'"
"I'll confess that I really like your strong-mindedness. It's one of the traits I prefer about you. But sometimes it's really annoying," I said first. I only knew that he chuckled because he shuddered against me, his laugh silent.
"Then I should confess that I'm probably not strong-headed enough to resist you for six weeks."
His admission had me pull away from him like a spring, my alert eyes meeting his indulging ones. Had he just admitted he would cave? Did I, after all, stand a chance to get it my way?
We'd drank one and a half bottles of wine, spent the evening teasing and touching each other, and I was the horniest I'd been in ages. That was all I needed. That small yet essential admission that I could win. Had he really known me, he wouldn't have revealed such a valuable piece of information. Unless he knew exactly what he was doing, and he actually wanted me to ravish him and conquer him despite his firm decision.
I didn't think about it twice, and with my hands framing his face, I dove in for the kill. I kissed him like a madwoman, like a starving being feasting on salvation. I dominated, took, gave, and demanded. Below me, he remained docile, allowing me to lead the pace, to set the tone. His hands were on my ass, kneading the flesh, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. He assisted me when I decided to adjust our position, and I released a moan in his mouth when my core found its place over his hardness.
When I sent my fingers to the collar of his shirt to open the buttons there, he showed the first signs of resistance. "I love you," I whispered between kisses. "I love you so fucking much."
He groaned my name, clearly disapproving of my techniques. "Andrea... One week. One more week and we can do this," he tried to negotiate.
"I want you now. I want you to annihilate me."
"I will... When I fuck you again, I will ravage you. Which is why we need an extra week. Please, baby, seven more days."
It was the first time he was calling me 'baby' in the throes of passion. The third time in total. It sent shivers of delight slithering under my skin. That was not the right way to get me to stop my amorous attentions.
"We'll go slow now. And for the next seven days. And in a week, you can do all that to me," I tried, covering his face with pecks. He grunted my name, still adamant to fight me on this, but I was as relentless as he was.
He was worried for my own sake and I loved him for it, but I was in tune with my body enough to be certain I was ready for this. The wound barely ever hurt anymore, I wasn't as tired as I used to be, and my arm's mobility was even better than it was before, thanks to the physiotherapy.
Eventually, he gave up with a curse, retaking my lips with hunger. In seconds, I sensed him fidgeting at the zipper on my nape, eager to get the black dress off of me. It slid down at once, and Lex's deft fingers moved up again, slipping under the fabric along my shoulders to pull the garment down. Never breaking our kiss, I helped him pass it down my arms, ending up with my chest bared for him, the dress bunched at my waist. Agile hands flew to the mounds we'd just uncovered, and he adroitly teased my pebbled nipples, making me moan his name.
My gestures lacked precision when I moved away to unbutton his shirt, but I wouldn't give up until the man was naked before me in all his glory. It took me a while to perceive that something was wrong, but I suddenly realized he wasn't active anymore. His hands had lowered to his sides, and he wasn't trying to steal more kisses from me. When I looked up to meet his eyes, I found him staring at my scar.
As much as I could, I avoided showing it to him. He had enough guilt and regrets as it was. If I could prevent it, I didn't want him to be reminded of what had happened to me. And given the way he was looking at it right then, with ache and apology veiling his amazing eyes, I'd been right to.
"I'm okay, baby," I reassured him, grazing the side of his troubled face with a gentle hand.
Slowly, he cupped my shoulder and used his thumb to give the scar a caress as light as a butterfly's touch. "Andrea, I... I would feel more comfortable if we waited another week," he insisted.
Only then did I realize that this wasn't only about me. This wasn't about my body being ready to have sex again. It was also about him being emotionally stable enough for it. He had broken when I had, and he needed more time to mend the pieces of him that had shattered. His scars might not be as visible as mine, but they existed nevertheless.
The realization had the effect of a cold shower on me, and all notions of having sex were pushed far in the back of my mind. In my determination to satisfy my needs, I'd been blind to his. Despite the amazing evening we'd spent together, despite the jokes, the flirting, and the teasing, Lex still wasn't ready to resume the physical aspect of our relationship. He needed a little more time, and the least I could do was give it to him.
"Alright, of course," I agreed. I grabbed his jaw and pressed a long and remorseful kiss on his forehead. "We'll wait as long as you need, baby."
He helped me put on the top of my dress again, and before the scar could disappear, he pressed his lips on it, as if he could magically heal it. True love's kiss supposedly healed all wounds, right? When he looked up at me, I could tell he wished the same thing, that he harbored the same silly hopes.
"I love you, freckles."
"I love you, baby."
For a few more minutes, we held one another, basking in our nearness, displaying silent but solid affection and support. His muscular and comforting arms were wrapped around me, and I had mine wrapped around his shoulders, my temple pressed on top of his head. We said nothing, as words had become irrelevant. We were there for one another, and it was all that mattered.
We would be okay. All we needed was a little longer.
And we had all the time in the world.