SEXY TIMES Kitty
M
iles crosses the room and takes my face in his hands. He slants his mouth over mine in a searing kiss I feel from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. I clutch his shoulders and lean into him, the prominent bulge behind his fly pressing against my stomach. It’s like there’s a magnetic force at work, drawing our bottom halves toward each other.
I allow my hands to drift down his arms, squeezing his biceps on the way. When I reach his waist, I skim along his beltline. It takes real willpower to make room between our business parts, but the only way to get to the goods is to get him out of his pants.
I flick open the clasp of his belt, then pop the button and drag down his zipper. Miles groans when I slip a finger inside his boxer shorts.
His hands are still cupping my face. He backs up enough that his face is no longer blurry. “Should we move to the bed?”
“We could get each other naked first?” It’s sort of a question.
“Unless you think it would be better to get naked after we’re on the bed.”
“All the way naked?” he asks.
“That’s usually the best way to be if we’re going to have sex. Unless that’s not the plan?” I wish I could stop my mouth from saying things that could embarrass me, especially at times like this. “It doesn’t have to be the plan. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Or moving too fast.”
“You’re not. Moving too fast. I just . . . didn’t want to make assumptions, because you know how that goes. It makes an ass out of you and me. I’m more than happy to get totally naked with you, right here or on the bed. Either way. I’m in.” Miles pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and tosses it across the room. It lands on the comforter with a soft thud. “We’ll need that, though.”
“Good call.” I push his pants over his hips, and they slide down his legs, pooling at his feet. Miles bends to get them off the rest of the way and removes his socks as well, which I appreciate because socks and sex aren’t a great combination.
While he hops around on one foot, trying to free his left leg of his pants and lose his other sock, I shuck my pants and take off my socks too. And then we’re both in our underwear. Miles’s has a team print on them. Mine match the bra that’s still on the floor in the living room. I don’t know what possessed me to wear a sexy bra and underwear set today, but when I woke up this morning, I bypassed all my cotton comfort and went straight for my good stuff.
I’m grateful to the sex gods for that decision. Miles’s gaze skims over my curves. “You are sexy times a million, Kitty.”
I feel it. Especially with the way he’s looking at me.
Miles closes the gap between us and drops his head, kissing me softly. “Wanna make out with me before we lose the underwear?”
“Yes, please.”
He laces his fingers with mine and guides me to the bed, then rushes to move his wallet to the nightstand and pulls the covers back. I climb up onto the bed and he follows. We lie down next to each other, and I hook a leg over his hip, pulling him closer. And we do exactly what he suggested. We kiss and touch, an unhurried, gentle exploration.
I pull him on top of me and wrap my legs around his waist so we can grind against each other. His lips move along my neck and over my collarbones. And then he starts to go lower. He stops at my breasts, teasing my nipples with tongue and teeth, before he goes lower, pressing a kiss above my navel.
The fingers of his free hand trail down my side and over my hip. He follows the edge of my panties down to the junction of my thigh. He slips one finger under the fabric skimming my sex and at the same time he kisses my inner thigh. I suck in a breath when he brushes over sensitive skin.
He lifts his head, eyes hooded with lust. “I want to put my mouth on you, Kitty.”
“I would really, really love that.”
One side of his mouth curves up in a devilish smile as he
shifts so he’s kneeling between my thighs, fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties at either hip.
I lift my butt, making it easier for him, and he drags them down my legs, tossing them over the edge of the bed.
And then he settles between my thighs and drops his head, teasing me with his lips and tongue. Every time I moan or gasp or sigh, it’s met with a lamenting meow on the other side of the door, followed by the horrid sound of nails dragging down the wood surface.
Miles lifts his head and calls out. “Dude, you are killing the mood here!”
“Maybe we should put on some music? Drown him out?” I suggest.
“Good call. My phone is in my pants.” Miles hops off the bed and grabs his pants, shaking them until his phone drops onto the floor. He quickly cues up a playlist, turns the volume up as high as it will go, and sets it on the nightstand.
I meet him at the edge of the bed and rise on my knees so we’re eye to eye, and I can kiss him. I run my hand down his chest and slip my hand down the front of his boxers. Miles groans into my mouth as I wrap my fingers around his length and stroke him a few times. I reach across the comforter and find his wallet, which I fold his hand around.
“I want you,” I tell him between kisses.
“I’m right there with you.”
We rid him of his boxers, and he climbs back up on the bed with me. He dumps the contents of his wallet on the comforter in
his search for the condom. There are several free coffee coupons from a local café, a couple of business cards, some cash, and a single condom. I pluck it from the mess and tear it open, make sure I have it the right way around, and then roll it down his length.
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him down on top of me. His erection glides along sensitive skin and nudges my entrance. Miles lifts his head, and our eyes meet as his hips sink down and I tip mine up. We both exhale on a groan and say, “You feel so good,” at the same time.
Our smiles mirror each other. Then we chuckle and sigh as the laughter makes all my parts below the waist clench and his erection kicks inside of me. He lowers his mouth to mine, and I wrap my arms and legs around him. And then we start to move, finding a rhythm, learning each other in a new way.
His phone blares from the nightstand beside us, “We Are the Champions” crooning loudly as Miles moves over me.
“Oh shit, this is my workout playlist,” he pants.
“It’s very motivating.” Not exactly romantic, but then I’m not sure it would be effective if the songs were slower and quieter. In the pause between songs, Prince Francis can be heard yowling on the other side of the door. But as soon as the next song starts, it drowns him out. My moans and words of encouragement are also helpful in drowning out Prince Francis’s lamenting.
Despite the distractions, I still manage to keep most of my attention on Miles. It’s not that difficult. His gorgeous face is a mask of desire, and he keeps whispering hot things against my lips, that he loves the way I taste and can’t wait to put his mouth
on me again, that he can’t get enough of my moans, and that he thinks I’m the sexiest woman on the face of the earth.
When we can no longer keep our lips connected, he pushes up on one arm and his eyes lock on mine. “I’d really like to make you come.”
“That would be amazing, but uh, I’ve never actually had an orgasm during sex before, so I’m not sure it’s possible.” If my cheeks weren’t already flushed with exertion and desire, they would be flushed with embarrassment. “Now was probably not the best time to admit that.”
He holds himself above me. It’s impressive the way he can keep rolling his hips while having yet another semi-awkward conversation, this time in the middle of sex. “Never?”
I shake my head. I’ve been close before, but my previous partners reached the end before I could.
He makes a sound, sort of like a
huh
and a
hmm
, and then folds back on his knees. “How flexible are you?” His hands are on my waist now, and he’s still thrusting, slower now, though. One hand moves between my thighs and his thumb brushes over my bingo button. I bow up off the bed, not expecting the direct contact or the intense zing below the waist.
“Oh my God. Can you do that again?” I groan.
“Of course.” And he does.
And again I bow up off the bed.
“Fairly. I’m fairly flexible. I go to yoga with my sister, but only when she drags me and there are promises of a greasy breakfast afterward.”
He does that thing with his thumb again at the same time as he thrusts and my eyes roll up. “I’m going to try something. Just let me know if it’s not working for you, okay?”
“Okay?” It’s a question more than anything, but I’m halfway to an orgasm at this point, and if he can make the impossible happen, I might just want to keep him forever. That part stays in my head thankfully.
He unhooks my feet from around his waist and lifts my legs so my heels are resting on his shoulders. He rises so he’s on his knees, then grips my thighs and starts to lift and lower me, not a lot, but it’s enough that he hits that spot inside with every careful shift.
And then he drops back down and leans forward. My knees hit my chest, and there is literally nothing I can do to help now, since I’m basically folded in half under him.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“It feels better than okay,” I tell him. “Way better, like, on a scale of not good to unbelievable it’s an unbelievable times at least ten, maybe more.”
The corner of his mouth curves up in a delicious smirk. “Good. It’s supposed to.” He starts to move again, and I don’t know what it is about this position, but it absolutely does the trick. One second I’m moaning about how good it feels and how he’s hitting the spot and then I’m gripping his forearms and screaming his name as an orgasm rolls through me. And not just any kind of orgasm, but one that steals my vision and makes the world turn black and white and starry before color returns in a vibrant burst.
He’s wearing the sexiest victory grin as he unpretzels me and folds back on his knees, lifting me right along with him so I’m sitting on his thighs. I grip his shoulders as he bounces me in his lap. It’s all I can do since I’m orgasm boneless and incapable of helping him. His expression is fierce and a bead of sweat runs down his temple.
“So fucking good,” he groans, pulling me down one last time as his eyes fall closed and his jaw clenches. He shudders and his hips jerk and then he falls backward on the mattress, taking me with him.
We lie there for a minute, panting and sated. “The Eye of the Tiger” blasts from his phone on the nightstand. It ends and Prince Francis’s meows fill the silence until the next song starts.
“Should I open the door now?” My cheek is still resting on his chest, and his heart is beating hard and heavy.
His fingers trail up and down my spine. “I think we have to if we want him to stop, but I’m not inclined to move.”
“Me either,” I admit. “But you’re right about him being a mood killer and this not being the best sex playlist.” I lift my head and prop my chin on his chest. I can see his nipple out of the corner of my eye. Miles’s chin is a few inches away, and I note a small scar. I reach up and drag my finger along the pale line. “Hockey accident?”
He smiles. “Nope. I fell into the coffee table when I was three. I tripped over one of my own toys. Never left my crap on the floor after that since I needed seven stitches.”
“Do you remember getting them?”
“Vaguely. I remember how much it bled more.”
“That makes sense.”
Prince Francis drags his nails across the door and starts up with the yowling again. The song blasting from Miles’s phone seems like it might be appropriate for cooldown.
I push up off his chest. “I need the noise to stop. Give me a second.”
Miles tries to keep me from rolling off him, but he seems just as boneless as me. My feet hit the floor, and I smile when he whistles and says, “You are effortlessly sexy, Kitty.”
I throw open the bedroom door. Prince Francis has one paw raised in the air, mouth wide open as if he’s about to yowl. He brings his paw to his mouth and licks between his toes. “Can I help you?” I ask.
He makes a noise like a harrumph and then trots off down the hall, tail flicking irritably. When I turn around, I notice that the music has stopped.
I leave the door ajar and consider beelining it across the room and jumping right back into bed, but Miles turns around and now we’re facing each other. Still naked. I don’t know what to do with my hands, or the rest of me.
Luckily, Miles seems to know how to manage himself when he’s buck naked after sex. He crosses the room and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. I tip my head up and he bends until our lips connect. It’s a brief kiss, soft, gentle.
“Hey.” He brushes the end of his nose against mine.
“Hey.”
“Wanna cuddle now that all the noise has stopped?” He inclines his head to the bed.
“Sure. Okay. Yes.”
He keeps his arm around me, and we stutter-step our way back to the bed, Miles dropping kisses along my shoulder and up the side of my neck as we go. When we reach the bed, he dives onto it and stretches out an arm, patting the pillow beside him. I lie next to him, and he pulls the covers over us, then turns on his side, and I do the same. He runs a hand down my side and shimmies closer, pulling my leg over his hip.
“That’s better,” he murmurs. His hand disappears from my hip and then strokes gently from my temple to my chin while grinning.
“What’s this about?” I poke the dimple in his cheek.
“I gave you an orgasm.”
I blush. “You did. And I was very loud about letting you know how much I appreciated it.”
His grin widens. “I appreciate your appreciation.”
“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
He lifts a shoulder and holds his fingers an inch apart. “Maybe a little.”
I splay his hand out and press my palm to his. “Or a lot.” I lace my fingers with his. “That was my first ever sex-gasm. It’s worth being proud of. Hopefully it wasn’t a one-time thing. I mean . . . unless this was just a tonight thing. I don’t have expectations.” But even as I say it, I’m not sure it’s entirely true. We’re supposed to go on a date, and now I’ve already messed it up by
having sex with him before we’ve had a civilized dinner together. And he was vulnerable tonight and emotional. “Oh my God!” I slap a palm over my mouth.
Miles’s brow pulls together in a furrow. “What’s wrong?”
“I just took advantage of you.”
“What?”
I sit up and unintentionally flash him my boobs, then pull my knees up to my chin along with the covers. “You were vulnerable and emotional after today, which totally makes sense considering everything that’s going on, and instead of just being there for you, I took advantage of the situation and you.” I flail a hand in his direction and almost lose my hold on the covers. “It’s bad enough that I invited you to the bar as a shield for the alien studies weirdo and then attacked you with my lips. Now I’ve attacked you with my vagina too!” This is just so mortifying.
“I already asked you on a date, Kitty. And you weren’t taking advantage of me. I told you before, you can attack me with your lips whenever you want. And I’m the one who turned you into a human pretzel and then tried to pound a hole through the mattress. There was no taking advantage of anyone.”
“How’d you get so good at the pretzel move?” I cover my eyes with my palm again. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer that. I think maybe I lost a few brain cells with that orgasm. Everything went black and white and starry for a second. Maybe I lost consciousness? Why can’t I stop talking?”
“Hey.” Miles’s hand covers mine, and he gently pulls it away from my face.
My eyes are still closed, though.
He tucks a finger under my chin. “Kitty.”
His lips touch mine. Brief. Soft.
“Can you open your eyes for me?”
I crack one lid.
He’s close, close enough that I can feel his breath against my lips. “I love it when your thoughts come out of your head unfiltered. And I read about the pretzel move in a magazine back when I was in college. It was a real game changer. I’m totally happy to try it again and make sure it works more than once.”
“Does that mean you’re staying here tonight?”
“I’d like to, if you’d like me to.”
“I would like that. And I would love to see if the pretzel move works more than once.”
Miles grins. “That’s not my only move.”
“You have more?”
“I do.” His smile turns salacious. “You want me to show you another one?”