Sex and Secret

“Gently,” he chided me.

He inserted his fingers in the décolletage and pulled the dress down skillfully. He kneeled behind me and repeated the operation when he got to my hips. His hot breath scorched my skin. I moaned loudly when he kissed the small of my back. He let the dress fall to the floor and spun me around.

The dizziness had nothing to do with the motion and everything to do with the way he seared my skin with his kisses. He started with delicate, almost chaste kisses beyond my bellybutton, which devolved in passionate and sloppy kisses the further down he went.

He hooked his hands in the waistband of my bikini, and pulled them down unceremoniously. I wanted to part my legs, to give him access to what we both wanted, but he didn’t let me. He used two fingers to open my pussy lips, exposing my clit.

“Holy fuck,” I cried out and swayed on my feet when his tongue made contact with my swollen clit.

He flicked his tongue mercilessly until I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head away.

God, he was gorgeous like that, on his knees before me, with his mouth and chin glistening with my wetness. He looked up at me, and his tongue darted over his lips, greedily collecting every last drop.

“You are killing me,” I said.

“Bed?”

There was so much coiled tension in that one husky word, it made me dizzy. I nodded enthusiastically.

*******

I wanted to sprint to bed, but I couldn’t trust my legs. I stepped daintily out of the dress pooled on the floor and bent over to pick it up. With the last remnants of my common sense, I arranged the dress back on its hanger and put it back in its place.

The five dazzling dresses reminded me that time was running out. In a few hours, the wedding guests would arrive on the island. I closed the wardrobe doors firmly, and with them, any thoughts about the next day.

Fred came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. The fabric of his clothes chafed against my skin.

“Why aren’t you naked?” My question ended on a squeal when his fingers dipped between my legs.

His mouth was busily nibbling on my shoulder. The answer came as a vibration through my skin. I had no idea what he said.

I tried to turn around in his arms, to get my hands on him. He obliged, and a few seconds later, his mouth was on my breasts.

“Paaaaul,” I moaned, frustrated that I couldn’t get to his belt or to his shirt.

He raised his head to look at me with big, innocent eyes.

“Yes?”

“You’re still wearing clothes,” I complained.

His voice came out as a purr. “And whose fault is that?”

“I can’t believe you’d blame-”

My outrage died out when he grabbed my wrists, kissed my fingers and brought them to the first button of his shirt.

“Gently… this time,” I whispered, brushing my fingertips along his muscular neck, tracing the length of that muscle, from his jaw down to his collarbone.

“This time,” he murmured, his eyelids lowering over his darkened eyes.

His cock twitched underneath the fabric. I pressed my body harder into him, and a lazy smile spread on his lips in anticipation. My fingers curled into the collar of his shirt.

“But that deal was only for my dress.” I breathed out the words fast and, with the last word, I ripped his shirt open to the waist.

The buttons shot through the room like bullets spraying from a gun. Fred’s eyes snapped open in shock.

“I liked that shirt,” he said.

The snarl in his voice sent a delicious shiver down my spine. Heat curled in my lower belly.

“I’m… sorry?” I said hesitantly, but unrepentantly. “You did say it was my fault you’re still dressed.”

He picked me up and carried me to bed. He lowered me in it so fast, it felt like I was falling.

“As much as I admire your efficiency, I can’t risk you using the same technique for the pants.”

He rolled on top of me and I struggled to get the shirt off him between frantic kisses. He snuck an impatient, skillful hand between us, and his nimble fingers started to work on my core. I spread my legs eagerly. He skated over my clit, along my lips and found his way inside me. At first, he penetrated me with one finger, cautious, merely exploring. Then he added another. He fucked in and out of me

, bringing me to the edge of orgasm.

“God, that feels so good. So good.”

He kept up the rhythm and the first waves came crashing over me. I hadn’t felt anything like this since the last time we were together. My heart was full to the brim with things I wanted to tell him but all I could do was to say his name, over and over again.

There was only one thing that felt better than this. My mind began to settle back to some sort of normality. I reached for his belt, and smiled when he tensed.

“I want you inside me,” I said, unfastening his belt.

“Condom,” he demanded.

“Don’t you carry?” I teased, popping open the button.

He tried to hold back a gasp.

“I didn’t want to presume.”

That was kind of sweet. Not that it would have taken him long to go two doors down the hall to get some from his room.

I shimmied from under him to get to the nightstand. I picked up a condom and offered it to him.

“Handy,” he said. “Are you always so well prepared?”

There was a pinch of insinuation in his tone which bothered me. Over the years, I had wondered more than once what he thought of me for being so forward, for making clear my desire, for the eagerness with which I spread my legs for him. He had no way of knowing he was the only man I had ever wanted with such desperate intensity. He couldn’t know that most men I dated thought I was frigid.

“It’s what’s left from Mitchell,” I shot back.

He froze and stared at me. His eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t identify. I would’ve said it was anger, but I had seen him angry a couple of times and this wasn’t it.

I had only meant to tease him a little, but his reaction surprised me. Even if he didn’t know he had ruined me for all other men, could he really believe that I would sleep with Mitchell one night and we him the next?

“Bad joke. I got them for you.”