LoveSexSpumoni Read online

  “You want to get naked?”

  “I want to get naked with you all the time. Besides, I’m having trouble controlling myself right now and I don’t want to tear your dress.” He flicked his thumb across my nipple again and shivers rippled through my body.

  I stood and started to strip, hating to leave his side, but loving the hungry light in his eyes as he watched me. I stepped out of my dress, then glanced to my left. The hook he’d mentioned was just a few feet away. I walked over and hung the gown, then peeled off my slip and panties all at once and laid them on the rail. Then I turned back to him, wondering what I looked like, standing in the faint moonlight, nude except for a pair of silver platform sandals. I didn’t have to wonder for long—he surged to his feet and closed the distance between us in two powerful strides, crushing me to him and devouring my lips like he was starving and I was the very thing he craved. The weave of his suit jacket chafed against my breasts, one strong hand pressed tight against the small of my back, and he slipped the other between our bodies and between my thighs.

  Electricity ran through me as his fingers found the aching bud at my core and I gasped for air as tiny shocks sparked across my skin. Talking about my fantasies had been highly effective foreplay and I was so ready I could hardly stay upright. I just wanted to feel him inside, filling me, stretching me, pounding into me like he couldn’t get enough. He read my body as always and started to shrug out of his jacket, but I stopped him, too eager to wait for him to shed his three-piece finery.

  “Leave it for now,” I said. “I want you right this minute and there’s something very naughty about getting fucked by a man in a designer suit while I’m stark naked.”

  “Naughty seems to be the theme of the night,” he growled, reaching for his fly. “Turn around and bend over.”

  His voice was low and commanding, and a thrill of anticipation ripped through me. Bend over? As in assume the position? Oh my God. He was going to go at it right now, take the fantasy out of my hands and bring it to life just like I’d half-hoped he would. Of course he was. He knew me so well, could practically read my mind. Of course he’d been able to tell how much I wanted to try it out—and how I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it outright. Sex in public was about to become spanking and sex in public.

  My mouth went dry and my pussy went wet and my heart beat nearly out of my chest. I turned and leaned over, grasping the smooth wooden railing with shaking hands. It wasn’t how I’d pictured, but it would work. Private enough for sex was surely private enough for everything else we had in mind and, while danger of discovery was part of the appeal of the former, I most definitely didn’t want to be caught in the midst of my deepest, darkest fantasy. That was why I’d always pictured us in the seclusion of his apartment or mine.

  But this would work. It could happen. And then we’d walk back into the wedding and I could bury myself in conversation with strangers if the emotional intensity became overwhelming. Actually, that was perfect, less risky. And I might never see the gazebo again, but if we waited, I’d probably think about it every time I sat on his couch. Honestly, now that we’d talked it all through, the frightening part wasn’t so much the act itself. It was seeing the look in his eyes afterward—and facing my own reflection in the mirror.

  I bent over further, ready to welcome the sting of his hand on my ass. The night air blew across my cheeks and they tingled as though he’d already begun. But he hadn’t and I couldn’t wait much longer. The anticipation was killing me and I just wanted to get it over with. But wait, that wasn’t right. If I was just trying to rush through it, maybe I didn’t really want it after all. Oh God, what was I going to do? I began to straighten up and call the whole thing off, but he settled his palm on my hip, shooting hot spikes of electricity up my spine and down my thighs. Before I could even gasp, the tip of his cock pushed into my pussy, sliding all the way in with his first forceful thrust.

  For a split second I was relieved, reprieved. Then disappointment washed over me, unexpected and overpowering. It blocked out the sense of rightness and elation that normally accompanied our lovemaking and confused me beyond explanation. And on its heels came the horror at my own response and the chilling fear that we’d somehow lost the magic. He hadn’t read me, hadn’t sensed my need, hadn’t realized how important and urgent the scenario was for me. Maybe we weren’t as connected as I’d always thought. But then how could I expect him to know my feelings when I couldn’t even sort them out myself?

  “Jesus, you’re so wet,” he gasped, his voice reaching out to forge the emotional connection that made the physical so perfect.

  He was so into the moment I could feel it in my bones, but I couldn’t respond, couldn’t even moan. His cock pounded into me, invading me with mingled command and appeal, and he stroked my back with eager hands, sending shock waves of pleasure across my skin. But I couldn’t focus on the sensations coursing through my body, couldn’t push past my mounting alarm to recapture the heated want I’d felt just a few moments before. How could I get so hung up on a fantasy that I couldn’t enjoy real-life sex, couldn’t return the passion of the man I’d come to love? Because I did love him and he loved me. I knew that without question. My momentary panic had been absurd, a product of my unfortunate tendency to overthink things. The issue wasn’t the relationship or his inability to read my mind, it was the fantasy itself.

  Or was the problem actually not the fantasy, but my inability to face it honestly? Because despite his unassailable logic and calm reassurance, it still felt shameful and somehow weak and I was embarrassed to admit, even to myself, how much I wanted it. When he exploded into me with a rough cry a few minutes later, I was still wandering around in my thoughts, disconnected from my body—and from him—though tension rippled through me, begging for release. His movements gradually slowed, then stopped completely. When he turned me to face him, I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “What’s going on Gabs? You felt a million miles away just then.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, just tell me what happened. You were as ready as I was and then all of a sudden you disappeared. That’s never happened before.” Concern tinged his voice and prodded my heart.

  Open, honest, say-anything relationship, remember? That was what I wanted, but I was the one chickening out. I sighed and stared at the buttons on his shirt, then opened my mouth and let the truth out in a rush, my face growing steadily redder as I babbled.

  “I started thinking about what we were talking about a little while ago and I couldn’t get the image out of my head and I was ready and I am ready and I want you so badly my whole body aches, but I just couldn’t focus and I’m so embarrassed I kind of want to cry except then I’d get mascara all over your shirt and there’s just no way to explain that to your mother.”

  “Whoa, hang on, sweetheart. I don’t want a fantasy to come between us. There’s nothing in the world that says we have to carry through with it—tonight or ever.”

  “But I think I might want to,” I whispered back. “Tonight, I mean. I think I might…” I let out a shaky breath and met his eyes. “Need to.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, then stroked my cheek in a gesture so loving it made my heart ache. “I see.”

  And I was pretty sure he did.

  “Tell you what,” he said, his tone gentle. “When we get back inside, I’ll hang my jacket over the back of my chair. When we get ready to leave, if I find a pair of white lace panties in my pocket, I’ll know it’s what you want. If not, no big deal. We go home and find other ways to occupy ourselves.”

  I shivered and nodded, grateful for such an inventive solution. He lowered his lips to mine again and, freed from the burden of asking him outright, I relaxed at last, twining my fingers into his dark hair and kissing him with all the passion in my soul. Desire stirred inside me again and this time every atom of my body focused on Geoff, on the way he held me and the way his broad chest felt beneath my palms. I
eased the jacket from his shoulders and he followed my lead, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie.

  “Can we try it again?” I murmured against his lips.

  “Always,” he assured me, “but maybe a little bit differently this time.”

  He stepped out of our embrace to finish undressing, then spread one of the blankets across the wide padded bench. After another long kiss, he laid me on my back and levered himself over me, pulling the other blanket over us more for privacy than warmth. He hovered there for a long moment, his body pressed close to mine and the tip of his cock barely prodding my opening. He looked down into my eyes, the expression in his so intense it took my breath away. If that wasn’t love, then love didn’t exist. And I knew it must because it filled my heart and soul every time I looked at him.

  “Do you understand that I will never judge you?” he asked. “Not for anything you think or say or feel?”

  “I honestly do. But it’s hard to not judge myself sometimes.”

  “Just don’t shut me out. I care too much to have that happen.”

  I started to agree, but he slid into me with a long, slow thrust and all my worries disappeared into the moment. My body reacted exactly the way it was meant to, responding to his every move with undeniable fervor, and our souls connected again, easing my fears and fanning my desire. I raised my hips to meet every thrust, slipping into the rhythm with our usual ease, and when he slipped his hand between our bodies, I couldn’t wait for the familiar brush of his fingers against my clit. I came fast and hard, gasping out his name as he drove me past the brink and into a second, more earth-shattering orgasm, then relaxed into the cushion below me, content and spent and completely at peace.

  Silence stretched for long minutes, then he kissed my temple. “That was much better.”

  “That was awesome.”

  “Yeah. It really was.”

  “I promise, by the way.”

  “Promise what?”

  “Not to shut you out again. I promise.”

  He stroked my face and kissed my lips. “Good. You feeling okay about things?

  “I am. You?”

  “Completely. You wanna go have a little non-naked fun?”

  As we walked slowly back to the ballroom, I slipped my hand into his. “You don’t own a yarmulke, do you?” I asked.

  “No. My mom wasn’t Jewish so neither am I.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I thought someone might have given you one or something. I’m not really sure how that works.”

  “Why the sudden interest?”

  “Oh, well, it’s just that your Uncle Moshe looks so distinguished in his and I thought it would be kind of sexy on you.”

  “You’re turned on by a yarmulke?”

  “Hey! What happened to no judgment, ever?”

  “You’re right,” he replied. “I’ll borrow one.”

  Chapter Three

  We danced and chatted and mingled and ate cake. I met every single person Geoff was related to and friends he’d had since childhood. We generally had an amazing time. And every once in a while, his arm tightened around my waist as if to say “everything’s okay”.

  He was on the floor with a slew of cousins, hoisting the couple high above his head in the traditional chair dance, when I suddenly realized, mid-clap, that I might not have another chance to follow through on our prearranged signal. I’d either been glued to his side or nowhere near our table since we’d come back from our outdoor adventure and the night was fading fast. But for the next few minutes, his attention would be riveted on the bride and groom, offering me a tiny window of opportunity—if I wanted to take it. I stared out at the dance floor for a long moment, drinking in the joy on his face and the warmth of his grin. One corner of the bride’s chair rested on his strong shoulder and I thought longingly of the hard muscles beneath his white dress shirt. There wasn’t one single thing about Geoff I didn’t love, didn’t trust. And someday, I knew with utter certainty, I wanted to be the bride to his groom.

  Conscious of time running out, I sped quietly for the restroom, my heart beating in time with my steps and my mind outracing both. Was I absolutely, positively sure? Well, no. But would I ever really be? Probably not, not until after. But somehow, I was pretty sure that positivity would come—after. And I wanted it all so much: the physical sensation, the emotional connection with Geoff, the peace that would come with accepting my own desires—and acting on them. I slipped into a stall and stripped off my panties, stuffing them into my purse before I could change my mind. In another moment I was headed back to our table, trying not to look like the kind of girl who walked around weddings without underwear. Before I’d made it halfway, the music stopped and I glanced at the dance floor in dismay. Amidst the final resounding cheer, my gaze connected with Geoff’s, and in his eyes I saw everything I’d never had the courage to dream for. It would be there without the fantasy, sure, and we could always wait for another time. But I wanted this to be the night I committed fully, the night I gave myself up and freed myself from the fear of turning into my mother. Yet the thought of asking outright still scared me beyond belief and as he started off the dance floor, I could see no other alternative. Then over by the bar, a burly, bearded man we hadn’t met yet called Geoff’s name. Geoff glanced over his shoulder and waved, then turned back, smiled at me, and raised a finger before striding over to embrace the man with the beard. Without a moment’s further debate, I hurried to our table and slipped the lacy bikini into his pocket. My chest tightened and my breath quickened and I fought to contain my excitement before Geoff joined me again. I’d really actually done it. It was really going to happen.

  * * * * *

  As we walked to the parking lot around midnight, something in the pressure of his hand on my back told me he’d found my panties. I shivered and he looked at me knowingly, as though he could sense that it was the anticipation and not the night chill. He opened my door for me as always, making sure I was safely tucked inside before going around to his own side and starting the car.

  He laid a hand on my thigh as we drove, stroking my leg tenderly before turning his hand palm up. I put both my hands in his and shivered again. We were maybe five miles from his place. In fifteen minutes, I’d be bent over his knees and the firm, strong hand that was holding mine so gently would be spanking me, making my skin tingle and filling me with even greater desire than I was feeling right now. How would it really feel to have that broad palm stinging my ass, not once or twice, but over and over? The thought alone made my insides quiver. What would the reality be like? He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Sweetheart, you’re shaking.”

  I was. I hadn’t even realized it.

  “I don’t want you to be scared.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m nervous, fluttery, excited, anticipatory and aroused, but I am not scared.”

  We stopped at a red light and he looked at me. “Honestly? Because you can stop this any time you want to. I’m not going to be upset.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t need tender right now, Geoff. Afterward might be different. But I can’t let go if you’re not in charge and I want to let go. I need you to let me be nervous and let me shake. I need you to be firm and assured and in control. I need to know that no matter how I tremble or how I squirm, unless that magic word comes out of my mouth, you’re going to be strong for me and lead me through the experience.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, despite the light in front of us turning green, despite the car behind us honking. Then he raised my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I can do that,” he said softly, his eyes glowing like coals.

  The car behind us honked again and he let go of my hand to give them an “I’m sorry” wave before driving on. When he laid his hand back on my knee, it was no longer gentle but possessive. He stroked my thigh again, but the pressure firmer, almost demanding. Masculine energy seemed to ripple o
ff him and fill the car, not in an angry way, but in a virile, compelling way. He’d gone from strong and gentle to strong and commanding in an instant and it took my breath away. My heart pounded against my ribs by the time we pulled into the lot near his apartment and I was so desperately wet I almost wished we could pause for a quickie before we got out of the car.

  “Stay there,” he said, his voice quietly calm, but oh so in charge.

  He got out, then came around and opened my door. Looking into his eyes, I saw the solid, trustworthy man I knew him to be. Geoff was a man I could lean on, a man that could comfort my deepest fears and hear my most wicked thoughts without flinching. I could be utterly out of control and know I was still safe. I could do anything I wanted with him, be anyone I wanted to be, and his feelings for me wouldn’t change. All I had to do was trust him.

  He led me up the stairs in silence, then opened the door and nodded for me to enter first. Inside, he dropped his keys on the counter, then shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. I watched with my heart in my throat as he turned back his cuffs, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows and baring strong, tanned forearms. He looked so serious, as though what we were about to do was critically important, and the full force of the fantasy hit me.

  If things went badly, if I felt humiliated or he couldn’t see me the same way after, well, that was it for us. No coming back. This wasn’t the kind of thing that could go a little off-course and still be okay. Not for people like Geoff and me, anyway. It was a hell of a chance, and I hovered on the brink of spumoni-ing out before we could take it. But then I met his eyes again and all the doubts seemed to melt away. I’d analyzed the risk a dozen ways from Sunday and it just wasn’t there. Not with Geoff, anyway. He was strong and I was strong and together we could handle anything. I didn’t have one single thing to worry about. All I had to do was relax and revel in the knowledge that I could trust him in every way and in any situation. All I had to do was let him turn my heart to mush and set my body on fire.