Free Just You by Jane Lark

in years–maybe ever.
    When we got into my apartment he dropped the blanket on the bed and pulled my wooly hat off, then tossed that there too, before kissing me, his palm at the back of my head.
    There was no hiding from Justin. He said things like they were and he did things like they were.
    When he broke the kiss he was unbuttoning my coat and I slid down his zip. Then we were peeling clothes off and dropping them everywhere, rushing to get into bed. He flopped back on the bed, pulling me, but I pushed him off and went down on him.
    “Shit, Portia.” His voice rasped into the cold air in my room, as his fingers clawed in my hair. “Yeah, right, like that…”
    In the last four weeks, I’d learned to do stuff just like him–no holding back.
    I used my tongue to tease the sensitive pink skin at his tip. But his patience dried, or maybe he was going to come and didn’t want to, because he gripped my neck and pulled me up. “Get a condom,” he breathed at me urgently.
    I reached to the drawer in the chest beside the bed, pulled one out, tore it open and then rolled it down, sheathing him. As soon as it was on, he gripped my thighs and pulled me up, then plunged into me, with a wicked smile.
    Having sex with Justin was like riding rapids, a little dangerous.
    His fingertips pressed into my flesh gripping my thighs. He’d told me he liked my hips and thighs–and most of the time we did it, his hands were there. But wherever he touched me, he sent luscious spasms winding through me.
    He nipped at my nipple when I leaned forward.
    Smiling at him, I held still, letting him push up into me, his thighs and hips working between my legs.
    I looked down and watched his abs moving. The guy was pure gorgeous naked.
    That thought made me come. It unraveled, reeling out into my nerves, catching in every corner and rushing right to my fingertips.
    He tipped me back on the bed, and pushed my legs open wider; the beautiful cut of his abs and pecs, gilded by the sunlight coming from above. He pushed into me hard, fast and relentless. All I could do was grip his shoulders and hang on, and he made me come three more times, the orgasms piling in on top of one another like waves rolling over each other on to a beach.
    Poor Daniel–he’d been way out of Justin’s league.
    The next time I came I shut my eyes, and let him push me off a cliff, but this time he jumped with me. Growling like a caveman as he pushed hard in and then pulled a little back and did it again, pulsing inside me. His heart pounded in his chest beneath my fingers.
    When I opened my eyes, his skin glistened with sweat and his eyes glowed as he looked at me.
    “That was good,” he smiled.
    “Searching for compliments?” He was still inside me, and it felt so right.
    His fingers cupped my breast, then pinched my nipple gently. “Say it was good, or your luck’s out.” His touch became a delicate threat.
    I smiled and said nothing.
    He pinched and I squealed, laughing. “It was good! It was good!” Shutting my eyes, I bit my lip, to avoid the pain of his grip.
    When he released the pressure, I opened my eyes. He was staring into me, not just looking at me.
    A surge of emotion rushed through me that had nothing to do with sex. “It was more than good, it was awesome.”
    Whatever the surge of emotion in me was, I saw it reflected in his eyes. “ You , are awesome, Portia.”
    I smiled.
    “You’re pretty awesome too.”
    He slipped out of me, then got off the bed to get rid of the condom. “Flattery don’t count when it has to be won, babe.”
    “Babe?”
    He turned back and looked at me. “What do you want me to call you then, darling ?” He mimicked my voice when he said it, stripping the urban out of his accent. I didn’t want him to talk like me.
    “You can say, babe.”
    “Do you want coffee?”
    “Yeah.”
    He made it, naked, as I lay there watching the really high, rounded muscle in his buttocks, and the long lean length of his thighs. I loved