Page 27 of Burning for You
“Nah. It’s okay. I’ll fly there the day after tomorrow, as planned. I’m prepared. Don’t worry.”
“What have I done to deserve you?”
“You’ve been my man,” I whisper seductively, rubbing his cock. If I can’t find love today, at least I want to feel his touch, to ease my tension—to make me feel needed beyond money, shares, and the city. He’s my fiancé, for goodness’ sake. “Kiss me.”
He releases a chuckle while withdrawing his crotch just a tad. “What about the gala dinner?”
“We have time, and Miller Hall is just around the corner,” I say, nibbling on his ear and pulling him into our bedroom.
I unbuckle his belt and hastily unzip his pants.
“Whoa… easy, tiger,” Josh says. “Don’t you want to warm up? A glass of wine, maybe?”
No time for niceties. I want him now, and I won’t let him swerve. “Just shut up and fuck your fiancée.”
I lift up my skirt and ditch my panties. Josh glides on top of me, squeezing my breast under my shirt.
The temperature between us might’ve cooled off, but inside I’m scorching. When I feel Josh entering me, I say, “I want to hold you when I come.”
“Why don’t you hold me now?”
“I want you to hold me first,” I say, placing my arms above my head. “I’ll tell you when I’m close.”
“A hold is a hold, Caro.” Josh smiles, perhaps hinting at me to just shut up and get on with business.
“It’s all about the timing.”
As ridiculous as it sounds, Plato, who believed humans were cut in half before they were born, might’ve had a point. When I’m with a man, the squeezing of the flesh and the endless caressing is like a reunion with part of you that was taken away. To do it while I’m climaxing is unbelievably gratifying—as if life is rewarding me for finding and holding onto my other half.
“As you wish,” Josh murmurs.
My fiancé seems to have switched on like a vibrator with new batteries, so powered up that perhaps he’s forgotten that he’s with me. “We should savor this moment,” I give him a gentle reminder.
“Hmmh?” he sighs with his eyes closed.
He glides and shakes a few more times, and…
The man who’s soon going to be my husband huffs and hurls himself to my side. He didn’t hold me; neither did he savor the moment. This is probably a routine that he doesn’t intend to break.
I hold him, despite my disappointment at how fast his batteries have drained. At least he didn’t reject me.
“I love you,” he whispers, his sexed-up face turning into a vapid bedmate’s face.
Somehow that droopy expression provokes me. Launching myself over him, I attack his lips and pulse his cock with my fingers, as if trying to resuscitate it.
At first Josh looks at me as if he’s Bambi about to be eaten alive, but then he chuckles, driving my hand away from his crotch. “I need to sort out a few things,” he says, getting up.
I hum my disappointment while rolling myself over into a corpse position.
Having been guilty of complaining too much, tonight I zip my mouth just like Josh zips his pants back up. The man is rather gorgeous, macho, with those muscles around his shoulders and arms. We’re businesspeople with the same goal. He’s a partner I can tolerate. Perhaps after we get married and have kids together, my love will grow, and whether it’s sex for five minutes or an hour, it’ll never be a showstopper.
The thought of baby coos and drool perks me up momentarily. Despite my professional ambitions, I’ve always wanted children. It’s a chapter of life that I can’t wait to start, more than marriage itself.
Then I pad across to the bathroom as Josh steps out.
My head may be cooling, but my sex is protesting. I smell the hand that had just touched Josh’s cock and balls. Stinks!
Sex with no conclusion is indeed worse than no sex at all.