(Book 2) This Could B Us

Part 52

Our first bites of the pasta are delicious and the Long Island starts to go down a little too easily. I had forgot how good they are, but I never have more than one, my alcohol tolerance is extremely low.

I had decided on the flight down that we needed to discuss 'us' just a bit more. He's hinted on two separate occasions today that I am and going to be a part of his life now, so I feel the need to step up. Maybe if he sees I'm serious, he'll put more focus into sharing with me. I had been thinking about the fact that I'm currently still employed, and more than halfway through my allowed paid leave, I need to make a decision while I'm here.

I'm still in the process of swallowing the pasta I was chewing while thinking about all this when Prince sips his water and speaks, "I think you need to talk to your boss tomorrow," in the matter of fact way he uses.

I do my best to hide my surprise at his uncanny timing, "Yeah, and stop at the post office to forward my mail."

I take another sip of my drink while I watch his reaction. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face and lights up his eyes before he returns a his attention to his pasta. Prince is pleased, it's what everyone around him wants to see and it feels amazing when it happens.

We say our goodbyes to Angel after she hands us the little folder containing our bill, and just barely before another table signals her. Prince produces a $100 bill and slips it into the little folder, taking my hand, he leads me out. I sneak a wave to Angel as we pass knowing she got at least a $70 tip.

It's almost 11:00 pm when we pull back into my driveway. I had remembered to grab the garage remote in our way out, so I hit the button, he pulls in and and parks.

"I just have to grab my guitar, Sugar, why don't you go get changed. We'll watch some television."

Oh, no we won't, I think to myself. The hunger I saw in his eyes before dinner has intensified, plus I'm usually the one who's in a rush to get myself into my pajamas, not him.

Once inside, I choose a ruby red nightie and slip it over my head, I start to reach for the matching robe, then change my mind. Walking down the hallway from the bedroom, I hear the television come to life. He's already tucked into the corner of the couch when I enter the room. He looks my way, his eyes scan me from head to toe. "Aren't you chilly without your robe?"

I am, just slightly, because of the air conditioning. I also know he can't keep his eyes off my breasts in these nighties. "No, not really, but if you need me to cover up, I can go get it."

"Oh no, I don't mind," he watches me, well, my breasts, as I sit. I make sure to lean forward toward him to fold my legs beside me.

His legs are spread open, so he's practically taking a whole cushion on my small couch, I arrange myself beside him, but not touching. He's trying to watch television as I situate, but with all my exaggerated movements, I see him sneaking peeks at my jiggling breasts.

"Are you sure you're not cold?" he asks again, his eyes on my highly visible nipples.

"Ummmm, I'm pretty sure. Why? You want to cuddle?"

His eyes finally come up to meet mine, an eyebrow lifts, "I think you're inebriated," he says dryly, so I scoot my back deeper into the couch and focus on the program.

Moments pass, his right hand raises and he scrapes his thumb across my left nipple, I gasp. He drops his hand back into his lap, suppressing a grin, he pretends to watch television. That quick sensation of his thumb on my nipple has traveled all the way to my center, I feel the beginnings of a tingle. I turn to face him, "I'm not drunk, by the way, I'm just horny."

The television clicks off, "I noticed."

He shifts sideways on the couch, taking my head into his hands, he pulls me in for a long, deep, kiss. As my hands move to rest on his hips, he removes his hands from my face. His hands lower to my breasts, cupping them along the sides to allow his thumbs to roll over my nipples.

I run my hand along his thigh until I find his erection straining against the thin material of his pants. Rubbing him through the material he moans into my mouth. He breaks the kiss to look down, watching my hand as I stroke him.

I up the ante, because, yes, maybe I am feeling the alcohol, but I want to push him over the edge, I want him to take me hard and fast.

As he's watching me stroke him, I move my other hand under the hem of my nightie and start to rock against it. Now wide eyed, he's more interested in the hand he can't see. He lifts my nightie to watch, his mouth opens as he begins breathing harder.

I let myself fall back onto couch, making sure to open myself fully to him for a better view, I begin swirling my middle finger over my clit. He's still sitting in the same spot watching, but now he's freed himself from his pants, and slowly stroking.

As I'm building for my first orgasm, the speed of my finger increases, my gaze stays fixed on his face, as his stays fixed on my finger. I close my eyes, throwing my head back, I let out loud moans as I come.

My finger slows as I catch my breath, my eyes open just as he is crawling into position over me. I smile up at him, right before his mouth crushes down on mine. I feel his length pressed against me as he settles his body along mine, the kiss gets hungrier.

We began rocking our hips in unison, even though there's been no penetration. Unable to handle it any longer, and reach down between us. I barely begin to guide him as he's already found my entrance, and pushing his way in. We manage to make eye contact until he's fully buried, then we turn into a pair of animals.

Rocking, thrusting, grunting, we're both moving at a frantic pace. Our kisses our hard and fervent as we race to our goal.

My body starts to tremble, he knows I'm close so he starts pumping harder and faster than I've ever experienced with him before.

"Come for me, Sugar," he manages to say as each thrust strives to be deeper than the last.

I let loose, succumbing to his voice in my ear. As I buck beneath him, I hear his little squeaks, and his quick succession of breaths as I feel him pull from me and release his warmth onto my belly.

He leans down over me, kissing me softly, and sweetly, "I'm sorry, Sugar, but we forgot the protection."

I look down between us at his release on my belly before kissing him lovingly. "Thank you for remembering," I say to him, although I don't believe the withdrawal method is foolproof, he did try.

He lifts up and stands, "Let me get you a towel."

He heads to the bathroom, returning with a warm, wet, washcloth and a hand towel. I stroke his cheek as he tenderly cleans off my belly.

"That was pretty hot," I say to him.

He nods enthusiastically, looking at me with eyes wide. "I like you inebriated," he chuckles.