“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” I torment her a little longer.

She shoots me an irritated look, eyes narrowed, arms still laced above her head, making her tits lie full and round.

Lips pursed, she doesn’t respond.

Point taken—she’s not submissive.

Got it.

“Sorry.” Not wanting to piss her off, I apologize, already whipped.

When I dip my head to suckle, Skylar’s fingers plow through my hair, digging lightly into my scalp, massaging as I drag my tongue over her nipple. Round and round and round…

Suck.

Lick.

Blow so it puckers.

Kiss her everywhere: breasts, collarbone, the base of her neck. She tips her head back, giving me freedom to explore; I move, my body hovering over hers, dragging my hard cock over her hot, wet…

Pussy.

Up. Down. Up. Down along her slit, the head of my erection teasing her just enough that we’re both about to start begging for some relief.

I know she wants me to push inside by the way she’s moving her hips and grabbing at mine. Pulling me closer. Impatient.

But I’m not wearing a condom yet, and we haven’t had the talk. Besides, foreplay is underrated and we’re in no rush, so I plan to take it nice and slow.

She doesn’t. “Abe…”

“Not yet.” It’s killing me, but the pain feels better. I want us to both really want it. Hard and good.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

I am.

I’m driving us both mad.

“Just stick it in.”

“Stick it in? I’m insulted, kind of,” I manage to say. Barely. Skylar is wet, slick, and freshly shaven downtown, and my dick is gliding over her slit effortlessly, just as desperate to be inside as I am.

Her head gives a frustrated thrash on the pillow as she tries to raise her lower half. “Slide it in, whatever you want to call it—I’m not a poet.”

“Patience is a virtue,” I soothe, lips caressing her hair.

“I’m trying to give you my virtue.” Another wiggle beneath me.

“Wait.” I stop moving. “Are you a virgin?” Shit, why didn’t she tell me? This changes everything.

“No, I’m not a virgin. It was a figure of speech.” Skylar exhales. “But it has been a long time and I’ve only done it a few times so it’s probably still going to hurt.”

Up. Down.

Up.

I kiss her on the mouth, our tongues deliciously entwining—I’m getting off on knowing she can taste herself on my tongue since I was eating her out not five minutes ago. “I’ll go slow.”

A little nod. More tongue. “Mmm, okay.”

“My lazy little love muffin,” I croon into her hair, still dry-fucking her without putting my dick inside, loving the endearment.

Love muffin is cute and so is she.

Jesus, sex has addled my brain, turning me into a pussy.

“Who are you calling lazy?” Once again, Skylar draws her arms over the top of her head, interlacing her fingers while I get her good and worked up. Doing nothing but still sexy as fuck.

“You, just lying here while I do all the work.”

“I’m sorry I’m being selfish. Also not sorry because this feels so good I could go right to sleep.”

“Uh, that’s not a compliment.”

This is one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had, and certainly the strangest conversation I’ve ever had when I’m about to have sex.

In fact, I don’t remember talking while I was banging someone. Ever.

It’s the best kind of strange I can think of, and a good sign that Skylar and I are meant to be.

Meant to be? Wow, I sound like a girl. Next I’ll be writing her love poems and throwing rocks at her bedroom window and holding her purse.

All of which I would one hundred percent do.

Skylar finds the pulse in my neck and kisses me there, lips lingering on my throat, tongue darting out to moisten my skin. “You smell so, so good.”

My dick gets harder.

“Fuck, Skylar, if you keep doing that…” I’ll probably come before we get to the good parts.

“Do you like it when I do that?” She kisses me again then nips at my earlobe, voice husky with sex. “Do you like kisses, baby?”

I die a little at baby.

“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth, liking it a whole fucking lot, so much so that even my brain is spewing out curse words like a drunken sailor. “Yes I like kisses.”

“How much?”

“A lot.” I’m an idiot who is incapable of forming complete sentences. “I like them a lot.”

Her warm mouth is on my shoulder, dragging along the toned muscles. Hands soon join her mouth, her palms exploring the hard tendons of my biceps.

“God Abe, your body—I love it.”

“Yeah? Tell me all about it.”

“First put it inside me.”

“Skylar,” I croak. I sound like a prepubescent teenager whose balls haven’t dropped.

“Please, Abe,” she begs.

“We don’t…I’m not wearing a condom.”

“Well go get one then,” she snaps.

I stop moving entirely, balls throbbing. “Okay, but I’m pretty sure it’s a hundred years old.” Shut the fuck up, idiot! What are you doing? Trying to talk her out of safe sex?

Skylar sighs, loud and heavy enough to wake the dead. Rolls her eyes. “Get the one in my purse.”

“You have condoms in your purse?”

“I have uh condom—as in one. I wasn’t sure how all this would go and wanted to be sure.”

Miserably, I heave myself off, buck-ass naked, and feel my way through the pitch-black recesses of my room. “Where’s your purse?”

“I think I threw it by the desk chair. Hurry, I’m cold!”

This is what we get for waiting to have the condom talk; I could have had it sitting next to the damn bed.

“Where?” I can’t find her fucking purse, have no idea what it looks like; plus, it’s impossible to see with my desk shoved from its original spot.

“Check by my shoes by the closet.”

It’s by the closet, set on top of her shoes—bingo, we have a condom and now we’re back in business.

Except…

“Where inside your purse?”

A sigh. “I don’t know, I just tossed it in. Root around—there’s not a ton of stuff in there.”

Right. Root around. “Gotcha.”

It takes me thirty more seconds to find the fucking thing and throw her purse back to the floor then I scramble, trying not to kill myself on the way back to my bed. Tear the wrapper open, throw it to the ground, and roll on the rubber before I hit the mattress.

It’s a bit tight, but I’m not about to complain right now.

Dick hanging between my legs, I begin the crawl back over her beautiful body.

“Do you want me on top?”

“I want whatever you want.”

We’re both breathing heavier now; this wait is about to make me go insane. I want to bury myself—thrust, pump, and come.

“I think I want to be on top,” she tells me.

One last kiss on the mouth and I’m rolling to the empty side of the bed, lowering my knees and legs so she can climb on board.