Page 88 of My Dead Wife's Ex Will Do
“Yes?” There’s a note of quiet confidence in his voice. Like he knows what I want, but more importantly, knows what he wants. And knows he’s going to get it.
“I thought you were going to fuck me.” Goddammit, that sounds more like a whine.
His lips curve into a smile. “Oh, I am, babe. Don’t worry about that.”
And yet he still doesn’t take any steps toward me. He’s just standing there, eating me with his eyes, his dick straining toward me, but the rest of him at a distance too far away to touch.
“Okay, but…” When? is what I’m about to ask and then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and peels it slowly down and off. I expect him to toss them in the laundry hamper but he abandons them on the floor where he dropped them and stalks toward the bed.
He steps in between my legs and plants a hand in the middle of my chest. I resist the steady pressure for a moment, to make him work for it a little. His eyes widen and his brows raise. “Is that how we’re playing it?”
I let my elbows buckle and drop back onto the mattress, which makes him fall with me until he catches himself with a braced arm, his other hand on the mattress next to me.
“Not today,” I tell him. Maybe another time.
He reestablishes his balance and runs both hands over my chest and arms. “I’m not sure I could take you,” he says as his hands squeeze my biceps.
It’s probably true that I’m stronger than Jason is, but, “Maybe it depends on your motivation,” I say.
He smiles at me and his eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that makes my heart turn over. “Maybe it does.”
His hands have reached my wrists and he pulls my arms over my head, bends them at the elbows and arranges them so they’re resting on the mattress, over my head. “Hold your wrists or forearms,” he orders, and I clasp my elbows.
Another smile, another lift of his brows. “Mmm, flexible, are you? I’ll have to test that someday.”
My legs are still hanging off the end of the bed and Jason’s bed is tall enough that I believe he’s planning to fuck me while standing at the end of it. “This position is going to tweak my lower back after a while,” I confess.
He grabs under my thighs and lifts them. “Slide up the bed a little.”
I awkwardly shimmy up the bed without letting go of my elbows, enough that I can plant my feet on the edge. “Better?” Jason asks.
I nod.
“Good.” He leaves me like that, knees bent, legs spread wide, my arms overhead and I feel trussed up and exposed. It’s…hotter than I expected.
I can’t quite see what he’s doing but there’s the sound of a drawer opening and closing and he passes into and out of my line of sight again. When he returns, he’s got a towel in one hand and a bottle of lube the other. He tosses the lube on the bed next to me and runs a hand down the inside of my leg. “Lift up a little.”
I lift my hips and he positions the towel underneath me. Smart idea. If we’re going to engage in sweaty, messy sex, he probably doesn’t want to have to wash the duvet cover immediately after the afterglow.
Or this is another delaying tactic to continue ramping up my anticipation, because Jason’s fussing, spreading the towel just right on either side of me, and each time his hands brush my thighs, my skin lights up.
He finally steps in between my spread legs and grabs the lube. I let my head fall back onto the mattress and close my eyes. There’s the snick of a cap opening, and then, without further ado, or warning, Jason smears a glob of lube over my hole. It’s cold and I flinch, even though I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like hours.
Days, maybe.
Jason presses a finger inside me and I’m relaxed enough after coming just a minute ago that he can pull out almost immediately and slide two fingers in. He pumps them in and out a few times and my toes curl over the edge of the bed. When he judges me ready, he pulls his fingers out. I feel his knee nudge the back of my thigh just before the blunt head of his dick presses against me.
I resist the temptation to lift my hips, press back against him, or any other method of assisting him.
“You’re being so good for me, babe,” he says. I can’t tell whether it’s the keeping still or the praise, or both, that is really doing it for me. I feel like I can’t move, even if I wanted to, unless Jason wants me to.
He slides a hand over my thigh, tucks it underneath to pull my leg over his hip, then leans his weight forward to press slowly inside me.
“Jesus.” I breathe out shakily.
“No, just me,” Jason says, and there’s a note of suppressed amusement in his voice. I blink my eyes open at him. There’s a furrow between his brows but a soft smile on his lips.
I love you.
