Page 88 of Keeping it Local

I unlocked the front door, and lining all the walls stood packed brown boxes, waiting to be moved in the morning.

Johnny looked around, going from the entry, to the kitchen, and poking his head in the bathroom.

“Your bed still intact?” he asked, his eyes darkening as he licked his lips.

“The mattress is. Just sitting on the floor though.”

“I’m not picky.” He stalked over toward me, one lip tipped up as he leaned down to grab me under my butt and lifted me up, nuzzling his scruff into my neck.

I squeaked, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he found my lips, urging them open with his tongue and sending a jolt to my core as he explored me. It felt so new and yet the comfort of being brought home at the same time. He felt good. He felt like I needed him to.

With a grunt, he pulled me tighter and started walking down the hall—me still wrapped around him—until he found my bedroom with the lone queen mattress on the floor, still with sheets on.

“Mmmm.” He nuzzled my neck again. “I can’t get enough of you. Your smell is intoxicating.”

I nipped at his chin as he laid me down in bed, and I involuntarily arched up, pushing my body into him, even when he was retreating.

The scent of the outdoors wafted around him, and it brought a sense of calm as well.

He leaned back on his heels as I laid on the bed, my legs wide but still with all my clothes on.

“You’re so beautiful. Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted.

“I’m yours.” I pushed up onto my hands, now seated, and took his lips, running my tongue along them. “And you’re mine.”

“Damn straight.” His wide grin brought out the lines around his eyes, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into me.

Then, everything moved slow. It was the same and yet completely different than the last time we’d been together.

We were no longer rushed, no longer on a timeline. All I wanted to do was melt into it.

I ran my fingers along the bottom of his t-shirt, lifting it slowly and tracing every line on his stomach before running my finger along his waistband, and he groaned. At that, he tore off the rest of his shirt and leaned into me. His head lowered, and his tongue ran along the seam of skin between my shirt and shorts, and I could feel my underwear already flooding with wetness as he teased me.

I writhed back and forth, wanting more, wanting it faster, but he took his time.

“I’m going to enjoy every inch of you,” he said, lifting my shirt and running his tongue over the peak of my breast then flicking my nipple before a soft bite, making me arch into him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and I felt his hardness pushing against me. I rubbed myself against him, but the more I did, the slower he went.

He was going to be the death of me.

I’d never felt like this with anyone, and I only wanted to ever feel this way with him.

He gently pushed me back on the bed, running his hands up my bare legs, before tapping on my center, still clothed in denim.

“You’re wet, baby. You want me to help?” he whispered in my ear.

I hummed back at him as he slowly glided my jean shorts down, along with my underwear, leaving me completely bare from the waist down. My shirt was pushed up, and my bra was wet from his open-mouth kisses on my breasts.

I didn’t know what I looked like, but I didn’t care. It felt too good to care.

He ran his hand over me, gently at first, then roughly as he opened me up and licked from back to front, me moaning for more as he did.

I could hear his fingers slide through my slickness, as he entered me with them.

He put his mouth exactly where I needed it. He pulled on my clit, sucking it into his mouth, and I bucked in response, feeling a jolt go through me.

“More.”