Another First Time
It almost felt like the first time.
His hands were shaking as he carefully unbuttoned her blouse, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her flushed face. They’d crept back to her hotel room from a band meeting less than ten minutes ago, her hand in his, knowing exactly what was happening, what was going to happen. The eagerness and thrill had not exactly dissipated (her hand was currently very busy caressing his back up under his shirt right now, after all) but he could see a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes.
He wanted to fuck any question of ‘should we really do this?’ straight out of her mind. An on-off again much-younger girlfriend certainly wasn’t sufficient reason to feel guilty…
Wondering if it would be slightly too forward to just bury his head in her cleavage, he let her blouse fall to the floor next to the bed and resisted his first instinct, instead wrapping an arm around her, pulling her in close to him. Stevie grinned up at him and kissed the corner of his mouth lightly, her free hand coming up to twist in his dark curls.
"Door’s locked, right?" he asked, reaching around to undo her bra, breathing fast as her fingers danced their way from his back around to his stomach, tracing small circles around his navel, dropping lower and lower on each pass.
She looked up at him with laughing eyes. “Most definitely. Unless you’re feeling particularly like an exhibitionist this evening, I thought that would be best…”
"Not that we didn’t have some fantastic times in full sigh - "
Stevie kissed him quiet, her lips meeting his eagerly. The space between them shrunk even further as she pressed up against him and he groaned, coaxing her mouth open and kissing her deeply before burying his head in the crook of her neck. God almighty. It had been far too long since they’d last done this… As she reached for the hem of his shirt, trying to lift it up so she had better access to his bare skin, he wondered how they’d managed to go this length of time without relief.
"Bed. Now. Can’t get your fucking bra off like this," he ordered, moving them backwards until the bed was right behind them. The bra fell to the floor and Stevie sat on the edge of her suite’s large bed, dark eyes flashing as she watched him kneel before her. Grinning, he pressed a soft kiss to her stomach and then reached to remove her shoes.
Dark eyes flashing dangerously, she tugged at his hair as soon as the boots were lying discarded haphazardly on the floor with her blouse and lacy bra. He looked to her, smiling wolfishly before standing up and quickly removing his own shirt. She lay back on the bed, making his mind go mad with the image before him - her long blonde wavy hair, her on the damn mattress and her breathing heavily and her tight pants and underwear being the only thing standing between him and seeing all of her again… Biting his lower lip, he tugged off his jeans and quickly moved back to the bed, positioning himself so he was leaning over her, his leg between hers and his cock hard against her stomach. Caressing her breasts with a now steady hand (so soft, god, he’d missed this…), Lindsey moaned as Stevie reached between them, stroking him, not taking her eyes off him as she did so. Witch.
"Gonna kill me, Stevie."
"Might be hell trying to explain THAT to the tour promoters, honey…"
"Urgh. Shut up," he retorted, nipping her ear and laughing at the brief glimpse of surprise in her eyes. He didn’t laugh quite so hard when she bit his shoulder in retaliation. She bit hard.
"You started it."
"I started this too."
"Then finish it, asshole," she said, pinching his nipple. Again, hard. She’d always taken advantage of his sensitive nipples…
"Trying to rush me?"
"Don’t need much help in that department," Stevie said, smirking as she rubbed up against him.
"Kiss me with your filthy mouth," he growled, grabbing her hand off his cock and holding it hostage high above her head on the mattress.
"The only thing that’s going to be rushed is your cries when you’re begging me to stop torturing you, Ms Nicks…"
Her aggressive kiss, her tongue hot and wet in his mouth, and the way she tilted her hips up to his, only made his resolve stronger.
"I’m going to ruin you."
"I’ve ALREADY ruined you."
"Fucking ruined me for any other woman years ago, Stevie…" he moaned, grinding down against her, wishing her pants and underwear would somehow magically disappear so they could finally be skin to skin again.
"I’m sorry, baby."
"I’m not," he insisted emphatically. “Love you."
Her kiss was fiercely possessive. She owned him.
"And I love you."
And she was his. Still.