The Promise of Lace (14 page)

I had always loved Oz. Sweet and intelligent and quiet, but
strong underneath it all.
Never posturing.
I’d always
found him charming.
Always liked that slightly softer guy.
Not effeminate. Not weak.
Just… strong in a quiet way.

I saw that in Dieter. He was open about who he was, which I
respected, and he was fun to be around… he was just a little…rough around the
edges.

I pulled my fingers away from his lips and turned around
carefully in his arms so that we were face to face.

“Hey there,” I said to him.

“Hey yourself.”
He pulled a strand of hair
away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You know, I’ve never actually
seen this show.”

“Well… you’re a little young for it, really.”

He chuckled and kissed me. It had been a weird day, what
with the confessional previous night, the sappy morning, the conversation with
Hailey and then the small on-date freak out. I should have pulled back, maybe
grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and thrown it over the two of us,
and then gone on to explain to him everything that he had been missing by being
a little too young for a 90’s classic.
Made it a peaceful,
recovering sort of night.

But I didn’t do any of those things. I slid up his body and
kissed him back. It was a little pilot light of a kiss. It didn’t suddenly
become a fire like the other ones had, like a match tossed into brush. It just
grew warmer bit by bit, like a carefully constructed bonfire started from
scratch.
Dry grass to twigs to sticks, still far from roaring.
I moved a little further up his chest. His arms moved a little further down my
back. We kissed and pressed together, not in any hurry. I toyed with the button
at the top of his shirt and he undid the hook and eye at the back of my dress.

His hands were warm against my back, his tongue tangled
against mine gently. We started peeling each other’s clothes off. My dress went
over the back of the couch.

I undid his shirt from the top this time and laughed when I
realized that the purple I’d seen in the mirror at the art institute went all
the way up. He had a thin, soft, lace trimmed purple camisole on under his dark
dress shirt. I unbuttoned the rest of his dress shirt and tossed it over the
back of the couch with my clothes.

“This is nice,” I told him, running my hand up the silk
cotton blend of the camisole. It was like clouds under my fingers and I made a
mental note to ask where he’d gotten it. My Ragstock camisoles had been through
the dryer one too many times and now the lace was shredded and the fabric was
pilled. Plus they had never been this nice.

He smiled warmly at me. I liked the way that little
compliments made him light up so much.

“You would look gorgeous in this,” he replied. “Purple’s the
perfect color on your skin.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I responded, before realizing
that it might have been a subtle hint to go get the nightie that I had bought.

Dressing up for sex was very much not my thing. I’d only
really bought the nightie as an excuse to go hit on him and as much as I liked
being with him, I still wasn’t sold on how much he seemed to be into the
lingerie. If it was just his thing, that was fine. I liked it on him, if he
liked it on himself too that was a fortunate confluence of circumstance, but I
wasn’t ready to dress up for him. That was one of those commitment lines I
found it hard to cross. I didn’t like to bend or change or surrender for
people, especially guys I had just started dating. This wasn’t exactly in the
same league as Isaiah asking me to move to Mississippi with him, but it was in
the same general category. It had been three dates. I wasn’t there yet.

But I knew where I was.

I peeled him out of his jeans and they joined my dress over
the back of the couch. Now he was pressing into me, all soft fabric and hard
muscle and warm skin and clean scent. There was a slight awkward pause in the
slow warm build of our arousal when we did have to shuffle off the couch in our
underwear to fold it back down into a bed. I pulled the levers and kicked the
mattress down. Dieter hit a couple of lights, leaving just the wall sconces on
so that we could see each other, but in almost and old-movie sort of glow.

We piled back onto the bed, his hands in my hair, body tight
to mine, his cock growing hard against my hip as we moved slowly against each
other, like lake water lapping against the shore after the wind has calmed and
the water is stilling. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my breathing
becoming heavier and heavier as the speed of his hips increased against mine.
He rolled me up on top of him and undid my bra, tossing it over the side of the
bed along with the rest of our clothes.

The slow, steady heat building between us turned sharp. I
dropped my knees down to either side of his body and pressed down. He hissed
when his turgid cock pressed against my crux where I was wet and warm and so,
so ready to move past groping and grinding.

I rolled off of him, making him follow, dug my hands under
the smooth air-light camisole and pulled it over his head, barely stopping the
kiss long enough to pull it off of him. I slipped my hands under the purple
lace of his panties and grabbed handfuls of his muscular ass, squeezing until
he gasped. I slipped the panties down his hips as far as I could reach and then
he pushed up, flipping me onto my back. I landed hard. Dieter was kneeling
between my knees, sitting up and looking at me.

The pinking of his cheeks was exaggerated into a much more
red color by the ambient light. The flush of color went all the way down his
carved chest. He was watching me with soft, lust-clouded eyes. I reached out
and tucked my fingers into the waistband of his panties, now far past his
hipbones, the ruddy and wet tip of his cockhead straining against the fabric,
and pulled down.

He helped me get them off, pulled them down to his knees and
then shifted them off his legs. He threw them over the side of the bed with
everything thing else, then reached down and pressed his palms to my stomach.
They were as hot as they’d been when he was holding his mug of tea in them. He
slid his hands down my body, stopping at my hips, glancing up for permission
when they were pressed over the lace trim waistband of my underwear. I lifted
my hips in acquiescence and he peeled the cotton and lace down my thighs.

He spent a moment just looking at me in the quiet of the
room, with a little bit of a stunned expression on his face. He stroked his
cock almost absentmindedly and I stretched up and pulled open my end
table/nightstand drawer. It took a couple of tries before my fingers hit metal
and I fished out the little decorative tin that I kept condoms in. I popped the
lid open, picked up a
Durex,
double checked the
expiration date and handed it to Dieter. He just looked at it while I snapped
the tin shut, dropped it back in my nightstand and shut the door.

He licked his lips, looked from the little silver square in
his hands to me,
then
back. I was just about to ask
him if maybe we weren’t on the same page after all when he carefully tore the
package open and rolled the condom down over his erect cock. I wrapped my hands
around his biceps and brought him back down to kiss me.

That heat between us, which had been so scorching that first
time, and so electric the second, was mellower this time. Not dull, but embers
rather than a fire. Just as hot, but calmer. We weren’t going to
fuck,
we were going to make love. We weren’t going to play
any sex games, any dominance games, he was going to slip inside me and we were
going to move together, bodies tight, panting in each other’s ears. That was a
little intimidating at three dates in.

 
Dieter slipped his
arms underneath me, and settled against me. I was utterly enveloped by his hot
sweaty skin. The swollen rod of his cock was pressed between us, rubbing just a
little bit back and forth against my hip and stomach as I rocked against him.
He kissed me, slow and deep,
then
pulled back just a
little bit. I lifted my knees and spread my legs. He pulled back, set kisses
against my stomach and the ticklish part of my inner thighs. He ran his tongue
over my clit, just enough light teasing strokes to make me squirm underneath
him, and I felt his fingers carefully spread the folds of my vagina apart.

Dieter moved back up to his knees and I felt the head of his
cock brush against me. I rocked my hips down, so ready for more. I was little
worried, not because of how much I wanted him inside me, because I’d wanted
that since that first night where we’d run home in the rain, but how much I
wanted his arms around me while he was in me. I didn’t care about who was on
top or who was in
control,
I just wanted him closer
than this.

He gripped his cock to hold it steady and started moving
into me.

My head fell back with a sound that was half a groan, half a
sigh. He was
thick
. He was moving
slowly, letting me open around him. I spread my legs out a little further to
accommodate him as his cock slid deeper and deeper inside me. I groaned when I
felt his hips press to mine. I tangled my hands in his hair and he fought for
breath before he finally started to move. Short little rocks that made my blood
start on a slow boil at first, then longer strokes, pulling back just to snap
his hips forward and make my cunt desperate for him to do more.

“Oh, Roxanne,” he gasped once he really started to move,
making pleasure strike through me over and over. I dug my heels into the
mattress and started meeting his movements, rocking my hips back toward his as
we moved together.

I moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders, fingertips
digging into the muscles there, harder and harder with every thrust inside me.
I could feel the slight stretch of him against my walls, the slide of him
moving inside me, his chest hair rasping against my smooth and vulnerable skin,
the softer hair on his thighs tickling against the skin of my thighs where they
were wrapped around him.

He kissed me and the movement of his hips slowed down to a
controlled, steady, and all too teasing rhythm. I whined and threw my knees
wider apart. “Come on, Dieter, Harder.”

“Wait for it, Roxanne.”

I tried to wait, I really did. But patience is not one of my
virtues. I dug my heels deep into my mattress and started fucking my hips back
onto him, moaning when the speed finally hit what I needed it to be. Dieter
groaned and swore.

“Hold on,” he grit out. “Hold on a second.”

He gripped my arms tight, and somehow, miraculously, managed
to roll me up on top of him without slipping out of me. He thrust up inside me
and dug his fingers, bruising hard, into my thighs.

“Take what you want, oh—”He rocked up into me again and I
yelped at how much the change of angle improved things. “God, please, Roxanne,
just… do it.”

I set my hands to his shoulders to brace myself and worked
backward on his hips until I managed to make the improved angle the perfect
angle.

Doggy style wasn’t the only way to get some attention to
your g-spot. I rode him until we were both moaning and gasping for breath.
Dieter was shaking and mumbling. "Tell me when you’re there, tell me when
you’re there,” over and over again as I felt my orgasm starting to build, the
heat and electricity flashing in my body. That heavy feeling behind my navel
growing and tightening until suddenly it lanced through me, down through my
thighs, up through my chest, one hard shot, then another smaller one, then
little tremors as Dieter kept rocking up into me until he shouted and thrust up
hard. I could feel him pulse inside of me. His fingers squeezed again and his
head fell to the side. We both gasped for breath, still joined at the hip and
reluctant to release. Dieter was staring at the place where we met, his teeth
so tight against his lip that I could see the white line that the pressure
caused on his skin. His hand loosened at my side and he patted my butt gently.
Reluctantly I lifted my body up, felt the sensation of emptiness as his cock
slipped out of me.

He carefully took the condom off, knotted it and looked at
me expectantly.

“Umm… trashcan under the sink.”

He nodded and slipped off the bed. I heard him run the sink,
presumably to get the come and sweat off his hands.

Dieter kissed me again before he lay back down with me. I
grabbed the blankets from the edge of the couch and brought them with me as I
collapsed down next to him. He pulled me into his arms and we wrapped up
together. We lay in half-asleep silence for a while, tracing shapes with our
fingertips over each other’s skin, but never quite fell asleep.

“Do you want to stay over again?” I asked him quietly.

“Yeah… do you… do you mind if we get something to eat?” he
asked.

I sat up so I could see the wall clock. To my shock it was
only nine-thirty. Between the
date
gone bad, the walk
home in the cold and the really great sex I’d expected it to be at least
midnight.

“Umm… yeah.
Chinese sound good?”

“Great,” he said.