The Promise of Lace (6 page)

“Come here,” I whispered. It was a longer distance to pull
Dieter down into the kiss this time, but it was easier to pull the last couple
buttons on his vest open. I pushed it off his shoulders and started guiding him
back toward my bed.

“Hey, Roxanne?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”
I answered, kissing him again and
concentrating my efforts on unbuttoning his shirt.

“I umm… I don’t sleep with girls on the first date,” he
replied.

I laughed before I could stop myself and he pulled away,
lips pursed. I caught him by the shoulders.

“Shh… I’m sorry,” I said, a little bit too much mirth still
in my voice. I slid my fingers back up to the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just…”

“No, I know. Guys aren’t supposed to say that.” He rolled
his eyes. “It’s not a Jesus thing. It’s just something that I don’t do.”

“That’s okay,” I told him. “I don’t mind.” He was inching
his body back toward mine, letting my hands in his hair and my arms around his
shoulders bring him closer to me. “So, uh, what do you do on a first date?”

The smile finally started to creep back onto his face. “Make
you feel good,” he said.

“I can work with that.” I grinned back at him and tip-toed
up to kiss him. He started moving forward, pushing me toward my bed like I had
been pulling him. The edge of the bed hit the back of my knees and I sat down
and scooted to the far side. Dieter settled in beside me. He wrapped his hand
around my waist and used his other to brush my hair away from my face.

I wasn’t sure if I was happy or disappointed that he’d gone
from pinning me against the wall, to gentle and a little bit shy now that I had
him in my bed. I was going to respect his ‘no sex on the first date’ rule. I
was sure had a good reason, and I’d made more than one mistake that could have
prevented or at least mitigated by getting to know someone a little bit better
before jumping into the sack with them.

But it seemed like a waste to lie here kissing chastely
after I’d been carried home in the rain like my life had turned into some goddamn
RomCom. If sex was off the table I could work with that, but I was going to
take it as a challenge to coax that manly-man side back out of him.

I hooked my leg around his waist, ground against him for a
moment, and then rolled myself over with just enough force to push him down.
Now I was straddling him and he was looking up at me the same way he’d looked
at me in the restaurant when I started inching my toe up his ankle.
Turned on, and theoretically helpless.
He let out a heavy
breath.

His hips moved up against mine, just a little, and then he
snorted out a laugh.

“Umm… sorry.”
He set his hand at my thigh
and pushed up a little. I lifted my body up and he dug his shiny green cell
phone out of his pocket and set it on my nightstand.

“The twenty-first century just does not do romance well,
does it?” I asked.

Dieter shook his head and swept his hand through my hair. He
pulled me down into another kiss. It wasn’t the open, desperate kiss from the
elevator.
At least not at first.
But then the tip of
his tongue pressed experimentally to my lips, begging entrance. I let him open
the kiss.

I was arched over him. He had one broad palm splayed over my
waist, the other around my face, thumbing over a surprisingly sensitive spot
behind my ear. My body rocked down against his and a soft moan escaped my lips
at the feeling of his rock hard erection moving between my legs, but four
layers away. He echoed, and the hand around my hip tightened, suddenly
bruising.

Our shy movements against each other’s bodies became a steady
rhythm. Gasps and stutters started to fill the air between us. The pressure at
my waist released and Dieter’s hands moved up my body, over my stomach. He
cupped my breast and I cursed my decision to war such a heavily padded bra. I
could barely feel his hands through it.

Well. That could be fixed.

I undid the last button of his dress shirt and pulled it
open. I pressed my hands to the thin, clean white cotton of his undershirt and
ran my hands up his stomach and chest.

Most of the guys I’d dated over the last few years were
young professionals. To a man, they had been naturally scrawny with a slight
layer of fat from the stress, booze, and sedentary lifestyle. I’d been the same
before I’d freed up the money to join the yoga studio down the street.

But Dieter had abs like a stevedore. I’d noticed how nicely
toned his arms were in his tight tee shirt, but he was slimly built and I
hadn’t expected this kind of musculature on him. He was like a statue in a
museum, only warm, and with no one to keep me from touching him. I pulled out
of the kiss so I could watch the revelation of his firm skin as I pulled up his
undershirt.

He blew out a harsh breath as he watched me push his shirt
all the way up to his neck, revealing abdominal muscle after abdominal muscle
and sparse black hair scattered across his sculpted pecs. The right one was
tattooed, flowers and vines, detailed work moving from his chest over his
shoulder. I’d need more time to go over everything in it.

“Someone does
not
skip the gym,” I laughed. He gulped and nodded. He seemed nervous again. Did he
not want to be undressed?

If I had a body like his I’d walk down the street totally
naked and call it a public service.

I balled up the cotton in my hand and pulled up. He didn’t
react, just kept watching my hand.

“Take this off,” I said.

Whoops
. I really had meant to say
‘can I’ before that, and I was about to rephrase, but he sat up and whipped the
shirt off like shirt removal was some kind of Olympic event and he was
determined to make gold for 2016.

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me forward,
suddenly all passion again. His hands moved over my back, spasming whenever I
rocked down against him, digging his fingertips into my back every time he
pressed up into me.

He found the top of my dress and undid the hook and eye with
no instruction. I felt the dress fall open before I’d even noticed him pulling
down the zipper down. The airy fabric fell to my waist, pooling between us.

He brought his hands back up to my entirely-too-padded bra.
Again, I took a moment to regret wearing it, but it was the only pretty one I
had, and the only one with panties to match. It had seemed like the only
appropriate thing to wear on a date with a guy who spent all day surrounded by
pictures of underwear models.

He pulled back from the kiss, a slow grin spreading over his
face as he slid his thumb along the edge of the cup, which was light blue with
a little white floral lace edging it.

“Cute,” he said. He flashed a grin up at me, then set his
lips to my collarbone and kissed down my sternum. His hands tightened around my
hips again and held me down in his lap so that every movement of our hips gave
me just enough friction to rev me higher, but not nearly enough to get me off.

The sudden swipe of hot tongue between my breasts made me
jolt and press myself down against his cock. He moaned and suddenly the light
green fabric of my dress was around my face, then gone. I saw it fly across the
room and then waft down to the floor after it reached the top of its arc. Now I
was perched in his lap in my underwear with him still kissing my breasts. His
skin was warm where we pressed together and I wanted to feel so much more of
it.

I wormed my hand between our bodies, grabbed the button at
the top of his fly and twisted the button open. Dieter’s hand seized mine
immediately and he pulled his lips back from my body with a gasp.

“Umm, hey,” he managed. I tugged my hands out of his set
them at his shoulders.

“Sorry,” I kissed his cheek apologetically. I hadn’t
expected to startle him. “I just figured that
I’m
down to
my
underwear.”

“Right.”
He cleared his throat, and I startled to
think that his ‘no sex on the first date’ rule was more solid than I’d thought
and maybe I had pushed too far.

“Ummm…” he started, then pressed the heel of his hand to his
crotch and sucked in a breath.

“Do you… want to stop?” I asked. He shook his head. That was
encouraging. I moved forward, letting my hands slide down his chest. I kissed
him again.
“Alright.
Do you want to keep doing this?”

“Absolutely,” he answered. His chest rose and fell under my
palms, fast and deep.

“Alright.”
I set my hands behind his head and he
dropped his head back into them as I kissed him again. “Do you want a blow
job?” I offered. He shivered underneath me.

“I really like you,” he replied breathlessly.

“Back at you.”

“I don’t sleep with girls on the first date,” he repeated.
He sounded much less sure about this than the first time.

“And that’s still just fine.”

 
I wasn’t sure what to
do. He wanted me. I wanted him, but there was some other factor at play here. I
decided not to do anything, just let him work himself to whatever end he needed
to get to. I rubbed my fingers against his scalp and just sat there, letting
him think for a couple moments. His breath settled.

“So, what’s the verdict?
Does… oral count
or not?”
I asked. I wasn’t sure I liked how young I sounded when I asked
him.

He looked up at me, smile a little strained. “Uh, I guess
not.”

Before I knew what was happening, he was flipping me over. I
landed hard on my back. Dieter’s hands were underneath me. He’d already gotten
my bra unhooked. I laughed and held my arms up so he could pull it off. It
joined my dress on the other side of the apartment.

He dropped another blazing kiss to my mouth,
then
worked his way down to my bare breasts. His mouth
covered each of my budding nipples in turn, sucking lightly, then scraping his
bottom teeth against me just enough to punctuate the sensation. I threw my head
back and rocked up into the hot, wet,
wonderful
feeling of his mouth, whining when he abandoned my breasts in favor of my
stomach, but only until I felt his finger hook under the waistband of my
panties. He pressed a kiss right above where the lace had hugged my hips, and I
squirmed as he inched the fabric downward. His tongue traced a line down my
skin in their wake.

I was trembling in anticipation as the cotton slipped down
over my thighs, waiting for that first swipe of his hot tongue over my clit.

I didn’t have to wait for long. Dieter dove in like he’d
been holding himself back from doing this since he’d seen me walk up to the
restaurant. He flicked his tongue back and forth over that tight bundle of
nerves, his hands petting over my hips and thighs as he went. If this was how
he got around his first date rule I hoped he had rules for second and third
dates as well. One hand skimmed over my stomach up to my breast, thumbing over
the nipple. It was just enough of a tease to add punch to every other sensation
rocking through my body.

His hand at my thigh crept up to my apex as his tongue
worked and I shuddered when I felt a fingertip brush across my folds.

“Roxanne?” He chocked. “Can—”

“God, do it,” I replied, breathlessly.

I moaned at the feeling of his finger slipping inside me,
moaned louder at the introduction of a second, and nearly screamed when he
curled them upward and sucked gently at my clit at the perfect moment.

Maybe Hailey had sent him that diagram after all.

He slowed, sliding his fingers back and forth inside me,
laving his tongue over me,
then
suddenly speeding up.
He did this a few times, bringing me up to just below the peak, letting me drop
down a little,
then
bringing me back up until finally
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face
between my legs. He moaned at the rough treatment, worked his fingers into me
harder and harder and I finally came with a yell that probably woke a couple of
my neighbors. I practically boxed his ears with my knees.

His face popped up. His smile was like the sun rising
between my thighs. He wiped his hand across his face and came up to kiss me.
After I’d gulped in enough air to be able to process thoughts again I slid my
palm over his groin. He was so hard I could practically feel his cock throbbing
against my hand.

He swept my hand away with a gruff, “
It’s
fine.”

“You’re kidding, after that you don’t want anything?”

“It’s not a transaction. You don’t owe me.”

“I know that,” I scoffed. I rolled into him, pressing my
naked, sweat-shined body against his half-clothed one. I traced my pinky over
the outline of the vine that swept through the detailed tattoo flowers covering
his shoulder and one side of his chest. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He chuckled and kissed me. “You did. It’s okay.”