We’ll deal with that later.
Right now, the kissing is everything. I moan softly as Titus’s lips leave my mouth and travel downward, kissing along my jawline and back to the sensitive spot by my ear. He sucks on my earlobe, and my nipples tense.
Titus’s hands on my thighs slide up to my hips, and he hitches me forward in the chair, causing my breasts to press against his chest. And when he’s finished enjoying my earlobe, he whispers, “My Cass. My girl. My Squeaks. You make me insane, did you know that?”
I moan, and he responds by hitching up the hem of my shirt and flattening one palm against my tummy.
I have punched men in the face for touching my tummy, clothed or not. It’s a trigger spot for me. I just don’t like being felt there. I work out. I spend a lot of time on the tennis court. But I’m a big girl, and I’ve always been big. There’s nothing small about my tummy, and I’ve always been self-conscious about it. When I’m with Titus, I feel different. His hand there doesn’t bother me. It helps that he’s sloppy-kissing my collarbone, turning my insides to molten lava.
That hand on my stomach travels higher, causing my shirt to ride up as he cups one breast. I gasp into his mouth and then moan.
“Those little moans are gonna make me lose it, Squeaks.”
I don’t think; I just answer, telling him what I want. “Then take me to bed and lose it.”
The low groan in his chest deepens my arousal.
He doesn’t answer with words but removes his hand from under my shirt and laces our fingers together. My body misses the contact but is replaced with extreme anticipation when he stands, pulling me out of the chair and leading me to the bed. There, he tugs off his tee-shirt and tosses it on his desk chair, and I do likewise. I have to take a second to process that I’m sitting here shirtless with my boyfriend for the first time. With anyone for the first time.
I’ve seen this man’s chest before—many times over the years. Even when I knew I was attracted to him and would sneak glances at his body, I only felt mildly aroused by his bare chest. Usually, he was roughhousing with us at the beach or by the pool and acting like a fool. In this context, it’s something else entirely. His face is so severe, his eyes hooded, his lips glistening and pink from our kissing. I’ve been in love with his soul for the longest time; I never felt this heated by his body.
He runs his hands over the lace cups of my bra, I expect him to make a joke, but his face is so serious that I tremble inside.
Titus’s mouth grazes teasingly over the flesh that bulges out above the edge of my bra. One breast, then the other. He groans and whispers enticing things against my skin. “Cass. God, you’re so soft and warm.”
“I—oh!” I yelp as his arms suddenly reach my middle and tumble us both flat onto the mattress.
Titus has me on my back, and he lies on his side, looking down at me, his hand grazing over my belly and my breasts while we kiss again and again.
He briefly pulls away from the kiss to touch his nose to my nose.
“Did you lock the door?” I ask, breathless.
“Yes.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Was that your plan all along? To seduce me?”
His voice is uncharacteristically gritty, causing all sorts of exciting reactions through my body: sending tingles down my spine and slicking my pussy. “No. But I’m selfish. Whether or not we’re just talking, I want you all to myself, Squeaks. You’re mine.”
As he says those last two words, his hand tugs down the lace of my bra, causing my left tit to spill out over the top. He fills his hand with it, then leans down and covers the aching nipple with his mouth. I moan at the sensation, letting my head roll back. He crawls over me, nestles himself between my thighs, and then lavishes the other breast with the same treatment.
My body acts on instinct, my legs hooking around him and my lower back lifting off the mattress to grind.
“Cass,” he grits out, his voice gravelly with an edge of concern. “Should we slow down? I don’t want to hurt you.”
I let out a little laugh. “You think very highly of yourself. Are you that big?”
He curses and answers, “No, it’s not that. I don’t know how experienced you are with….”
He’s having trouble with words. It’s so cute; it squeezes my heart. Titus is so protective of me, still trying to be respectful and honest.
Respectful, sweet, honest, adorable, and so much fun. That’s the real Titus. That’s the man he was becoming when I fell in love with the boy at 12. I saw it then.
“Titus, relax. You’re not gonna hurt me. Not having sex with other people doesn’t mean I’m pure as the driven snow. I have vibrators and things. A girl needs to have some fun while waiting for her best friend to notice her.” I give him a wry smile.
He takes a breath and nods, his face unreadable at first. He’s trying not to react, doesn’t want to spook me. Is he disappointed? I didn’t think that kind of thing mattered to him.
Finally, he says, “Well, that’s one less thing to worry about.”