12 - Birthday Suit

Jon’s backside bucked gently, jostling her.  “Hop up so I can roll over.  And lose the robe.”

She slid from his back, and he turned carefully so as not to catch his semi-stiffy at a bad angle.  Between her hands all over his back, and her sitting on him, his engine was revving up for another race.  He positioned himself on his left side and scooted back toward the center of the bed, making room for her.

“What’s that smell?  The massage oil?”

“You like it?” The mattress dipped, and the silken skin of her legs tangled with his rougher ones.  A palm slipped in to cradle his burgeoning erection and her soft laughter infiltrated the night.  “I guess you do.  My aphrodisiac worked.”

“Spanish fly in your potion, witch?” he demanded with a growl, crushing her softness to his chest and swooping in for a sharp bite at the tendon in her neck.  What was it about her that made him want to bite at every opportunity?

“Mmmm….”  The deep purr vibrated against his lips.  That explained that.  He would bite every square inch of her in an effort to reproduce that sexy-as-fuck purr.

Looks like Kitten likes getting a little cat-‘nip’.

“You don’t hafta worry,” he assured her, one hand creeping down to give her bottom a firm pinch.  His reward was a soft squeal accompanied by the pillowiness of her breasts burrowing into his chest.  “This old man can get it up enough to fuck you any way you want.”

Appreciative nails scraped along his ribcage when he wiggled down lower in the bed, dipping his head.  If he remembered correctly…

A sharp gasp pierced the air and she dug frantic fingers into the back of his scalp.

Yep.  She goes ape over having her nipples sucked.

“Easy, Baby.”  His hazy memory confirmed, Jon set to work inspecting every millimeter of the sensitive skin on her left breast.  Laving, sucking and licking her aureole and its pointy tip had her writhing against his face.  Ever-so-slowly sinking his teeth into the turgid nipple brought the most provocative yowl from the back of her throat.

“Damn…  Sounds like Kitten is in heat,” he mumbled around the fleshy breast.  Jon’s hand pushed between her knees and up her inner thigh, amazed at the dampness he found while still a good distance from her center.  The sweet honey of her arousal was already dripping free.  “I see my aphrodisiac worked,” he mocked softly, using his thumb to rub the wetness into her skin.

Her only reply was to push his face closer to the mattress and her other breast, pleading, “Suck me, Stud.”

If he wasn’t already stiff as a board, that did it.

A hard hand on her hip had Sheridan flat on her back and Jon wasted no time devouring her right breast in much the same way he had consumed its mate - only with a little more voraciousness.

"Oh, that's it," she moaned, neck arched and flexing her fingers against his scalp.

The slight pain of those fingers winding into his hair with excitement only made him suck harder.  Take a deeper bite.  Bathe the "wound" with a punishing tongue until her back was arched as sharply as her neck.

Jon pushed an insistent hand between her legs, completely turned on by the slickly saturated silk that greeted him.

"I bet you can come for me just like this, can't you pretty Kitten?" The top of her breast heated under the breath of his words. "You don't even need my cock. You'll cream all over my hand if I suck your sweet tits hard enough, won't you?"

He heard the rustle of her head thrashing against the pillow. Through a desperate mewl, she begged him, "Just don't stop touching me. Please. God, it feels so good!"

Peppering love bites over her upper chest, Jon demanded on a low growl, "You're going to tell me when you come. I want to hear it." His thumb brushed against her clit in a sadistic tease that had her yelping. “Understand?”

“Yes, dammit, yes!”

The near-scream of agreement got her a hard suck on her nipple while his middle finger went for a deep dive in her flowing juices and his thumb flicked determinedly over the stiff little nubbin that would have her climbing the walls.

Her back nearly bent in half and then she went stock still while he stroked her once...  twice...

“Jonnn!” She literally hissed his name as she scratched the hell out of his shoulder blade.  He merely squared his shoulders and absorbed the punishment, egotistically reveling in her cry, “I’m comingggg...Oh God don’t stop!”

Her internal muscles spasmed, rippling along the length of his finger as he coaxed out each drop of satisfaction.  As she came down off her high, her breathy pants had him grinding his hip into her thigh until she went still and limp.

It was time to fuck her again and fuck her well.  Unlike the entryway entry, this time he had the dubious luxury of not being completely consumed by lust.  That meant he remembered one important detail.  A very important detail.

"Sheridan, we didn't use a rubber the first time."

"Mmm," she mumbled into his cheek.  "I'm clean and on birth control. If you're clean, we don't need one."

"Then we don't need one."

Which I'm damn happy about.

Jon eased onto his back, urging her to roll on top of him.  “C’mere and ride me.  You can go again, can’t you?”

Sheridan willingly straddled his waist and impaled herself on his erection.  Flattening her impressive chest against his, she nibbled at his bottom lip and purred, “For an orgasm like that?  You better believe it.”  Delicate fingers laid against his jaw and stroked against the sandpapery stubble of his beard while she huskily tantalized him, “This time I might even take you with me.”

Oh yeah, this is gonna have to be a regular thing.

❧❧❧

Sheridan shivered and turned over to burrow deeper under the covers.  Squinting against the bright daylight, her first muzzy thought was, What’s wrong with my electric blanket?

She inhaled deeply to accommodate the jaw-popping yawn, and a potpourri of scents flooded her nostrils:  the spicy scent of Jon’s cologne, the crisp sage and juniper of the massage oil, the prevalent smell of pure sex...

He had been right.  It was just as good as Jamaica.  Setting turned out to be irrelevant.  The only the requirement had been their two bodies and mutual lust.  

Embarrassment wanted to sneak in at the memory of her shameless want for him.  She’d ridden him with abandon and been ridden until she was nothing more than a frazzled mess, drained of all energy.  The last thing she remembered, before falling asleep well after four this morning, was draping an arm over him and nuzzling a cheek into his very warm chest.

Unable to recall his leaving, she craned her neck around in search of Jon, only to find the other side of her bed empty.  He’d snuck out at some point in the early hours of the morning.

Her next mission was to lift her head in search for the missing electric blanket.  It was still in a disheveled heap on the floor.

That explains why I’m so damn cold.  He didn’t put the blanket back on when he left.

She tucked the sheet around her and stretched until she was able to snatch it up from the floor.  Dragging it up over her body, Sheridan settled back into the mattress and reached for the control unit next to the bed.  She flipped it on High and checked the clock.  Nine a.m.  Well past her usual start of the day.

Considering that she didn’t have any plans today, other than lunch with Suzy, she gave herself permission to be lazy. 

You’re forty years old today.  It should come with some perks!

The girlish grin demanding to roam free on her face wouldn’t be contained.  She couldn’t even think that with a straight face.  Last night, she’d been the recipient of the most outstanding perk imaginable – total sexual abandon with a man who knew his way around a woman’s body.  A man who also knew just the words to get her fires burning at their hottest.

The deliciously provocative, “You’re gonna tell me when you come” would be a sound byte that replayed in her mind for the next fifty years.  It would be inevitably followed by his demanding, “Understand?”

The shiver that stole through her body this time had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with heat.

It was a good birthday present.

She would presume by his absence that this was a one-night shot, and it made her grateful that he’d snuck out while she was sleeping.  Morning-after etiquette wasn’t something she’d ever had a reason to learn a polite way to say “Thanks for the fuck.”  Their parting could have been incredibly awkward and ruined a deliciously sinful night.  It was so much better this way.

He’s done this a time or fifty.  It would be second nature for him to say “Thanks, Baby.  It’s been fun.”

That’s right.  She was only another notch on the bedpost.  Or did the second night entitle her to two notches?  This was clearly another area in which she was unversed.

Let it go, Sheridan.

She didn’t want to think about his bedpost.  It would be so much nicer to bury her face in his pillow and think about the fact that he was with her last night. 

Determined to do just that, Sheridan rolled onto her right side and plopped her hand into the middle of the dented pillow with the intention of pulling it close.  The unexpected crinkle of paper interrupted her progress.

Her brow furrowed with confusion as she curled her fingers around the slight rumpled sheet of notebook paper.  It was the same lined paper she used to make notes about her aromatherapy recipes.

Looks like he found my notebook in the workshop.

Curious as to what he might have to say, she quickly skimmed the flourishing words that had been jotted down with a heavy hand.

Happy Birthday.  Again.  I’m taking you out for dinner tonight.  NO is not an option, so don’t even think about it.  Afterward, we’ll celebrate.  Again.

Call you later with details. 

                                                       ~ J

The high-handedness of his decree rubbed her a little the wrong way.  She would have to let him know his dictatorial ways were unacceptable. 

After tonight.