Chapter 40

40

A fter the walk, she suggested her place to grab a bite. She was convinced that tossing something together there would be quicker than trying to select a riverside restaurant on the spot and without a reservation, especially since he probably had lots of quandaries when it came to choosing a place in such a touristy area. She knew she did.

He agreed to go to her house even when she told him she could only offer him a lentil and spinach salad, goat cheese, jamón, sourdough bread—and tea, of course.

"Pasta is also my go-to option when I'm pressed for time and want something yummy," she told him, reaching inside the refrigerator in her kitchen to take out some of the ingredients to make the salad. "But I'm not going to make puttanesca with whole-grain wheat fusilli and sautéed cherry tomatoes when the guest is Italian."

"It sounds interesting though," he said, cutting some slices from a dark loaf of bread as she'd requested.

"I would feel judged," she said.

"I would probably judge you," he admitted. "But please don't let that stop you from doing anything."

"I won't." She clutched his T-shirt and drew him to her body, kissing him.

"Before we get into this portion of your visit," she said, unfastening from him ever so slightly after a few minutes, "let's eat."

"Can we eat while I ask you some questions?" He had the most devastatingly deep brown eyes.

"I don't think I can say no to you right now." Sol swallowed hard. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

They sat around Sol's table, reclaiming their spots from the previous night: she by one of the corners on the long side of the table overlooking the kitchen, he at the head of the table by the same corner she occupied, looking at her.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, their eyes doing all the communicating, not missing a detail about what the other's gaze was implying.

"I thought you wanted to ask me some questions," said Sol, playing with the remains of the salad on her plate. It wasn't often that she found herself feeling this way, but she seemed not to be hungry—for food.

"Are we having tea?" he asked her.

"Yes, in the two connotations we seem to have for the word." She met his gaze unabashedly. "If that's okay with you."

His rakish stare gave her the answer she needed. She scooted over to the edge of the bench to get closer to him and let her mouth find his.

"Before we get too lost," he told her, nibbling at her bottom lip, "remember that I have questions."

"You had all dinner to ask them!" Did he really want to talk about the case right now?

"You're so impatient!" He chuckled. And tried to appease her by caressing her neck with his lips. "I needed to make sure I wasn't presuming anything."

He continued exploring the back of her neck and shoulders unhurriedly until Sol surrendered and started to relax.

"I'm going to need to know what you like." His low, throaty tone made her skin tingle.

"Right, this is the proper way to do it, no?" Sol said. "We talk likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs, protection."

"You're making it sound transactional," he said, momentarily relinquishing his duties at her nape to look at her. "But it can help us understand each other's wants and needs, and what our boundaries are."

"I'm digging the rationale behind this." She bit her bottom lip and played with her fingers over the edge of the shirt, grazing his neck. "I'll make it brief because I'm impatient. I love foreplay, to a point. I am impatient . The top drawer of my nightstand is stocked with toys and condoms. Clitoral stimulation is a must. You can't go wrong with neck play, nipple play—or dirty talk. More details to come. What do I need to know about you?"

"For now, let's say I'm simple." He delicately kissed the most sensible area of her inner right wrist, and Sol moaned at the touch. "I get turned on by my partner's pleasure. And I get better with use."

She swallowed hard.

"I'm going to sound extremely traditional, but is it okay if we go upstairs? I think I need a bed this first time."

"You're in charge," he told her, his eyes fixed on hers.

Sol grabbed his arm and guided him upstairs. When they got to the second floor, they were both panting. She wasn't sure if it was because they'd climbed the stairs so fast—but there weren't that many steps, and they were both supposed to be in relatively good shape—or their frantic anticipation. Still breathless and holding his hand, she showed Luke to her bedroom.

She had fantasized about taking him to her bed for the last few nights—even if during the days she'd pretended she wanted to be just friends and all the other nonsense. She'd imagined how he'd push her against the wall, kiss her neck, take her clothes off.

But when it finally happened—and she was so relieved it was finally happening— she pushed him against the wall, kissed him hard, helped him out of his T-shirt, and unzipped his pants, all while getting out of her own jeans and top.

She was frenzied by his smell, his touch, his taste.

His lips worked on her earlobe and neck as she pushed against him, corralling him against the wall. He was only wearing boxer briefs by then. She was in her most minimalistic—and practically sheer—bralette and thong, yet they were both still extremely overdressed.

She allowed herself to contemplate his almost-naked beauty and wasn't the least bit disappointed. He was as sexy and sculpted as all her most recent—and frequent—steamy dreams had anticipated.

She tugged at the waist of his boxer briefs and felt his well-rounded ass underneath it. She lowered the garment, tracing his length with her fingertips, enveloping him and sliding her hand along him slowly. He exhaled in pleasure, and they both smiled. She liked being the one who made him make that noise, feel that sensation.

"Let's get rid of the underwear," she told him.

He promptly replied to her urge with a smug grin on his face as he reached out to slide one of the straps of her bralette over her shoulder, unclasping the garment after that.

"You're the one making the decisions tonight." His voice raspier, coarser than usual. "I'm at your mercy." He smiled wickedly while he helped her finish undressing him and pushed her thong down her legs slowly.

"Are you sure I'm not at your mercy?" she asked, her fears of the previous night suddenly returned now that she was completely naked.

Sol Novo didn't often feel uncomfortable in her own skin. Since turning forty, she'd worked hard to feel that she looked good. She found herself incredibly sexy—something inconceivable in her twenties and thirties. But standing there with no clothes, no armor, in front of such a magnificent man—and his very magnificent erection—she doubted herself and her body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he told her then, almost as if he'd read her mind, and she was fucking beautiful. She didn't need him to remind her, but his admiring gaze delighted her all the same.

He grabbed her in his arms, lifting her from the floor. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and his lips started a slow descent from her neck to one of her breasts and then her nipple. She shuddered in pleasure while he teased, licked, bit. His hands were firmly planted on that ass of hers that he'd brought up in conversation often.

Almost as if remembering she'd told him that she was feeling traditional that night, he deposited her on the bed. Her legs and arms bound by his long, hard body.

"Tell me about your toys," he said, neglecting her breast for the briefest of moments. "Any favorites for a duo setting?"

"The first one you'll reach if you open the top drawer of my nightstand. Hot pink sort of smallish thing," she said breathlessly.

"And you like it?"

"Miracle worker."

"I'm getting jealous," he said, reaching to open the nightstand and easily finding the toy she'd referred to.

"Don't. You really have a lot on it. Like six feet of a well-toned, manly body…" Luke mercilessly bit one of her nipples and one of his hands was now at her clit, teasing it with his fingers. "Plus, that thing doesn't have an ease with words and has never looked at me the way you do," she said, panting.

"How do I look at you?" He lifted his face from her breasts, fixing on Sol's eyes.

"With warm, inquisitive brown eyes."

But Sol couldn't tell him anything else about his beautiful eyes. Her body arched at the sensation of Luke's finger sliding inside her, slowly pulling out and spreading her own wetness over her clit. He turned on her toy then and pressed it against her most sensitive area.

"Still a bit jealous," he told her in between her moans.

"I'm so fucking turned on right now because you're the one using that thing on me. I don't normally relinquish the use of my toys," she said raggedly. She was about to come, but part of her wanted to be in that lulled state for longer.

"Do you want to join in?" she asked on a breathy exhale.

He looked at her with questioning eyes. And she had to admit that he took her consent to a degree that made her even hornier.

"Please," she said. She'd missed sex in the company of another human being—even if none of her toys had ever let her down.

She reached for the nightstand, her eyes still fixed on Luke, her body under his. She felt the contents of the drawer with her hand and grabbed a condom. She unfoiled it and wrapped it around his cock slowly, feeling every sensation her hand affected on him.

She moved her legs, lifting them in the air around his body. She caressed his ass with her nails, and at the first sensation of him inside her, she realized she'd been lost since the first time she'd set eyes on him. Even if her mind had not recognized the unavoidable attraction, her body had.

"All good?" he whispered in her ear while pushing inside her.

"You babble too much." She scratched his ass and pressed him deeper.

"Communication is key in this line of work," he murmured while teasing her earlobe. He hadn't let go of the toy, still diligently working at Sol's center and teasing one of her breasts with his pillowy lips.

"Harder," she told him, and the bite made her arch her whole body in pleasure. She was panting, sweating and doused in lust. She could feel the building sensation overcoming her with each new thrust of him inside her, each new nipple bite, each humming stroke between her legs. And to think, she'd read some nonsense article about female blended orgasms being debatable or somewhat controversial or something she couldn't really remember. It had probably been written by an inept dude. And edited by another one.

She lost sense of everything surrounding them, overcome with a spiraling sensation.

"Almost there," she said, and she suddenly realized the whole of Roupell Street was probably aware of her having sex with another human being. She couldn't remember ever being so loud by herself.

"Miracle worker indeed," whispered Luke jaggedly.

"It's having some exceptional help."

He thrust into her again, and the two of them got lost in the bliss.

They laid in silence side by side for a few seconds after.

"You said you get even better with use?" She traced the contour of his clavicle, descending his chest and circling his navel. He shuddered at the touch.

"Should we give it another go and see? I promise some dirty talk this time."