Naked Truth (3 page)

“Off!” Stella insisted more firmly, confronting the dog with a stern and pointed look. Kitty, looking much put upon, slunk off the bed but sat down next to it, clearly waiting for any chance to get back up. Paul couldn’t help a sigh of relief, followed by a moment of chagrin as he realized his prominent erection was no longer hidden.

Stella placed a mug of coffee on the bedside table nearest Paul,
then
walked around the bed to set her own mug down before climbing in next to him and nestling under the covers.

“I was aiming for seductive, but it’s too cold to sit around naked. Sorry. I’m never drinking
appletinis
again, by the way.”

“Noted.
You had already succeeded at being seductive. Your work was done. Although I
am
sorry you covered up. How long have you been awake?” He was surprised she was moving at all so early. He had expected her to be suffering a horrendous hangover this morning.

“Since six.
The doggies woke me like they always do. So I’ve had water and a shower and aspirin and everything.
And coffee.
This is my second cup.”

Beau chose that moment to stretch and shake, his collar tags jingling merrily.

“And I gather you’ve been for a
wa
—”

“Don’t say that word!”

“That thing with the dogs where you take them to the place that isn’t inside,” Paul finished smoothly, inching closer to her and lowering his hands to feel for her under the covers.

“Yep.”

“And then you had seduction planned for after that?”

Stella blushed, her fair skin nearly glowing with embarrassment. In a move Paul found wholly adorable, she snuggled down into the comforter until she was hidden clear up to her chin. “Well, that was the general idea. I was planning to wake you up with that and then get to the coffee afterward if it wasn’t too cold by then. I could really stand to finish that second cup. Did I mention I’m never drinking
appletinis
ever again?
Ever
?”

He found her hand and pulled it to his cock, which was already hard enough to throb. It twitched at her touch and Stella smirked. Wanting to do more, get closer to Paul somehow, demonstrate things that she lacked words to express, she whipped the comforter over her head and started kissing her way down his firmly muscled torso, ignoring his mild attempt to protest.

It was hot under the covers, and Paul’s skin was even hotter to the touch. It burned beneath her lips. She licked a long line from his left nipple down to his navel, then heard and felt his gasp when she blew cool air across the damp trail. His nipple tightened, and she stroked a finger back up to play with the tight little bud as she let her mouth drift lower. His bellybutton was very lightly furred, a fuzzy dimple in a plane of beautifully toned muscle. The hair trailed down from there to spread at the base of his cock, which had been nudging against Stella’s side as she savored Paul’s body and pretended to ignore her destination.

A cold sensation on her rib cage puzzled her for a moment until she realized that Paul’s penis had left a stripe of pre-cum beneath her arm. She couldn’t even pretend to ignore that. Grinning, glad he couldn’t see quite how hungry she was to taste
him,
Stella abandoned her slower approach and shifted herself down to kneel between Paul’s knees. He moved his legs restlessly, spreading them in response to her pressure on his inner thighs, and groaned when she trailed her hands up to run her fingertips over his balls.

“Oh yeah,” Paul murmured, and Stella indulged him by repeating the teasing motion. It wasn’t enough though. She wanted to taste him, wanted to lick every inch of his heavy cock.
To bring him every bit as much pleasure as he had brought her the night before.

Lowering her head at last, she caught the very tip of his penis between her lips and suckled gently to get the drops of fluid gathered there. Salty and bitter, neither of which were things she associated with Paul. But also familiar and somehow essential, which was just like Paul. Sliding her mouth over his velvety skin, she kissed her way from tip to base. She teased her tongue along each ridge and prominent vein, and then used her hand to work his length while she nuzzled the heavy sac below his cock.

When Stella put her mouth over him again and finally started to lower her head to take him all the way in, she felt a sudden draft and opened her eyes to find Paul staring at her in the bright, chilly morning light. He looked like a starving man at a banquet. When she moved her tongue, stroking it along his underside as she took him in even deeper, he groaned and fisted one hand in her hair. Not pushing, not directing.
Just connecting.
Stella was surprised to feel a hot flood of cream from her pussy, and a thrill of need that set her clit buzzing. She worked her mouth up and down on Paul’s cock
faster,
and the more vocal his approval, the more turned-on she got.

“Stop,” he said after another minute of that blissful activity. “Stella, stop. I want to come inside you. Please?”

Releasing him abruptly, she nearly leapt back up to straddle his hips. Paul was just as eager, and he shoved his hips up to meet her as she lowered herself onto his erection. Stella gave a little huff of surprise at the movement, but countered immediately by lifting up and dropping down on him again, hard.
Then again, foiling his attempt to set the pace.

“Just let me,” she whispered, not even sure why she was so determined to control this encounter. It was new and felt daring, and she wanted to see it through. See what she could do after so much time out of the game.

“So hard not to move,” Paul complained, but his tone was vague. He was already drugged by lust, seeming content to let
himself
be used if that was the way Stella wanted him. But then he turned the control around by adding, “Touch
yourself
. I want to watch you play with yourself and come all over my cock.”

It knocked her for a
loop, that
request. Or demand, possibly. Paul was watching, waiting. Stella felt shy at first, reaching down with one finger to stroke at her clitoris as she rode him. But Paul’s expression made it clear he liked what he was seeing very much. Stella shivered at the intensity in his eyes and started moving faster. Instead of using him, she was performing for him, and she didn’t want to know what it said about her that she got ten times hotter thinking of it that way.

Soon she was struggling, her thighs beginning to tremble with the unaccustomed exercise, her clit aching with the orgasm that was so close she could taste it. And just when she thought she would have to stop, have to find another position, Paul rubbed his hands up her legs and used his thumbs to spread her pussy even wider, and said, “That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”

And she came, pushed past endurance by his touch and his words and the look on his face.

She shuddered and tried to keep moving as wave after wave of shivering pleasure broke through her, but she finally had to stop because it felt almost too good each time her swollen clit brushed against the crisp curls at the base of Paul’s cock.

“Stella, baby, look at me,” Paul said firmly, and she lifted her eyes to his just as he snapped his hips up into her. His hand caught her neck, holding her under his fiercely sensual gaze when she would have leaned away. And he moved again and again, faster and faster, and it felt almost bruising but so good, so real.

She felt herself coming again and wondered if she was dreaming. But Paul’s grip on her neck and thigh was too solid to deny. Her climax hit, spreading through her sweetly just as he pulled her down to drive his cock as deeply as possible in her quivering pussy. She could feel him coming too, throbbing to a stop inside her, and they milked each other to a breathless finish before Stella collapsed on top of Paul’s heaving chest.

They didn’t move until a strange, wet lapping sound alerted them to the fact that Beau had discovered Paul’s forgotten cup of coffee.

* * * * *

“You know how when you’re a kid, you ask your parents for a pony, and you don’t get it but it’s like this ideal thing that stays in your head? Even after you don’t exactly want a pony anymore, you’ve moved on to other things?”

Paul shrugged and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “This is probably not the time to tell you about the pony I had when I was a kid.”

“Probably not,” Stella agreed, thumping his broad chest affectionately before laying her head back down on it. She loved the way Paul’s arm automatically fit itself around her shoulders, as if they had been designed for snuggling just that way. “Because for those of us who never got the pony, which you realize is most of us, this is kind of a thing. You want it, you don’t get it, you know you never will and eventually you convince yourself you never really wanted it. But the thing is
,
you still did want it, deep down.”

“Are you about to call me a pony?” He ruffled her hair as he spoke, lazily combing his fingers through the fiery strands.

“Yes, exactly.
This feels like what I always imagined it would feel like if one day I woke up, and my parents said there was a surprise, and I looked out the window and there was a beautiful white pony with a big red bow tied around his neck.”

“I am
not
putting a bow around my neck,” he cautioned her.

“No, silly, not around your neck.”
Reaching beneath the sheet, she gave him a friendly squeeze, earning a whimper and a chuckle. “Seriously, it’s just…like something you’ve been told your whole life is just a fantasy, and you’d convinced yourself it was one of those things that just doesn’t happen in real life. And all of a sudden it actually happens. That’s what last night felt like.” She realized after she said it that this confession might be a little too much to disclose quite so soon, but Paul seemed to take it in stride.

“This morning pretty much felt that way too, sweetheart.” His fingers had drifted again, and he was petting the very edge of her breast where it met her rib cage.

“See, and you keep saying stuff like
that
too.”

“I mean it. I’ve meant everything I’ve said. Since we’re reminiscing, do you remember the capstone project we worked on?”

“Of course.”
She remembered it like it was yesterday. The semester before their last in the program, because both of them were overachievers, she and Paul had spent hours with two other students working on a thesis-level cohort project. She had loved every minute of it, and it had not escaped her attention or Don’s notice that a big part of her enjoyment centered
around
talking with Paul. At the time, she had mistaken Don’s jealousy for a deeply romantic emotion instead of the very well grounded fear that it truly represented. Don had been passionate, in his way, and she thought it would be the passion she had always dreamed of.
Never dreaming, of course, that when she really did find it, she would do so with funny, thoughtful, drama-free Paul.

“That was the worst and the best time for me. I saw you and talked to you almost every day. But I knew you were marrying that dick in another few months. I used to imagine all kinds of things, you leaving him, me punching him right in the face. Bending you over the desk in the study room at the library and just fucking like rabbits.”

“You were the one who made the group start working in the Student Union instead because you said the rooms at the library made you
claustroph
—
Oh
.”

“Once I’d pictured it, I just couldn’t think of anything else whenever we were in there.”

“I had no idea.” She craned her neck to look up at him with a little frown. “I must have been an idiot.”

“No,” Paul corrected her. “I was just very, very careful not to let it show. But that wasn’t the worst part.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. The worst part was when we would just start talking, and we’d both get so absorbed in that, and I would forget all about the sex part. I missed those talks more than anything.”

Stella realized she was crying, but made no effort to stop the tear that was tracing a path down her cheek. “Me too,” she said simply.

“I almost called you. After your divorce, I mean. And then when I heard you were back in town four years ago, I almost called you right then. But I felt like I was setting myself up for disappointment. I had kind of been comparing other women to you for years at that point. I was afraid if I met you again and you weren’t what I remembered…but you were. You were more. I was so dumb. You’re better than I even imagined.”

He ran out of words, stared at her with a wrinkled brow that Stella longed to smooth out with her fingers. Then she remembered there was no reason not to do that, so she did it. Something she had thought about so very many times when they were younger.

Stella had always felt guiltier about little impulses like that than she had about sexual fantasies. She had known even then that it was far less dangerous for an engaged girl to daydream about fucking somebody than it was to daydream about comforting him. Assuming, of course, that
the somebody
wasn’t the girl’s fiancé. But she had made a promise, and accepted Don’s ring. Invitations had been sent, presents had already started arriving. And she confused Don’s intensity with the passion of true love. If only she had been smarter, braver…but the time for “if only” was past.

Then she laughed, and Paul’s forehead furrowed again but in puzzlement. “You know what this means?” she asked, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him with glee. “I’m your pony.”

After a moment, Paul joined in her laughter. “It’s true, you are.” The gleam in his eye grew devilish, and he rested a finger against her laughing mouth as he continued. “So when do I wake up and find you on my front lawn wearing nothing but a big red bow around your neck?”

The End