She was probably right.
“Whatever,” I said instead. I pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine before I turned to her. “Rumple, I mean it—we don’t have to do anything. Let’s just order some food and hang out, okay?”
“Okay,” she said with a smile, “but no pizza—I already have dinner planned.”
“Fucking-A!”
She really did have dinner all planned—including candles and linen napkins on the kitchen table. I had no freaking clue what we were eating—she said it was Indian. I wasn’t sure if that was Native American or actually India-Indian, but it was really good. The food was a little bit spicy and had this thick bread to eat with it and a bunch of little sauces in a dish for dipping. By the time we were done, I was ready to roll right out of the kitchen, I had eaten so much.
“You are a glutton,” Nicole said. She reached over and put a dollop of some green minty sauce on my nose then leaned in and licked it off.
“You cook like a fucking rock star,” I told her.
“Do rock stars cook?” She giggled.
“Um…I dunno, but if they did, it would be like this!” I hoped she bought it.
Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but we ended up ignoring the dishes and moving to the couch to make out instead.
I leaned back against the arm of the couch, and Nicole crawled over the top of me, her lips nipping at my jawline while I just put my head back and basked in the feeling. Her fingers ran up my arm and traced over my biceps. It tickled, but I still liked it. I snaked my arms around her back and pulled her against me. I could feel her tits against my chest, and I had to close my eyes and smile.
I raised my head again and brought my hands up over her shoulders and cupped the sides of her face. She looked up at me, and I could see the slight blush in her cheeks again as I moved forward and took her mouth with mine.
My Rumple.
Fingers, hands, lips—I wanted to touch her with every part of me.
She was nervous. It was obvious. I had a pretty good idea why, and I didn’t want her upset, so I just let her do what she wanted and followed her lead. Where she touched me, I touched her. I skimmed her sides, slowly moving up and down and sometimes gripping her a little harder when she used her tongue to reach into my mouth, and I couldn’t help but moan. She was straddling my stomach at first but then moved herself down a little and ripped my shirt off over my head.
“I love your chest,” she said as she tossed my shirt behind her. She glanced away and bit down on her lip again. Her fingers started at my shoulders and worked their way down to my stomach. She outlined each muscle with her fingertip, making my skin quiver a little. I watched her looking at me, and it made me feel all warm inside even though the air in the room was a little chilled, and I could hear the rain starting to come down again outside.
I tugged at the ends of her shirt, where my fingers had been playing with the hem. She looked back to me and grasped the end of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.
Fuck me hard.
Deep blue lace.
My boner rivaled the Washington Monument.
I’d had my hands on her tits before while we were lying in her bed, but it was always a bit dark in there, and there was always the possibility of Greg peeking in. I’d never really seen her tits. I’d felt them up as much as she’d let me at night and sometimes woke up holding on to one of them like a teddy bear, but I’d never seen them. I definitely hadn’t seen them held up in a bra as if they were on fucking display just for me.
Sitting up, I moved my hands until they were right over them, hovering a little and trying to figure out just where I wanted to latch onto first. My fingertips won the mental debate, and I touched her over the top of the lace. Her skin was so soft and prefect that I had to lean over and taste it.
I kissed the tops of her breasts and then looked quickly up to her eyes to make sure it was all still okay. She still looked nervous, but she nodded at me to continue, and I wasn’t going to argue about that. She placed her hands on my shoulders and seemed to balance herself there as I peppered the line with tiny kisses from left to right where the lace met her skin. Then I ran my tongue along the ridge from right to left.
She tasted better than her own cooking, which was like a fucking rock star. I’d never tasted a rock star’s tits, but I was pretty sure they couldn’t be anywhere near as good as my Rumple’s.
She reached behind her back to the clasp, the dark blue fabric falling forward, and I got my first really good look at perfection. I was in awe. The Washington Monument became even more…monumental…and I was pretty sure I was starting to drool. I slid her bra off her arms and cupped both breasts in my hands, glancing only briefly to Nicole’s face to see her smile before I rolled them around and brought my mouth down to say hello.
She groaned, and her hands wrapped around my head as I sucked the first nipple into my mouth. That wasn’t enough, so I switched to the other one. I went back and forth, and even tried bringing them close enough together to suck both at once. I was nearly successful, and rolled my tongue around each in turn before tilting my head back up and kissing her deeply.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I told her between kisses, “it fucking hurts to look at you.”
“Hurts?” she mumbled back. She tugged at my hair, pulling my head backwards as she started kissing down my neck.
“Yes, it hurts,” I replied. “In a good way.”
“Good.”