The Promise of Lace (8 page)

“Umm… earlier in the year,” he said, kissing my neck now, as
he talked. “Came into a little money, had a friend who owed me a favor.”

“Don’t see a lot of guys with flowers on their tattoos.”

“I’m not really a skull and flames kind of guy,” he
responded with a chuckle.

“Yeah.
I’d noticed that about you,” I sighed. I
pulled his undershirt over his head.

“So…” I said, running my hands over his back, enjoying the
feeling of the muscles there. I could feel the lines between them, like they
were lakeshore-smoothed pebbles under his skin. “I have been thinking about
that blowjob thing. The offer still stands.”

He panted against my chest, and didn’t answer.

“Dieter?”

“Umm… okay. I promised I’d tell you on the second date,
right?”

I petted my hands over his hair and tipped his head back so
that we were face to face.

“If it’s something you don’t want to talk about, or can’t
talk about, you can just tell me that,” I said quietly. “It’s not like I’m
going to be angry or anything. We’ve known each other a couple weeks. You don’t
have to bare your soul.”

He chuckled, kissed me. He played with the button at the top
of my fly for a few moments. As a show of trust, and a little bit as a push to
stay on track, I reached down and popped it open. He locked his eyes on mine
and reached between us again, tangling our fingers for a moment before he undid
the button at the top of his own jeans.
 
I waited, but he didn’t continue to undress.

He took my wrists gently in his hands and pulled my hands
down to his groin, settling my fingers at his zipper. I took the tab between my
fingers and leaned forward to kiss him as I tugged it down. It came down
easily, he wasn’t flaccid, but he wasn’t nearly as hard as he had been last
time.

His breathing got heavier, but not aroused heavy. More like
he was steadying himself for something. Involuntarily, I found myself shushing
him.
Making nonsense soothing noises and running one hand
over his hair.
He seemed so nervous. I wondered… it seemed unlikely,
really
unlikely, given the freaking
amazing head the other night, but possible… he was a few years younger than me.

“Dieter… you’re not… you’re not a virgin are you?”

He
laughed,
one harsh bark.

“No. Nope. Not a virgin.”

“Alright.”

We resettled ourselves on the couch so that we were lying
down, him with his head on the armrest, me still straddling him.

I finished unzipping his pants and tugged the waistband of
his jeans down over his hips. I pressed him backward onto the couch, ran my
hands up his chest and stooped to kiss him again. He was still tense and rigid
under my hands. Last time we’d been tangled up in each other like this all I’d
wanted to do was ride him like a stallion, but something that needed a steadier
hand was happening. I wanted him to be comfortable, so we were going slowly. I
touched him and kissed him. Took his nipples in my mouth and sucked them until
his tight breath became more of a pant than the shallow pull of air that it had
been before. I worked my way down his stomach and he started to go tight on me
again.

I bit at the stretch of skin between either side of the
zipper and he jumped underneath me. There was no underwear waistband. I liked a
guy going commando. I smiled and nuzzled my face down against the wiry hair of
his treasure trail. He smelled clean.
Like body wash.
Something with “forest” or “rain” in the name.
A little like
the Tide from his jeans.

“Roxanne?” He said quietly.

“You still okay?” I asked, popping my head back up. If he
asked me to stop, I’d back off, but he must have been thinking the same things
that my friends and I had been. It was really weird for a guy to say no.

“Yeah… I’m… I’m good.”

“Okay,” I dropped a kiss to his stomach. “I’m taking your jeans
off now.”

He pursed his lips tight, but he nodded. He was saying yes,
even though his body didn’t seem to be. I’d go
slow
.
Slow enough for him to change his mind.

I started working the waistband of his jeans down over his
bare hips.

I got them about halfway down before I realized that he was,
in fact, not going commando.

He was wearing panties.

They were a dark midnight blue, bikini cut, made out of a
soft floral patterned lace. There was a little satin bow in a slightly lighter
blue color on the front.

“Oh,” I managed. “Is this… is
this what
you were going to tell me?”

“Yes,” he replied. His voice was tight. He was definitely
worried.

The half hard line of his cock was visible through the
flimsy fabric, strangely pink through the navy.

It was weird. I couldn’t really pretend that it wasn’t. But
did it bother me? I thought about another conversation with Hailey and Noah.
Was this something that made me not want to see him again?

“It’s… I… It’s sort of something I’ve always liked,” Dieter
said. “I mean, just underwear. I don’t wear skirts or dresses or anything. Just
the… just the panties... and… umm… and I have a little lingerie.
Just… nothing serious.
Nothing with like cups or boning or
laces or anything…but I’ve thought about it.” I realized that this was all
nervous babbling and set my hands at his sides, using the touch to reassure
him. “I…
does
it weird you out?”

I wasn’t sure.

He did look good in them, the more I thought about it. They
made his strong hipbones look like they were chiseled into his body. The way
the leg holes curved around his thighs exaggerated the muscles in them. The
lace matched his tattoo. The cut exaggerated his gorgeous body. I liked that
about it. I tugged his jeans down a little farther, revealing more of him.
Above me, he made another held in little noise. I ran my finger up the groove
in his mid-thigh, then flattened my hand and ran my palm over his groin, over
the satiny smooth fabric covering his cock.

He choked and rocked up into my hand. “Roxanne,” he huffed.

But it wasn’t just the look to consider. He worked in a
lingerie store. He’d just admitted that he had more than this pair. There was
definitely plenty of underwear.
And “a little” lingerie.

Was it a fetish thing? Would I still think it was cute if he
couldn’t climax without it?

I decided to go for plausible deniability in my reply.

“Look at you,” I whispered, running my hand over the lacy
edge of one of the leg holes. There.
Supportive, but
noncommittal.
That was, after all, how I rolled.

He loosened a little further under my hands. His face
relaxed. I definitely liked that. He finally seemed to breathe out and I
smoothed my hands down over his lace-covered hips. The fabric felt
really
nice between my hands and the
firm muscle of his body. I tugged his jeans down further, finally all the way
down his legs, off over his feet. Dieter lay still, watching me intently,
making no move to either stop me or hurry me along. He just let me touch and
look at him. And I did look. Muscular and sweet and lying on my couch in nothing
but blue lace panties stretched tight over his cock,
which
was getting noticeably harder under all the attention.

We’d had a lot of fun.

He was the handsomest guy I’d ever had up here.

You only live once.

I set my hands at his knees and dragged my palms up his
strong legs. I skimmed my hands one by one over his burgeoning cock, realizing
as I did that he was shaved completely clean underneath. That weirded me out a
little. But he hadn’t said shit about the fact that I hadn’t been as
immaculately shaved, so I decided to ignore it for now.

I ran my hands up his chest, scooped them under his neck and
lifted his head before I kissed him. He finally turned back into the guy who
had hauled me, soaking wet, up against the side of my building’s elevator.

He unhooked my bra, yanked it off and tossed it, holding his
torso up with stomach muscle alone while he kissed and fondled my breasts and I
shimmied out of my jeans. As soon as I was down to just my underwear he crushed
my body to his. My hips worked against his of their own accord, the thin cotton
of my panties sliding against the smooth lace of his.

He flipped us over, moving against me all the while, manic
in his passion. His weight sunk on top of me. His hands gripped my thighs so
tight it nearly hurt and he yanked my legs up behind his back, thrusting
against me, rocking down into me so hard that my entire body moved with him. I
grabbed his shoulders and held on. I could see the appeal of the panties now.
There was just enough fabric between us to make the tease exciting, not nearly
enough to deaden the sensation of him rubbing against me. I could feel the heat
of him through the thin material, and the tightness of the lace held the ridge
of his cock upright against me so that every thrust of his body against mine
dragged the whole length of his thick cock over my clit until I was gasping.

He shuddered against me and stopped, breathing hard.

“Roxanne?” he grit out. “Roxanne, what do you want?”

I could pretty much come from a little bit more of this, his
hot breath against my ear, his weight on me, his cock rubbing against me and
sending shocks through my body, but I could feel my core starting to ache with
emptiness. I rocked my hips up against him, unable to stop myself. He whined.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” he panted.

I felt a surge of lust burst in my stomach, like a light
bulb popping.

I did like a guy to be mine.
That was
something I’d only ever gotten from a couple of my suit and tie
boys and
even then… they’d been playing at it. Mocking me for it even, while they played
along, mugging the whole thing.

But Dieter was
salivating
for me.

I raked my hand through his hair, letting my fingernails
scratch against his scalp. He pushed up into my fingers.

“Get on your knees.”

He smiled, gratefully, not the coy smile I’d gotten from a
lot of the guys that I’d told what to do.
The ones that
seemed to expect you to have a riding crop and a latex maid’s outfit hidden
away just to turn them on.

But Dieter just wanted this. Hoped I’d give it to him.
Trusted me with his secret.

I’d never really thought of myself as shallow like this—but
it was way more fun to have this sort of eagerness to submit from a guy as
handsome and as fit as Dieter.

He leaned back, took my hands in his and pulled me up so
that I was sitting on his tensed thighs. I glanced down between his legs. He
was so hard now that his cock was straining against the lace. I could see his
cockhead, obscenely red against the midnight blue of the panties and the
paleness of his skin. A spot of precome was glistening under the soft light in
a way that gave me an idea for later.

But first thing was first.

Dieter brought my hands up to his mouth, kissing my fingers
before moving me off of him. He wrapped his hands around my thighs and turned
me so that I could lean against the back of the couch. He pressed forward into
one more blazing kiss, then slid down onto the floor and knelt between my
thighs. He looked up at me and I shivered when I realized that it was a request
for permission.

I nodded, giving it to him.

He sighed, deeply, happily, and kissed one thigh, then the
other. His fingertips danced up over my legs, up to the crux of me. He set his
thumb to my clit, brushing across it calmly. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

His teeth came into play. He nibbled gently at the soft skin
of my thighs, startling me. I bucked up into his thumb and he came up to kiss
my stomach, fingers tucking into my underwear, his lips following in the wake
of the waistband as he pulled it off. His hot tongue swiped over that sensitive
button and I thrust up against his mouth. He groaned, knotted his fingers
around my panties and slid them off.

I saw him reach for his cock as he leaned back and I grabbed
his forearm. I wasn’t totally sure that I could push him like this for a first
time. It wasn’t like we had talked about this at all.

But I had a hunch.

“Don’t touch
yourself
,” I
whispered.

I saw the way his shoulders loosened—relief. I saw the way
his eyes lit up—excitement. I remembered the way he had moaned when I’d grabbed
him by the hair last week.

Well.

If that’s how he liked it I certainly wouldn’t object.

He lifted his hands up, showing me they were empty and I
folded my noticeably smaller hands around his and pulled them toward me. I set
them around my hips and spread my legs. I raised an eyebrow at him and he dove
forward with a breathless, “Ahhh. Yes.”

I leaned back against the couch, stroking his hair as he
rocked against me. His long hair tickled my hips and his
tongue
made me shake
and gasp and wriggle against him.