Chapter 4: Oh My!

She led John into her apartment and flicked a light on.

"Did you want something to drink?"

The door had barely shut when John pushed her against the wall and pressed his body to hers. "No, just you."

He kissed her again, channeling hours of frustrated grinding without release into the meeting of their lips and tongues. She responded just as ardently, her hands running up his sides as she tugged his shirt loose from his pants.

She slid her hands under the waistband of his trousers onto his backside, urging his hips closer to hers and rubbing against him. John reciprocated by pushing his hands underneath her halter top and cupping her breasts. He teased her unrelentingly to the point where she started panting.

"Zoe, ah, when was your last drink?" he said breaking their kiss to look at her face intently.

"I . . . what?" she asked, her brow crinkling with confusion.

"I need to know how drunk you are to see how far I should take this . . ." he replied gently cupping the back of her head.

"John, I'm not drunk. I'm not stone sober, but I know what I'm doing."

"Good."

He held her stare as he slid a hand over the front of her jeans. She gave a small gasp as he cupped her; his fingers pressing against the spot where she wanted him the most.

"Are you ready for me, Zoe?" he rasped, his voice very low.

She bodily reacted to his question, pushing herself into his hand. Reaching for the hook of his trousers, her fingers simultaneously fought with the metal on his zipper. It gave in readily and she felt him tense as she slid her hand into the opening she'd created. Her fingers found him through the cotton of his boxers. She grasped him firmly, stroking her hand along his length. He quivered and shut his eyes for a brief second.

"Let's take this to the bedroom."

Zoe moved her hand from his trousers as he pushed them both away from the wall, leading her into the darkened living room and into her bedroom. Reaching for the hem of her halter top, she dragged it over her head. It made contact with the floor amid the clicking of the beads. John turned to her then, his gaze zeroing in on her naked chest.

"I need help with these damn jeans," she said as she reached for the snap of her jeans.

"Those jeans aren't damned. They do wonders for your tush," he said as she lowered the zipper, revealing the black lace panties she wore underneath.

She pushed her jeans down to her knees then realized she still had her boots on. "Damn, it," she said, hopping to the bed sitting down, holding her legs out. He smiled and reached for her boots, made quick work of them then helped her slide her jeans past her knees.

"God, that feels much better," she said.

"No doubt," John replied as his eyes roamed her almost naked body.

"What the hell are you waiting for John? Take your clothes off," she demanded.

She scooted back towards the head of the bed and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. Her gaze locked with his as she slipped her panties down her legs.

Not able to tear his eyes away from her, he unbuttoned his dress shirt then shrugged it off. Next came his undershirt, finally revealing his broad chest. He smiled as he removed the rest of his clothing and shoes; he obviously enjoyed her blatant admiration of his body. The bed dipped, then the weight of his body pressed against hers as unadulterated impulses took over.

He lowered his head, paying attention to her breasts with his mouth. Hooking a leg around his hips, she slid a hand onto him at the same time. She stroked him boldly while he continued to pay homage to her breasts. Within a short span, she was panting, losing track of her own rhythm, only aware of her need for him.

"John," she panted, needing him immediately.

Lifting his head, he smiled at her. "Can't wait?" he teased.

"John," she said more insistently as she tightened her hold.

He leaned across her and practically pulled the drawer of the nightstand off its hinges. She closed her eyes, barely holding it together as she heard the rustle of a foil package being ripped apart. Opening her eyes again as she felt him.

John looked into her eyes while one hand travelled down her stomach. She lifted her hips instinctively as he touched her. She knew he could feel how prepared she was for him. His gaze grew hooded as his jaw clenched. He stroked her, keeping track of the plethora of gasps and breath hitches.

Just when she was about to shriek with aggravation, he flexed his hips into hers. Her body granted him entrance as he buried himself to the hilt. She let out a gasp of pleasure as he started to move. Within seconds, she'd matched her rhythm to his. Their rhythm finally in sync, they were only aware of each other. His lips on her breasts, her palms on his back and shoulders and the steady motion of their movement. All too soon, her body tightened around him and her fingers curled into his backside as she felt her release.

He laid kisses on her forehead, her cheeks and her lips, slowing his pace as he slid a hand down her stomach again. She let loose another gasp of surprise and pleasure as he coaxed her towards a second release. Zoe was trembling, legs tightening around him, uttering his name as she peaked once more, this time, taking him with her.

Collapsing on the bed beside her, he buried his face in the pillow as they both tried to calm their harsh breathing back to normal. He lifted his face off the pillow and gave her a heart-stopping grin. She couldn't help but return the grin.

"I'd give that a nine," he said.

Raising a brow, she asked. "Just a nine? On what scale?"

He laughed, a nice refreshing belly laugh. "A scale of ten," he replied. "I think we could have done much better."

"Seriously?" She could hear the obvious skepticism in her voice.

"Word," he replied as he proceeded to show her what a ten felt like.

Zoe woke up a few hours later with the mother of all hangovers. Rolling over in bed she pressed her hands to her aching cranium for several minutes before she was able to convince her body to sit up. She glanced up as the bedroom door opened and John walked in with too bright of a smile and smelling of clean soap, with a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water.

"Brenda and Susan are dead meat," she claimed venomously. "Jesus, what did they think? That I was sill twenty-one? Bitches!"

John walked over to the bed and handed her the aspirin and water. "Take a couple of these, it will make you feel better and drink the water, all of it." He instructed somewhat surprised when she complied.

After settling back down with the sheet over her, Zoe glanced up at him. "Did we manage a ten?"

Flashing his irresistible grin, he answered proudly. "Twice."

"Want to try for a twelve?"

The End