Better Ch. 14

Chapter 14 - Andrea

Having a glimpse of Robert and his life outside of what we had shared over these past few months made me find him all the more attractive. I got to see him as a good brother, a good brother-in-law, and a good friend among some of the people with whom he spent time and had a long history. I'm sure it was a big step for him to bring me around and make that introduction to everyone. I felt as if I fit right in. I also knew we had a long way to go to see if there was that "couple" side of us. For all the time I had known him before, I felt as if he were a brand-new lover who I really didn't know at all.

When I woke up, I looked at him splayed stomach-side down on my bed. As much as I wanted him again, I just couldn't bring myself to wake him. I could understand how he could be that tired. Our ride back from Rick's house was nothing but teasing touches and double entendres that escalated the closer we got back to my apartment.

And speaking of escalated, well, maybe elevated, or more like elevator ...

Robert punched the button to the fourth floor, two above mine, stood right in front of me, and gave me that daring, mischievous grin that I knew meant that he wanted to do something wild.

"How do you stop this thing?" he asked.

He grabbed me close and bit on my neck.

"I don't know," I said and let out a gasp of air from the strange mix of pleasure and pain he inflicted with his teeth.

The door opened on the fourth floor. He pushed me against the side wall of the elevator, pinned my hands above my head, pulled the neckline of my T-shirt down to expose my breast, and bit into the soft, tender flesh.

By memory, I reached out for and hit the "Close Door" button. He swiftly slid one foot over to widen my stance and cupped a hand over my warm, brewing pussy. Between that move and his cock that he pressed against my leg, I felt as if I were percolating inside. Our hands were scavenging skin with mine under the hem of his shorts to grope the upper back side of his thigh and under his T-shirt to feel the heat from his chest. His hand darted through the bottom of my shirt and underneath my bra to claw my breast. He wasted no time unbuttoning my shorts and pulling down the zipper in a demanding manner in much the same way his hand and fingers grabbed for and stroked my slick outer lips between my legs. I dropped my shorts to the ground, tip-toed, and wrapped one leg around him with no care or concern of who might need the elevator at 2:30 in the morning.

His hard, bare cock was soon sliding along my lips, daring to go inside of me and daring me to let him enter me. Our breathing, which had taken on a force like a wild wind storm, slowed down briefly for a moment as if to pause for permission. Do we continue this here or do we head straight for my apartment? As quickly as that very short but poignant pause lasted, I thrust my mouth onto his and kissed him as hungrily as I wanted him to fuck me. He lifted me up and plowed away inside of me with might. I tried to break free from the kiss to catch a breath but a loud and fierce groan came out. I was in a state of a tight and continued edge of climax that I wanted to let loose and hang onto all at the same time, but I couldn't and didn't want to lose the momentum that we built up – not until he was ready to come.

My body was no match for my will. Cum started dripping out of me. He slowed to watch the base of his cock coated with my cum slide in and out of me and the stream that was coming out of me. He smiled, looked at me, and said, "My god, you're amazing," as he wiped the cum onto of one of his fingers that he slipped into my mouth.

I gave him a look that I hoped said, "Let's go at this again."

He took my cue or maybe it was his wish for a repeat performance, and that's what he got. We both stopped to watch the incredibleness of a slow-motion fuck. Even though he had the better vantage point of seeing his cock plunge inside of me, it was a hot, shared moment that could be repeated all night long except the third time he came. We were both drenched between our legs, on our legs, on our clothing, and on our bellies.

He dropped me so that my feet hit the floor. I was wobbly, I could barely stand, and neither could he. We both clung to each other to keep each other propped up. It was a while until I was able to speak. I looked up to him, threw him a wicked grin, and said. "You make me do bad things."

We busted out laughing. He picked up my shorts, pulled them over my legs, and got me dressed but not as neatly as when we got into the elevator car. He pulled up his own shorts, hit the "2" button, and said, "One of these days, we're going to get caught."

"Let them be jealous," I said with a wink in my eye and in my voice as I sashayed out of the elevator onto my floor, knowing he was watching my swagger all the way to my door.

We broke out in laughter again as we heard the elevator ding down the hallway.

After replaying that entire scene in my mind, I noticed he still hadn't moved since I woke up. In fact, I don't think he moved since we both plopped on the bed about six hours earlier. Finally, his eyes appeared through tiny slits and a smile beamed on his face.

"I hope you never stop turning me on," he said as he reached out and rolled on top of and around the other side of me.

This time, our hands smoothly caressed every curve, nook, cranny, and contour of our skin as if to commit them to memory. Our kisses were soft, our nibbles were delicate. I felt as if our bodies were in a boat rolling on soft waves that had a strong fullness behind them.

Robert's cock also had fullness inside of it. I couldn't help but to be enamored with the way he guided my hand to touch and stroke it. Once I had the soft, slow rhythm down on my own, he reached between my legs. His exploratory gestures were delicate and appreciative like the way someone would stare at a piece of art to study and admire it. There was no rush to turn up the volume and play each other fast, hard and loud or to see how we could take each other to some new extreme edge. If "nice" had a specific and narrowly-defined definition, this would be it.

Robert ran a hand over the softness of my hair, looked into my eyes, and said, "Do you know during this whole time we've known each other that I've never taken you out on a real date?"

"Well, what about last night?" I asked.

"That's different," he said. "I would have been over there anyway, just like I'm usually out with family on the weekends."

"I had fun, and I'm glad that you invited me," I said, still stroking and touching him with my arms and legs and hands and feet entwined around him.

He smiled, kissed me on my forehead, and said, "How about a concert? I'd hate to have the summer go by and not see an outdoor show or two ... or six or seven with you."

He reached over for his phone on my nightstand and started looking up concert dates.

"Hmm ... let's see," he said as he scrolled on the screen with the pad of his index finger. "Yes and Procol Harem on Monday ..."

There was no response from either of us.

"Joe Cocker and Huey Lewis on Thursday ..." he read.

"Umm ... yes to Joe Cocker but no to Huey Lewis," I said.

"Kelly Clarkson on Friday ..." he said, followed by a resounding "No" by both of us.

"Ah ha!" he lit up. "I think I've got it! Barenaked Ladies, Blues Traveler, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and Cracker on Saturday."

"All of them? Together? In one show?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed, my lady," he said.

He saw the smile on my face, and at the same time, we high-fived each other, and shouted, "Sweet!"

He reached onto the floor for his shorts and pulled out his credit card. There was something boyishly cute about seeing him sitting naked and cross-legged on my bed smiling like an idiot as he punched in the letters and numbers he needed to make the transaction.

"Done!" he said as if he had claimed a major conquest. "We've got seats on the lawn, the only way to see an outdoor show. We can sit on a blanket and drink really bad expensive box wine from the concession stand."

"And eat pre-wrapped sausages?" I asked, almost to beg for the bop on the head that he gave me with a pillow.

"Maybe if we're lucky, they'll have Dijon ketchup." He said with a smirk.

Then for the first time all weekend, I heard my phone ring.

"Shit!" I said. "I forgot, I'm supposed to have brunch with Greta. I better get that."

I picked up my phone and true to form, Greta said, "I hope you're not blowing me off again."

"Umm ... no, I'm not, but ..." I said. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get out of this one. This was the third time in the past two weeks I've put off meeting with her.

Robert heard how the conversation was going and signaled that I should go.

"What time?" I asked.

"Now," she said, pointing out that it was 11 in the morning.

"Crap," I said. "Can you give me an hour?"

"Sure," she said, "But you're paying. The crab Benedict looks real-ly good. And it looks like it goes better with Veuve Cliquot than that swill they put in the bottomless mimosas."

"OK, OK ... I get it, and you deserve it," I said. "See you as soon as I get there."

I hung up the phone, sighed, gave Robert an apologetic look, and said, "I'm sorry. She's already there and I can't blow her off again."

He was already getting dressed and had an understanding look on his face, "It's OK. As much as I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, I really have to go anyway. Payroll waits. Give me a call later this evening."

He gave me a kiss before he headed out the door. I should have been surprised that he asked me to call him later. This wasn't like him, but I was getting used to it.