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I’m sure it’s nervous energy that propels me up the steps and through the door to his building. I know what I’m doing is crazy, but I’m too wound up to think rationally. My fingers slide over the singular key in my jacket pocket as if it’s a talisman and I’m begging it to bring me good fortune. It’s the same key Josh had asked if still had at Leo’s funeral. I’d long since taken it off my key ring, but I’d never had the heart to give it back. Doing that had always felt too final. About an hour ago, as I’d reasoned through what I’m doing now, I’d found it, nestled safely among some of my jewelry, right where I’d put it for safe keeping. It’s as if future me wanted to manifest this very moment.
And maybe I did. It’s not like I haven’t thought about doing what I’m about to do. I have more times than I’d like to admit. Still, I can feel my heart beating wildly against the confines of my rib cage as I raise my hand to knock at his door.
I am reasonably sure he’s home. It’s not that I’m a stalker, but up until very recently, my life’s work has revolved around knowing what he’s doing at any given moment during his waking hours, so it comes as second nature to me to know when his flight gets in and use that to mentally tally when he will make it back to his place. I gave myself a grace period of about five minutes for traffic, banking on the fact that he hasn’t stopped for food and will order delivery from the Chinese place down the street later. Or, perhaps he upgraded his seat and ate on the plane. It doesn’t matter to me. I ate two hours ago during dinner time like a normal human being. Plus, as I walked down the sidewalk in front of his building, I could see that his light was on.
The sound of my knock echoes down the empty hallway. For a split second I panic and wonder if I can take this back and run like I’m a kid playing Ding Dong Ditch, but then I hear the vague sound of groaning and a thump come from behind his door and then the sound of the door handle clicking as he twists it open.
Josh registers a vague look of surprise when he swings open the door and finds me there on his doorstep.
“Hi,” I start, unsure of what else to say to convey why I’m there.
He squints at me. “When I said we needed to talk, I wasn’t necessarily thinking about tonight, I’m kinda fried.”
His words should be letting me down, he’s trying to let me down, but his voice is low and gravely and the sound of it inflames me. Besides, I’m not actually here to talk.
I take a breath and give him a short nod to acknowledge what he’s said. Then I let my eyes rake over him, taking in the disheveled sight of him before returning my eyes to his. The creases around his eyes are more pronounced this close up and for a moment my heart clenches as I think about the toll everything is taking on him. The campaign, the election, losing Leo, a frenetic transition without his mentor and rogue President Elect. I’m pretty sure he’s not having a PTSD episode, but rather is just overworked and taking on too much which, frankly is pretty on brand for him. Aside from calling Sam and begging him to come on as COS at least temporarily (which yes, I’ve already done), there’s not much else I can do to fix this situation for him. But, in this moment, I know exactly what he needs.
“Who said anything about talking?” I challenge as I step forward and lean into him for a kiss. He meets me where I’m at as if it’s something we’ve been doing for years and have it long choreographed. When I can sense he’s as into this as I am, I let my hand come up to his face and trail down his chest, scratching my nails just slightly down the exposed skin of his neck. The feeling of him solid under my palm coupled with the smell of his sweat and cologne is intoxicating. I could kiss him just like this for the rest of my life, but he escalates things, deepening the kiss and letting his hand trail down to my ass. In short order I find myself too warm for my jacket which ends up in a heap on the floor next to my purse as we struggle to kick his door shut.
We continue kissing as I start to attack the buttons on his shirt, haphazardly pulling at them until they come loose, even as he pillages my mouth with his tongue. When I get most of the buttons undone, I move lower, pulling his shirt from his pants and then palming his cock through them. It’s gratifying to feel him thrust back into my hand. It feels like a small victory when I reach for his belt buckle and he doesn’t stop me. I didn’t think he would, but Josh can be kind of single-minded when it comes to his stressors and I wasn’t entirely sure he’d be up for sex tonight.
Eventually, I get his fly undone and I push my hand into his pants. He’s semi-erect already, I can feel the ridges of him through the thin fabric of his boxers as I sloppily fondle him. The feeling of him thick and firm in my hand is heady. It makes me feel greedy, like I just want more. I know what he feels like inside of me and my brain short circuits on the information leaving my next move feeling rash and not well thought out.
I’ve had flings, dalliances and crushes in my life, but I’ve never been the pursuer like this before. It feels brazen and exhilarating and I’m tempted to push him to the floor and make him fuck me right here in the hallway, but before I can do that he pulls away, breaking our kiss.
He leans his forehead on mine, gazing at my kiss-stung lips with hooded, half-open eyes as he struggles to regain his breath.
“I need to take a shower,” he murmurs, eyes still fixated on my lips as he speaks.
Much as I know there could be an ulterior motive to his declaration, I choose to believe he’s being a gentleman. I also know that Josh has this thing about showering after flying commercial. Who can blame him? I’ve had to use more sticky-floored airplane bathrooms than I’d ever like for a lifetime. At least now it looks like I’ll have the benefit of more flights on Airforce One in my future.
I blink at him. “Would you like a buddy?”
I think his brain must short circuit at my words because it takes him a minute to seem to register what I’d said, but then he smiles sweetly, “I’d love one.”
As the shower steam curls around us, I let myself wonder for the first time if bathing together is too intimate for what we are. Sure lots of lovers shower together, or, more aptly, have sex in the shower, but that’s not what we’re doing. Right now, he’s standing facing the stream of water as I lather up his backside with a soapy washcloth. After having spent time rubbing his aching muscles, I’m now paying special attention to all of the very important spots between his legs. It’s as sexy as it is loving and maybe it’s a little odd for a relationship that has primarily just been us having sex with absolutely zero discussion of love type feelings. I should probably do something about that.
But, as soon as I reach around his body and feel his throbbing erection, which is rock hard now, all thought of defining anything goes out of my head. I was already wet, but now I’m really wet.
After he gives me equal treatment, we tumble out of the shower and share a towel before we immediately relocate to his bedroom. Even if I was ready to jump him in several non-bed locations, he appears to have resigned himself to softer venues, which frankly is better for my knees anyway.
At his prompting, we do a little more kissing at the foot of his bed before he urges me onto the bed. He seems to want me to lay down first, but I have other ideas. When he is fully reclined against his pillows, I settle myself on my elbows between his legs and look up at him. I make sure he’s watching me as I use my finger to circle the head of his cock with my finger. I’m teasing him and he knows it.
“Tell me you want it,” I command, making sure he can feel the heat of my breath on his cock.
“Donna,” he whines, “please.”
I’m not going to make him plead more. We’ve slept together twice, but I’ve never had the opportunity to do this and I want to do this. I take him into my mouth slowly, licking his velvety smooth tip before I close my lips around his shaft and start to suck lightly. I see his eyes start to drift closed at the sensation but he quickly wrenches them open again to watch. It’s a delightful sight. In my sick imagination I always wondered if this would work to de-stress him. He certainly looks relaxed right now.
I add my hand to the motion and begin to tentatively work him up and down. As I do, my hair falls into my face and he leans forward to gently hold it back for me. With great restraint, he lays his hand on the side of my head, not forcing me down, but simply guiding me. He’s trying to show me I can trust him. I already did, but now I know my trust was well placed. He must see the shift in my eyes, because he gives me a dopey smile.
“God, Donna, that feels so good,” he curses before correcting himself to add, “you feel so good.”
I want to tell him the same. That I like the way he smells, the way he tastes, the feeling of him heavy on my tongue, but as it turns out, my mouth is full. Instead I communicate what I’m feeling through my actions, eagerly trying out my tricks to see what he likes and doesn’t like. He’s a vocal participant. I want to finish him off this way just to hear what he’ll sound like when he comes in my mouth, but I am aching for a finish of my own.
I let one hand trail down my body, stopping first at my breast. I tweak one nipple into a hard point before switching to the other breast. When I can’t help myself any longer, I reach lower, sliding my finger through my slick folds and dipping it inside of me. I have no self-control at this point. I’m so aroused that I don’t need any warming up, so I immediately seek out my clit and begin rubbing at it. It doesn’t take long before I feel the warmth of a release lapping at my toes. The tremors start immediately after and suddenly I’m shimmering on the edge of the sensation I’ve been seeking all day. I’ve probably gotten myself off in less than a minute and I’m going for a second when Josh realizes what I’m doing.
He blinks hard and watches me as I crest to my second orgasm. Now, with an audience I left myself hum around his shaft my world explodes into sparks of pleasure that run all the way down to my toes. He tries hard not to buck into me at the sensation he gets from my vocalization. I see him heave a deep breath into his lungs as he lets me ride out my release before pulling at my arm.
I release him from my mouth with a questioning look. “Don’t you want me to finish you like that?”
“I do. Believe me, I do. But come up here so I can touch you.” He pats the mattress next to him.
It takes a moment for me to reposition myself in a way that’s comfortable for both of us, but soon I’m pumping him again and he’s working to match my strokes with those of his own as he rubs at my G-spot. I’ve already come twice, so I’m over-sensitive and each time he hits me in the spot and I shudder and shriek around his shaft. I can tell he’s working to hold off until he’s made me come a third time, though, he’s ramrod straight beneath me and shaking with the effort he’s exerting.
At some point the sensation of his fingers inside me becomes too overwhelming and I have to pull my mouth off of him. I can only focus on the feeling of him pressing inside of me as my third orgasm rips itself from me. He keeps going, even as I’m screaming his name and thrusting back onto his hand. Eventually I pull his hand away from me and move it to rest on my ass instead. He takes his cue and gives me a firm squeeze as I catch my breath and return to my work.
Now I’m going for broke. I alternate sucking at him and swallowing him in time with pumps of my hand. With my other hand I reach down and cup his balls, fondling them lightly as I continue to work his erection. He begins quaking beneath me again and I can tell he’s close. I can’t see his face in this position, but I can feel his hand on me. It’s the same hand that he puts on my lower back to guide me through doors, except now it’s covered in my juices and resting gently on my bare ass cheek communicating to me what I can’t see in his face.
Suddenly, he gives me two quick, successive squeezes as a warning. I don’t pull up, though, I want to see this through. I feel his balls tighten just before he explodes into my mouth. I don’t pull up immediately but continue stroking him gently as he rides out his orgasm. When he’s done, I look up at him tentatively. My eyes must be saying “was that good?” because he answers me.
“Oh my God, that was amazing. Life changing.”
I smile at him and hop off the bed. While I’m willing to let him come in my mouth, it’s not something I exactly relish doing, so I’m eager to brush my teeth. It’s a good thing I’d optimistically slipped my toothbrush and an extra pair of underwear in my purse.
By the time I get back to bed, he’s lying like a starfish, flat on his back and snoring softly. He has a look of contentment I have never seen on him before. I’m loathe to wake him up, but I somehow manage to get him under the covers. I’m debating leaving when he reaches out to me in his half sleep. At his prompting, I slide in next to him and he curls around me. It’s as natural as it is unconscious and it’s the last thought I have before I also succumb to a deep, refreshing sleep.
Tonight has answered several long held questions for me. I know that we need to talk, we need to figure all this out, but for now, I know that what we most need is to sleep.