My Not-Yet Mate and the Thirty-Day Trial novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: Blackout

The storm came in over the ridge at nine on Monday night, and at nine-forty the power went out.

The refrigerator shuddered and stopped, and the lamp died, and the whole farmhouse went black.

I laughed in the dark, because I was on the living-room floor with my head on Joss's thigh and a bowl of popcorn between us.

"Candles," he said. "Don't move."

"Where are they?"

"Kitchen drawer. Left of the stove."

"How do you know?"

"I've been in your kitchen a lot," he said, and I heard him stand.

He came back with four stubs and a book of matches.

He set them on the coffee table and lit them one at a time, and the room swelled up gold around us.

Rain beat on the windows.

The wind pulled at the porch.

In the flicker I could see the line of his throat, his dark eyes and the shadow of stubble.

He looked out of a very old story.

I moved the popcorn bowl.

"Joss."

"Hm."

"Take your shirt off."

He grinned and pulled it over his head.

I took off mine.

We were kneeling on the rag rug in front of the cold fireplace, two feet apart.

The storm was loud, and I wanted him so badly I could hardly breathe.

I undid his belt.

He undid my jeans.

We got each other naked without a word, our hands clumsy and fast.

Then he pulled me down on top of him on the rug and kissed me deep.

The wool scratched my knees.

His skin was fever-hot.

"I have an idea," I said against his mouth.

"Is it a good one?"

"It's my best."

I turned around on top of him so that my knees were on either side of his head and my face was above his hips.

I saw him hard against his stomach, thick and flushed in the candlelight.

I felt his breath on the inside of my thighs, and my whole body clenched.

"Oh," he said, low, in a voice like gravel. "Oh, I like this idea."

"Good. Hands on my hips."

His hands came up and gripped me.

I lowered myself the last few inches until his mouth was on me, and I took him into my own mouth at the same time.

We both groaned, and the sound vibrated through the two of us.

For a few seconds, I could not do anything but feel.

His tongue moved on my clit in slow wet strokes.

His lips closed around it and sucked.

His fingers dug into my hips and pulled me down against his mouth, hungry and a little rough.

I hummed around his cock, and his hips jerked off the rug.

"Fuck," he said into my skin, and the word sent a shiver through my whole body.

I got my rhythm back.

I took him as deep as I could and drew back, with my hand wrapped around the base.

I tasted salt and warm skin and the faint sweetness of the soap I had left in his hair.

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