I know that you’re smart

You mentioned it before

You can read and write, I’ll bet

Well baby, you perform

Aim low, you just met me I know

But I feel something right now

So aim low, just let yourself go

All I need is tonight, yeah

-Smart – Helmet­

---

“Hey baby.” Holy sex gods.  Elliot leans against my door on one muscular arm.  He’s got that whole casual male model thing happening with his faded jeans, white t-shirt and a leather jacket that’s just worn enough to look cool. He looks so damn hot my body temp just shot up five degrees.  If I was a southern belle I’d be having an attack of the vapors.

“Hey yourself.” Keep it cool, Kate. Yeah, right. I smile pushing down my inner Vesuvius.  I’m kinda tempted to look outside and check that Mt St Helens is behaving herself.  I understand all those books that talk about women  puddling on the ground the face of such hotness. When he leans in, the kiss starts gentle but amps up to passionate in a heart beat.  Next thing, he picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist and we all but fall inside my apartment. Wild and fast, that’s my monkey man. His erection pushes into me in just the right place, his hands firmly stroke down the length of my body.  Me, I’m just a big old strip of horny velcro and he’ll have to peel me off.

Phase two is me pushed up against the wall as he lifts my t-shirt over my head.  This display of strength and awe has me panting as I push his jacket off and start on his shirt. Our mouths move to interrogate the each others skin, licking and sucking the saltiness. I find his nipples and bite down gently hearing him hiss as he throws his head back and then he pushes me back so he can have access to my breasts, his laving tongue devouring me. All I can do is grip his muscular biceps, trying to find some traction as he works me over. I don’t know what the signal for full is but he hitches me up and walks me sloth-like down the hall to my room, kicking the door open with his boot and nudging it closed after us.

Throwing me down on the bed, he reaches over and undoes my jeans, dragging them down my legs as I lift my hips to accommodate him. His hands trace down my legs as he pulls both my panties and my shoes and socks off in one fluid movement. It’s a neat trick.  He picks up one foot and starts to kiss my instep then begins an ascent with his tongue up my leg, my thigh and then there. Oh, fucking my.

His tongue licks over my over sensitive clitoris and then pushes into my already soaking wet folds and I just about catapult off the bed. My body is about to go over the edge already and then he finishes me with the insertion of his finger. I can’t hold it back and I scream out my orgasm pulsing around his fingers as he licks the juices lovingly.  I have never had any guy get me off so quick.  With Elliot, its like my orgasms are on standby, just waiting to be called up at a second’s notice.

Coming down of the Elliot sexpress takes me a little while and he lifts up to watch the show as I try to get my breathing under control. One hand draped over my eyes, I laugh. This is just too good. He is up over the top of me in an instant, moving my hand.

“What is so amusing, Miss Kavanagh?” He smiles with just a hint of pouty freshness. I reach up taking his face in my hands and pull him down towards me. Mood change.

“Nothing,” I whisper kiss his lips, tasting myself on his tongue. So hot. Then without saying anything I push him up off the bed. He goes willingly and I sit up enough to undo his jeans and divest him of pants and boxers. He toes his shoes off to help me and I smile as he removes his socks last, rolling them into a ball. Neat freak. He returns to the bed, kissing me thoroughly while his strong hands work me over.

“Make love to me,” I whisper, the words no sooner out of my mouth than he is up over me. He lifts my leg up over his shoulder and unceremoniously pushes into me.  No need to ask him twice.   I can feel him so completely I have to cry out. I mean, I know that he can’t actually hit my womb but he’s pretty fucking close!  He thrusts hard.  Not hard enough to hurt me, though.  The strain on his face tells me he’s holding back. Not on my watch, Mister.

“Don’t,” I say. He pauses mid-thrust. Oh, crap,  he thinks I want him to stop. “Don’t hold back.”

“Oh Katie. Thank, fuck!.” He holds himself up off my body and slams harder and harder into me and with every thrust he hits my sweet spot.  In fact, he does it with such ease that I wonder why guys ever get this wrong. The pace is hard and steady, driving me on and on.

“Come with me Kate. Fuck.” I’d like to say his words are enough to tip me over the edge again but the truth is I’ve been coming around him for the last three or four thrusts.   When he pours into me I let it go and convulse around him. It goes on forever until I am nothing but sensation. Some time about three days later he pulls out and we lie curled up against each other looking up at the ceiling. We don’t talk, we just are.

I stretch my arm up, tracing lazy circles in the air with my wrist. He reaches up and holds his hand against mine examining the size of my small palm against his large one. He has callouses from his work and I pull his palm down to my mouth and gently kiss each one, sucking them as if to soften them. His eyes watch me with a smile and I pull away enough to blow cool air on his hands. His hand wraps around my cheek and he pulls my face around to look at him.

“Beautiful, Katie. What am I going to do with you?” He shakes his head.

“Mmm… let me see. You could fuck me again. Or… you could feed me.” And on cue my stomach rumbles making us both laugh. He sits up and then reaches out to help me to stand.

“Miss K, we don’t fuck. We make wild monkey love but nothing as crass as a fuck. It sounds cheap.” He says raising my hand to his mouth and kissing it.

I smile and sashay past him pushing him back away from me as I go.

“I don’t know,” I say over my shoulder. “A good fuck never hurt anybody.” Then I take off at a run down to the bathroom. He is after me in an instant catching me around the waist just as we get inside the door. He holds me in locked arms as he reaches into the shower and turns into the water and then pushes me under the cold stream.

I scream and grab him pulling him in with me. “Suffer Mr Grey.” We are both laughing and gasping as the water slowly heats up. I wipe the wet hair back off my head and the water out of my eyes as he grabs my face and kisses me passionately. Our tongues thrusting into each others mouths as our passion builds. He turns me around to face the wall and places my hands up on the cool tiles. Spreading my legs apart he thrusts into me from behind and I move to angle and take him in. Letting the pace build again his arms are around my waist and he feels down between my legs at the right moment, gently stroking my nub to take us over the edge together. My legs feel weak and my pussy is aching with sore goodness as he pulls gently out and begins to wash me.

The kissing, scrubbing, touching and soaping each other goes on for fifteen minutes or so before we climb out of the shower. The towel wrapped low around his hips is super-hot, accentuating the v above his pelvis.  Being a gentleman, he holds another towel out for me, wrapping me up in his arms. It’s nice.  He continues to kiss me in between drying various parts of my body. There’s the hint of forever in the air, which is kind of freaky but mostly breathtaking.  I push that thought aside as we retrace our steps through the apartment, stopping to pick up clothes and dress each other. It’s all so natural as if we have been lovers for years instead of minutes. Another thought to suppress.

By tacit agreement, we get ourselves together and head out the door to his truck, because I can’t imagine him folding himself into my sports car. Quite frankly, I don’t think my legs could function well enough to operate a vehicle. I may have to take a leaf out of Ana’s book and do something about my fitness.

We end up at the local diner which is exactly what I need. We both order the house burgers, with fries and salad and coke. Diet coke for me. His latest project is the topic of conversation until the food arrives.  The best apres-sex food I have ever tasted in my life. I’m feeling a little dreamy when he gets this serious look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Now – I’m the type of person who genuinely wants to know the answer to that question, but my mind is doing its ADHD thing and I’ve gone from ingrown toenail to break up sex in a heartbeat.

“Is it that obvious?” Oh, crap, this is it. This was the sex before I get dumped. Shit, how did I not see this coming. All of this must have played across my face because his eyes suddenly look alarmed.

“No Katie, it isn’t that. When are you going to learn to trust me?” He looks hurt but you know what? I don’t care.  He just speculatively dumped me.  I try to recover some equilibrium.

“So what is it?” My relieved but over-worked imagination is packing up the pink pjs and putting the Ben & Jerry’s back in my imaginary freezer.

“Baby, I know that I said I would come to watch your speech tomorrow but something has come up and I …” I look at him and he looks so distraught and I can’t help it.  I have to cover my mouth with my hands.  He’s so precious.

I try to stop giggling long enough to answer him but it’s damn difficult.

“It’s okay. I think I can live if you don’t sit through a boring 2 hours of graduation ceremony on my behalf.”

“I really wanted to see you give your speech. I’m so damn proud of you, Kate.” He hardly knows me. This is too weird.  Sweet but weird.

“Think of it as two of your hours that you won’t have to try and get back. My Dad will most likely video it anyway and then you can watch me on youtube.” I try to sound light. “People get degrees everyday. Its no biggie.”

“Not every day.” He says sadly.

“Are you telling me that you don’t have one?” I ask. He comes from a family of high-flyers so I just assumed.

He leans back in his seat looking decidedly uncomfortable and runs a hand through his hair. “I never went to college, Kate. I don’t have a degree.” I think about this for a moment. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest but it seems to really bother him.

“But you’re successful without one. So is your brother which just proves that not everyone needs a degree to get what they want out of life. Ever heard of academic inflation?” I ask. He looks up at my face and I smile reassuringly but he doesn’t look convinced. He looks down at his hands, rubbing the callouses.

“I couldn’t go to college,” he says quietly, without looking at me. It couldn’t have been money, the Grey’s have never been short of a dollar.

“Did you want to?” I ask. There it is, the crux of his problem and it’s written all over his face. So what stopped him?

“I couldn’t pass the entrance tests. I guess I just wasn’t smart enough.” This floors me. Anyone can tell by talking to him that he is articulate and intelligent. That should have been enough. “I’m dyslexic.”

I can feel the shame and anger emanating from him. Oh, baby. I reach out and take his hand.

“But I don’t get it, dyslexia shouldn’t have stopped you from going to college. I know people who have made it through higher education with all sorts of learning difficulties before. Didn’t your parents or teachers get you help?”

He seems embarrassed and he keeps his focus on the table as he speaks. “I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 16. All the way through school I managed to hide it with a good memory and a lot of charm. Since I was 12, there has always been a string of girls who would ‘help’ me out. All that did was mask the problem from everyone. When I got to the serious exam end of my schooling, I rebelled. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, all I knew was I couldn’t make sense of exam papers. I went off the rails for a while and finally my Dad figured it out but by then I was pretty convinced I was stupid. I would blow off anything that required me to sit a test, even math, which I was actually pretty good at. My attitude sucked. I forced Mom and Dad to back off by being passive-aggressive. Every time they tried to help I would do something stupid and get myself suspended from school. My building apprenticeship saved me. Now, I regret not taking the help when it was offered but I valued my reputation more than my education back then. I was just a typical dumb ass teenager, I guess. ”

“Being dyslexic has nothing to do with intelligence. And college has very little to do with success. You are driven and talented at what you do. If you weren’t smart and insightful then you wouldn’t be where you are today.” I want to reassure him. Eventually, he looks up at me and leans across the table.

“Katie, you are so bright and beautiful. You are good with words and writing. I really envy that. And I guess a part of me is shit scared that you’ll get bored with me. That I won’t be smart enough to keep up. Your father is sure as hell is not gonna to like some dumb builder dating his daughter.” His eyes are back on our hands as he traces his hardened fingers against my soft ones.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Elliot. You are much smarter than a stupid piece of paper is going to tell anyone. My father is going to see that within five minutes of meeting you.” I pick up his hand and kiss his palm. “I like a man who is good with his hands.” I smile at him.

He is out of his seat so fast, lifting me out of my seat and wrapping his arms around me. “God I love you Kate.” Then he kisses me, in front of the whole freaking diner.