Chapter Thirty-Seven
They entered the darkness of the house and he asked her if she needed anything. She shook her head, standing silent before him. She moved forwards slowly, pulling his body to her and resting her head against his chest, the beat of his heart strong against her temple. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in the fine silk of her hair.
“You still okay?” he said.
“Just drained by everything, that’s all.”
He kissed the top of her head, took her hand and led her to the staircase. He stopped at the first step, turned and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She sensed his unspoken question—how many more opportunities would he give her to lose her nerve, to change her mind, to ask for more time, to hide behind her fears?
Her chin still rested in his palm and he lowered his head to kiss her as she lifted herself and stretched her neck to meet his lips. His touch felt light and gentle, undemanding, a silent message that she was safe.
They stood next to the bed and she lifted the shapeless Padres tunic over her head and let it drop to the floor, unveiling her beauty to him. She tossed her head, shaking her raven hair over her shoulders, and placed her palms on his chest. Neither spoke as he kissed her forehead and held her head. She spoke with her eyes as her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, and his to those on her blouse. She worked delicately, kissing his chest as it spread open before her. He slipped his hands into her blouse, caressing her breasts through the cups that still held them, her nipples growing and hardening in expectation. She offered him her cuffs and he undid them, each one in turn, kissing each hand as he did so, before pushing the silk from her shoulders. Still in silence, she pushed off his shirt and then his trousers, the softness of her touch hiding the urgency that tingled beneath the surface of her skin.
“Your turn,” she whispered, afraid to break the silence that held them but desperate for him now. His hands went to the buckle at her waist, dallying only seconds before easing her trousers down over her hips. He slid his hands inside the silk of her panties and she delighted in his soft touch as he explored her.
“That’s for later,” she said, taking his wrists and easing his hands up from her buttocks. She pressed her breasts to his chest and offered her mouth to him, one hand tight on his shoulder, the other working at this belt. She unzipped him, her fingers trembling on the metal, and reached for him She found him ready for her, his erection straining against the waistband of his boxers.
“That’s for later,” he said with a smile, pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing the ends of her fingers. She stepped back from him and kicked her trousers from her ankles. “Your body is to die for.”
She giggled. “You haven’t seen all of it yet.” She unclasped her bra and pushed away the straps, her pear shaped breasts falling forwards. She pressed herself to him, luxuriating in the heat from his body against her. His hands ran up and down her back, his fingers gently kneading her skin, and she murmured to signal her pleasure. His lips moved from her head to her neck and on to her shoulders, pecking their way down her body. She let her body fall back to encourage him lower, her hair cascading down her spine. He began to plant butterfly kisses from left to right across her chest. She cupped her breast and lifted it, hungry for his mouth to envelop her impatient nipple. He began to tease her, tracing circles with his tongue, until she clasped the back of his head and pushed herself into his lips. He sucked and nibbled at her and as he did so she worked her fingers inside the elastic of his boxers and tugged them down over his hips, cupping him between his legs.
“Are you going to make love to me in your socks?” she asked. He grinned and pulled them off in two quick movements. He drew back towards her, magnetised to her body, and held her again, running his fingers up and down her body from her neck to her navel. He ran a finger along the line of soft fabric, the only barrier that now separated them, inching his fingers lower, into the triangle of delicate hair, onto the smooth lips that were waiting beneath them.
“I’m aching for you,” he said.
She stroked his full length, hot and engorged for her, and she feared for a second she would be unable to take him. She gripped him in her palm and worked the tip of his shaft back and forth along the length of her wet and swollen lips. “Come into me,” she said, “I want you inside me now.”
He swept her up in his arms. Only the satin of her panties and the silver of her jewellery still brushed against her nakedness. She clung to his neck as he held her against his muscular frame. He lay her down on the covers, the soft light from the lamp at the bedside sending an amber glow across her body. She wanted him to take her without any more petting. She pulled up her legs, arching her back and swept off the last thing that protected her. He stood over her, admiring the form that lay waiting for him, then knelt on the bed beside her, his hand brushing away the stray strands of hair from her face. “You’re just perfect,” he said.
“I’ve been working out,” she said, then took him again in her hand, her eyes imploring him to take her.
He put his palms to her thighs, encouraging her to part them and took his place between them, before lowering himself over her. She drew up her knees and let her legs fall open wide, inviting him to come into her. And he took her with a controlled rhythm, his face always above her, watching her. And she moved with him in perfect unison. When she knew that her full pleasure approached, she closed her eyes and pulled his head to her, not wanting him to see the tears building behind her eyes. Spasms shot through her body with an intensity that she had feared no longer within her, all her limbs clasped fast to him. But she did not scream out or call his name, as she had learnt to do for Ryan, knowing that her body betrayed everything, that she was his.
He took her twice more through the night, both at his initiation and in the same way, but with more force. Each time he filled her and fulfilled her, and the third time he fell from her spent body she knew that if he wanted her again in the morning she would have to beg mercy, or offer her pleasure in some other way.
The first rays of daylight were dancing on the pillow when he woke her the final time. She sensed his face close to hers. As her eyes blinked, the smell of fresh aftershave filled her nostrils. “I need to fly. Do you want me to call you a cab?”