Chapter Thirty-Three

They didn’t make it all the way to the bed.

Dennis lifted her easily–she was small and light–and she wrapped her legs around his waist. What a great feeling. He never thought he’d know the pleasure of a woman’s body curling around him like this again, and to have it with her, with Audrey, was almost enough to steal the breath from his throat.

He couldn’t get to the bedroom fast enough. Her skirt was in the way, his pants were too tight. The silky fabric of her blouse slid like water over his hands, frustrating him. He wanted all of this fabric out of his way, nothing but skin under his touch. Nothing but Audrey, nothing between them to keep them apart. He had to kiss her, now, even as he carried her toward the bedroom. He couldn’t wait another moment. His mouth found hers, and she moaned softly against his lips.

It was almost enough to be his undoing.

He crushed her against his chest and kissed her with all his pent-up passion and yearning. He should be tender. Should be. But he couldn’t manage that, either. He needed her too much. He didn’t stumble, not exactly, but he felt almost drunk with need and passion as his feet blindly found their way down the hall. The doorway was just wide enough to navigate, and then they were finally in his bedroom.

The bed was too far away. Too far. He couldn’t wait.

The chaise. The chaise was closer.

He made it as far as the foot of the chaise, then lowered her swiftly backward so that she lay flat on its long segment. Her legs clutched him around his hips, and her arms were tight around his neck. She must feel it, too, this burning need to press their bodies together, skin to skin. She wasn’t easing up on him at all. Chest to chest, he half-crouched, half-lay atop her willing body.

It would be better on his knees, so he knelt on the floor at the edge of the chaise, still pressing his lips against hers. Her breath tasted sweet and warm. She kissed him back now, really kissed him back, and he was fearless. Nothing tentative in his tongue now–he wanted to taste every bit of her. And she let him. She nipped lightly at his lower lip, and the sensation was almost enough to make him lose what little self-control he still had.

But their clothes were still in the way. He ran one hand over the silk blouse, desperate to feel the shape of her slim, soft waist, the flair of her hips and breasts. That fabric. It had to go. He tugged it free from her waistband, and to his surprise, the folded front panels parted when they came loose. No buttons or ties had held those pieces together over her breasts. Probably a good thing he didn’t realize that before now. He might not have been able to resist the temptation to peel that silk away.

And now he could stroke her abdomen and know the warm, smooth skin there. “Audrey,” he whispered into her sweet mouth. “I need you.”

And he did, too. He needed her not only in the physical sense, but in every way that a man could need a woman. He needed to start his mornings with her and to end his nights the same way. With her. He needed her as a plant needed the sun; she’d brought warmth back to his world. He had to know her ideas and opinions. He had to see her and hear her voice. Her laughter. He had to stroke her smooth, tantalizing skin, every inch, and he had to hear the little sounds she would make as he made love to her small, feminine body.

His hand traced the satin length of her waist until he found the curve of her breast. Her bra was a barrier to further exploration. He left his fingers there, at the bottom band, where the fullness of her breast met the flat front of her midriff. Waiting, waiting for a signal from her that he ought to continue. It wasn’t enough that she’d kissed him back. He needed to know that he wasn’t pushing her too far, too fast. She’d said she wouldn’t run off again, but that wasn’t enough. He felt as greedy and uncertain as a teenaged boy on a first date, wanting to take everything but pinned in place with uncertainty.

Why didn’t she say anything? He wasn’t playing anymore, wasn’t flirting or joking. He needed to know that she was in this, for real. Not a fling, not a two-week hiatus from reality, not some cosplaying game of nanny and helpless widower.

“I need you,” he repeated, more urgently this time. He should ask. Be a gentleman. Will you allow it? Do you want me, too? Does this mean anything real to you? But his breath was so hot and ragged that he couldn’t seem to shape the words.

“Yes,” she murmured low against his mouth.

And then she squirmed her bottom and gripped his hips tighter with her wrapped legs. The contact of her hot core gently pressing against his fly was almost more than he could bear. He was on the edge already, barely capable of maintaining control, and she was driving him wild. He’d been too long without a woman.

“It’s been a long time for me,” he said. “Not since–not since before the accident.” He couldn’t say his wife’s name now, even though he felt nothing like guilt or remorse or grief at this moment. He felt only passion and a solid certainty that this woman, this beautiful, warm, vibrant, practical, cheerful woman, had to be his own.

“Yes.”

“Yes? You’re sure? No take-backs.” His voice held no trace of the playfulness that his words might imply.

“Yes. I’m sure.” She gripped his wrist and dragged his palm over the full, sweet curve of her breast. “Please,” she added on a long breath.

That was enough. His hesitation vanished at the touch of her softest flesh. Her heart was beating under his palm, as rapid as his own, as needy and yearning as his own. The heel of her shoe dug into his backside as she squirmed against his stiff length again.

Yes. She’d said yes.

The bra clasped in front. He had to see her, had to know the shape and look of her, so he lifted his body off hers just enough to gain access to that hook. She reached for his waistband. He felt the slight tremor in her fingers against his stomach and knew that she was as overcome as he was. His hands felt big and clumsy with the small clasp, but at last he unhooked it, and her breasts were bared to his gaze. Her pink nipples were tight with arousal.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He wanted to say more. He wished he had the self-control to pause here and bask in the sight of her lovely flesh.

But she was pushing his trousers down over his hips, exposing his stiff rod to the open air. And it was wrong, all wrong–he shouldn’t be jutting into empty space like this, but thrusting into her warm, wet, yielding center. Where was his self-control? He should take his time with her, but the rush of blood in his veins deafened him.

“Audrey, I need you.” And he was helpless to keep from saying so.

Her fingers brushed his hard length. “I need you, too. Now.”

He groaned. Her skirt was bunched up around her hips, exposing a bare slice of thigh between the lace stocking tops and her panties. Silky, shiny panties. Pink. Some other time, he might want to admire the way she looked in them, but not now. Not today. Later, he would buy her shopping bags stuffed with delicate lingerie just for the pleasure of seeing her wear it, but not now. Not yet. He rocked back on his heels to make enough room to strip that little scrap of pink fabric away from her body.

Her sweet folds were almost the same shade of pink. Slick with her need, and pink, and bared to his view. Heaven help him, he wasn’t going to last long once he was in there. He’d do the best he could, and he’d have to make it up to her the second time. He wouldn’t let her off this chaise until she was as satisfied as he could manage.

“Beautiful,” he said again. She would think it was the only word he knew, but it was the best word he knew to describe her.

That high heel dug into his fleshy bottom again, pulling him closer. “Now,” she repeated, and he realized that she meant that as much as he meant his mantra, beautiful.

“Now,” he agreed. He leaned forward until his thick tip nestled in her slippery center. He wanted to finesse her, take her slowly, but she wiggled again.

With just that little shimmy, his length slid deep into her center.

She moaned.

“Too much?” He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to scare her off. But he had to grit out the words. It felt so good, almost overpowering, so tight and warm that it made his vision blur. He didn’t want to stop.

“Too good,” she gasped as she wiggled again. “Not enough. More.”

And that was enough to destroy the last wisp of his self-control. With a grunt, he plunged into her again, and then again and again. He watched their joined bodies as he propelled his staff over and over in that perfect pink, glistening flesh. Her belly quivered, and he listened with masculine satisfaction to her cries–she wasn’t going to last long either.

Good thing. He was like a demon possessed. He’d never have been able to delay long enough to let her catch up to him, if she’d been lagging.

But her love cries froze in her throat. She seemed to stop breathing. Her back arched off the chaise, and her leg shook uncontrollably around his hip, the heel digging over and over into his hip as she climaxed. That beautiful pink flesh gripped him with her passion, and then she gasped and called his name.

“Dennis!”

It was enough to push him over the edge. With a guttural moan to match hers, he thrust sharp and deep and emptied himself into her willing core. Too fast, too overwhelming, but it was only a start. Next time would be even better, and better still after that. He would keep her right here, he vowed, until he knew he’d done it right.

<<<>>>

Two hours and twenty-five minutes later, Dennis lay on his side in his big bed, one arm flung across Audrey’s waist. A fine sheen of sweat covered both their bodies. She was still flushed pink from her most recent climax. His hand cupped one luscious breast and stroked idle circles around its tip.

“I’ve never felt anything softer than your breasts.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything. Her breathing hadn’t yet settled back to normal.

He rolled closer to her and licked at the glistening dampness in the valley of her cleavage. He would never forget the sight of her, almost rabid with passion, pushing him back on the chaise and climbing on top of his lap. He’d wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and watched that beautiful bosom sway as she rocked, her head thrown back as she reached a quick, explosive climax.

He would never again be able to sit there without wanting her on his lap.

She’d been wild, abandoned, giving herself to him with a completeness that he hadn’t imagined possible. His calm, capable, playful Audrey had a secret side. She’d propelled him to a frenzy that he’d never before known. As much as he’d loved Katherine, they’d never come even close to the intensity that he’d experienced this afternoon. He felt as if he’d been soaked in love, wrung out, and left damp, panting, and limp.

But he couldn’t get enough of her. He trailed his tongue up one side of her breast, seeking its tawny crown. His mouth fastened over her nipple and she sighed. He loved all her little noises, her sighs and hums and moans. He wanted to orchestrate her passion and hear the symphony of her body’s responses.

But she pulled his head up and away from her body.

“Again? You can’t possibly be ready to go again.”

“I’m not. But what’s stopping you?”

Dennis kissed a path up to her throat. There was a spot he’d found, just below her ear, that made her squirm with exquisite delight. He nipped at it lightly, just below the ear. “Audrey,” he whispered, making the word a long breath of air against that sensitive zone.

She moaned. “I can’t tell you how many times I imagined this.”

“What? This?” He slid a hand low over her belly and brushed her curls, one finger slipping between her folds to caress deep.

“Yes.” She lifted her hips to meet his hand. “That’s nice. But I was thinking of you, your voice so close to my ear. I wanted to hear you say my name. I wanted to feel your breath against my throat.”

“Audrey.” He whispered her name again and licked her throat. His fingers found a rhythm and she began to tremble under his touch. “Audrey.”

He didn’t relent until she reached a crescendo of whimpers, moans, and gasps.