The cab dropped Cheri off at Thomas’s doorstep. Rain drummed so loudly onto the car roof that it was difficult to hear the cabbie when he announced what her fare was. She paid him quickly, tipped him well, then dashed out the door and up the uneven surface of Thomas’s front walk, careful atop the four-inch stilettos she’d opted to change into. She held her purse over her head to preserve her makeup. Her hair and shoes were soaked, but that didn’t matter; the overall effect of her new, sexy costume would be a powerful enough poison to knock him right off his feet when he greeted her at the door.
Without any forethought, Cheri blurted, “Hey, sorry to bother you, mister, but my car broke down about a mile or so away. May I come in and borrow your phone?”
Thomas grinned suddenly, clearly happy to play along. “Please do,” he said seductively. “You poor thing. You must be very, very wet.”
Right on cue, there was a dramatic thunderclap, and Cheri scurried into the house. As she did, she lost her footing and fell, right into Thomas.
He caught her securely in one arm, then closed the door with the other. He turned her around, remaining close to her but still playing the stranger. “May I take your coat, Miss?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically trembling, as if he was weakened just by the sight of it.
“Yes please,” she replied sweetly, smiling up at him.
Her hair, wet with rain, tangled on the collar. He lifted it aside and paused to kiss her neck. Cheri froze, rushed with an erotic wave that pushed through her, lighting her up. A cry raked her throat, and she felt Thomas shaking.
“Damn, you taste and smell just…delicious,” he remarked.
She unbelted her trench coat and struggled to focus as she unfastened the buttons, her mind slipping in and out of blissful unreality. His hands cupped her breasts, while his mouth still worked at the most sensitive places on her neck.
“I think you just burned my dinner,” he murmured.
“Oh no,” she said apologetically. “We can wait if—”
“The hell we can,” he interrupted. “You’re too beautiful,” he declared, tossing her wet raincoat over a nearby chair.
“That’ll ruin a wooden chair,” she said, taking into consideration the fact that Thomas’s home was well appointed with furniture from the period in which the house was constructed. Each piece was perfectly restored to like-new condition, and the last thing she wanted was for her sexy, soaked coat to destroy the finish.
“If it does, it does,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’ll be the most beautiful piece in the house.”
“But—” she started to protest.
“Shh,” he said. “One second. Don’t move.” Then, with that, he left her to dash to the kitchen.
Cheri listened as he flipped and turned the knobs of the stove. By the time he returned, she’d moved her coat and was bent over the chair, with her palms on the seat, flexing her backside for his viewing pleasure.
“Mercy,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks.
She turned around and sat, crossed her legs suggestively, then stretched them up in the air and pointed at them, like a pinup on a calendar in the back of a greasy auto shop. Thomas just stood there, enjoying the show, and that seemed to empower her performance. She ended the display by facing him squarely, parting her knees, and resting her feet on the rung of the chair.
Looking as if he might weep, he stepped toward her. She reached out to him, and he sank to his haunches, kissed her mouth, then scooped her breasts that were perfectly harbored in the cups of her underwired corset. His tongue sought her delicate globes, and he suckled each nipple until it was erect and pointing.
Cheri gripped his head, and wisps of his hair rose between her fingers. He did not let up but sat back and placed his warm lips between her legs. He searched and sought, tasting her desire for himself as it flowed from her body.
She lifted her knees and draped her bare, smooth legs over his massive, broad shoulders. He reached for her thigh and strummed it with his fingertips. Tingles traveled through to her middle, coiling, tightening, and agitating as she grinded against his lips. Passion created an urgency in her. She wanted him, needed him. She was enjoying the moment beyond madness, but she craved the culmination. Everything in her demanded release.
Thomas flicked his tongue on her sex, tormenting her while his hands held her in place. She was forced to absorb the full impact of his pleasuring. Reflexively, her thighs squeezed, tightening as he licked. Her breathing heightened, and the room spun. Her heart pounded, beating in her ears, competing with the thunder that was crashing against the house. She moaned and begged, her voice reaching a high crescendo as her pleasure swelled to the point of eruption.
Thomas lifted her and circled so they could switch places. She gripped the back of the chair and lowered down onto him. He impaled her fully, and she pushed off the floor with her foot again and again, bouncing on him.
He stiffened and threw his head back to face the ceiling, overcome with the sweetness of it all. She swiveled on his lap, pleasuring them both. Her rhythm was soon jagged, so worked up she almost could not perform. She moved and faltered, shivering with arousal and moving again.
Finally, Thomas gripped her hips and drove into her like a jackhammer, with such force that the chair scooted and skidded across the hardwood floor. Cheri released her foot and let her body rock on him. The combination of their movements was intoxicating. Her eyelids fluttered as she felt the transformation of orgasm overcoming her.
She clenched around his erection, strangling his manhood with her body as he stroked her. He growled as she held him that way, a dark and thrilling noise like the cry of a big jungle cat. Cheri trembled as he pumped into her so fiercely, so sure of himself. Her breasts jiggled with his power, but so steeped in rapture was she that she couldn’t have cared less. She braced herself for the huge wave of orgasm that was about to hit.
Thomas pressed his thumb between her legs as he rocked her, sending her over the edge. At that point, she came undone. She went limp but spasmed uncontrollably. From inside out, she seized, pleasure reverberating each time she collided.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised her, still going steady.
He wrapped his arms around her thin waist and lifted and lowered her. Each sweet friction drove her to a new level of pleasure. Then, just when she thought it couldn’t possibly be any more intense, he slowed his pace, taking his wonderful, tortuous rhythm back a bit. Cheri regarded his face; it looked as if he was holding off, willing himself not to cum. He seemed to disappear behind closed eyes, just hiding and waiting. About a minute passed before he picked up his pace again.
He grabbed her hand and placed it on her private place, then encouraged her to move it. She understood, and as he thrust more purposefully into her, she brought back to life the thunderous orgasm she had just enjoyed.
As Thomas let go, rocking the house with his cries of passion, Cheri made herself climax again, eager to join him in that ecstasy. The second wave was far more intense, almost too sensitive, and she experienced it fully, till there was no stifling her wailing.
Cheri had never had sex like that before; nothing had even come close for her. Each time Thomas pleasured her body it seemed to redefine passion and ecstasy for her, pushing far beyond her wildest imagination. Other than a few hot clothes, they didn’t need all the accoutrements. Their magnetism and chemistry were enough, and his very touch was all she needed to come alive. Together, they were perfection.
They lingered, holding one another and kissing gently. Thomas took her hand and led them up to the master bath. They enjoyed a hot shower and wrapped up in his and hers terrycloth robes, the perfect attire for the succulent dinner he’d made.
Cheri shredded lettuce, chopped a few tomatoes and radishes and carrots, then mixed her vinaigrette. As much as she enjoyed watching cooking shows and looking up recipes, she was really a one-trick pony in the kitchen. In fact, her salad dressing was the sum of her culinary repertoire, but it was remarkable, the perfect balance of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and Dijon mustard. Thomas, on the other hand, was a great cook, so they made the perfect pair. Fortunately, the pork chop dinner was not wrecked in the least because of the erotic delay.
The fact that Cheri and Thomas had just engaged in raucous, wild sex did little to relieve their constant desire for one another, and the truth was that dinner was nothing less than foreplay for more sex. She huddled next to him as she patiently waited to receive each tender bite of the pork, which sat on a buttery, creamy, pillowy bed of smashed potatoes with light gravy. He fed it to her in slow, erotic bites, and they washed it down with Granny Smith hard cider.
As they shared sips of the cider from the same bottle, holding the mouth to one another’s lips sensually, a question came to mind. “Why did you cook all this food?” she asked flirtatiously. “We have yet to really finish a meal.”
“That, my dear, is a very good question,” he replied, then snagged the bowl of berries. He quickly shoved everything else in the refrigerator, made sure everything was turned off, then led her up to retire to his bedroom for the evening.
They crawled onto his very large, decadently sumptuous bed. Lightning ripped through the sky, flickering into the dark room, brightening it temporarily like a strobe light. For once, Cheri wasn’t the least bit bothered by the stormy weather, and she just peacefully lounged against a stack of pillows as Thomas fed her berries for dessert.
“I really like having you in my bed,” he said huskily. “It’s where you belong.”
“I like it, too,” she replied, basking in the comfort, warmth, and safety she felt. The rain outside was sensual, like their own personal concert. Her belly was full of amazing food, and she was staring up at the man she knew she loved, perhaps the only man she could love, even if she wasn’t ready to say so.
Thomas set the berries down, then pulled back the bedding on his side. Very dramatically, he removed his robe.
Cheri did the same and tried her best to pitch her robe in the same direction as his.
They both made their way under his very practical, handsome comforter and sheets, until their naked bodies found each other. All the buildup of dinner culminated in their cuddling, but that was fine with her; she knew firsthand that Thomas was one to surprise in the middle of the night.
So much better than an alarm clock, just before dawn Cheri was nudged awake by his warm, hard body writhing next to her. There were no words, just unspoken need and desire and a coming together. He drove into her until they both exploded with ecstasy. Then, in a flourish of satisfaction, he got up and headed to the kitchen to put on the coffee, wearing nothing but a robe and a smile, while Cheri drew their bath.