5. Roxie
The way Henry looked at me, with burning desire in his eyes, perfectly matched the burning desire racing through me. His eyes had a glimmer of hope. His beautiful cinnamon lips parted, and when his breath whispered across them, I knew he was feeling exactly like I was.
Delirious.
I couldn’t speak. No words would be enough to accept his offer to kiss me. This gorgeous man wanted me, and I sure as anything wanted him. Maintaining his gaze, I simply nodded. My chest rose and fell, riding out the glorious sensations pumping through me.
Henry read my signs perfectly, and he leaned forward and wove his fingers around the back of my neck. That simple touch sent shivers from the tip of my scalp right through to the tips of my toes. I tilted my head, and a gasp left my throat as I closed my eyes.
I paused there, desperate for his lips to touch mine. It was an eternity. When his lips finally met mine, the glorious sensations drove me from the forty-two-year-old, cat-loving woman who’d been single for a decade to a sensual woman with desires, wants, and cravings like I’d never felt before.
Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the moon. Or my long, drawn-out abstinence, or my failed relationships. Or maybe it was just Henry and his incredible touch and smell and taste. But whatever it was, I was no longer in control of my body.
Our mouths parted, and our tongues dueled in a heated dance of lust and desire. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the steely curves of his pecs. His nipples were hard, and I flicked my finger over them once, twice. Then I pinched them between my fingers until he pulled back and hissed between his teeth.
I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so alive... so in tune with my body.
His hand touched my breast, and when he gasped, I remembered I wasn’t wearing a bra. I wondered what Henry thought of that. Did he think I was a tart? Or a wild woman.
Or could he envisage the truth. . . that I didn’t have a bra because of the dress I chose?
I didn’t get time to establish an answer as his caress of my breast drove all the tumbling thoughts from my brain. He curled his hand beneath my breast, cupped it, then glided his fingers up to my nipple and rolled his finger around until my delicate bud throbbed to attention.
When I couldn’t resist a moment more, I eased my dress up to my thigh and rolled over to straddle his legs. But I’d forgotten the angle we were on, and I went right over the top of him and cartwheeled sideways down the hill. My skirt flew up, giving Henry a view of God knew what, and I landed with a spray of sand that flew up and over my face.
“Shit.” I didn’t know whether to cry or giggle.
“Oh, jeez. Are you okay?” Henry dashed to my side, and his face confirmed his concern. But then he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, obviously trying to curtail his laughter.
I sat up and dusted my hands. Sand was everywhere. My face, my neck, my thighs. I was covered in it. “Well, I guess there’s something else you should know about me. I’m a total klutz.”
He lifted me to my feet, cupped my cheeks, and planted his lips on mine. It wasn’t a sensual kiss like the last one; it was a fun kiss that showed another side to him. “Fancy a skinny dip then?”
The idea was preposterous, yet three thoughts tumbled through my brain in a nanosecond. The first was that a nudie swim was the perfect way to distract him from my clumsy tumble down the hill. The second was that he wouldn’t be able to see much in this moonlight anyway. And last of all, there was every possibility that I’d never see Henry again.
In a move that I’d never done before in front of a man, I responded to his question by whipping my dress up over my head.
His jaw dropped. His eyes bounced to my boobs, and even in this dimmed light, I saw his look of approval.
“I guess that’s a yes?” he said, grinning.
“Get your gear off then.”
Henry laughed as he tugged at the button and zipper on his pants. Within seconds, he was naked. A second more, and I’d removed my panties, too. As I studied his glorious body, he studied me. His physique was that of a much younger man. Clearly, Henry looked after himself. His cock wasn’t erect, but it was long and full and gave me just a hint of its potential. I liked what I saw.
His eyes expressed that he liked what he saw, too.
His lust-fueled gaze was like a potent elixir, making my nipples peak until they became rock-hard pebbles that nearly hurt. Pulses shot through my veins and settled between my thighs. And my clit did things that it hadn’t done in a very long time, maybe ever.
I felt alive, oh so alive.
I didn’t want this night to end.
Henry reached for my hand, and giggling, we both headed into the water.
It was warmer than I’d thought it would be, and we quickly moved to waist-deep. Henry held my hand the whole way, and once it was deep enough, he ducked beneath a wave. When he came up with his hair all wet and droplets of water on his flesh glistening in the moonlight, I wondered if I’d fallen into some kind of sexual dream.
I was in heaven.
“Your turn,” he said.
I turned toward the oncoming waves, and at the next swell, I dove through the curve of water. While under the water, I frantically brushed sand from my body. When I surfaced again, Henry reached for my hand and pulled me toward him.
Using the momentum, I curled my legs around him and hooked my ankles at his lower back, just above his butt. Our lips met again, but this time, our kiss wasn’t delicate; it was loaded with passion and desire and a potency beyond imagination. I wrapped one hand around his shoulder and curled my other hand up his neck and through his thick hair.
Swells of water glided into us, yet I barely noticed.
The moon hovered above, but I barely glimpsed at its glory.
My attention was solely on the man in my clutches.
With my body buoyed by the waist-deep water, Henry adjusted his grip so he held me with one hand, and then he fed his other hand down between us. As our kiss deepened, I readied for his probing finger. I wanted it. Longed for it. Begged for him to be inside me.
And he obliged. His finger found my clit, and his first touch just about had me launching at the moon. I gasped, and when I pulled back, his lips found my neck. As he rained kisses from my collarbone to my ear, his finger entered my throbbing hole.
Henry rolled his finger over and around my clit, sending shudders radiating through me. Just when I thought I’d explode, he plunged his finger into my hot depths. He was a skilled master, drawing out the delicious sensations with expert repetition. Over and over, he repeated the move. I squeezed my eyes shut and held on as my body took over.
An orgasm of mammoth proportions built inside me, stacking layer upon layer with each plunge of his fingers. His cock was rock hard, butting up against my bottom, but each time I went to reach for it, he’d distract me with his probing fingers.
I was at tipping point.
I stiffened. My whole body froze in primal bliss. I tried to clench my legs together but couldn’t. A cry released from my lips, and Henry changed his hand position so each drive of his fingers into my body ground over my clit.
I cried out as he plunged his fingers into me over and over, drawing out a long, sweet orgasm like I’d never experienced before. It was glorious. It was wild. It was beyond incredible.
When I couldn’t climax anymore, I flopped my head onto his shoulder and gasped for breath. Henry wrapped his arms around me, and we stood in the rolling swell and hugged each other for a very long time. It was an extraordinary moment. One that I would absolutely remember for the rest of my life.
I eased back and lowered my hand in search of his cock that had pounded my backside during my orgasm.
But Henry pulled back. “Tonight’s your night.”
I frowned. “Pardon?”
“Tonight is your night.”
“Oh.” I had no idea what that meant. I’d never met a man who put me in front of himself. Especially during sex.
He turned toward the shore and reached for my hand. “Come on, let’s get you dry.”
I clasped his palm, and as we stepped from the water, I wondered if maybe there was indeed something wrong with him.
Not that I was complaining. I’d just had one of the best orgasms of my life.
No, not one of the best. It was The Best.
When we reached our clothes, Henry handed me his shirt. “Here, dry yourself.”
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Of course.”
I smelled his lovely cologne as I touched his shirt to my body and hoped it would linger long enough that I’d fall asleep with his scent on my flesh later.
When Henry wasn’t looking, I glanced down at his groin again. His erection was still there, not full, but pointing out, like he was reaching toward me. Clearly, he didn’t have any erection problems.
A horrible thought raced through my brain.
Maybe he couldn’t have sex or something. There was no other way to explain his extraordinary behavior.
He caught me looking, and I snapped my eyes away. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just. . . I don’t understand. Don’t you want?—”
“Shhh.” He stepped closer, placing his finger on my lips. “Anticipation is the most exquisite aphrodisiac.”
I frowned, and he cupped my cheek. “I’m hoping I’ve enticed you enough to want to see me again.”
“Yes.” I didn’t even hesitate. “I’d love to.” This sexy, interesting man was way too intriguing to spend only one night with.
I just hoped he didn’t do something to make me regret that decision.