Chapter 41
Forty-One
Tabitha
Henry’s tie is loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His hair is unruly, and his demeanor…
I’m not sure. I get such mixed signals from him.
But tonight he seems sincere. Like he really wants to make love with me.
“Henry, I have to tell you something.”
“Shh.” He moves forward, pushing me backward toward the bed. “Don’t say anything.”
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about me getting attached or anything. That I’m leaving tomorrow so I can attend a surgery seminar. That I can’t waste the opportunity.
I do want to tell him all of that.
But no words emerge from my throat.
When the backs of my legs touch the bed, he gently pushes me so I’m sitting. He removes my strappy sandals, discards them, and pulls me into a stand once more.
He kneels before me and raises my dress.
I suck in a breath.
He slides his fingers up my calves, my thighs.
Slowly he trails his fingers over each inch of my flesh. My thighs quiver, and goose bumps erupt all over me. A chill. Then a warm flame. A chill again.
The tickle in my pussy intensifies. This will be a slow burn. Not what Henry and I normally do together.
I have to stifle a laugh. What we normally do? We’ve fucked a few times, that’s it. I’m thinking of this thing with Henry as if we’ve been dating for years. It’s weird. I shake the thought from my head.
Tonight is just about tonight. That much we’ve both made clear.
And I’m aching. My nipples are so tight they feel like they’re going to pop off.
Slow.
Slow.
Slow.
We’re going slowly.
Damn.
I’m ready for his big cock inside me, thrusting until I reach oblivion once more.
He caresses my legs, my inner thighs, staying painfully away from the place where I ache most.
Downward…
Downward…
Downward…
Until he kisses the tops of my feet.
It’s oddly sensual. I’m not sure anyone’s ever kissed me there.
He pushes my dress up again and moves my hands to my hips so I grasp it. Then he kisses his way up my calf and thigh until he gets to my pussy, which is still covered by my lace panties.
“Gorgeous,” he says. “They match your dress.”
I gulp. “Yeah. I got Angie a pair just like them. You know. Something blue. But I never got the chance to give—”
“Tabitha,” he interrupts. “Talking about my sister’s panties is not going to get us both hot.”
I sigh. “I’m already hot.”
“Fuck.” He glances down at the bulge in his pants. “Me too.”
He rests his lips right on my pussy through my panties and inhales. Exhales. The warmth of his breath sends me into a tailspin.
I can’t help a soft sigh.
“You smell like the sweetest peach,” he growls against my panties.
He breathes in and out again, and then he stands and replaces his lips with his finger.
He caresses my clit through my panties.
And he kisses me.
A tender kiss on the lips.
Just a kiss. No tongue. No clashing teeth.
Then he turns me around, my back to him, and pushes his hardness against me.
“See what you do to me?” he rasps. “See how much I want you?”
I try to answer, but only a choke comes out.
He kisses the back of my neck and gently pushes the blue spaghetti straps over both my shoulders. “Beautiful,” he growls again. He unzips the back of my dress and then pushes it down, freeing my breasts. He slides it over my hips until it’s a periwinkle puddle at my bare feet.
“Your shoulders are so sexy,” he says, nipping at my left one. Then he bites it.
I gasp.
“You like that?” he murmurs.
“Yeah.” I gulp.
Then he turns me back around and kisses my lips.
And I’m astonished.
It’s different from our normal kisses. Our kisses are usually raw, not gentle like these. But the passion is still there. All the passion, all the…
All the…what?
Certainly not love. Stephen doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You don’t fall in love with a man you’ve only known for months, a man you’ve never dated.
My nipples are so hard they ache. My pussy is so wet I’m convinced it’s dripping down my thighs. I quiver all over.
I need to touch him, caress him. I cup his cheeks, scrape my fingers over his blond stubble. I run my hands down his neck, over his broad and beefy shoulders. Then I reach for his collar, start to unbutton his shirt, but he brushes my hand away.
“Not yet.”
Without thinking, I obey. I drop my arms to my sides, the urge to touch him so great that I have to will my arms to stay put.
“I owe you, Tabitha,” he says as if reading my mind. “I’ve made our encounters all about me, all about my needs. This time, it’s about you.”
I open my mouth to protest—to say he’s given me some amazing orgasms and taught me that I’m not “one and done”—but the look on his face stops me.
He’s serious.
He wants to make love. Real love.
Or not real love. Just real lovemaking.
Is there a difference? Hell if I know.
“I know, baby. Please. Let me do this.”
The problem is I don’t want to go at his pace. I want to drop to my knees, pull out his hard cock, and suck him until he comes down my throat.
I want to touch him all over. Show him that I know what to do as well as he does.
I want…
Fuck.
I want to make love.
True love.
Damn Stephen for being right.
How the hell did this happen? Henry’s not ready for anything, and I’m leaving tomorrow so I can take a seminar that will be a huge feather in my cap.
Henry continues to kiss me, still gentle. I’m amazed at his willpower. Every other time, our kisses have led to quick and hard fucks.
How is he holding himself together?
Because if he shoved his dick in me right now, I’d be ready and willing.
Stop overthinking it, Tabitha. Just enjoy.
My inner voice—that sounds a lot like Stephen—is right.
So I surrender to the moment. I kiss Henry back, melt into him. He slides his hands down and cups both my breasts. My nipples grow even harder, and I can’t help myself.
I deepen the kiss.
I shove my tongue farther into his mouth and let out a soft moan.
Will he keep his willpower in check?
I can’t help a small squeal of delight when he responds.
The kiss becomes raw, the way our kisses usually are. Our tongues twirl together, our teeth clash. He tweaks a nipple, and I gasp into his mouth as the sizzle arrows straight to my pussy.
He trails one hand down my abdomen and reaches inside my panties.
I break the kiss with a gasp. “Henry, I…”
Words fail me.
How do I describe how I feel when he touches me?
Like every nerve in my body just remembered it was alive.
Like I’ve been holding my breath for years and finally exhaled.
It’s not butterflies. It’s a wildfire hungry and all-consuming.
And God help me… I don’t want it to stop.
Not ever.
“You’re so wet, sweet Tabitha.”
I simply sigh in response.
Still, he stays gentle, using my own wetness as lubrication as he massages my clit.
I arch into him, try desperately to ride his fingers, but he stays put, his gentle determination nearly blinding me. If only he’d put one inside me, I’d blow like a volcano.
Please…
Please…
Please…
“You’ll get everything you need. I swear it, Tabitha.”
How does he keep reading my mind?
He drops to his knees again, removing his fingers from inside my panties and kissing me through the lace. “I could stay here always and smell nothing else, and I’d be happy forever.”
Oh, God…
This isn’t the Henry I know. This is…
I don’t know, but I’m loving it.
My whole body is loving it. I shudder, feel cool and then hot and then cool again.
He grips my hips gently and pushes the panties down.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
He flicks his tongue over my clit, and I can’t help myself. I grab his head of thick blond hair and push him closer into me.
Still he keeps going slowly.
Slowly.
Torturously.
He’s going to drive me to an early grave.
“Henry…please.”
He only groans…but then moves his tongue slightly faster.
Paradise.
Pure heaven.
I’m ready to come. Just a little more friction, a little more…
He slides his tongue down my inner thigh. “Mmm. Delicious.”
This is so…so…
“Henry…”
“Shh…” He exhales over the wetness on my thigh, making me shiver. “Enjoy it, Tabitha. I want you to feel every little thing I do to you.”
I’m feeling so damned much that I’m not sure which end is up.
And it’s not just physical.
It’s…
It’s…
He moves down my body again, gliding over my knee—which tickles just a bit—and then my calf and the top of my foot again.
Back up the other side—foot, calf, thigh…
Abdomen.
He avoided my pussy, damn him!
I feel so empty, like a cavern that is aching for light.
He moves up to my breasts, flicks both nipples with his tongue.
Electricity sizzles beneath my flesh. “Henry…”
“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs. “God, your tits.” He takes one nipple between his lips, sucking, tugging…
I tangle my hands in his thick hair.
I’m on fire.
On fire for him.
For Henry.
The man…
The man…
I can’t let the words form. I’m leaving tomorrow… He has promised me nothing…
But I’m ready. So ready for his big cock inside me. So ready for one of his hard fucks that completes me like nothing else.
He drops a nipple, sucks on the flesh of my breast. “Your body is perfect. So damned beautiful.”
My body…
My body is about ready to explode if he doesn’t get inside me soon.
But…
My eyes pop open. “This isn’t fair.”
He drops my other nipple and meets my gaze. “Not fair?”
I swallow. “Yeah. You’ve seen my body. You’re kissing my body, touching my body.”
“Is that a problem?” he teases.
“God, no, but…” I gasp. “I’ve never seen yours, Henry. Never seen you naked. It’s…not…fair.”
He slides one hand over my cheek and down my neck to caress my shoulder. “Soon enough. I promise.”
My nipples ache for him, but he leaves them alone this time. He begins walking gently back toward the bed until my knees hit the mattress and I sit.
“Lie down, amber.”
“Amber?”
He grins. “Those warm eyes, like amber in the firelight.”
“Oh…” Warmth spreads through me.
“Lie down,” he says again.
I obey. I lie on the bed, and I close my eyes and wait.
A moment later, I open my eyes.
He’s staring at me.
“Please,” I say. “I ache for you.”
“Quiet,” he says softly. “I want to remember you just like this. How beautiful you are.”
Remember me…
This is his way of saying goodbye…
My heart breaks just a little.
Stephen was right.
I love this man. I love Henry.
And he doesn’t love me back.
But he adores me. That much is clear. He wants me, maybe even needs me… At least for tonight. As the old song says, two out of three ain’t bad.
He moves to the foot of the bed, still clothed.
He smiles. Unbuttons his shirt, parting the two halves.
God, his chest.
It’s perfect—hard, sculpted, a few light-brown hairs scattered over his coppery nipples.
I gulp audibly. “You should never wear a shirt again.”
His cheeks redden slightly, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he unclasps his belt and slowly removes it. Then the button and zipper on his pants. He slides them down, revealing his huge hard cock underneath his boxer briefs.
His periwinkle-blue boxer briefs.
I can’t help a smile. “Something blue?” I ask.
He looks down and shrugs. “Why not?”
“You didn’t really go out and buy underwear to match your tie and the bridesmaid gowns.”
He shakes his head. “Already had them, and believe it or not, they came up today.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I rotate my underwear, and this pair came up today.”
For some reason unknown to me, that statement makes Henry all the more attractive.
He seriously rotates his underwear so they get even wear.
I do that myself, but I figured it was a middle-class thing.
Surely not a billionaire rancher thing. Henry could easily afford to buy a new pair of underwear every day.
He kicks off his shoes and then removes his pants, the blue shorts, and his socks.
And damn.
He’s even more magnificent than I imagined.