Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Summerville
Caroline lay beneath Jack, still recovering from the climax and still astonished at herself that she’d been able to climax like that, without actually making love.
Just the feel of him in her, just holding his penis deep inside her, had been enough to set her off. He hadn’t even had to move, really.
Had Jack discovered some key to her she didn’t even know herself? She was usually slow to climax, or at least slow enough that lovers complained. Well… lover. Sanders, actually, while they’d been having their on again off again affair. Affairs.
Sanders considered himself an accomplished lover, she knew.
Just like he considered himself a connoisseur of wine, a gourmet, a man with a good eye for art.
The fact that she took a long time to come had been a source of friction between them, until Caroline had learned the fine feminine art of faking it.
She hadn’t faked it with Jack. She’d started coming, startling herself, almost before she knew it herself. Her body had just convulsed. Just from the feel of him on her, inside her.
Amazing.
He’d been sprawled bonelessly on her after his own orgasm but now she could feel the tension of returning consciousness in his muscles. His penis in her stirred. It was just this incredible sensation, feeling him grow hard—harder, because actually he hadn’t softened much even after coming.
She ran a hand over his shoulder, down his back, reveling in the feel of him, so incredibly strong and solid.
His spine was an elegantly curved indentation, dense muscles on either side.
She followed the furrow down to the small of his back, where a few wiry hairs grew, and on down to his backside.
She smoothed her hand over a hard buttock.
It felt so delicious, like a huge apple and she wanted to take a bite out of it. She couldn’t, so she dug her nails into the flesh of his buttock and felt an immediate response in his penis.
Positively Pavlovian! Caroline nearly laughed with delight.
He was primed to respond to her, it seemed.
Every movement of her hand corresponded to a movement of his penis in her.
It worked for her mouth, too, she discovered as she turned her head and kissed his neck.
And when she nipped him lightly, oh my, he jolted and the penis inside her jumped!
They were carrying on a conversation with their bodies.
Her touch said—do you like this? And his body answered—oh yeah!
His big hands moved in her hair and he angled his head closer to hers. When he spoke, it was directly in her ear, the vibrations of the deep voice and the puffs of air as he spoke making her shiver, though from the heat of it and not the cold.
“I’m afraid we’re just going to have to stay in bed until the house warms up.”
He didn’t sound too put out. “Oh yes?” Staying in bed with him until the house warmed up sounded wonderful.
“Yeah.” He nuzzled her temple with his nose.
“Might take hours,” he sighed, his voice filled with regret as his hand touched her breast. She was somehow primed for this, because all he had to do was touch her and the skin of her breast warmed.
When his thumb glided over her nipple, she felt it, intensely, between her legs.
She tightened around him, helplessly. His penis surged inside her, giving her a little electric shock.
Caroline smiled and lifted her arms back around his neck. His shoulders were so broad it was almost impossible for her to embrace him.
“Might,” she answered. “Tough luck for us.”
His mouth had moved to her neck, running his lips up and down the sensitive tendons. She arched her neck to give him better access. It was beyond delightful feeling his mouth on her neck, giving her little biting kisses.
“So…” He started nibbling on her shoulder, delicate little nips. “What can we do in the meantime? Hmm? Talk?”
“I don’t—” Caroline took in a sharp breath. He’d pulled out of her so far she could feel the huge bulbous head against the lips of her sex, then thrust slowly back into her. She laughed breathlessly. “I can’t talk while you’re doing that!”
“Doing what?” He pulled out again, slid slowly back in again. He was moving with ease. Caroline could feel the wetness of his semen and her own arousal.
In… Out…
“That,” she gasped.
“Tell me about your family. What were they like?”
It took her a moment to realize what he’d said, she was so distracted by the feel of him sliding in and out of her, so slowly she could feel every inch of him.
But then she stiffened, and pushed at his shoulders, a chill running through her. She couldn’t talk about her family, not now. Not ever.
“No.” She pushed at his shoulders again. It was like pushing against a steel wall.
He entered her again fully and stopped moving. “Talk to me.” That deep voice was lulling, almost coaxing. “The cab driver coming in said that you lost your parents on Christmas day five years ago.”
“Six. Six years ago.” Caroline’s throat felt raw. She felt raw everywhere, all her emotions suddenly right there on the surface, horribly vulnerable. She didn’t have her usual protection around her, he was demolishing it with kisses, slow runs of his fingers over her breasts. With sex.
“Talk to me, Caroline. It helps to talk. Tell me what they were like. Start with your dad. What was he like?”
“Funny. He was very funny but he only allowed us to see it.” The words were out before she could stop them.
“Everyone thought he was this sober businessman but he had a very ironic take on life. He hated hypocrisy and politicians. He did a wicked imitation of the Governor, but only in the family and only when he’d had some whiskey.
I knew exactly when to take things seriously and when not to, thanks to him.
I could always count on him to put things in perspective when I was a girl. Once—”
She stopped, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t wipe it away herself, her hands were on his shoulders, so he did, with his thumb. “Once?” he asked quietly.
She sniffled a laugh. “Once this candidate for the Senate came to the house, trying to get Dad to become a fund-raiser for him. He was a businessman, real rah-rah, and dumb as a rock, only less interesting. He thought that since Dad was a businessman, all he’d care about was tax cuts and deregulating.
So he and his horrible wife sat there smugly talking about incorporating in the Virgin Isles to avoid taxes, and how he’d raided his company’s pension fund to pump up the stock price and how he’d eliminated five thousand jobs.
” She gave a little laugh, remembering. “So Dad met Mom’s eyes and started talking about their plans to liquidate, give everything to charity and move to an ashram in India.
The candidate and his awful wife were so horrified they didn’t stay for dessert.
Mom and Dad opened a bottle of champagne when they left and drank it all in front of the fire. I caught them necking and laughing.”
She met his eyes. “I’ve never told that story to anyone. And now I’m the last person on Earth to remember that.”
He wasn’t smiling, the deep grooves bracketing his mouth dug even deeper. “Why haven’t you told anyone that story? It says a lot about your Dad. It’s the kind of story that automatically makes you like the guy. I think I would have liked him a lot. I like no-nonsense people.”
“Maybe.” It was an unusual thought. But who knew? Maybe they would have got along. Jack seemed the opposite of her father, who’d been a man who’d liked to live large, who’d liked his comforts and his pleasures, who’d enjoyed life with gusto, even better when it was first class.
He’d enjoyed elegant clothes, fine wine and cooking, expensive Cuban cigars, single malt whiskeys. Her Dad flew first class, always stayed in 5 star hotels and always got the best seats in the house when they went to the theater.
Jack was a soldier, a hard man, a man used to living rough. He wore old clothes and down at heel boots, and had been so incredibly grateful for the meal, she was sure he didn’t eat well on a regular basis. Not much in common there.
But her father had hated bullshitters and snobs and plastic people. He’d despised Sanders once he got to know him, though at first he’d tried to hide it.
Dad might have liked Jack, after all. Jack never pretended to be anything he wasn’t, hadn’t tried to impress her in any way.
“And your mom? What was she like?”
“She was wonderful. Ah!” He suddenly changed the angle of penetration, doing something with his body, his hips, so that he bore down on her clitoris with every slow stroke into and out of her.
The pleasure was almost electric in its intensity.
A couple of those honeyed, electrifying strokes and then he stopped.
“Tell me more. She was wonderful. What else?”
“Beautiful.” Her body was so pleasured, she didn’t have the energy to weigh her words. They came from somewhere deep inside her. “Mom was such a beautiful woman—inside and out.”
He bent to nuzzle her neck. “I know,” he whispered against her skin. “I saw the pictures. You look just like her.”
Caroline smiled. She’d been told that often enough. It pleased her.