Chapter Fifteen #2
Rose moved to kiss him again, but he was bending his head to her other breast, cupping its fuller-than-usual weight to his mouth.
A tiny sound escaped her lips as he nipped the peak lightly and then took it into his mouth and sucked.
She arched her back without meaning to. So good.
Why had she thought he would be reticent and awkward?
Because he usually was. She’d very much expected to take the lead here, the cosmopolitan modern girl, seducing the nerdy scholar.
Instead, she hadn’t gotten a move in edgewise, and his caresses and his mouth had her shaking all over.
“I can barely stand up,” she managed to say breathlessly.
He lifted his head. “Then lie down.” He urged her over to the bed and kissed her once, and then twice, as she lay down on her back.
He moved to join her and she said, “Take off your trousers.” In her dazed state, she was proud of herself for saying trousers, like he did, instead of pants.
“Yes, quite right,” he said distractedly, unbuckling the belt in a rough, efficient way that sent a tingle through her nether regions and unzipping his fly, all while staring at her body. He shucked off his pants and the boxer briefs she’d gotten him and bent to yank off one sock, then the other.
The sight of Henry—the man who was more comfortable in suits than T-shirts—stark-naked, his hard, flushed cock jutting up against his belly, lust darkening his eyes, had to have been the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life. He knelt next to her on the bed, staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You are still rosy here.” He brushed a fingertip over one of her erect nipples, making her squirm. “But less so than when I stopped to get undressed. Here as well.” He touched her sensitized bottom lip. Impulsively, she sucked on his fingertip for a moment, and enjoyed the way his breath caught.
“Good observation,” she murmured. “Are you going to do something about that?”
He cupped her cheek and brought down his mouth on hers, kissing her so deeply she writhed under him.
She’d never felt like any of her exes spent a long enough time just kissing her, and it wasn’t for her lack of mentioning it.
Repeatedly, in fact. But Henry took his time, with kiss after long kiss, plunging into her mouth, as he stroked the undercurve of one of her breasts again, making every inch of her body feel alive.
Then, as he kissed her, he pinched the hard nipple, making her moan right into his mouth.
He lowered his head to tease that aching peak again, gently tugging it with his teeth, sending bright sparks of sensation along her nerves.
Finally, he raised his head and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lip. “There’s that red.”
She gave a breathless laugh. She was more than ready for him and reached down toward his cock, but he caught her hand and, with a slight shake of his head, pinned it on the bed next to her.
He held it firmly there as he trailed rough, open-mouthed kisses down her quivering body and to the hollow inside her hip bone, just above the pink satin bikini underwear.
Oh, Goddess.
He released her hand to pull off her panties, and she eagerly raised her hips to make it easier. Then he knelt between her knees. He took hold of both of them and, with one definitive motion, spread her legs farther apart on the bed.
Fuck. This man did not mind taking charge. She was wide open to him, as exposed as she could possibly be. He could see how much he’d aroused her. But she didn’t feel vulnerable. He’d entranced her, and she couldn’t wait for whatever he did next.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and dragged his thumb straight up her soaked cleft, coming to rest with insistent pressure at precisely the right place. She couldn’t help bucking her hips up to grind against him. With a knowing look, he pressed his other palm down flat on her belly, holding her in place.
The sweet, heavy ache between her legs was becoming sharp. “Henry,” she begged.
He slipped one finger, then two, inside her, and she squeezed around him.
The pad of this thumb circled her clit. Yes.
Her head tilted back on the pillow. He was still holding her down, but as he expertly brought her desire higher and higher, she drew up her knees, and her toes curled on the comforter.
She flung her forearm over her closed eyes.
A high-pitched cry escaped her, then another.
“You’re close,” Henry said, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” she managed to say.
And then he stopped. His thumb moved away from where it should have been. His fingers, still inside her, were still.
Her eyes popped open. “Don’t stop!”
“Just a moment,” he murmured. She’d half expected him to be laughing at her, teasing her, but he was staring into her eyes, his expression rapt.
“Stay with me, all right?” She couldn’t help but trust him.
She nodded. He lowered his head and deliberately kissed the inside of one of her thighs, then the other.
His free fingers stroked lower, near her ass.
Was this really the same man who’d fussed about what to do with a tea bag?
He kissed the springy curls on her mound, just a fraction of an inch from where she wanted his mouth or his touch. She thought she was going to scream. What the fuck was he doing?
Then he dragged his tongue across her needy clit, his fingers thrusting into her.
“Yes!” she cried out. He sucked there, ever so lightly, bringing her up to the edge again.
She grasped his hair. She wanted to beg him not to stop again; it came out a scream as her orgasm crashed over her, a pleasure more intense than anything she’d ever experienced before.
It went on and on, pulsing outward in waves, making her legs shake.
As the ripples of pleasure subsided, he stretched his body over hers, propping himself on his elbows. His hard length pressed against her. It had been years since he’d had sex. And here he had been ignoring his own wants while meticulously tending to hers. That was so wrong.
“Come on,” she murmured, reaching down between them, and when her hand encircled his girth, he made a choking sound. Hmm, it might be fun to…No, next time. She guided him to her entrance.
But he pulled back, frustrating her once again, searching her face for a moment. “You do not want to get with child,” he murmured gravely.
Oh, that was sweet. “The pill, remember?”
Sheer relief washed over his face. “Yes.”
Then he thrust home.
She heard herself cry out again, and at the same time, he made a kind of growl in the back of his throat. He filled her up completely. She loved having her hands on his strong shoulders. He pulled back.
“Is that good?”
“Yes!” she almost cut him off. “It’s so good.” She reached down and skimmed her palm over his bare ass. Fuck me, she wanted to say, but didn’t, in case the vulgarity would take him out of the moment.
He obeyed the unspoken command anyway, with long, even strokes.
She lifted her hips, matching his rhythm.
There was none of the strangeness, the self-awareness that came with a first time.
It felt so natural to be joined with him, as though they’d done it a hundred times before, although that didn’t take away any of the excitement.
She caressed his neck and shoulder, and although his eyes were closed, a line of concentration between his brows, he nuzzled into the touch like a cat.
Sunk deep within her, he ground his hips against hers, sending bright sparks of pleasure through her that intensified with the next few strokes.
She ran her hand down his back and could feel his body straining to maintain control.
“Let yourself go,” she whispered to him. “Don’t hold back.”
He opened his eyes and stared at her as though she’d said something surprising. Was he surprised to see her? The thought filled her with dread. Had he been fantasizing about his late wife?
“Rose, my love,” he said hoarsely, and the ardent look in his eyes chased away that thought and filled her heart with simple happiness.
He bent to kiss the side of her neck as he drove into her faster, riding her with unleashed male power, their bodies moving together.
Rose gripped his shoulders more tightly as her pleasure spiraled upward.
As if aware of that, Henry slipped his hand between them, brushing her most sensitive place once more, pitching her over the edge into mindless bliss again.
He plunged into her a few more times, savage and rough.
“Oh, God,” he groaned as he shuddered and pumped himself into her. She hooked one leg around him, reveling in his satisfaction, as he bowed his head to her shoulder, breathing hard.
She wanted to say, I love you. But that was wrong.
She hadn’t known him nearly long enough to say that.
That was probably just the dopamine or whatever chemical was currently surging through her veins after what had been, hands down, the best sex of her life.
She kissed his cheek and stroked his hair wordlessly.
He kissed the side of her neck and she squirmed, every inch of her body still wildly sensitive. Then he lifted his head to search her expression.
“Are you well?” he murmured.
She gave a shocked laugh. “Am I well? Yeah, I’m really good, if you didn’t notice.”
“I did notice you were very good,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her and tracing a finger along her décolletage.
“I barely even did anything,” she muttered.
He’d taken charge and had seemed to know exactly what he wanted to do.
Although she was fairly sure that if she’d insisted that he get on with it at that one point, or asked him to do something, not do something, or do something a little bit differently, he would’ve listened attentively and done it.
And possibly have written down a few notes in a notebook later, in his impeccable handwriting. But she had no notes.
How was that even possible? “How did you know to tease me like that?”
He rolled over to his side and propped himself up on one elbow.
She’d expected him to look smug about his own skills, and she would’ve even enjoyed seeing it, but his expression was still serious.
“It is my theory that a slight delay, on the precipice of release, makes that release all the more powerful.”
She had to laugh. “Okay, successful experiment. But I don’t know if I want you to do that every time. You might kill me.” Inwardly, she winced. That was the wrong phrase to use with someone whose wife had died in bed. “I mean, you’ll drive me crazy.”
Was that still a faux pas? There was going to be a next time, right?
She felt that all-too-familiar postcoital rush of doubt.
It had been a long time ago, but she’d known a guy to hit it and quit it before, ignoring her texts the next day and then actually blocking her number.
It would be hard for Henry to ghost her while he was sleeping in her guest bedroom, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a change of heart.
“Not every time, then,” Henry agreed, soothing her worry immediately. He took hold of one of her curls falling around her shoulders and gently pulled it straight, then released it to watch it bounce back again.
“You probably have other theories, anyway,” she teased, and raised herself up to kiss him.
She realized, to her utter shock, that his eyes were wet. What? Why? Because he’d been lonely for a long time, she supposed. Her heart went out to him as she pressed her lips to his in a quick, sweet kiss.
“I do,” he said. “Too many, perhaps, to test out in such a short time.”
“Ah.” Her heart broke a little, thinking about the short time. “We’ll just have to do as much as we can.”
—
After Rose excused herself and retreated to the bathroom, Henry lay back on the bed, his body utterly spent, his soul as alive as it had ever been.
His desire for Rose had grown into a torment, making him envious of happy newlyweds and the affections of friends, enraged by talk of another suitor, oversensitive in her presence to even the slightest of slights.
And now that he’d given in to that irresistible magnetic attraction between them, he felt filled with light, like a newly forged star.
Emily had been right in saying that Rose was sweet, beautiful, and magical. In Rose’s world, children’s games were not just for children, falling spring petals were a sign of celebration, and old walls could be painted over with new dreams, as though nothing could be truly lost.
Knowing that their time together might well be a short season, too, he’d endeavored to bring her the greatest pleasure he could, given his own overwhelming need.
When he’d delayed her bliss in order to increase it, he’d more than half expected her to protest. If she had, he would’ve immediately capitulated.
Nonetheless, he’d followed his instincts.
Was it not fortunate that on his first time with her, he’d been able to please her so well?
And that she had so pleased him? Was it not strange, truly, that their bodies and souls had joined so perfectly together?