Chapter Twenty #3
“Then don’t kiss me.” She loved hearing him laugh; it wasn’t a real laugh, it was more a ragged sound in his throat, but it
was accompanied by crinkling eyes and an upward curve of his mouth, so it counted. Every moment with him counted.
The hot chocolate was delicious, but it was in the way. Rather than waste it she quickly drained the cup and set it aside.
“There. Problem solved.”
He reached for his own cup and killed the chocolate as if it were a shot of whiskey.
Now.
“I want to see you naked.”
The rawness of his tone thrilled her, made her shake. The desire was mutual. She wanted to see him naked, so much that she
couldn’t decide if she should undress herself, or him.
Actually, who cared? All that mattered was that they got out of their clothes. She maneuvered astride his thighs and looped
both arms around his neck, kissing him with all the fire she felt, and that was the only encouragement he needed.
Dizzy under his fierce kisses, she felt his hands moving everywhere, over her breasts, unfastening her jeans, delving into
her underwear and between her legs. She gasped as a big finger pushed into her, whimpered when he added a second one. She
rose to her knees, driven by the penetration, lashed by the surge and shock of pleasure. Oh God, oh God, it had been so long
and never like this before anyway. She’d never before felt so exquisitely, painfully aroused as if she might come before he
was even inside her. She didn’t want that, she wanted the whole experience, she wanted his weight on her and his thrusts and . . .
everything. She wanted everything.
She sat back and pulled at the buttons on his shirt; he tugged hers over her head. They rolled over on the mattress; she pushed
her jeans down, then found herself flat on her back before she could get them off. He leaned over her, his bare shoulders
gleaming in the firelight. “I have nine condoms,” he said, his tone rough. “Total. After they’re gone, you have a decision
to make.”
Send him away, he meant, or risk pregnancy. Her heart leaped at the idea of having his baby. No, she didn’t have a decision
to make; she knew what she wanted but perhaps now wasn’t the time to tell him. Just because she wanted something didn’t mean
she should have it. There were two of them who had to make that decision. For now, she had this, and for now this was enough.
She stroked her hands over his chest and shoulders, up to cup his jaw and rub her thumb over his lips, then stretched up to
kiss him.
He didn’t wait to have a discussion about the matter; he’d stated a fact, and that was that. He stripped off the rest of his
clothes and hers, took a condom from his coat pocket and rolled it on, then pushed her legs apart and moved over her.
Sela caught her breath, glorying in his heavy weight, the hardness of his body pressing down on her. His breathing was ragged,
but he held himself still on top of her. “I’m going too fast,” he muttered. “You aren’t ready—”
Her breath sighed out of her. “Yes, I am,” she whispered. “Hurry.” She gripped his hips with her thighs, lifted herself up
to him. She clung to him as he reached between them and opened the folds between her legs, pushed his thick penis at her,
and slowly sank inside.
She caught her breath as a multitude of sensations overwhelmed her. There was his taste in her mouth, the rough texture of
his hairy chest on her breasts, his hips on the inside of her thighs, the sharp sting of being stretched, the pressure inside
as he moved deep. She was drowned in him, taken even as she took. She gasped again, her own hips instinctively lifting to
take more of him in, and her gasp became a thin, breathless cry. She wanted to feel his balls; she reached down, managed to
palm them, then stroked her finger around the base of his penis. He grunted and gave a short, hard shove, another, and another.
Her hand was in the way and she released him, dug her fingers into his ribs as she held on and ground herself against him.
The act was breathtakingly carnal. He was carnal, and for the first time in her life she felt carnal, sexual, basic, and free. He drew back and looked down at her,
their gazes meeting. Looking into his eyes while their bodies were joined was the most sensual, overwhelming moment of her
life. Sharp waves of sensation tightened her inner muscles, strengthened, centered. A cry, female and primal, broke free.
She began coming, legs and arms locked around him, her back arched, head tilted back and more of those wild cries filling
the dark, quiet room.
He held himself high and deep, rocking against her; a raw, harsh sound burst from his throat and he bowed in her arms, every
muscle in his body tensing, helpless to stop thrusting. She didn’t want him to stop, she wanted him to feel what she was feeling.
He ground into her, shuddered, bucked, went deeper.
Slowly the tension in his body oozed away and he eased his weight down on her, his movements jerky and lacking his usual powerful
grace. He was breathing hard, but so was she, and sweat sheened their naked bodies. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.
If the house collapsed around them right then, she didn’t know if she’d have the energy to get up and put on her clothes.
All she wanted to do was lie right where she was, under him, holding him.
After a while he laboriously rolled off her and got up to dispose of the condom. Without his body heat she felt chilly, despite
the proximity of the fireplace, and pulled the blankets over herself. When he returned she simply lifted the blanket and he
slid under them next to her, pulled her close so her head was on his shoulder. “Your feet are cold,” he muttered sleepily.
“Put them on me.”
Sela didn’t know how any part of her could be cold after what they’d done but her feet were definitely chilly. She curled
into him, her arm around his neck, and tucked her feet against his legs. Utterly satisfied, utterly content, she slept.
Sometime later he got up and added more wood to the fire. When he lay back down, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on
top of him.
Two condoms down.
By morning there were four left.