"That's a nice way to put it," Louisa says with a laugh. "My husband likes two things: horses and naked women. So I stay here to help with the horses, and he manages the naked women."
I think my eyes might bug out of my head. This makes Louisa laugh. She throws an arm around Georg's waist and they wander into the house. Georg reaches out his hand to me and tows me along with them.
Inside, the house is gorgeous, clearly recently renovated to include the shabby chic décor one would expect of a farmhouse with lots of modern furniture, dark wood, and other pretty features. Louisa shows us around the main level, which includes a living room featuring a crackling fireplace, a spacious kitchen with a gorgeous, wood-topped center island surrounded by four stools, a powder room, and an amazing library stocked with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Upstairs, there are two main suites. Both begin with a sitting room complete with television, comfy-looking couches, a coffee and wine bar, and a fireplace. Further back, a massive bedroom and en-suite, complete with an oversized soaker tub and huge, walk-in shower.
"This is so gorgeous," I say, in awe. "I want to live here all the time."
"So glad you love it," Louisa says with a wide smile. "I spent a lot of time thinking about design when we decided to renovate and make this into a B&B. Jim couldn't understand why the living room first, but I figured it gave an extra buffer of privacy in each suite."
"Great idea," I agree. "But it's also just really comfortable and warm. Really gorgeous."
"Well, there are no other visitors tonight, so you have the place to yourselves. I'll finish up the food downstairs and then head home. Be back in the morning to make breakfast."
"You don't live here?" I ask.
"Oh, no. Jim and I have a house about a half mile back on the property, closer to the horse barn. So you've got the place all to yourselves. All night long." She gives us a knowing wink. "There are robes, fresh linens, and a few clothing items in the closet, so help yourself to anything you need."
As Louisa leaves the suite, I stare at Georg, dumbfounded. "You had all this planned out?"
"Of course," he answers. "I had a lot of time to think while I was recovering. I wanted to get out of the city, have some time to ourselves. Celebrate."
"What if the team had lost tonight?"
"But this is not a celebration of the team, Pamela." He steps close…closer…until our bodies are nearly aligned and his hand is on my cheek. He leans in, his lips brushing mine so softly. "This is about us. About you and me."
"Us?" I almost forget to breathe and feel a little weak in the knees as I stare into his eyes.
"You must know I'm in love with you, Pamela. I love you."
"But I—I didn't know you felt that way about me."
"How could you not? You don't feel it in every smile I give you? In the way I look at you? You can't feel it in the way I touch you?"
"I—I was blinded I guess…by my own feelings…"
I can hardly talk, and feel incredibly overheated all of a sudden.
He kisses me again, slow and deep, and then pulls back, still holding my face in his hands. "I am not a great man, not nearly good enough for you. But I poured every ounce of my love into each stroke of your clit, each pulse of my tongue against your sweet, sweet pussy. Did you feel it, Pamela? Can you feel it right now?"
If it were possible for me to melt into a puddle of mush, it would be happening right this instant. Right now, when my breasts are heavy and aching, my stomach filled with butterflies from wanting him so badly. It would happen now, when I can think of nothing else but the way his long hair falls lazily into his eyes, the way his mouth curves like a bow, the way his breath feels on my skin, the way he just told me he loves me.
"Yes," I breathe. The arousal I feel is almost painful. I want him. All of him. Inside me. "Yes, I feel it, Georg, I feel you."
And I love you, too.
His lips find mine again, his hand inching its way down my lower back to my backside. He cups my ass cheek and pulls me to him roughly, the hardness of him evident through his jeans. His tongue begs for entry and I open to him, sighing against his mouth.
When he pulls away, I'm positively electric with want. Georg, however, seems intent on prolonging my misery. "Come on, krasota," he says softly and then leads me out of the suite, down the stairs to the kitchen, where a beautiful tray of food awaits.
We each find a stool and pull up to the island, sampling the array of cheese, meat, and fruit.
"So, Pamela," he says as he pops a grape into his mouth, "before we do anything more tonight, I need to know how is it that someone as beautiful and amazing as you are still a virgin."
I feel my heart sink a little at the question. In all these months, he's never asked and I haven't wanted to tell him. I still don't, not when everything feels so good and perfect. But this is part of who I am, and if we are to move forward and have a real relationship, then I do need to share this dark part of my past with him.
"Well, I was…" I start but I can't quite figure out how to give voice to my past. I feel the tension on my face. I know it's there, because Georg's playful expression turns more to concern.
"You can tell me, baby. I want to know all of you. Everything…the good and even the bad.”
I swallow back the lump that forms in my throat and take a deep, centering breath. "My mother has had a lot of husbands. I think I told you that, right?"
He nods.
"Well, one of them…when I was a teenager…he—"
"Raped you?" Georg's voice cracks.
"No, no." I shake my head. "He touched me, though. Did other things. Gross things. And I'm okay now. I've been through therapy and whatnot. But I think it…I think it made me feel like damaged goods. And it made it hard for me to trust men. So, I always only allowed things to go so far before I ended them. I've never had a real relationship. Nobody had ever given me an orgasm before you came along, Georg."
I feel my cheeks turn to flame as I look away, ashamed to verbalize my past like this. I won't cry, though. I decided a long time ago that I wouldn't shed one more tear over that piece of garbage. I'm a victim, sure, but I refuse to live my life as if I've been victimized.
When I feel Georg's hand on my shoulder, I look back and he pulls me into a fierce hug.
"You are not damaged," he says against my hair. "You are perfect to me. And fuck that zasranec. I'll kill him someday for hurting you."
"Believe me, I've thought about it myself," I say, pulling back to look at him. "But he’s not worth a second of my time, or yours."
Georg's expression is soft, emotive. "You are one of the strongest women I have ever met. The way you are so independent and take care of yourself. How you stand up for yourself. You are so perfect to me, Pamela."
"I so love the way you call me Pamela, but I'm not perfect. Not by a long shot."
"No one is," he says softly while covering my hand with his. "I am not, either. But for me, you are. I am svoloch' for not saying it sooner."
"Any sooner might have been too soon," I answer. "I am very good at pushing people away. It's good that things were…looser…for a while. More casual."
"I tried not to want you," he says. "But the heart can be stubborn."
"I tried not to want you, too, but it didn't work at all."
And here come the tears. Not for my past, but for the present. Happy tears, I suppose. Georg uses his thumb to wipe them away as they fall, his face soft, supportive. Loving. I bite my lip and try to give him a reassuring smile.
"We don't need to focus on sad things," I say. "You're right; we're here to celebrate."
"What are you celebrating, Pamela? I told you what I'm celebrating."
He meets my gaze, his expression hopeful. I suck in my bottom lip, fighting the fear I feel in admitting this feeling. But right now, I’m still reeling from the fact that I told Georg about him. And when I did, he held me…fiercely. No one has ever stood up for me—supported me wholly—like that. That hug communica
ted love more than words ever could, and now I see hope and love in his eyes rather than disappointment and disgust. Love. That’s what I’m celebrating.
"I’m celebrating you, Georg Kolochev. Us together, because I love you too. I don't know how you managed to be the one to steal my heart but you did."
His face splits into a wide, glorious smile and he pulls me to him again, his lips in my hair as he showers me with kisses. The kisses move to my forehead, my cheeks. My ears, my neck. Finally, he lingers at my lips, softly kissing me, his hands on my face. It feels so right, so good.
"I want you, Georg, tonight…all of you. I am ready to be wholly yours," I whisper against his ear. This time, the implication is so much more. My body is heavy with it, aching. All I can envision is the two of us in the act, him buried deep inside me, fucking me into oblivion. God, I want to experience that with him.
"I was hoping you'd say that," he answers, standing and moving the tray of food farther down the counter.
He lifts me up so I'm sitting on the wooden counter. We kiss again, urgently. Our teeth click together. I bite his bottom lip. I'm still in my Crush T-shirt and he kisses the logo before pulling it over my head, exposing my simple, white lace bra.
"I'd have picked sexier underwear if I'd known about this plan."
"No matter, baby. It will be on the floor before you know it."
And he's not joking. He reaches around, unsnaps my bra, and tosses it. The air in the house is comfortable, but there might as well be freezing cold air on my skin, the way my nipples pucker, standing at attention, jutting shamelessly.
"These fucking gorgeous tits want my attention," he says, tracing his fingertips over the pebbled nubs. I arch my back, sighing with pleasure at this small act.
He leans in and kisses each nipple, first lightly, then returning, his tongue making lazy circles, tasting me, his hands fondling. I could come, I think, just from this.
"Do you want me to touch you, Pamela? Will you be wet if I do?"
"Yes," I breathe.
"Yes, what?" he asks, pushing my breasts together, his breath hot on my skin.
"Yes, please. Please touch me."
He puts a hand between my legs, up my skirt, his fingertips grazing my very wet panties. The amount of wetness makes him chuckle. He pushes the fabric to the side and dips his middle finger right inside me. My hips buck instantly and I nearly fall back onto the countertop.
"As fun as it would be to take you here on this kitchen counter, it is not at all what I had in mind. Come with me."
It's jarring when pulls himself away from me, but I take his hand and we practically run up the stairs to the bedroom suite. Georg hurries into the bathroom and runs a bath, complete with a minty soap. As the water runs, filling the air with fragrant steam, I follow him, still only in my skirt, my breasts bared and feeling heavy with desire. I watch him as he removes his shoes and socks and then lights several candles placed around the ledge of the tub. He turns on some music. A sexy-sounding woman sings, I've been a bad, bad girl. I've been careless with a delicate man.
"I don't think I've ever heard this song," I admit.
"It's Fiona Apple," he tells me.
"She's sexy."
"That's the point," he says with a wink, dancing in a way that I think it supposed to be sexy, but actually ends up making me giggle.
I'm shivering, teeth chattering, but it's definitely not cold in here. I'm nervous. Georg senses this and comes to stand in front of me. He rubs his arms over my bare upper arms, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps. My nipples tighten up once more.
"Take a deep breath, Pamela." He places a single kiss on my collarbone. "I want this to be so good for you."
He divests me of my shoes and socks and then my skirt and panties before pulling off his own shirt and jeans and handing me a hair tie. I pull my mass of hair up into a messy bun while Georg stares hungrily at the whole length of my body. His green eyes start at my breasts and then trail down below. He definitely appreciates the waxing. He's told me several times.
I take a minute to admire his body as he drops the last of his clothes to the floor, the black boxers making a soft noise as they land on top of the growing pile of discarded clothes. He kicks the messy pile out of the way with his foot and looks at me.
The two of us completely naked facing each other.
It's extremely intimate. Just the two of us baring ourselves. No words are spoken, because I think we both understand a moment of silent admiration is what’s needed. I certainly need it. I haven't had nearly enough naked time with him. Not that it's even possible to have enough naked time with Georg. He was a beautiful man even before I fell in love with him. Now that I know he loves me too, I want to look at what's mine.
I take in every muscled line of him, from his sculpted chest and arms down to the V below his cut abs that renders my normally sane mind to utter mush, and below that, his beautiful hard cock that I'm dying to feel moving inside me. I think I might die if I don't feel it soon.
He lifts his hand and coaxes me toward the bath, stepping in first and then helping me into the tub. We both sit, facing each other, and when he squirts some soap onto a big sponge, I scoot forward, pushing my legs over top of his. There are scant inches between us and it is incredibly sexy. The water is warm and aromatic, the candles dance around us. Georg takes the sponge and sweeps it over my shoulder and down my arm. He repeats the process on the other side and works the sponge around to my back without taking his eyes off me. It's a very sensual experience, being washed by another person. I can't wait to do the same to him.
He moves the sponge around to the front of me, giving attention to my neck, chest, and breasts. As he massages and caresses, I arch into his touch, feeling more and more aroused by the second. Eventually I take the sponge from his hand and repay the favor, washing him, and feeling his erection grow longer and thicker for me. I scoot closer, nearly straddling him, his hardness lined up against my folds.
My hands find his shoulders, his neck, as we kiss. His hands rest at my lower back. Our kissing is slow and exploratory, but there’s a point when my hips begin to move against him, that hard length of his cock hitting the small nub of my clit right where I want it. I let out tiny sighs against his mouth, becoming more needy by the second.
"Turn around," Georg whispers.
I do as I'm told, sloshing water up out of the tub as I turn. I position myself between his legs and lean back. He leans into my back and kisses the side of neck while his fingers massage my inner thighs. Slowly, his fingers work their way to that aching spot between my legs. A thumb finds my clit while two fingers push inside of me. Georg's free hand cups one of my breasts, pinning me back against his chest. I can't help but buck against his hand as he finds my nipple and tugs on it. One thing's for certain: I am completely and totally in his care and couldn't stop even if I wanted to. I'm his to do with whatever he wishes in this moment, and I realize that I have never trusted anyone like I trust Georg.
"You are so beautiful, so precious, krasota. I love everything about you.” I feel that. His love. His.
"I love you too."
He continues to make me feel beautiful, precious…his everything. I have no idea how long we make out in the tub, but it’s long enough for me to have orgasmed and for the water to chill.
What we've done is sinful, sexy, and scorching hot. But I still need more.
More of my Georg.
I want all of him.
Twenty-Three
Pam
SIN-SHOTS & CANNON BLASTS
Dripping wet and giggling like a couple of teenagers, Georg pulls us from the cooling tub and starts drying me off with a fluffy white towel. He is careful and doesn't rush, which makes me realize this is all part of his secret plan. His tender care is something I could definitely get used to, and I think he's making a point of letting me know what I've been missing all this time by denying us being together.
Once I'm dry, I reach for another towel and take my tur
n drying him, enjoying every inch of his finely formed body. I take a moment to admire him and nearly forget to breathe. Christ, he's a beautiful man. His cock is so—big—and hard. So hard. And it's for me. The sexy image of what he'll be doing with it soon makes my knees go weak.
But I keep my sinful thoughts to myself as he leads me into the sitting room. He flips a switch on the wall and a fire blazes to life in the fireplace. A soft, fluffy rug adorns the floor in front of it.
"I have been dreaming of seeing you spread out on this rug." He gestures to our little love nest in front of the fireplace.
"Well, let me make that dream come true for you, then." I stare at him as I calmly pull the elastic from my hair. It tumbles down around my shoulders and down my back, delivering a little tickle that makes me shiver involuntarily.
Georg watches me like a hunter stalking his prey. Silent. Waiting. Patient. So very ready to pounce.
I lower myself to the floor slowly, stretching myself out onto the soft rug for him. The warmth of the fire radiates onto my bare skin as he tracks my movements. His eyes stare at me darkly, taking in every bare inch of my body as he strokes his cock. It turns me on to see him, his shoulders wide, his muscles sharply defined. The light patch of hair on his chest, the matching happy trail lower on his abdomen. His thighs and calves are muscled, strong. But it's his face I enjoy most, the lazy smirk he wears on those cherub lips, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the disheveled hair. It's all of him, I suppose.
"Bring your sexy self over here," I say, dipping a finger down between my legs to touch myself. "I'm cold and lonely."
"I do not have to be told twice." He finds a spot next to me, propping himself and watches me. "Does that feel good when you touch yourself, baby?"
"Hmm," I groan, biting down on my lower lip.
Sin Shot: Vegas Crush #2 Page 15