James’s mouth descended on Vera’s, a very different kiss from anything they’d shared previously. This was a claiming kiss, openmouthed, ravenous, plundering; Jesus, God, and all the angel choruses, this kiss was full-orchestra competent. Vera twined her arms around him, wanting more of the kiss and more of him.
“James…”
“Enough talk,” he growled, sealing his mouth to hers again.
She wanted to tell him she lacked confidence, she wasn’t sure of herself, and she’d probably disappoint them both, but then her hands slipped down his sides, intent on fastening themselves to his luscious, muscular behind.
And froze.
“James, you’re completely…you don’t have any… You’re naked.”
* * *
James heard surprise and dismay in Vera’s voice, and that cut through the fog of lust clouding his brain.
“This bothers you?” he asked. “Because I’m telling you right now, if I had my druthers, you’d be naked too.”
Silence, but beneath him, Vera wasn’t tense or squirming. A tentative hand landed on his backside, and then a second hand.
“Answer me a question, Vera.” He nuzzled around until he found her nose with his nose, then kissed her nose for good measure.
“What question?”
Her voice was breathy, a good sign. “Did the selfish idiot at least take care of you?”
“I don’t… James, you’re aroused, aren’t you? I don’t know what the question means.”
“Then he didn’t,” James said, sorry for her to draw that conclusion, not sorry for himself at all. “I will.”
“You will what?”
He rolled them again, but this time Vera moved with him, straddling his lap much more gingerly than she had earlier.
“I will take care of you, but I’d like to ditch the nightgown.”
“It’s pitch-dark in here, James. What do you think you’ll see if I take it off?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t want old Eeyore to get torn. Donkeys and I go way back.”
She thought about this for about two seconds, and then James heard the slip and swish of fabric moving while she pulled the nightgown over her head.
“Stuff it under the pillow to keep track of it,” he suggested. This of course had the delightful effect of making her lean forward, and James’s mouth found a succulent nipple without even trying.
“James Knightley.”
“Under the pillow,” he muttered, not turning loose of his prize. He used one hand on her bare flank, warning himself this would be the most excruciatingly deliberate joining he’d ever inflicted on a woman, or on himself.
An adagio, rather than an allegro con brio.
Instead of exploring the full curves under his hand, he settled his palm on her hip and let her get used to the feel of his touch.
With his free hand, he gently captured her breast, holding her still for his oral delectation.
She held him too, with a hand wrapped around the back of his head, the other braced on his shoulder.
“James, James…”
She was sighing his name, purring it, and James gave her a hint of his teeth scraped along the underside of her breast.
The sighing shifted closer to a groan, and James’s arousal crested higher. He switched breasts, and she obliged, arching her back and threading her fingers through his hair. When he drew on her nipple, she whimpered.
The music of a woman letting herself experience pleasure.
“Saints and angels!”
That was neither a sigh nor a whimper, but more of a squeak, occasioned by the brush of James’s arousal against Vera’s sex.
“I’m interested, Vera, and you’re getting interested too. I like it when your body touches mine.”
She settled over him gingerly. “Like this?”
Exactly like that. “I want to feel your weight on me,” James said, running his hands up her arms. “I want to feel you getting wet and needy and hot for me.”
“Hush.”
“Come here.” He guided her to him by her nape. “I’ll whisper what I want to do to you, what I want you to do to me.” Was he moving too fast for her? He surely wasn’t moving as fast as his cock begged him to move.
“Tell me,” she murmured against his neck.
James pretended he hadn’t heard her, and palmed both her breasts in the darkness. By damn, the next time he made love with Vera would be in blazing daylight, because he had to know if her nipples were as delicately pink as they tasted.
“James, tell me.”
“I’ll show you.” He stroked every inch of her breasts, varying the pressure and the focus of his caresses, then closing his fingers gently around her nipples.
“James…that feels… God.”
“You like it?”
“Umm.” She encircled his fingers with her own and increased the pressure. “Fortissimo. E-flat major.”
“You do like it.”
James pleasured Vera a while longer, probably more aware than she that her body was resting fully on his. His erection was nestled right up against the hot glory of her sex, and everything in James wanted to plunge into her heat and start pounding away.
Next time. You can screw your brains out next time; this time, you give her the music.
Experimentally, and without abandoning her breasts, James lifted his hips to press closer to her. He held himself there, then relaxed.
“Do that again, James.”
“Do what?”
She pushed herself down on him more firmly, then lifted up. “That thing you just did with your…”
“With the part of me that’s screaming to bury itself inside you, Vera? The part of me that wants to make you scream with pleasure too?”
Two coherent sentences, more or less, which should have been impressive under the circumstances. Vera was still capable of speech too, though, so James set up a rhythm against her, sliding the entire length of his erection slowly over her damp folds, pausing, then sliding back.
“I want you to come, Vera.”
He let go of one breast, and slid his hand slowly down her ribs to brush his thumb through her curls.
“This is too much,” Vera panted. “I’m not sure…”
“Not enough,” James countered, finding her with his thumb. Vera went still above him, and he felt every particle of her listening for what his thumb was about to do. “Not nearly enough, Vera.”
She remained unmoving, like a grand pause before the final cadenza, and James let her gather what wits she could before he moved his thumb again. Just a whisper, just a brush.
“James!” Soft and low, mostly a moan, so James moved his thumb again. Vera’s head fell forward enough that he could close the distance between them and find her mouth with his. He used his tongue in the same rhythm as his thumb, a slow, soft slide of parts on parts.
She began to move her hips in a languid thrust along his cock, wetting him thoroughly, and requiring of him yet another increment of discipline. Months of celibacy did not entitle him to be selfish and greedy with the first woman to truly need his consideration.
“James…I can’t…”
“You can. Let go for me, Vera.” He added a hint more pressure and a touch more speed, and her control slipped its moorings on a soft glissando.
“Sweet… Sweet saints… James…”
Vera keened against his neck while he drove two fingers inside her, and felt her body fisting around them. By the time she slumped in a boneless heap on his chest, James’s entire body was aching with a combination of tenderness and frustrated lust.
No, not lust. Desire. He was only now learning the difference; one he would consider later, when he was capable of pondering something besides intimacy with Vera Waltham.
“Sweetheart, you all right?”
&nbs
p; “It’s never been like that, James.” Vera sounded bewildered, and not particularly pleased.
“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rough, but there at the end I thought…” Heaven help him, if he’d screwed this up, it would be divine retribution for all his casual romps and flings and hookups and…
Vera put two fingers to his lips.
“Sex with my husband was a speed bump, a little thrill, maybe. This was the big roller coaster at the amusement park, the one people drive all day to ride and then talk about for years.”
“That’s a good thing? That you rode the roller coaster?”
James wasn’t sure, because Vera’s voice was dreamy and introspective. She kissed him, and some of his confidence returned, because her kissing had grown more bold, more passionate.
“The roller coaster is wonderful and precious, but now I want to ride the space shuttle, James. Buckle up.”
Chapter 14
Beneath Vera, James’s chest rumbled with humor.
“Reach into the drawer on the nightstand, sweetheart, and get us some protection.”
She blushed against his chest, but thank goodness for the darkness, because she’d never—
“I can feel that,” James said, affection in his voice. “Protection is part of being intimate, Vera, and, no, I don’t keep condoms in my guest rooms routinely. I was hopeful after your comments before dinner.”
“You can be casual about this,” she said, levering up to grope for the drawer pull. “It’s new territory for me, James.” Though she was glad he could be so matter of fact about something this important, and something she hadn’t quite known how to bring up.
“Vera Waltham.” He gently imprisoned her wrists in his grasp, and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Being with you like this is not casual. In. Any. Regard.”
He let her wrists go, but his voice in the dark—low, sexy, and utterly serious—sent a frisson of pleasure down her spine.
Vera found a condom in the drawer—one of several? “What do I do with this?”
“Scoot back a bit. You tear off a corner of the foil and toss that into the drawer, then roll the condom down on me from the tip.”
“Why can’t you see to it?”
“We’ll do this together.” James’s hands found hers, and his fingers tore the little packet.
“This end up,” he said, taking her fingers and showing her which way he’d oriented the condom. “Now unroll it on me.”
To do that, Vera would have to put her hands on his erection, something he seemed perfectly happy for her to do.
“Is this necessary, James?”
“Yes. Like those finger exercises you’re so devoted to. Not glamorous, but it pays off.”
Even in one syllable, she could tell her reticence amused him. They’d reached the scherzo, the humorous part.
Vera slid a hand down his flat belly until something velvety smooth brushed the back of her knuckles. She used her index finger to trace down the length of him and back up.
“Is this one of the concert grands with an extra octave?” she asked.
James’s belly bounced, which had his cock leaping.
“If you’re asking about my John Henry, then I’m not in a position to comment, because you’ve probably seen more of these instruments ready to perform than I have. Vera Waltham, you are stalling. You having performance anxiety?”
“Yes.” If Vera were more sophisticated, she’d have humor and savoir faire to match James’s aplomb, but all she had was the certain knowledge she wanted to be his lover. For that she needed to get past this latex moment.
“Vera?”
The teasing was gone, and her hand was enveloped in James’s.
“Like this, sweetheart.” He positioned the condom and unrolled it down his shaft.
“We can turn the lights on if you’d rather,” James went on. “I’m dressed for the party now, so tell me what your pleasure is. In about two minutes, if you stay where you are, I will no longer be able to respond intelligibly.”
“I want you,” Vera said, unable to banter any longer. “I just… I want you, James, and I trust you to see to the details.”
“Pleasing you isn’t a detail, Vera. Let’s start with the traditional approach, and if that isn’t working for you, you tell me.”
Vera treasured this about James, that he was so calm and assured about matters Vera seldom let herself think about, much less dwell on. A corner of her mind—an insecure, out-of-tune corner of her mind—worried about how he’d acquired such self-assurance.
James rolled her under him and settled himself over her, and abruptly, Vera’s awareness was filled with James, James, and only James.
“I want this to last,” he said, grazing her eyebrows with his nose, “but you are more inspiration than a mortal man can withstand for long, Vera. Be patient with me, and I’ll make it up to you.”
She was spared a reply by James’s mouth fastening itself to hers. She was glad for the darkness, because shadows allowed her to focus on the sensation of his lips brushing softly over hers, then his mouth, landing on hers at a slight angle. James might have wanted it to last, but Vera’s own simmering desire needed only the touch of his mouth to gallop back to life. She traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, and both felt and heard him growl in satisfaction.
“More of that,” he said against her mouth. “Devour me, Vera.”
He opened his mouth over hers, and plundered with his tongue, even as Vera became aware of the weight and length of him along her stomach. She arched up and clamped a hand on his backside to urge him closer.
“I like your hands on my ass. Love it.” James levered up so he was surrounding her with man, muscle, and warmth. “I want to be inside you too, Vera.”
Vera understood he was leaving the timing up to her, that she’d been invited to take a small but important initiative, the way a good conductor defers to the soloist. She twined a leg over his flank and started moving her hips in a slow undulation under him, but that wasn’t enough. She shifted, until his cock nudged at her sex, the sensation exquisitely arousing.
“Now, James, please.”
He slid an arm under her neck. “Guide me, sweetheart. Show me where.”
She reached between them and positioned him exactly where she wanted him. “Right there, James, and right now.”
He pushed forward slowly, then retreated, making slow, steady progress as he penetrated her heat. The sensations were indescribable, bliss and longing radiating from where they joined, up through Vera’s middle, and down to the soles of her feet.
The emotions were more complicated, because along with joy and desire came compassion for the younger, less confident woman Vera had been, and for the choices that woman had made. The trust and closeness James offered had been denied Vera by her first husband, though at the time she’d sensed their absence only through a tug of insecure instinct.
Regret was nudged aside by pleasure, by a growing loss of ability to do anything but feel.
“James, I think I’m about to…”
“Then let it happen,” he said, not breaking rhythm. “As much and as often as you want, Vera. I’m yours.”
She tucked her face into his shoulder and shuddered through a slow, sweet orgasm, made longer and more intense by the way James kept moving inside her. As the pleasure ebbed, he surged forward and began to thrust with force.
“Oh, holy… James, I can’t… Damn you…not so soon, I can’t…”
She did. The space shuttle, the roller coaster, the Damson County Philharmonic, and entire meteor showers of blinding, tearing pleasure. When James let her finish, Vera lay limp and dazed beneath him.
“No more.” She brushed his hair back from his brow, and the damned man hadn’t even broken a sweat. “I’m not used to this, James, and this much satisfaction can’t
be good.”
“It’s wonderful.” He dipped his head to kiss her temple. “I will let you catch your breath before we make it even better.”
“James, you’re scaring me.”
He lowered his cheek against hers. “Why scared, sweetheart? I would never hurt you.”
Joined like this, she heard the promise in those words, the vow in them, and felt tears threaten.
I’m yours, he’d said. Did he know what those words might mean to her?
“This isn’t me. I’m not…I’m not a passionate woman. I accept that.”
James’s reply was to flex his spine, a slow, deep thrust that had Vera sighing against his neck. She did want him, again and again and again. Maybe this was a fluke caused by years of celibacy; maybe it was a testament to his skill; maybe it was—
“Move with me, Vera. Let me have it, as hard and as long as you want.”
Dirty words, arousing words, growled right in her ear as James ground himself into her. She caught his rhythm, abruptly realizing she could torment him as much as he was tormenting—and pleasuring—her.
“God, yes,” he muttered, his rhythm intensifying. She matched him, and locked her ankles at his back, even as she clutched at his backside until she knew he could feel her nails digging into his flesh. They made the bed shake in the dark, and just as Vera was beginning to hope she might outlast him, he tucked a big hand beneath her, shifted his angle, and sent her off like a Roman candle.
But by God, she wouldn’t be the only one to launch. She bucked hard against him, demanding that the finale be a duet, wringing pleasure from him, and bearing down purposefully on him inside.
“For the love of… Damn, Vera…”
His hilted himself inside her and pushed hard against her a half-dozen times while Vera went dizzy and helpless with her pleasure. James’s breath came hoarsely against her ear as he shuddered out his own satisfaction, and she clung to him through it all.
So that was pleasure beyond bearing.
Except she had borne it. Vera licked James’s neck and rubbed her cheek over his shoulder. James nuzzled her temple and ruffled her hair with his breathing.
The world made more sense to Vera. The Emperor Concerto, the Schubert A minor, the grand, tender Chopin ballades. They all, every note of them, made more sense.
The First Kiss Page 24