Loving HART

by Theresa Hodge

  “Ah, no…” I stutter out before nibbling on my bottom lip again. I glance in the other direction, appearing to be checking on the rose again. It’s ridiculous, but I need something to distract me.

  Hart harshly sucks in his breath before cupping the side of my face with his large hands. I can feel the callouses on his hands against my cheek. I find it so irresistibly sexy to think about the hard work he puts in right alongside his employees to make his construction company such a success. He’s the kind of leader anyone should be honored to work for. He doesn’t just give direct orders; he also shows how to follow through on them by doing.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I first saw you again. I’ve been restraining myself to keep my hands to myself and remain a gentleman. Forgive me Whitney, if I’m out of line, but I have to do this. I need to do this,” his voice trails away as his lips descend upon mine.

  Do it already, a voice screams silently through my head.

  Harts eyes are intensely locked with my own as the distance between our lips grows shorter. “Hey there beautiful,” he says just before he slides one hand down to encircle my waist and press my body against his.

  “Hey,” I whisper softly. His lips claim mine just as I hoped they would for what seems to be an eternity.

  A sigh escapes my open mouth and he swallows it intimately as our breaths merge, our lips and bodies mesh. My hands that hang loosely at my sides find their way around the nape of his neck. My fingers brush against the silky, wavy hair at his hairline. There’s a surge of sexual energy running through me.

  Our kiss is hot, but then, unexpectedly, his tongue plunges fiercely and deliciously into my mouth to twirl with my own. My nipples bud and press against my lace bra. I’m sure their sharpness can be felt against the soft fabric of Hart’s Burberry Brit button down shirt.

  “Mmmm,” I moan lustily under the tutelage of his fiery kisses. He takes this moment to slowly pull away. My puckered lips move forward with an attempt to bring his lips back against mine.

  “Ahem,” he clears his throat and stands out of my reach to his full height. “We better go. If we keep this up, the whole night I have planned for us will be ruined, because we’ll be late for our reservation.”

  Let it be ruined…let it be damned, I think. For once, my mind and body are on the same page, screaming for Hart to take me now. I want to say but don’t.

  “Okay, let me grab my clutch,” I say instead, walking off towards my bedroom. I check to make sure my cell and keys are inside before walking over to the bedroom mirror to replace the glossy lipstick on my swollen lips.

  “You ready?” he asks, when I return.

  “Yes,” I reply softly, before he opens and closes the apartment’s door. The door automatically locks behind us as we make our way to Hart’s vehicle. The low sound of jazz music pipes from the cars speakers.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “I thought we’d go to dinner first, for the first part of our date. I made reservations at Aria’s over in Buckhead. I hope that’s satisfactory with you.”

  “Of course, it is.” I feel more and more impressed with Hart. Tony never took me to places like that. But he spent a fortune for the woman he married and even took her on a vacation to Aruba, the one he and I had planned on taking during the Summer of 2017. “I’ve always wanted to go to Aria’s but never have,” I add.

  “I’m glad I’m the one taking you for the first time,” he says and reaches over with his free hand to intertwine his fingers with mine. He places our locked hands on his thigh. I can feel the corded muscles in his thigh beneath his dress slacks.

  “I’m glad you are too.” I swallow the lump that tries to form in my throat and say, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope to make this a date to remember,” he says as he pulls in the parking lot of the restaurant and finds a place to park.

  He gets out the car to come around to open the door for me, a habit of his that I’m already getting used to. My dress slides far up my thighs as I swing my legs around to stand. I don’t miss the heat from his eyes when they land on my brown thighs. He holds my hand during the short walk inside the elegant interior of the restaurant.

  “Reservation for Hart Strong, for two,” he tells the hostess.

  “Right this way.” The hostess leads us to an intimate table for two in the dimly lit room. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she says once Hart has seated me and taken a seat of his own.

  “Good evening sir, madam,” the waiter says as he approaches our table and pours wine into Hart’s glass and waits for him to sample it. Once Hart gives his nod of approval, he fills my glass before pouring more into Hart’s glass.

  I pick up my glass to take a small sip. Hart’s scorching stare is on my face as I sip the wine. I blush and a shy smile forms on my lips from his hot gaze. The sweltering look in his eyes causes my panties to become instantly saturated.

  A warm smile forms on his lips as we watch one another without saying a word. Flames from the candlelight dance intimately between us. I enjoy the way he’s watching me and the way his eyes caress my face, neckline, and even the slope of my shoulders. I feel like a kitten in his cave. If just his gaze can cause this much turbulence within me, then his mouth, lips, and hands will surely ruin me for all others. I have no doubt of this.

  “I will be back with your orders,” the waiter says before he walks away. The waiter’s words cut into my line of thought. I bite my lip again to ward off any more salacious thoughts that try to enter my mind.

  “I hope you don’t mind but I had our meal planned when I called for our reservations. That’s why I asked you during our last phone conversation if you have any known allergic reactions to certain foods or dyes,” Hart says.

  “I assumed we were just getting to know each other and the things we liked. You’re very thorough, Hart, and very thoughtful.”

  “I try to be.” He flashes me another of his heart warming smiles.

  We hardly notice the waiter as he places our plates in front of each of us. Our eyes are feasting on each other. Once that gaze is broken, I note the plate contains assorted thin slices of cheeses and an array of exotic sweet fruit. I bring a slice of cheese to my lips and he watches me with a look of hunger in his eyes.

  “Ummm, Hart, this cheese is very good. You should try it.”

  “I want to taste yours,” he states, and my panties gush with my desire again. At this rate, I’m going to have to change my underwear or remove them completely.

  “Here.” I reach towards his mouth and feed him the bit of cheese I’d just bitten.

  “Mmmm, it is delicious.” He picks up a juicy strawberry and feeds it to me. The juice from the fruit dribbles down my chin. I laugh nervously as I pick up a napkin to wipe it away. “I’m so jealous of that napkin right now. If we were alone, I would be licking the juice off of you.” His voice is smooth and low.

  My face flushes. Even under the candlelit glow, I know my blush is noticeable. The world stops spinning on its axle as it comes to a complete standstill. Hart and I become lost in our own universe. I hardly even notice when our dinner plates arrive. The flaky fish cooked in tamarind juice is delicious. I go through the methodical act of picking up my fork, placing food in my mouth, and swallowing. All because I’m wrapped up in Hart’s remediate stare. I’m savoring everything about him as if I’m appreciating this scrumptious meal. The dinner plates are cleared at some point and a single dessert for two is placed between us. The orange soufflé looks delicious but I’m still full from the meal I hardly remember eating.

  “This looks delicious Hart, but you will have to eat this by yourself. I’m stuffed.”

  “Here, just one small bite, please, then no more,” he says picking up the fork and cutting into the light and airy dessert. “Open,” he directs me to open my mouth.

  I open for him and he feeds me the citrusy dessert. It melts in my mouth like butter, dissolving on my tongue. “Mmmm, it’s so good. I
f I had known you ordered this dessert, I would have saved room for it.”

  “No worries, beautiful. I will make sure to have your very own dessert delivered to you.”

  “Hart, you are spoiling me,” I say, my heart melting from his sweet gesture.

  “Stick with me. You haven’t seen anything yet. Are you ready for the second phase of our date? We have fifteen minutes to get there. It’s only a short distance from here,” he adds.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” I reply, curious about what the second phase of our date consists of.

  My question is answered ten minutes later as we pull up beside Kasey Landon’s Beginners Swing Dance Studio.

  “Hart, I don’t know about this,” I say as he leads me inside. “I’ve never swing danced in my life.”

  “Neither have I, but it’ll be a fun adventure. This will be a first real date of many, I hope.” He has a teasing glint in his eyes as he ushers me into the building.

  Dancing has never been one of my main qualities, but a girl can groove with her hips. I don’t plan to tell Hart that until we get on the floor. Hopefully, I can get the hang of the swing dance moves quickly.

  “Hello and welcome,” an older woman steps forward and introduces herself. “I’m Kasey Landon and this is Joel Underwood,” she introduces an older gentleman who is tall in stature and has a smile on his face.

  “I’m Hart Strong, and this is my girlfriend, Whitney Martin,” Hart says with beaming pride.

  Did I hear right? Hart just called me his…girlfriend. I immediately become deaf to everything else he’s saying. Hart’s voice sounds like light mumbling chatter. Unsurmountable joy ricochets through my body from his words.

  “Everyone welcome Hart and Whitney to the class,” Ms. Landon says.

  The other couples smile and gloat at our presence. They welcome us and introduce themselves, as well.

  “Okay, before we get started, I want to give a little history about swing dance to the new students. The original Swing era began in the nineteen twenties and thirties. This was a time when the big bands took over the pop culture in America. Swing music has lived on ever since. This helped the evolution of jazz music in the nineteen twenties. Over time, the bands grew smaller and the dance rebranded itself. It became the jitterbug, boogie-woogie, the jive, and the rock and roll, just to name a few,” Ms. Landon went on to say.

  I find the whole history interesting and the excitement has built inside of me by the time the music begins. Hart and I are well on our way to learning the steps to swing dancing. We have so much fun, dancing through the night. This is the best date I’ve been out on, ever.

  Chapter 12

  HART

  “Hart, I’ve never had so much fun in my life,” Whitney says as excitement oozes from her every word. “I never want the night to end. Look at the zillions of stars in the sky,” she says as she twirls in her high heels and looks up at the luminous night sky.

  “Tonight is and has been fun. But you know what’s even more incredibly beautiful?” I ask her.

  “No.” She stops spinning around and stares at me with curious brown eyes. Our hands are inseparable; the magnetic feeling in between us is too real.

  I can’t hold it back any longer. My emotions spring forth and my lips confess it all. “You are,” I state, meaning every word.

  Whitney Martin is the most beautiful, delectable and desirous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’ve been with many but none can hold a candle to her. With Sabrina, it was all about appearances and having the latest or most stylish material things. She never would have enjoyed a night of dancing, unless we were amongst the rich and famous. Whitney finds joy in the simplest of things. I love her confidence, her smile, her sensuousness, her independence but I find pleasure in her allowing me to do simple things for her.

  She smiles at my compliment and bends her head as if she’s suddenly shy.

  “Don’t do that, Whitney.”

  “Do what, Hart?” Her eyes return to mine as she walks through the doors.

  “Don’t look away whenever I compliment you. You better get used to it. Because when it comes to you, I’m loaded with them.” I chuckle as I open the passenger door of my car and wait for her to get inside.

  “Yes, sir,” she answers with a giggle. “I will remember that, sir,” she teases as I settle behind the steering wheel and start the ignition.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday and neither one of us has to work. You said you don’t want the night to end…do you mean it, Whitney?”

  “I mean it, Hart,” she answers with no hesitation.

  I need to make myself clear, so there won’t be any misunderstandings down the line. “I want to take you home with me. I want to make slow, sweet love to you until both of us are satiated and can hardly move. Do you want the same thing?” My heart beats at an erratic pace while I await her response. She blinks once and stares off into the night. A car passes and she turns back to face me. Her gaze is unreadable and time seems to pause. I watch her lips carefully as she opens them.

  “I want the same thing…I have for a while now,” she admits.

  “I’m glad to hear that. Once I go down this path with you, it’ll be you and me and no one else. I don’t share someone I love. Never. Ever,” I state emphatically.

  “I understand,” she says as she bites her bottom lip again.

  “Damn,” I grunt as my cock aches and swells uncomfortably beneath my slacks. Her look of innocence is enough to make me blow a damn gasket.

  “Wha—” she begins but I take her hand and place it over my crotch area.

  “Feel that?”

  Her eyes widen as her eyes follow the placement of her hand. She doesn’t say anything at first and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. Maybe she’s not as freaky as I am, but the feeling of her hand against my slacks has me wanting to combust then and there. She slowly eases her hand to my thigh and squeezes it. Everywhere her hand touches, heat settles in that spot. No other words are spoken between us as I drive above the speed limit to my house. What might have taken forty-five minutes, I easily make it in thirty.

  “You want anything to drink?” I offer out of politeness, once we enter my home. I hope she says no. I’ve waited too long to get my first taste of her sweet goodies and I don’t want to wait any longer.

  “No,” she says softly. “I just want you and that’s all.”

  “Shit,” I grunt out before scooping her up in my arms and half jogging towards the stairs.

  “Wait, put me down, I’m too heavy.”

  “You are no such thing,” I reply taking the stairs two at a time until I arrive at my bedroom door. I use my foot to push it open and walk over to my king size sleigh bed to place her on top of the duvet. I’m glad I decided to leave on a bedside lamp before I left. It dimly lights the room with a warm, inviting glow.

  “We need to get you out of these clothes.” I reach out to assist her, first grabbing for her shoes.

  “No, I got this.” She looks at me seductively under hooded eyes.

  I watch as she stands up from the bed and slowly bends to gather the hem of her dress and slide it off of her body in a provocative tease. That alludes that she wants more than sex, she wants seduction. She flings her dress at me and I catch it in one hand. I bring the soft lace fabric to my nose to inhale her flowery scent that clings to the material.

  My cock twitches as she stands before me in a black lace bra and G-string panties. I throw the dress over the back of a chair and stalk towards her. I have lost all patience. I have to be near her, right now.

  I spin her around so her back is against my chest and I lift her slightly so the feel of her well-rounded ass is against my crotch. I look up into the overhead mirror to see the sexy expression on her face. Her mouth is ajar, her tongue sliding along the curve of her lip.

  Whitney smiles and arches her back to press the curve of her rear into my crotch. My palms graze over the swell of her hips, then over her soft belly. She trembles slightly and eases back to rest
her head against the wide expanse of my chest. I push her back onto the bed and spread her thighs for my scrutiny. I take a mental picture of her, so I will remember how she looks at this moment for the rest of my life.

  I kiss her slowly. Our tongues battle for domination as they twirl and plunge into each other mouths. She laces her fingers behind my neck as my hands slide further up her body with an urge to touch her tantalizing breasts.

  The overhead mirror attached to the ceiling reveals our reflection. My cock lengthens even more and throbs in anticipation of entering her secret pleasures, even though I’m overdressed.

  My fingertips brush and cup each sensitive orb of her cushiony breasts softly, before raking my fingernail over her nipples. Her eyes close and a faint gasp escapes her lips.

  “Oh Hart…”

  I’m feeling bolder by the minute. I ease my head down to nibble and lick the length of her neckline while gently rolling the peaks of her breasts between my thumbs and forefingers.

  Whitney's head flings back on the big fluffy pillows as she cries out my name for a second time. I squeeze her breasts harder into my big hands. They feel so good in my hands. She must be enjoying what I’m doing because her fingers begin to paw desperately at my neckline.

  "You're so beautiful," I whisper, hoarsely. One of my hands is still cupping her pliable right breast, my other hand uses this time to travel and explore her stomach area. "I can't wait to touch the inside of your hot walls," I say to her, my voice is etched with passionate thirst.

  My fingertips slide down even further between her supple thighs. She sighs as I press my fingertips beneath the black lace of her panties. She is so wet…so very wet. I can feel the moisture on my fingertips. The anticipation drives me insane. I let out an animalistic groan as I dip between her slippery folds. In and out, in and out, I plunge.

  "Oh, Hart," Whitney cries out, when my fingers gently but firmly seek out and stroke deeper into her sticky sweetness.

  "I want to kiss you here. I want to taste you here," I whisper into her ear.