It fit, though he was lean now. War and work and age had whittled him down some.
But he was still big, and she liked that about him. His size and the way he moved. It was exciting to her.
She heard Delilah’s voice in her ear, urging her to tell him that.
“You are so handsome,” she told him.
“I’m glad you think so.”
Say something else, she heard Delilah’s voice urging her on.
But it was one thing to think that telling him what she planned to do and how she planned to touch him was exciting—it was another thing to actually do it.
I'm not sure I know the words, she thought. And the ones she did know, like dorsal vein, she wasn't sure were exciting.
Their eyes met, and the clock on the mantel ticked away the minutes while they stood on either side of her room, watching each other.
“I'm nervous,” she said.
“Come here,” he said, and she did. She walked right into his open arms, and he slowly, carefully pulled her right into his chest. Until they were flush. Stomach to stomach. She felt his erection against her hip and instinctively shifted away, aware every moment that this was difficult for him.
“Stop,” he breathed.
“Stop what?”
“Stop anticipating that I am not going to want you to touch me.”
“But you haven’t wanted me to touch you for months, Steven. For most of our acquaintance you’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to touch you.”
He knew it was the truth, and it made the words that much harder to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she said. “I just… this isn’t easy for me either.”
For a moment, just one moment, he was ready to give up. To wave the white flag. Because it was hard. And he couldn’t manage his own fears and doubts, much less hers.
But he had not come this far to stop now. He had a belly full of whiskey making him feel like he could do anything, and he wasn’t going to lose this opportunity. Because he and Anne may not have any more. He pulled her closer, slowly. Inch by inch until her body was pressed up against his, from knee to belly to chest.
“What if I don’t know the right words?” she whispered.
“Shall I teach you some?”
Her eyes lit up at the notion, and it made his blood pound hard in his veins.
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
They both stepped back to take off their clothes as fast as they could. And soon she stood in her chemise and drawers, her stockings tied above her knees, her feet tucked into her shabby shoes, and he stood in only his pants, his braces hanging down to his knees.
They were both panting.
“I’m going to touch your arms,” she said. He swallowed and nodded, watching her small hand with every callus she’d earned reach up and touch his shoulder and then slide down his arm to his wrist.
“Is that all right?” she whispered.
He nodded, words and breath beyond him. It did help—the light and her telling him what she was going to do.
She did it again, running her fingers backward from his wrist back up to his shoulder.
“You’re so strong,” she said, her eyes following her hand. “Like a picture in an anatomy text. Bicep,” she said, touching the front of his arm. “Tricep.” Her fingers slipped around to touch the back of his arm near his armpit and he flinched.
“Ticklish,” he said when her wide eyes darted to his. She smiled, no doubt cataloging that for later use.
“Deltoid,” she said, her fingers finding the dents and divots of his shoulder.
“Trapezius,” she breathed, her fingers tracing the wide muscles across his back. “Superior.” Her fingers slipped lower down his back. “Trapezius inferior. These probably aren’t the words Delilah was talking about.”
“They work for me,” he said on an excited exhale. He’d been holding his breath under her careful, exploratory hands. “Keep going.”
“Pectoralis major,” she said, cupping her hands over his chest, her fingers touching his nipple. He jerked, the sensitivity of his skin suddenly too much. She lifted her hands away for a moment. “Pectoralis minor is underneath. You okay?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Serratus anterior.” She cupped the sides of his body. Up high, nearly under his armpits. “Abdominals,” she said, pulling her hands very slowly—he could tell she was enjoying this—to the front of his stomach. The heels of her hands were at the waistband of his pants. Her fingertips just under his ribs. Her hands rose and fell with every breath he took.
“There are more,” she said. “But I… I’d like you to teach me some words.”
He nodded and lifted his shaking hands to her shoulders. “I don’t know the muscles,” he said. “The proper names. But these are your strong and capable shoulders.” He traced the edges of the sleek muscles there, digging his thumb in slightly where he usually felt pain after a long day, and she cried out, closing her eyes in sudden bliss.
He rubbed and stroked a little more. “Oh my lord,” she said on a sigh. “That feels good.”
“How good?”
“Not as good as what you did last night,” she said, opening one eye. “But close.”
“So it did feel good?”
She opened both eyes and looked at him. “You must know it did?”
“I worry that what I asked you to do after might have ruined it.”
“Nothing could ruin it, Steven. It was just… unfamiliar.”
“Close your eyes,” he said, the intimacy of her gaze too much.
He slipped his hands from her shoulders down her arms, rubbing as he went until he could feel her like a ragdoll in his arms. She moaned low in her throat, her head tipped back, eyes still closed, and he leaned down to kiss her.
It was sweet at first. A drowsy, lazy first kiss—but slowly, intention crept in. Heat and excitement billowed between them and he wrapped his arms around her, his hands digging into her hips.
She gasped into his mouth, leaning fully against him. Her breasts a delicious weight against his chest. Emboldened by her earlier touch, the light in the room, the whiskey, he didn’t flinch as he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her off her feet, carrying her the few steps to the bed.
Still kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, licking her, he slipped the chemise off her shoulders, pushing it down her body until it fell to the floor.
“These are your beautiful breasts,” he whispered, cupping them in his hands, lifting them to his lips so he could kiss the ivory curve, the perfect pink nipple.
She sagged slightly against him and he caught her with one arm around her back. “Does that feel good?” he asked against her skin, pressing open-mouthed wet kissed against her.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I need to hold onto you. I want—”
“Do it.”
Her hands clutched at his shoulders and he waited for some internal wince, some recoil, but there was none. Not in this room. Not right now. There was only her pleasure feeding his.
“What is this?” she asked, and to his delight, his shocked amazement, she took his wrist and guided his hand down her body, over the edge of her drawers to the heat between her legs. “What’s the word for this?”
“Annie—”
“Tell me,” she breathed, and when he leaned back to look at her he found her smiling. Excited. She liked this game. The dirty words.
“Pussy.”
“What else?”
“Quim.”
She wrinkled her nose, casting that name aside.
“Cunt.”
“Oh, that’s bad, isn’t it?”
“A very bad word, for a very bad girl.”
Her eyes flared slightly and he could sense how much she liked this game.
“I’m going to touch you,” she said.
‘Where?”
“Your… erection.”
“Hold on
a moment,” he said and got out of his pants as fast as he could until he stood there naked but for one stubborn sock. “Now try.”
It was careful. Her fingers cold at first. So cold that he couldn’t help the breath he sucked in through his teeth. But she didn’t seem to notice, as focused as she was on his body. The hard flesh in her hands.
“You’re so smooth,” she said. “The skin seems delicate.”
“It is.”
“But you were so rough with it yesterday.”
“Sometimes… that’s what I need,” he said.
“In order to—”
“Come. Yes. I don’t know why, but sometimes it feels like I’m buried deep under my skin and it takes a lot to make me feel anything.”
“That makes sense to me.”
“Does it?” he said with a laugh.
She squeezed him hard in her fingers and he hissed, his blood suddenly turning to kerosene. “You like that?”
“I do.”
She did it again, working him hard with both hands, and he had a sudden image of her taking him in her mouth. And he had to pull away.
“What—”
“Trust me.” He took a deep breath and stood up straight. “Lie back,” he told her.
He saw the second of hesitation as she must have remembered last night.
“Your body is beautiful to me. Exciting. And I’m sorry—”
She shook her head. “No more apologies.”
And then she reached down and untied her drawers, pushing them down past her lean hips, her strong legs, the foot that bent inwards.
Quickly he pulled off her shoes, but when she reached for her stockings he stopped her.
“Leave them.”
“My stockings?”
“I like how they look. So dark against your pale skin.”
She glanced down as if seeing them through new eyes and didn’t argue.
“There is more,” he said. “More than what we did last time.”
“I’m aware of how babies are made, Steven, and that we did not do the act required to make babies.”
“I’m not even talking about that,” he said. “There’s more that we can do that will still leave you a virgin.”
“I have no interest in virginity.” She sounded peevish, which shouldn’t be so exciting, but somehow was. He shifted her on the bed, lifting her and rearranging her so that she lay with her head against the pillows and he sat on the side of the bed, one of her legs over his lap. The other one pressing against his back.
There was a terrible, fleeting horror at the feel of her body parts on top of his, and some sense that he was stepping too close to danger, but he pushed it aside. His dick was hard for the second time in one day and he felt strangely confident that he could do this. He could lie here with her, with her touching him and him touching her, and it would be all right.
It should be all right.
Please, he thought, let it be all right.
He put his hand between her legs and she jumped. Startled or excited, he wasn’t sure.
“Prepare yourself, Annie.”
Chapter 14
His thumb brushed those curls, teasing his way inside to the melting heat and damp. The earthy smell of her.
Excited. She was only excited.
“For….what?” she sighed.
He smiled and bent down, pressing his lips against her curls. She went utterly still.
“What-?”
“Shhhh.” And then he licked her, the sweet seam there. And she jackknifed against him, her hands clutching his head, blocking out the light, surrounding him in the damp warmth of another person. For a second he couldn’t breathe.
He lifted his head and sucked in a quick panicked breath.
She jerked her legs away from him so she was no longer touching him in any way. “Don’t,” he said, trying to pull her legs back around him, but she resisted.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, not moving.
“No,” he said. “It’s… me.”
“Don’t leave,” she begged. “We don’t have to… do anything more. Just…”
“I’m not leaving, Anne. You couldn’t make me leave.”
“Are you—”
“Fine. It just surprised me.”
“I should have told you I was going to do that.”
“I don’t think you knew,” he laughed. “It’s okay. It was just… a moment. That’s all.”
He stroked her thigh, the soft skin above her knee.
“I’m going to touch you,” she said and he nodded. It seemed ridiculous, but truthfully it helped, knowing. Her hand covered his, her soft grip around his wrist. And the tension ebbed away.
“Can I ask you… about what you did? Where… you kissed me?”
He looked at her through his lashes. “Yes.”
She was beautiful, lying there. Her body a series of curves and plains, beautiful soft skin over every inch. “Is that… common practice?”
“You liked it?”
“I didn’t not like it. But you were right. It was shocking.”
He got a little more comfortable on the bed, leaning back on his elbow. “I think, Annie Denoe, you like to be shocked.”
Her lips pursed as if she were considering it. “I think you’re right,” she said.
She would be fun. As a lover. A wife. Life would never be dull. And his life had been painfully dull. Flat and boring.
Stay, he thought.
He reached for her foot again, pulling it out from where she’d curled it beneath her body. She let him, her eyes wary. Watching. He tugged her down from her sitting position so she was lying across the pillows, reclining.
And then the other foot he pulled wide so he could see the pink skin. Slick and sweet—and he was hard again.
“You really do like looking, don’t you?” she breathed.
“I really do. Now, let me see if I can shock you again.”
Her smile was radiant, and he arranged them again on the bed, this time so he was lying on his stomach between her legs. He took a deep breath of air that smelled of mystery and woman and he pressed his hips against the bed, finding comfort in the pressure.
With his thumb he stroked her again and slowly he leaned forward and kissed her again, tasted her… again. He could feel the wired stillness. The tension in her body. She jerked as his tongue lapped at her, slipped inside of her.
She made a wild sound, shock and animal delight, and he groaned, pressing his hips down harder. Her hands fisted in the blanket and she spread her legs wider, as if to be sure that no part of her accidentally touched him.
Again he lapped and licked, sucking and finding those places that made her jerk against him. Made her flinch and moan. And he worked them with his tongue and his lips. His fingers. He sucked her into his mouth and she screamed, her hands thrown wide against the bed as if the world was tilting, and then she was caught up in one contraction, her body still and trembling.
“Breathe, Anne,” he told her and she gasped, sucking in air, and then relaxed against the bed, melted against it, her face sweaty. Her eyes wide.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment of her silence.
She smiled and then laughed. “That… I am…amazed.”
“Good,” he said, feeling smug and accomplished. Who cared about the railroad when he could bring this woman to such brain-clearing orgasms?
She sat up, and he resisted the urge to pat down the crazy mess of her hair, not wanting to make her in the slightest bit uncomfortable, and her hair was a bit of a sore spot.
“I want to do that to you,” she said.
He nodded, expecting that.
“Can we…try?”
“We can try. But Anne—”
“I know. It’s okay if it doesn’t work.”
“It’s… I think it’s always going to work, to some degree.”
“Tell me the words,” she breathed. “The bad words.”
“You’re going to suck my dick.”
S
he nearly levitated with pleasure, he could see it.
He stepped off the side of the bed. The bob and weight of his erection was viscerally satisfying. Her eyes watching him only added to his pleasure. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her knees spread wide, and he stepped forward into that vee.
“I’m going to touch you,” she said.
“Yes. You are.”
Her fingers were cool and shaking against his skin where she touched his hip, tracing the edge of the muscles where it dipped into his hips.
“Why do I feel like an anatomy textbook brought to life?”
“Because you are,” she said, glancing at him with wide delighted eyes. “You’re a perfect specimen.”
“You could go to medical school,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, her fingers testing the muscles of his ass and the back of his thigh. Her hair brushed his erection and he nearly flinched, but he controlled it.
“You should go to medical school. College.”
“I don’t have money for—”
“I do,” he said.
“I can’t, Steven.”
“As my wife, you could.”
She gaped at him.
“What did you say to me the other day?” he asked. “Your surprise is insulting?”
“I’m not… it’s just—You want to talk about this now?”
She gestured to her nudity, his softening dick.
“Fair point,” he said. “But we will talk about it.”
“When I’m done sucking your dick.”
The words were incendiary out of her mouth.
“Go on then,” he said, stroking her hair.
Her grip around him was tentative. “Is that… okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
And it was. The damp heat of her mouth, the pressure and her enthusiasm. The low groans she made in the back of her throat that excited him beyond belief. It was all perfect. And made miraculous by the fact that he’d never thought he’d feel such pleasure again.
And made beautiful by the fact that it was her. Brave and daring Anne.
He watched, because he did like that. And while she couldn’t speak, he felt compelled to, telling her how beautiful she was.
Something shifted inside of him, some minor thing that he couldn’t name or put a finger on, but he suddenly felt distanced from the pleasure, not like he was watching it and not feeling, but as if he were deep inside his body and feeling it less.
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