by Sandra Brown
"You're sweet, so sweet," he said, finally peeling down the straps of the nightgown. She helped him by shrugging out of it as it settled around her waist. He looked at her breasts and love poured out of his eyes like liquid sapphires. He cradled one lush breast in his palm and lifted it to his thirsting mouth.
He drank his fill while she writhed against him with mounting desire that threatened to destroy her. First one breast, then the other, knew the complete loving of his mouth. He took her nipple and part of the soft mound into that hot, wet mouth and treated it to a gentle suckling before his tongue nudged her nipple to firmer distension.
"Oh, Ian, that feels so good." Her phrases were disjointed from uneven breathing.
"You're delicious." His hand trailed down her spine to the small of her back. When it entangled with the nightgown that still rested there, he brought it down as he followed the womanly curve of her hip.
When she stood as naked as he, he straightened to his full height, took several deep breaths, and said, "I want to look at you. It seems as if I've waited all my life for the privilege."
He took a step backward. His eyes started at the top of her head. As though seeing her for the first time, he analyzed her irregular halo of golden hair and each feature of her face with adoring, worshipful eyes.
As he continued his visual tour downward, each separate part of her flamed to life: her sloping shoulders and slender throat; her full, round breasts crowned with coral nipples that strained toward him; her narrow waist and flaring hips; her long, pale legs.
He looked up at her and smiled. "Do you remember when you arched your back and thrust your breasts forward that first night while I was drying dishes?"
"You almost dropped the plate."
"I almost dropped my scruples, too. I wanted to rip off your blouse and see if your breasts were as perfect as they promised to be."
"Are you disappointed?"
In answer, he leaned forward and kissed both delicate crests. "Far from disappointed." He cleared his throat and straightened again. "I'm digressing. Turn around."
Docilely she obeyed. He lifted her arms to extend horizontally out from her body. His fingertips traveled down her sides, following the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. He tested the round fullness of her bottom with gently squeezing hands. On the way back up his hands slid around her body and trailed up her rib cage to close over her breasts. He came up behind her, solid and hard and warm.
With the tip of his nose, he moved her hair aside and whispered in her ear. "You're exquisite."
Her hands folded around his where they held her breasts like cherished works of art. "So are you. I love the way you look. I have from the moment I saw you stepping out of that shower." She twisted, and their mouths met and held for a long kiss over her shoulder.
Without breaking their kiss, Ian turned her to face him and drew her against him in a way that left his level of arousal no secret. Like a rod of velvet-covered steel, his manhood burrowed into her abdomen. "It's time, Shay. I'm going to love you."
He bent slightly at the knees and folded his arms beneath her hips. When he straightened, his head was even with her breasts. He moved his face between them as he carried her to the bed and laid her down. A hospitable housekeeper had turned down the bed while they were at dinner.
She felt like a statue infused with life as she lay there, her hair spread out behind her head on the snowy, scented linen. Her breasts flattened but only slightly when she lay on her back, so well were they fashioned. Her stomach formed a shallow valley beneath her delicate ribcage. A soft, golden tuft of hair at the top of her thighs was a visible reminder that she wasn't marble, but flesh and blood. Shyly alluring, her legs lay together gracefully.
Ian's knees sank into the mattress as he knelt over her. "I could almost be content just looking at you." He kissed her, his tongue meandering roguishly inside her mouth. "Almost."
His hands fondled her breasts again, his fingertips preparing the way for the lips that closed around nipples aching with love.
Shay wound his glossy black hair around her fingers and held his head fast as it moved with seductive slowness over her body. The daring of his tongue was never ending. On the curves of her breast, the pouting nipples, the dimple of her navel, it danced to an erotic tune. The sweet nibbling of his teeth brought every cell in her body to full awareness. As he dropped rapid, damp kisses on the fevered skin of her abdomen, her muscles contracted in ecstatic reaction.
His inquisitive hands were never satisfied. Repeatedly he caressed her most intimately, whispering how pretty she was there. Her throat arched as her head dug into the pillow. She became mindless to anything but his talented touches and the verbal tributes he paid her.
Her body softened as she allowed his hands and mouth to do as they wished, to shape as they would. She throbbed with a desire so intense that a gasp tore through her lips when his fingers gently parted and tenderly probed the innermost source of her passion.
With softly spoken directions and instructive hands, he positioned them so they might fully enjoy each other. Taking her hand, his tongue rasped across each of her fingertips before he lowered her hand and covered himself with it. "Touch me, Shay." His voice was husky with driving desire, but kind, unhurried, considerate. When she applied a squeezing pressure, she was gratified to hear his ragged sigh of intense pleasure.
She savored the feel of him, his clean scent, the salty taste of his skin. It became of essential importance that she return the love he was giving to her. Her caresses grew bolder, her displays of love unrestricted.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she trembled in the throes of the fullest stimulation she had ever experienced. His touch was magic. With fingertips, lips, and tongue he caressed parts of her that she now realized had been untouched before. She hadn't known what sexual loving was until this moment of unselfish physical sharing with Ian.
She felt her stomach tighten, and reflexively her thighs did the same. Her breasts quivered with new excitement, and she felt herself slipping off the edge of the world.
But she didn't want to go alone.
"Ian," she called, desperately hoping she had managed to voice that beloved name aloud, for she was moving ever faster toward that splendid oblivion. She pulled unmercifully on his hair until he turned, lifted himself over her, and entered her body.
"Shay.My wife. I love you dearly."
He sank deeper into her tight warmth, and she surrounded him with her love.
When she did fall off the edge of the universe, he was with her, there to catch her to him gently when she coasted back to earth.
"Shay?"
Her whispered name came to her like a ghost. She had awakened with a smile of self-derision on her face. Whatever had made her think Ian might not be an expert lover? He had spent the night proving the contrary to her. Her body was pleasantly replete in the aftermath of his extraordinary lovemaking. Apparently he didn't think the night was over.
"Hmmm?" she mumbled sleepily. She lay on her stomach, her face nestled in the pillow. He was stretched out alongside her, his body partially covering hers. The feel of his resilient body hair on her naked flesh was causing tiny aftershocks of delight, which she'd thought long spent, to erupt again.
"Lift up a little," he urged, as his lips sampled the skin on the back of her neck.
She obliged, and his hands slid beneath her to knead her breasts. He evenly distributed his weight over her as he settled himself between her thighs.
"Oh … Ian, that's … nice," she said brokenly as his hands once again stirred her to dizzying heights. One smoothed down her stomach to a target eagerly waiting for his touch.
Again he became her teacher, instructing her on how both of them could derive the most pleasure. Before she once again lost her reason, she spoke what was on her mind. "It's never been this way for me, Ian. I … ah, darling, that's wonderful… I didn't think it would be this way with you."
"How did you think it would be? Not so fast
… that's it. Perfect, perfect, Shay."
She squeezed her eyes shut and took in a great breath. What he was doing was so sublime, she didn't know if she could speak. "More conventional. We…" No, she couldn't mention anyone else's name, not now. It would be profane. And she didn't want to think about Ian and Mary, or her jealousy would kill her. "I knew it could be like this but only through literature, books … movies…" She broke off with a sigh that spiraled to a musical refrain.
He pressed his face into her spine and rocked upon her slowly. "Never for me either, my love. Never."
Her heart burst with joy. She was unique to him, too. Then, and for a long while later, they found conversation unnecessary.
Chapter Nine
« ^ »
For the next few weeks they were blissfully happy. Shay moved into the parsonage with less awkwardness than she had anticipated. Only one month had remained on the current lease for her apartment. Since the landlord rented it as soon as she gave him notice, the matter was settled with dispatch.
Mrs. Higgins showed pangs of anxiety until Ian assured her that she would continue in her present position. He even suggested she give his bride a few cooking lessons, for which he received a swat on the behind.
Shay undertook the task of redecorating and updating the parsonage. "Nothing much," she said quickly when she saw Ian's wary expression. "Just a few touches here and there. Now that you have a hostess, you should entertain more."
She attacked their bedroom first. Behind the king-sized bed, which Ian had told her had been a Christmas present to himself several years before, she covered the wall with fabric. She spread a quilt in a contrasting color on the bed and heaped it with accenting pillows.
Ian's brows wrinkled as he surveyed her handiwork. "If I'm not tired by the time I go to bed, I'll be exhausted by the time I haul all those pillows off," he said dryly, but she could tell he was pleased.
The changes she made in the living room won even the approval of the Tuesday Morning Bible Study Group. In lieu of one of their meetings, they sponsored a bridal shower for their pastor and his bride. Shay had used her own money to redecorate, not the church's, and the women ooohed and aaahed over the results. Their wedding gifts were generous, and Shay basked in the warmth of their acceptance. Ian smiled proudly and kissed her, to the delight of the ladies, as they were waving them off.
The church building didn't escape Shay's attention either. "Something really should be done in those children's Sunday School rooms," she said one night over dinner.
"Oh, no." Ian groaned. "Here it comes." He took a sip of coffee as if it were an anesthetizing drug. "Okay, let me have it."
Undaunted by his teasing, she said, "They're positively dreary. How can the children learn to appreciate the glory of God when they're surrounded by pea green? The rooms should be bright and cheerful. They should have a bulletin board, pictures on the wall, bean-bag chairs, learning aids—"
"Shay," he said, laying a restraining hand on her arm, "don't you think I'm aware of that? The people who work with the children also know that. But those things cost money. It's not in the church budget this year."
"Money? Is that all?" she said blithely. "Then leave that to me. I'll get the money."
"Shay," he said threateningly, scowling, "what are you up to? You wouldn't do anything that would embarrass me, would you?"
"Isn't this pie delicious? I really should get Mrs. Higgins to teach me how to bake it."
"Shaaaaay," Ian said menacingly.
"What would you say if I told you I didn't, have on any underwear?"
"I'd say you're a shameless disgrace and trying to get me off the subject."
She jumped up from her chair and sailed out the room. "And what would you say if I told you that I'll be naked by the time I reach the bed?"
The Sunday School rooms looked brand-new within two weeks, and the whole congregation was buzzing about it. Shay had invited to dinner a retired paper-mill owner, a member of the church known for his prosperity as well as his stinginess. Ignoring Ian's glowering disapproval, she casually expressed her concern over the dismal rooms. By the time the guest left the parsonage, she not only had his sizable check but also his humble request to assist in the children's departments if that would be all right. Now every Sunday morning he could be found surrounded by enthusiastic children.
"I'd accuse you of manipulation, but the man seems so much happier," Ian said, shaking his head in amazement.
"He was lonely, that's all. He needed to be needed."
When Thanksgiving came around, Shay suggested to the ladies' group that they collect baskets of food for indigent families.
"But there aren't any poor families in our community," one of them protested.
With a vengeance, Shay searched until she found several families in a neighboring town whose main breadwinner had been laid off from his or her job. None of the families were members of the church, but by Thanksgiving week the bed of a pickup truck was filled to the brim with staples. A grocer had donated three dressed turkeys, and businessmen in the congregation were looking for positions in their companies for the people who were unemployed.
Feigning jealousy, Ian complained. "When the telephone rings, it's for you now instead of me." It was Saturday morning. Since Mrs. Higgins was off, Shay had cooked him a late brunch.
"Nonsense," she said, plopping down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and settling her mouth over his.
They both sighed resignedly when the telephone rang. Shay stretched to reach for the receiver.
"Hello… Oh, yes, Mrs. Turner," she said, sticking her tongue out at Ian's "I-told-you-so" look. "Mrs. Graham had her baby last night? A boy? How wonderful! I'll be sure to tell Ian so he can go see her at the hospital this morning. You're right." Shay began unsnapping her quilted robe until her body, warm and rosy beneath, was fully revealed to Ian. "We should take meals to her family while she's in the hospital. When she gets out, I think we should schedule volunteers to go over each afternoon to help with dinner, don't you?" Without the least change of inflection in her face, she took his hand and placed it over her breast. "Maybe for that first week… Thank you. I can't think of anyone better to organize it… Okay, I'll tell him… Good-bye."
Shay's invitation was more than Ian could resist. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her with his nose and mouth, fondling her with a touch that never failed to arouse her.
"Tell me what?" he mumbled against the velvet cleft between her breasts.
Throwing her head back wantonly, she sighed as his tongue rolled over her tautening nipple. "Tell you that Mrs. Graham is resting, and her doctor requested no visitors until later today."
"Remind me to thank that doctor the next time I see him," he said, sweeping her into his arms and heading for the stairs.
The first blowup came two weeks later, just before Christmas. They had spent a quiet evening decorating the tall tree in the living room, sipping hot cider, and enjoying the fireplace and each other's company. Their love play and frequent kisses had stirred them to desire. They were on their way upstairs when the doorbell pealed.
It was a man from church asking quietly to speak to Ian in private. Ian showed the man into his study, then returned to Shay. "Warm up my spot," he said, patting her fanny lightly and kissing her quickly.
Upstairs, she took a long bubble bath, smoothed a rich lotion all over her body, buffed her nails, and climbed into the wide bed to wait for her husband.
Impatient after an hour had dragged by while she tried to read a less-than-engrossing book, she pulled on a modest robe and went downstairs.
By now Shay was accustomed to members of Ian's congregation calling him at home or cornering him for conversation when they were out in public. Often they bent his ear for no reason other than because they were lonely and needed a sounding board. He always listened patiently, even when they became long-winded. But their visitor tonight was the most verbose of all! No doubt Ian was looking for a tactful way to conclude t
he visit.
Shay grinned impishly as she devised a plan to relieve Ian of their uninvited guest and at the same time get her husband up to bed where he belonged. Conveniently there was a pad and pen on the foyer table.
A few minutes later, she tapped lightly on the door of Ian's study. "Yes?" he called.
She went in, not looking at the visitor, only her husband. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but someone called and left this emergency message for you."
Ian, his face expressionless, looked at her, then at the telephone, which hadn't rung for hours, then back up at her. He took the piece of folded paper she extended to him, unfolded it, and read the message: "Your place in the bed is warm, and there's a hot woman waiting for you. Send him home! Signed, The Hot Woman."
The secret smile curving her mouth collapsed when she saw Ian's furious expression. "Thank you," he said tersely, barely moving his lips.
"You're welcome," she said haughtily. Her shoulders back and chin up, she stalked proudly out of the study and up the stairs. Reaching their room, she whipped off her robe and the sexy negligee it had concealed and pulled on a long, flannel nightgown.
Too enraged to cry, she fumed, pounding her pillow and thumping the covers when they wouldn't cooperate with her thrashing limbs. Since she couldn't sleep, she tried to read again. The words blurred before her eyes, she was so angry for his ignoring her.
But when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, her heart lurched with fear. She had seen hints of Ian's temper before and had dreaded the first time she'd experience its full impact. She knew that time had come the instant the door was flung open and just as quickly slammed shut behind him.
"Don't ever do anything like that again." His eyes flashed with anger. "Never again. Do you understand?"
She flew off the bed, sending pillows scuttling and her unread book sliding to the floor. "No, I don't understand."
"Then let me explain it to you. That man's world is crumbling around him. He needed help, counsel. Thank God he came to me for whatever assistance I might provide instead of seeking solace in a bottle or blowing his brains out, both of which he confessed had occurred to him.