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Golden Opportunity

Page 14

by Virginia Taylor


  “It feels planned, emotionless.”

  Raising his head, he examined her expression, slowly realizing that he couldn’t simply pick up where he had left off all those years ago. He needed to spend more time loving her than getting her clothes off. “Marigold, my bright and beautiful flower,” he said, gentling his voice. “What I hope is about to happen is far from emotionless, and if this had been planned one of us might have closed the blind.” He gently ran his knuckle along the side of her face while he stared into her worried eyes. “I will do that now.”

  With more reluctance than he could have imagined, he lifted off her and walked over to the window, shutting out any curious neighbors. Then, with forced composure, he sat on the windowsill staring back at her. “There’s no hurry, except in my head. If you’ve changed your mind, I will leave.”

  “No, Hagen, don’t leave. Take off your clothes.”

  “What, stand here and strip?” Surprised into a smile, he stood, about to do as she requested. Although, even as little as a few weeks ago, he had not expected to have another opportunity with her, getting naked with Marigold had been first on his wish list for many years. “I will if you do.”

  “You first. One article for you, and then one for me. I’ll start.” Her brandy-colored eyes large and bright, she sat herself up, removed a shoe, and dropped it onto the floor.

  Challenging her with his gaze, he took off one of his shoes, and she scooped off her second. His second went the way of the first. She removed a hairpin. He sat on the side of her bed and removed two socks hoping she hadn’t noticed he was in rather more of a hurry than she. Apparently she didn’t because she removed her top, leaving her with a pretty blue camisole over her bra.

  “I’m calculating who will finish first,” he said in a carefully cool voice. “How many hair clips are you wearing?”

  She offered a smug smile. “As many as I need to finish after you.”

  “Thought so.” Narrowing his eyes with mock calculation, he pulled his knit over his head, tossing the garment toward the chair. Landing on her coat, his sweater slid to the floor.

  She began unzipping her pants.

  He watched, knowing at this stage she was in competitive mode and now probably wouldn’t change her mind. “Let me help,” he said smoothly, glancing at her tiny blue undies beneath and her flat white belly above.

  “Ever the gentleman.” She lifted her hips to let him scoop her pants down to her ankles, where he left them while he kissed her on the soft flesh just above her undies.

  “No distractions,” she said, squirming. “I know your tricky little mind.”

  “I know your tricky little plan. You get me naked and then you have your way with me. You need to lose the idea that I’m easy, woman.”

  “Hah. You’ll be putty in my hands.”

  “If I am, I’ll be very surprised and I hope that you would be, too.” Sitting back, he swooped off his white T-shirt, his breath much shorter than he would have liked.

  She stopped moving and glanced at his chest. “Do you still swim?”

  “Not often. Maybe once a week. How about you?” Although she hadn’t backed out, she seemed nervous.

  “No. Though I might take it up again if I thought it would put me in as good a shape as you are.”

  “I doubt anyone would complain about your shape,” he said with a heartfelt smile. “You’re as toned now as you ever were. What shall I take off next?”

  “Your choice, but I think it would be easier to remove your underpants if you took off your trousers first.”

  He rose to his feet to open his zipper. “I would have both off in a flash if your top was off.”

  “Do you want me to undress you?”

  “Hell, yes.” He remembered the condoms, and he tossed his wallet onto her lamp table beside the bed. She had neither grabbed him nor held him off. Puzzled, and growing more uncertain by the second, he turned on the lamp and stepped to the doorway to turn off the main light.

  While his back was turned, she had kicked off her pants and had scooted to the top of the bed to shove the bedclothes down to the bottom. “You don’t have to completely undress. I don’t mind snuggling for a while.”

  “Good.” Diving onto the bed, he scooped her up into his arms. “This is better.” He breathed in the closeness of her and the warmth of her body next to his. Only then did he realize that the room had cooled with the night. Likely until then, his hopes had kept him warm. Now with her lovely body in his arms, he reached for the bedcovers to pull over them.

  He wrapped her tightly in his embrace and kissed her again. Her mouth met his with a strange shyness, given that they lay entwined, almost naked in her bed. Leaning back, she began a slow exploration of the bones of his face with her palms, smoothing her thumbs across his cheekbones, his eyebrows. Her fingers splayed in his hair.

  Not quite so tender as she, he pushed his hands under the back of her undies, enjoying the smooth handfuls of flesh he found, while kissing any of her fingers that came close to his mouth. Then her hands shifted to his shoulders and around his back. When her fingers slid beneath his trousers to his behind, he lifted her closer, remembering she needed to be held. He would have her as soon she indicated she wanted him inside her. Her explorations became torture when she investigated his erection, though he decided a gentleman would make that easier for her.

  Momentarily taking his hands from her hips, he slid off his trousers and underpants in one move, leaving himself entirely naked. He kicked his clothes out of the bed. “Let’s get you naked, too,” he said, finding the lower hem of her camisole.

  She sat up. “I’m supposed to be undressing myself.”

  “Go ahead.” His voice came out soft and husky, and he watched her pull her camisole over her head.

  She then removed her bra. Her pale nipples, a shade or two darker than her white skin, fascinated him. His own skin had a tendency to tan, despite him having blue eyes and blond hair. Then again, he had Greek and Danish genes. As far as he knew, she was purely British like so many others in Australia.

  The side curtains at her window began to stir and rain pattered on the glass. She gave a deliberate shiver and slid back down beside him. He deduced from her movements that she was removing her undies, and oh Lord, he could have her. He groped behind him for the condoms, grabbing his wallet.

  Using a single hand and a whole lot of motivation, he slid one out. His wallet dropped onto his shoulder but he held the condom aloft. He put that between his teeth while she laughed.

  “Let me help,” she said, and she tossed the wallet behind him.

  He thought she would take the condom and cover his ready arousal but instead she snuggled onto his chest. Left with the prophylactic, he pushed it beneath the pillow and held her close. With his hands splayed on her back, he kissed her lovely face all over. She kissed him too and suddenly his heart ached. Life was supposed to be like this, full of kisses and warmth. Experimenting with new positions or new partners seemed purely clinical compared to having Marigold in his arms.

  When his hands shifted to her breasts, she lengthened against him, her nipples hard and tight. Her legs opened, and she wriggled his aching dick between. By now his need was desperate. He rolled on top of her, and found the hard nub of her clitoris. She bucked. Moving his mouth to her neck, he kissed his way to her lips, sliding his finger along the wetness of her vulva to the entrance of her vagina. She seemed ready for him so he reached for the condom.

  Chapter 9

  The thought of Hagen’s previous experiences intimidated Marigold. If she could control her nervousness, he would never know that she was an elderly virgin. He’d had other lovers. Everyone knew about him and Dido at school, and his sisters had commented on his sex life even before he had married Mercia. He was more experienced than she. She’d only had her dreams.

  If she didn’t show confidence, he might
guess. She hauled in a breath and tried to stop clutching him. As soon as her death grip on him relaxed, he leaned back to roll the covering onto what had to be the largest erection in the whole world, though she had never seen another. And she really liked looking at his.

  “It’s a shame to cover that pretty thing,” she said, wishing she had held her tongue, because he looked astonished.

  “You don’t want to risk anything.” His quick stare at her questioned and answered at the same time.

  She moistened her lips. “Of course not.” So, now he thought she was an irresponsible idiot. “You could have all sorts of diseases for all I know.” She tried a spoiled bitch face that turned a bit soft.

  “You’re right,” he answered, and he looked rueful. “But fortunately I had myself tested recently, and I don’t. But you shouldn’t take any man’s word for this, Marigold. You need to protect yourself.” He finished rolling on the condom and focused intently on her face.

  “And I will.” She offered him her biggest smile. “If this turns out to be more than a one-night stand, I’ll also do something about contraception.”

  Looking amused, he smoothed her hair back from her face with the flat of his hand. “Tonight is your audition. For all I know, you might not work out,” he said, with a soft kiss across her lips. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Or you might not.” Frowning, she lifted a knee and settled one foot on his taut behind.

  “There’s a thought.” He shifted between her legs, settling the line of his penis to connect with her most sensitive parts. “If I keep talking, I might turn out to be impotent. I’ve heard that happens to a man when he is diverted from his purpose and dragged into a deep conversation while he is lying splat on a woman.”

  “There’s no reason why we can’t be friends, though,” she said, forcing her words past her constricted throat. Her spine locked as the condom moved against her.

  “Friends with benefits?” He turned his head to examine her expression.

  She unclenched her hands and shifted her palms to his upper back. His slow movements between her legs had turned into a tease. Despite her tension, she had to fight herself not to arch into him. Trying to remain coolly unsurprised, rather than unbearably excited by the hard thrill of his sliding, she swallowed to moisten her throat. “I suppose that’s what we’re working up to.”

  “At this stage of my lack of impotence, I’ll take any relationship you’re offering.” His breath stirred her hair.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Hug me, Hagen. I’m nervous.”

  “You’re not the only one.” He moved his hands beneath her buttocks, cupped, and settled his lips on hers. His mouth opened over hers. His tongue tickled at her lips.

  Her hands moved from his wide back and down the sides of his ribcage to his narrow waist. She crossed her legs behind him, her hips tilting and her lower body wriggling until she had the tip of his pressure in place.

  For a moment, he let her and then he shifted slightly to put his hand between them. His knowing fingers again found the place that shot a thrill of excitement through her, the clitoris that she’d found some years ago. He continued kissing her mouth, softly, tenderly, and his fingers treated her the same way, with delicate manipulation until she reacted with a hot flow. Then he found entrance, slowly advanced and retreated, pushing through all her years of abstinence.

  She remained frozen in place, trying to ignore the sharp pain. When he filled her to the hilt, he stopped moving, which helped a little. He lifted to the full extent of his arms and gazed at her. Her eyes had leaked a little and the tears had flowed into her hair. Fortunately, he didn’t appear to notice. His face held an expression she read as a mixture of desire and apology, almost asking for permission too late.

  She drew a deep breath and smiled. “You’re past the point of no return.”

  He said nothing. Instead he gave an unreadable smile and began to thrust rhythmically, harder, and if possible, deeper, until she shuddered with each stroke. Finally, she hit the peak she had never reached before. A gush of moisture she couldn’t control caused him to utter a sound of wonder, not a known word, simply a sound. She wound her legs tightly around him, and he shuddered, too. Her insides sensitized, she experienced the final jerking of his penis inside her. Then he kissed her face, aiming for her eyes, her nose, and her mouth.

  He only said one word. “Marigold.” Softly.

  Although she’d done almost nothing physical, exhaustion overcame her. She flopped, her hands limp on his back. He settled his weight on her, and she didn’t mind a bit. She awoke to find herself snuggled into his arms. Morning light glowed through the sides of the blind.

  She focused on Hagen’s sleeping face, all hard planes and angles, softened by his thick brown eyelashes. His pale hair sat almost perfectly in place and his bright morning stubble glistened on his cheeks. A welling of love filled her. She wanted him with her every night of her life. For six years she had yearned for this moment, which by rights should never have come.

  Mercia should be with him, undeserving, hard, ambitious Mercia who hadn’t minded who she walked over to gain the man she wanted. Mercia had been his perfect partner, beautiful, wealthy, and surrounded by admirers who hadn’t been able to get enough of her. Marigold could never be Mercia. She didn’t have the glamour, the charm, the push and shove.

  However, she could have Hagen while he was at a loss, wondering where he ought to go and who he should take with him, if anyone. Marigold’s practical self saw that, and her normal responsible self tried not to care. She pondered waking him, but she loved watching his face in relaxation. As she wondered what he might like for breakfast, he awoke. His eyes opened and fixed on her.

  “Good audition,” he said in a morning fuggy voice. “You got the part.”

  “How long is the season?” She pushed her fingers through her hair, trying to tidy herself for his view.

  “That’s up for negotiation. But all the other applicants have been told the role is filled.”

  “So, breakfast?”

  “Let’s go out.” He rolled onto his back and stretched his beautiful body one long limb at a time, first each arm and then each leg. The man had class. He watched his diet and he exercised and he had the body of a Norse god.

  “Where do you swim?”

  “At home. I have a lap pool.” His expression looked relaxed. “Do you want to try it out later?”

  “Is it heated?”

  “Give me a break. Who would be motivated to swim in winter if the pool was heated?”

  “Me?”

  “When did you turn into a wimp?”

  “Wasn’t I always?”

  “Not as far as I recall. You held the school record for 200 meters for two years.”

  “Someone beat my time?”

  “It had to happen eventually.”

  “I’m not a junior any longer, either. Okay, if I can brave the cold, I’ll see how I do in your lap pool.”

  “That’s a date.” He kissed her. “While you’re drying off after your swim you can walk through my house and tell me what you plan to change.”

  She snuggled closer. Apparently she would be spending the whole day with him. Then he kissed her again.

  An hour later, after he had shown her exactly how he liked to wear a condom, she showered and dressed for breakfast, a sated but apprehensive woman. The only other time she’d been naked with him, she had expected him to blame her momentary lapse on the champagne served at the twins’ twenty-first birthday party. She had never expected him to want an explanation, one she wouldn’t give, as to why she wouldn’t go through what would have been a purely one-night stand. She had put that down to male ego. Without a doubt, she knew he would find a more suitable match than she among one of the many beautiful women in his crowd. And he had.

  This time the ending wouldn’t be any happier than the las
t time, although the reason had changed. This time, although she wasn’t otherwise obligated, she knew he was. He had the sort of life she wouldn’t fit into with the smart, rich people who had scorned her before, who had noticed her cheap clothes and her make-do accessories.

  * * * *

  Deciding not to care for the time being, she enjoyed a beautifully cooked breakfast with him in a small restaurant in the foothills. After he drove her back to his house, she then enjoyed exhausting herself in his lap pool. She had missed swimming.

  Sadly out of condition, she finished her final lap and dragged herself onto the step-out, where she sat with water trickling from the end of her nose. Although she had knotted her hair out of the way, orange clumps clung to her shoulders.

  Hagen didn’t seem to mind her bedraggled state, though he looked as good wet as he did dry. The sun shone on his golden skin although the October day was cool, and he smiled indulgently at her as, barefooted, he stalked over the paving to the edge of the lap pool, constructed adjacent to the side section of the main heated pool.

  “Warm enough?”

  “Warm with exercise. Is that towel for me?”

  He held out his hand to her, pulled her to a standing position, and he covered her, wrapping her in a thick, luxurious towel and his arms. She snuggled right into him, appreciating his body warmth. He hadn’t yet dressed after doing his laps, and he wore racing shorts. His body part pressed against her belly. “Oh, my.”

  He laughed. “See what you’ve done to me. Turned me into a randy teenager overnight.”

  She lifted her face for a kiss. “See what you’ve done to me. Turned me into a sex-starved spinster.”

  He kissed her again. He had hurried her through a tour of all the rooms in his house so that they could swim before the predicted rain started, dopey really, when they would get wet either way. The rain hadn’t eventuated.

 

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