by Lavinia Kent
Then he was in her, filling her, completing her.
And she came, hard, fast—so suddenly.
Her body arched harder, every muscle tightening.
Still he surged forward and back, setting his own pounding rhythm until at last he screamed her name.
Chapter 18
Clay lay back in the water, letting his mind empty of all thought. There would be time enough to think later. Right now all he wanted to do was revel in the perfection of the moment. This was so different than that first hurried time when as soon as they’d finished he’d…Fuck. “Are you on anything?”
She blinked, looked puzzled—and then her eyes widened. “You mean the pill?”
“Yes. I can’t believe I forgot after the museum. I swore to always have a condom right at hand.”
There was a long pause. “I have an IUD. The hormones have always helped keep my body in balance. I’ll be honest, I haven’t really thought about it in years except when I have a checkup.”
Well, that was good news. “I should tell you, I’m clean. I get tested regularly, and despite what you might think in this moment, I’m very careful. This has never happened before.”
“Never?”
“Never.” He knew he should ask about her history, but from what she’d said he already knew it. “I assume the same is true for you.”
“I think so. I was tested when I got married and I haven’t slept with anyone since Mark, so I would be pretty sure.”
He wasn’t going to ask if she was sure her husband had been faithful. “No, I’m sure your doctor would have let you know if there was problem.” This made everything awkward. Where did they go from here? He certainly didn’t want this interlude to end here, but it was hard to know what to say now. He turned and dove under the warm water, swimming an easy lap to the end of the pool. It was a wonderful pool but not a long one.
He surfaced as his hands touched the wall. “Do you always keep it so warm? I can’t imagine swimming in this for more than a few moments.”
“This will sound strange, but I go to the gym if I want to swim for exercise. This one is merely for indulgence. I do keep it cooler in the summer, so that it’s refreshing after the heat of the beach, but this time of year I use it mostly for relaxation.”
“That makes sense. If you really tried to swim in it you’d be turning every five strokes.”
“Seven actually.”
They were quiet again, the awkwardness had shifted, but the sizzle had not returned.
He swam a few more lazy laps.
She followed him for one, then turned to sit on the steps, reclining, the water barely covering her breasts. Her head fell back as she stared up at the ceiling, lips slightly parted. Her wet hair fell in a neat wave behind her, the ends spreading wide in the water. Her breasts bobbed in the small waves, the nipples rising and falling in the water.
And just like that he felt the heat return. At least for him, but what about her?
He swam to her end and stood, leaning against the wall.
She kept looking up at the glass ceiling, the sky clearly visible through the many plants. Her face was peaceful, deep in thought.
He let her be for a moment, admiring the view. It was quite something.
After a bit, she gave a long sigh, then turned to him, her eyes calm. “What a perfect moment.”
He walked to her. “I feel the same, although as I look at you I can think of ways to make it even more perfect. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get enough of you, Jordan.” He reached out and caught a handful of her hair. Wet, it stretched longer than he would have expected.
“It’s why I was avoiding looking at you.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I find that whenever I look at you I want to touch you.” She reached out and laid a hand upon his chest. “I love to feel the beat of your heart. It’s so strong and alive.”
“I can promise you that it’s not the only part of me that is strong and alive.”
Her eyes dropped to stare through the water. “No fair, I can’t really see.”
“I think you saw enough earlier.”
“I don’t think I can ever see enough. And I’ve never had a chance to really touch and explore.”
Now he was just as hard as he’d been the first time. What was it about this woman? All she had to do was say a few words and he was ready to explode. “Do you want to?”
“I’ve also never tasted you, not really.”
His body jerked as if she’d stroked him. “Is that something you also want?” Please say yes. Please say yes.
Her eyes met his. She leaned toward him. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes. Again. His own gaze dropped to her mouth. Stopped. She slowly and quite obviously, deliberately, ran her tongue over her lower lip.
He leaned forward until there was barely any space between them. He couldn’t wait to kiss her, to taste her again, to be tasted by her. Keeping his eyes on her lips, he lowered his mouth.
The kiss was deep, and slow, and passionate—and hotter than any he could remember. It was hard to even think as their tongues danced and tangled.
Her arm stretched out, wrapped about him, her fingers spreading to cover his lower back and the top curve of his ass. She pulled on him and he went eagerly until he was lying atop her, his feet on the bottom of the pool, his knees resting on the step below her.
And still the kiss went on.
And still.
And still.
He wanted this to last forever. He wanted it over now so that he could be in her, feeling her wrapped tight about him.
Why not have both?
He moved, raising himself, figuring how to position himself.
She pushed back slightly, taking her mouth from his. “I know we’re both clean, but I’d rather—”
He shook his head, understanding coming. “I can…”
“No.” She slipped up from beneath him, rising to standing in an unbelievably graceful movement. “I want something different.”
He reclined there, his head a little above the level of her feet. She rose, a goddess above him. He looked up, endless legs, the dark curls, the slight peek at pink between, flat belly, the full curves of her lower breasts, the jutting nipples, her sweet face, lips swollen from their kiss.
And back to that promise of pink.
He longed to taste her again. He started to rise to his knees, his hands coming to rest upon her thighs.
She stepped back, out of reach.
He wanted to cry out, to tell her to stop. He held back.
She walked to a rack in the back, lifted a pile of soft white towels, but instead of covering herself she moved to one of the benches, spreading two towels upon it and then dropping the others in a pile before it. He expected her to sit then, but instead she gestured for him to do so.
He rose to standing and strode forward.
Her eyes dropped to his dick.
She licked her lips and smiled as if amused at some inner joke.
* * *
—
Yes, he led with his penis when he walked, absolutely assured of his masculinity, just like she’d thought so long ago. And wasn’t this reminiscent of then. Clay. A huge erection. A pool. And heat, so much heat.
The thought should have been off-putting. It always had been before, but today, right now, nothing could deter her from what she wanted, from what she needed. And she needed him. In some way it felt like she’d always needed him, like she always would need him.
No, she wasn’t going to think. This was not a moment for thought.
She licked her lips again, saw him shudder in response.
Stepping aside, she waited until he’d taken a seat on the fluffy towels, waited until he was comfortable, his legs spread before him.
Even then she stood for a mo
ment, admiring. Broad shoulders spread even wider as he rested back on his hands, that almost smooth chest—and that penis. She’d never before thought that one could be beautiful, had always regarded them as slightly funny-looking, but…So strong and wide, blushing deep red, still wet from the pool, the vein on the lower side throbbing his desire. Yes, it was a thing of beauty.
A thing that filled her with want.
She pressed her thighs tight for a moment, holding back her own desire.
She didn’t want to move. The moment was too perfect.
And yet she desperately wanted to, couldn’t wait to touch and taste.
Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments, she planned her next move. Always before she’d let him take charge and loved it. Even in that first encounter that had been so spontaneously mutual, she had allowed him to lead.
She took a small step forward, opening her eyes. Her shoulders went back, her breasts rising, as she did her best to look the seductive woman of the world—and even more important, tried to feel like that woman.
Clay spread his legs farther and she came to stand between them. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through his hair, then held tight, bending his head back as she brought her lips down, starting a hot, heavy kiss, a kiss that showed him exactly what she was thinking, what she was planning.
She sucked his tongue in deep, rubbing its underside with her own tongue, enjoying the play and pleasure. Resting a hand on each of his thighs, she enjoyed the quiver of his muscles.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered against her lips when she pulled back slightly to breathe.
“Good,” she answered, and pressed her mouth harder against him, devouring.
One of his hands came up and caressed her breast, but she slapped it away. This was her time and she wanted no distractions.
She’d never known how good a kiss could be, how it could satisfy and incite at the same time.
Twenty minutes ago she’d been so satisfied she didn’t think she’d ever want again and now her body was burning, aching.
She began to move her thumbs over his skin, enjoying the contrast of his silken flesh and the slight bristle of the hair on his chest.
He moaned deep and true. She swallowed the sound, catching his tongue lightly between her teeth, nipping and scraping.
Another moan.
His hands came down over hers, trying to move them, but she held tight and he relented.
Releasing the kiss, she moved her mouth down, biting at his chin, feeling the scratch of his heavy stubble. Her insides quivered.
She swept her thumbs higher, almost reaching his balls, but not quite. He strained forward, wanting, but she held firm. It was her pace to set.
She trailed her tongue down his neck, moving in slow lazy circles, enjoying the taste of salt and chlorine. Who’d ever thought the scent of a pool would have her melting?
The dip of his collarbones was enchanting.
The broad curves of his shoulders and chest tantalizing.
His nipples…there were no words. She sucked one. Bit one. His body jerked with her movements, strain clear on his face. He might not be as sensitive as she, but it was clear he felt her every touch. She ran her tongue about the tight nub, tempted to play for hours. The feeling of power was intoxicating and she hadn’t yet even truly begun.
One more suck. One more nip.
She moved lower, traced the muscles of his stomach, watched them contract even more at her touch. Each line, each indent required her careful attention.
“I’m going to die,” he moaned. “Or embarrass myself.”
“I think I might enjoy that. It must be quite the sight to see. And then I’d get to begin again. After I licked you clean, of course.”
“Fuck.” It was the softest of whispers.
Her tongue swirled about his navel, a deep and delicious innie.
Again she moved lower, playing about the neat edges of his hairline.
His cock moved and brushed her cheek. She turned, gave it a soft kiss then pulled back, to stare and admire. Her hands moved higher until her fingers swept the crease between leg and torso. His hips lifted from the bench. Now, there he was just as sensitive as she.
Her fingers skated back and forth.
His hips lifted again, and again, thrusting.
“Easy, boy,” she said as she finally allowed herself to cup his balls, to feel their weight.
One hand stayed there and another moved to clasp the base of his penis, holding it tight, pressing, gripping.
Another kiss, this one on the very tip. She leaned her head back, letting him see the drop of salty fluid upon her lower lip. Slowly, so very slowly, her tongue came out and licked, relished.
His moan was almost a cry.
She bent her head for another kiss—and another, but this time she parted her lips, caressed the tip, took the barest fraction of an inch in, then pulled back. Another kiss. A little more in. A little more.
Her hand at the base moved up and down, squeezing. Her other caressed his balls.
His head fell back, rapping lightly against the tiled wall, his whole body tight and straining.
She pulled away, ran her tongue around the tip and then farther, exploring each bump and ridge. She could feel his blood pulsing along the base, ran her tongue up and down the thick vein, letting her hands move in rhythm.
Her thighs were wet with her own fluid, wanting him, needing him, and yet nothing would have completed her as much as tasting him, pleasuring him.
She brought her mouth back to the tip, opened about him, pressed forward, bringing him as deep as she could. She forced herself to relax, ignored the need to breathe.
One of his hands came down on her head.
She pulled back. “No. My turn,” was all she said.
The hand fell away.
She moved again. Down deep. Up to breathe. Down. Up. Tongue playing.
His body was straining hard against her. He wanted more. And she gave it.
Faster.
Harder.
Harder.
She felt the surge. Felt it begin.
His hips rose high. His cock surged deep.
And he came, with a harsh moan.
She swallowed and swallowed, relishing the salt and warmth. And the sound of her name echoing again and again about the chamber.
His hips fell back on the bench, his entire body softening. She waited and then sank back on her knees, sure she was grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat.
His head stayed against the tile, his eyes closed. He was so still she almost wondered if he slept.
“I think you may have killed me,” he said at last.
A chuckle. “I did try.”
A low, soft laugh escaped his lips.
She was completely satisfied, but her body ached again with need, the pressure between her legs growing. Sinking farther she let her butt rest upon the towels, one hand going back to support her, while the other crept forward, coming to rest between her legs.
Running a finger softly between her folds, she let herself enjoy just looking at him, a god at rest. If she’d had any real artistic talent she would have sculpted him like this, his strength relaxed, his muscles at ease.
She stroked gently, not seeking anything beyond a temporary easing of her ache. It was delicious to just sit and watch him, to feel the pleasure of her fingers, but to not be actively moving toward an outcome.
His eyes slipped open, then opened wider. He didn’t say anything, but his stare was direct and intense. His dick twitched.
She didn’t say anything either, just kept moving and watching.
He swallowed. Opened his mouth. Shut it. Then finally spoke. “I shouldn’t be able to move at all but then I open my eyes to find you acting out another fantasy. Hell, I’m not even sure
I have the imagination to dream of this.” He languidly raised a hand and gestured about the pool room.
Her fingers froze.
“Don’t stop. I may not have the energy to do anything, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy and maybe in a few minutes, or at worst a year, I’ll have what it takes to show you just how much I do appreciate you.”
“I’m happy as I am.” And she truly was.
Chapter 19
Clay could do nothing but continue to stare down at her, all wet and pink and sweaty. God, she was beautiful. He was surprised that there was room in his mind for any thought but that one. Every time he looked at her he thought it, and given that there was nothing he would rather do than look at her…
God, she was beautiful.
That look on her face, that look of satisfaction that he knew had far more to do with him than with what she was doing to herself…he didn’t think he’d ever seen someone take so much personal pleasure in pleasing another. But then, that might be the core of Jordan. She took joy in helping others. Even her plans for her future were about other people.
God, she was beautiful.
And it wasn’t just her exterior. She was even more beautiful inside and he saw that when he looked at her. It was hard to separate the woman he saw now from the one he’d idealized years ago. He’d probably built her up in his head based on schoolboy fantasy, but everything he was learning about her now seemed to support that image.
She moaned softly and his focus returned to her moving fingers sliding through shining folds. At this moment it wasn’t her interior he was concerned with. If he’d had more energy, he would have been down there on the floor, joining her.
She was starting to pant. The glisten of fresh sweat visible on her already damp skin.
He wanted to taste her again, but that would require movement.
His dick twitched, but even it didn’t have the energy yet to respond as it wanted.
Her eyes were half closed. Her fingers moved faster.
His dick twitched again, refusing to be defeated.
Her neck relaxed, her gaze moving to the ceiling. Her legs shifted open, giving herself better access—and him a better view.