His hand was cold in hers, and she realized he was shivering.
“I’ll have to towel you off,” she said, pulling away – partially in guilt.
Once again, he did not protest, leading her to believe that, for all his tough posturing, he really liked being fussed over after all. She came back with a wooly towel and threw back the sheets, exposing his still damp body. Then she lovingly toweled him dry, aware that his cock was still flaccid – thanks to his alcohol overdose. Usually, when she touched him in any way, he would be rock hard by now.
She covered him up again, turned the lights off, drew the curtains and got into bed beside him.
“You have too many clothes on,” he murmured.
“So you noticed.”
She got up and took off her blouse and skirt. She hesitated, wondering to what extent she would undress, until he said, “You can take everything off. I like the feel of your skin against mine. But I don’t think I’m up to fucking you though.”
She had to smile at his frankness. She caressed his face. Rust. Her beautiful Rust with his piercing green eyes – now mellow and suffused with drink.
“I’m here for you,” she said.
He smiled back. “I’m here for you too.”
She shed the rest of her clothes and got under the sheets with him. She pressed her body to him – cool skin against skin, flesh against flesh. She (thought she) felt the love flowing between them – an electrical connection, a spark. Or maybe it was just a shared camaraderie of the situation.
Together, they held each other like this for a long, long time before they drifted off to sleep.
5
It was sometime during the night he stirred, waking her up. She felt his erection against her thigh, and he cupped her breast urgently.
“Kate,” he whispered.
She liked the way he called out her name. His voice was so smoky and unadulterated. He was usually so dominant. So in control. But right now, there was actual desperate need in his voice. A need to make a connection. A need to be loved.
She reached out to him. Stroked his face gently instead of his cock. This need to connect was as much emotional as it was sexual.
“Kiss me,” he said hoarsely.
She moved towards his lips in the dark and kissed him. He still tasted of alcohol, but she didn’t mind. The kiss deepened and became two tongues intertwining, searching with hunger for each other. He tasted her just as she tasted him – exploring, mapping the landscapes of each other’s mouths. She had never seen him so needy before. Unlike the previous times, his primal need for her had escalated to something more cerebral.
He clasped her face, her cheeks, brushing the hair away from her head as he kissed her with undisguised ardor. He ravaged her mouth, and then her throat, planting wet kisses all over her neck which she was sure would leave marks the next day. But she didn’t care, did she? Their secret was already out, with only her name left to be revealed.
But oh, how she loved his silky lips upon her skin, moving like the flow of satin. How she loved the imprint of his hot, wet mouth against her rapidly fevering flesh. He kissed her skin with passion, with fire – like there was love in it.
He moved down to her breasts, sealing his mouth over her nipples in a desperate hunger. He sucked at them with such force than she felt her toes curl. His mouth closed in to embrace more and more of her areolas, until he was sucking in as much of her breast as he could take. She wondered if it were possible to be milked by suction alone, and if it were indeed possible, then he would be the one to do it.
When he had finished sucking her nipples, he licked her breasts, planting loving kisses all over them until they too were wet and glistening from his passion. He simultaneously squeezed both her mounds so that the blood rushed to the tips of her nipples and they peaked, like pink snow-capped mountains.
“Delicious,” he pronounced.
She wondered if he would really like to drink milk from them one day. Her baby twinges assailed her, and she had to brush away the guilt again. Thank goodness he was too preoccupied with what was down there on her body and not with her eyes, where the guilt would show.
Without pausing to let her catch her breath, he trailed his tongue down her midline. He circled her bellybutton and lavished it with a lick. Then he dove for her crotch. She was completely shaven, the way he liked her. In a sudden swoop, he closed his entire mouth over her entire pussy and sucked at her clit, which was imbued with a sudden intense fire.
“Oh,” she squealed, “be gentle, please . . . ”
“I just need this . . . need you . . . so much.” His voice was smoky with desire.
Her mind was exalted. Need. Such a powerful word. Such an empowering word. Her mind soared, as did her soul. If he needed her, she could do wonders. Climb mountains. Surmount anything just to be with him.