No longer able to hold off, I adjust the angle of my hips and inch into her while she’s still orgasming. Heat and tightening muscles engulf my steel hardness, wringing a groan of delight from me. The added sensation pushes her up and she comes again, peaking higher and louder than before.
I draw my fingers away, allowing her body to recover while I slowly pump in and out of her spasming depths. Grasping her raised leg, I glance down her body at the glorious sight of those sexy boots. I’ll never be able to look at them again without thinking of this moment with her.
My hand that clasps her shoulder releases and I stroke the soft skin, soothing her while I slowly make love to her. Once I bury myself to the hilt, I begin to pump faster, gradually picking up my pace.
I let go of her leg and return to her nipples, determined to tease and entice another orgasm out of her. Her relaxed body responds to the tweaking and pulling, and her nipple distends further than before, with a rosy glow.
Unable to quench my desire to kiss her, I lean closer and nuzzle her cheek. She turns her head to angle better and we lock lips, pouring our hearts into the connection.
Judging the time to be right, I slide my fingers lower to gather some of her moisture. Her previously relaxed hips react, reaching for my soft touch. We break our kiss and I return to lavishing her neck and shoulder with short, then long, lingering kisses.
As my shaft withdraws from her body, I curl my fingers, drawing more sensation from her silky folds. Then I plunge up and rub my fingers on her outer lips.
The minutes go by, and soon little chants of “yeah, oh yeah” spill from her, telling me I’ve set a good pace.
Her increasing excitement spurs my own and I move my attention to her aroused nub once more, testing its sensitivity with a few tentative strokes.
A jolt shakes her body and her inner walls clench around me. The added stimulation takes her by surprise, and judging by the rapid increase in her hips, it’s a good surprise. Again she holds her leg, pinning it up near her hip, to rest against my forearm, while I plunge into her over and over.
Her next peak takes us both by surprise, coming on her fast. I take full advantage of the sensations and increase speed. The strength of her release doesn’t diminish and her clasping muscles draw my own orgasm up and out of me, despite my best intentions to make love to her longer.
My grasp on her shoulder tightens as my hips pummel her firm cheeks. I stop thrusting, overcome with the intensity of my release, and the convulsing muscles around my shaft milk it for every drop.
We lay wrapped in each other for several minutes. If that didn’t tell her how I feel about her, I’m not sure what will. She moves slightly to disengage our bodies and I hold her close, unwilling to let this moment end.
Chapter Thirteen
Heather
We made love twice more in the night, each encounter unique and glorious. Even though no words were spoken, I know it in my heart things have changed between us.
I didn’t take charge, and neither did Tony. Each joining was a mutual experience deeper than anything I’ve ever shared with a man. As the morning sun peeks through my drapes, I open my eyes and sigh, unwilling to leave the warm bed.
The weight of Tony’s arm lies over my waist, corralling me closer even in sleep. A smile of pure happiness leaks from me as I realize this has been my dream all along. To wake up next to someone I care about, and who cares for me in return.
No one judging me or tearing me down, no empty declarations when I open my heart, no cold sheets on a long winter’s night.
Moving carefully, I slip from the bed and retrieve my robe from the bathroom door. A glance at the clock reveals I’ve plenty of time to get ready before work. I face the bed, staring at the gorgeous man sleeping on my pillow, unable to comprehend that last night really happened.
My lover lies in a crumpled tangle of sheets and blankets, his olive complexion and cut muscles stirring desire through me even after all my releases last night. Unlike the waxed men of Hollywood, Tony boasts a light dusting of hair across his chest. It accentuates his masculinity and muscle depth rather than hiding it.
Impulsively, I grab my old, but reliable, camera off the dresser and snap a few pictures of him. The sheet bunches near his rib cage, leaving his wide biceps and corded forearms bare. I felt the strength in those arms as he held me. A tingle runs through me at the memory of his embrace while I came.
The whir and click of the camera echoes in the silent room. My zoom lens allows close-ups on his relaxed face without disturbing him. The faded scar on his chin tugs at my heartstrings. The small imperfection adds to his appeal rather than detracting from it. Was he a wild boy? Did he tumble off his bike or get hit while throwing rocks with other boys? I’ll have to ask him.