by Quint, Suzie
The surprise on his face lasted only a second before it was replaced with a grin. As much as Sol liked control, he’d always loved it when she got aggressive in the bedroom.
Georgia planned to show him a very, very good time.
She returned his grin with her own feral smile and straddled him on her knees.
“Well, hel-lo there,” Sol said.
“Hello yourself.” She leaned over, bracing her weight on her elbows, and licked the salty sheen of sweat from his chin before sucking his lower lip into her mouth.
Sol moaned, so she slid her tongue between his lips.
His hands stroked her hips as their tongues jousted. She let her knees slide wider, but not enough to bring them into contact below the waist. Sol thrust his hips toward her, achieving momentary contact. The brief brush at the apex of her thighs brought a gasp from Georgia. Oh, yes. That was nice.
Sol’s hands exerted a steady downward pressure on her hips. Georgia allowed herself to slowly succumb, only lifting when his hips thrust toward her. This was her moment to be in control, and she wasn’t ready to cede it to Sol. Not yet. Not until she’d tormented him a bit more.
He’d always been intuitive about bedroom games, and Georgia was gratified when he quickly grasped the game she was playing and, for the most part, controlled his thrusting. Covering his mouth with hers, she slowly lowered her hips until she was pressed against his groin and started rocking.
With his hands still on her hips, he guided her rhythm. His erection grew stiffer as she moved up the length of him then back down. The friction captured all of Georgia’s attention as her mouth continued on autopilot, kissing, licking, and even nipping occasionally.
After a minute or so, Sol turned his head away from her. She didn’t let his movement interrupt her. Nuzzling his ear was plenty interesting.
Sol panted a few times as though catching his breath. “Georgia honey, we seem to have skipped a step.”
“Oh?” She traced the outer edge of his ear with her tongue and was rewarded with his tremor. “What step is that?”
“The one where we get rid of our clothes.”
“You think we should get”—she nipped his earlobe—”nekkid?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sol said on a drawn-out groan. “Nekkid. That’s it. That’s what I want.”
Georgia abandoned his ear to straighten up and grab the hem of her T-shirt. She dragged it over her head and tossed it beyond the foot of the bed. Before Sol could reach for her, she twisted her arms behind her back and unsnapped her bra. That went the same way as her T-shirt.
His hands captured her breasts, gently kneading them as he thumbed her nipples. He lifted his torso until he could cover her nipple with his mouth.
A sizzle ran from her breast to the crux of her thighs. “Mmmm.” She let her head fall back, her weight supported by his hands at her back. The need between her legs grew until she couldn’t keep still. When she rocked her hips from side to side, Sol sucked in a breath, drawing air across her nipple that felt chilled after the heat of his mouth. Georgia shivered.
“That’s it,” Sol muttered. He rolled, putting Georgia on her back beneath him. He pushed himself off her, stripped his shirt off over his head, toed his boots off, and shucked his jeans in record time. Georgia braced herself on her elbows to watch. As soon as his pants hit the floor, her gaze locked onto his erection. The ebbing sizzle between her thighs turned to an itch. She tightened her pelvic muscles and rocked, stimulating herself against the seam in her jeans.
Sol leaned over the bed, popped the button on her jeans, unzipped them, then grabbed them at the ankles and tugged. Georgia lifted and wiggled the jeans and her panties down over her hips.
“That’s better,” Sol said.
She barely had time to notice a scar she’d never seen before on his shoulder before he crawled, naked, onto the bed. He held himself over her on his hands and knees. The only light spilled through the door from the living room, but it was enough for everything they needed to see.
His gray eyes were clear and intense as he looked into hers. He didn’t seem in any hurry to look away. When he finally did, his eyes slide slowly down her naked body. His gaze was nearly tactile. She felt it travel over her as distinctly as she would have felt his touch. Warm and welcoming and homey, as though this were where she belonged. She basked in it for a minute before letting her own gaze wander down his lightly furred chest to his narrow waist and beyond. A rush of warmth and wet flooded the crevice between her thighs.
A breeze fluttered through the open window, brushing over her nipples, making them harden until it was nearly painful. She ached for the feel of him against her, his sweat-slicked skin sliding over hers, the weight of him pinning her down.
He lowered himself onto her so slowly, her skin seemed to grow ultrasensitive. His heat seared her, and she seemed to feel the fine hairs of his body long before they touched. He released a long, breathy moan as he molded to her body.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, felt the tip of his hard-on poke against her, felt the head slip in ever so gently. He paused there as though trying to muster his strength.
She was forgetting something. Was it important? Oh, yes. “Condom,” she murmured, low and hoarse.
“Georgie—”
“Condom,” she said again. She already knew his arguments. How he never had sex without one. Not with anyone else anyway because he’d never wanted kids with anyone but her. Maybe it was even true. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t completely stupid. At least, not yet. “Or you take me home.” Fat chance he’d let her go now.
Sol dropped his head until his forehead rested against hers. A moment later, he released a long sigh and reached across to the bedside table.
“Hurry,” she whispered. “I need you. Now.”
He eased off her just before she heard the sound of tearing foil. She shifted while he sheathed himself, squaring up, so they wouldn’t be crosswise on the bed.
From the side of the bed, he leaped toward her. Georgia shrieked, bracing herself for the impact and the subsequent crashing of the bed. The bed surprised her by holding up to the assault, though it creaked loudly. Sol laughed then burrowed into her hair to nuzzle her neck, but Georgia decided he needed to pay for scaring her.
She rocked sideways once then once more, hard enough to roll them over and reverse their positions. On top again, she drew her legs up and straddled him. “Okay, wise guy, that wasn’t funny.”
“I thought it was.” He was grinning again.
“Well, you would, now wouldn’t you? You, with your perverse sense of humor.”
“You used to like my sense of humor.”
Georgia smiled. “Sometimes I still do.” That didn’t mean he shouldn’t be punished. Except she didn’t want to punish him. At least not at this precise moment. His erection was trapped between their bodies. Every movement, every physical adjustment no matter how minor, reminded her there were better places for it to be.
Without consulting her, her hips rocked forward. Georgia caught her breath as Sol’s eyes closed on a soft moan.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as though he’d had to swallow to speak. “Georgia honey, I want to make you feel good, but if you keep tormentin’ me, you’re gonna end up waiting for me to recharge.”
She leaned down and kissed him then rocked against him one more time before she lifted enough to reach down and guide him. They sighed simultaneously as he slid inside her.
Another breeze wafted through the open window, wicking at the sweat on Georgia’s back. Her breast lifted as she pulled her hair from the nape of her neck and held it on the top of her head.
“Aw, Georgie,” Sol said in an appreciative voice, making her feel like a goddess.
She smiled down at him.
“You slay me. You know that, don’t you?” He lifted his hands to her shoulders. “So soft. So smooth.” His touch skimmed down her torso, molding to her curves. “So sexy. The way your hips flare when you straddle me. That tak
es me through the heart every time.” He laid a hand flat against her lower abdomen. “I’m right there. Hidden inside you. Right where I always want to be.”
Georgia melted and the heat and humidity of the night wasn’t the cause. Sol had always done this to her, had always found that one thing to say that she couldn’t shrug off as some canned line. He made it personal every time they came together. It was about them in a way that was unique. Special.
This. This was the reason she’d never been able to completely put him behind her.
She started to move. Slowly at first because she wanted to savor the feel of him and to watch his face, to see his expressions change. He slid a hand behind her neck, and she allowed him to drag her down to exchange sweet, wet kisses, but then she rose back up.
Sol’s hands found her breasts. The man never forgot anything she’d ever told him. He knew she hated the way her breasts bounced in this position. She’d joked once that she worried about giving herself a black eye when their activities got too energetic. Another of the things she loved him for. He’d seen her joke for what it was: embarrassment about excessive bouncing. Without making a big deal about it, he controlled her breasts before they made her self-conscious.
She leaned her weight on her arms and found a rhythm that built the need inside her, rising up then adding a little grind on the down stroke that teased her already sensitive clit. Sol rose to meet her. Their breaths rasped and they were both slick with sweat.
Sol made an inarticulate noise, and a second later, Georgia was on her back. They’d lost contact in the move, but before she could lament his absence, he was back, kissing her, pushing into her. Not slow, but a steady thrust that made her push back against him, straining for all of him.
When he was all the way in, he stopped, as though absorbing the feel of her. “Are you ready, Georgie? ‘Coz this ride’s about to get wild.”
She wiggled against him in answer. He breathed in heavily, drew back, then thrust, hard and forceful. Pumping into her like a piston, he caught her face between his hands. His mouth came down on hers, hard enough to bruise. She tasted the tang of blood where her lip cut on the edge of a tooth. Georgia bucked under him, wordlessly begging him to ravage her.
His hands left her face, found her hips, slid underneath to tilt her up. His thrusts became hard and fast, almost violent, and wrung an inarticulate cry from deep in her throat.
Her climax came without warning. She throbbed hard, once, at her core then shattered into a hundred, a thousand, a million little pieces. Vaguely, as though far in the distance, she heard Sol cry out. Deep inside, she clenched him, released, clenched again.
###
Georgia woke slowly. Early morning light seeped in through unfamiliar curtains, and in spite of the heat against her back that could only come from a warm body, it took a few moments to remember where she was.
Her body felt too languid for the reproaches she knew she should feel—would feel later—and she was content to let the self-castigation wait. She turned under the sheet and propped herself up on one elbow to watch Sol sleep. The peaceful sleep of the deliciously wicked, she decided with a smile. A thoroughly satisfied smile. A cream-stealing-cat smile.
She was sore in places that hadn’t been sore in a long time, but the rest of her felt delightfully good. Did Sol always put himself out to please a woman like he did for her? For once, thoughts of other women didn’t make her shrivel with jealousy.
After bringing her to orgasm three heart-pounding times, taking longer with each one, she’d finally declared that she didn’t have another orgasm left in her. He’d proven her wrong by burying his face between her legs, licking and probing her with his tongue until she could have sworn she levitated right off the bed.
She owed him for that one.
Georgia couldn’t remember if the sex had been this good when she’d left so many years ago. She did know it hadn’t started out this way.
They’d both been virgins on their wedding night, and Georgia suspected, they’d both been terrible in bed. The first time had, in fact, been a disaster.
After their quickie Vegas wedding, they’d necked and petted on the bed of that cheap Las Vegas hotel room, just as they’d done so many times on the seat of Sol’s pickup, until they were aroused enough to start shedding their clothes without too much embarrassment. By the time they got to the consummation part, Sol had been too aroused for caution. When he thrust through her hymen, the pain had been so fierce, Georgia had practically shoved him off her. No small feat with a man totally absorbed in his first experience with real inside-a-woman sex.
From that moment until he’d finished—which hadn’t taken long—she’d cried silent tears. Then Sol had cried with her, devastated that he’d hurt her.
The next time had been much better. Not that they’d really learned anything, but what they lacked in technique, they made up for with hot-blooded enthusiasm. By the time they’d come home to break the news to their families, they were copulating like bunnies every chance they got. As young and happy and stupid as she’d been, it never once crossed her mind that she might get pregnant so quickly.
Georgia frowned. God, she was still stupid.
They’d made love one more time in the middle of the night. Cocooned in darkness and half asleep, she wasn’t sure who’d reached for whom. Maybe it had been him. Maybe her.
She remembered Sol nuzzling her neck, his hands on her back, holding her as though she were a fragile, treasured piece of crystal. He’d laid soft, gentle kisses on her mouth and face as his hands had stroked her. Caught halfway between waking and sleeping, she’d responded by running her foot up his calf and wrapping her leg around his thigh. She’d been slick with desire when he slid inside her.
He’d rocked into her with lazy half strokes, as though time, and thus urgency, had no meaning. Pleasurable without the usual tightening of the ratchet.
Unprepared for the first wave of the orgasm that washed gently over her body, Georgia whispered a breathy “oh” into Sol’s ear. His next stroke brought a second, stronger wave, as did each stroke after that, as though he’d found the rhythm of her heart.
And they hadn’t used any protection.
And she couldn’t even blame him because she’d been as caught up as he had. She wasn’t worried about pregnancy—she had that covered—but if she caught an STD, she’d have no one to blame but herself.
With everything else going on her life, she really, really didn’t need this to worry about, too.
And worrying about it wouldn’t do any good anyway. She had enough on her plate. For this one thing, she’d play Scarlett O’Hara and deal with it later. And hope she didn’t have to.
Chapter Ten
Sol lay on his stomach, his legs spread wide. The feather pillow was scrunched up against his face, a corner of the case nearly in his mouth. His bones felt like water, his muscles like worn-out rubber bands.
He reached out. His hand landed on the pillow next to his head. He stretched his fingers, searching. When they found nothing, his head jerked up, his eyes wide.
I couldn’t have dreamed it. She was here. I know she was. I can smell her on me. But except for him, the bed was empty.
Then he heard the toilet flush. His heart hesitated in his chest then started double-timing. He didn’t think she’d made him crazy enough that his fantasies would paste her face over another woman’s features, but he couldn’t be sure. He rolled onto his back and watched the door.
When it opened and she came out, wearing his shirt, covering the secret places he’d visited last night, his heart thudded so hard, he felt it in his throat. And the morning erection that had begun to wilt at finding himself alone returned with a vengeance.
Sol saw a hesitation in her eye, almost shyness. He wanted to say, “Come here,” but he was afraid she’d spook like a wild deer.
She approached cautiously. Her eyes focused halfway down the bed. Sol looked down to see the sheet tented over his loins.
A h
int of a smile pulled at Georgia’s lips. “Is that a flagpole, or are you just happy to see me?”
“Why don’t you come here and find out?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him, the hesitation in her eyes replaced with mischief.
“I don’t know. It could be dangerous.”
“What’s life without a little danger?”
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and Sol felt as if she’d asphyxiated him. He pulled back the sheet invitingly.
She slid into the bed beside him.
He rolled toward her.
“Not yet, buster.”
“What?”
“There’s the little matter of that flagpole.”
“Little?”
“I need to inspect it to make sure it’s not an explosive device.” And her head disappeared under the sheet.
It was an explosive device. One with what he feared was a very short fuse. He laid back, his arms spread wide, as she kissed her way down his chest. Obie twitched when she got close. When her tongue touched the tip of his erection, he had to grit his teeth to keep from coming on the spot. Then her hot, wet mouth slid over him, and so began the torture of trying to last so she’d keep on doing—Oh God—that.
###
When Sol pulled her up afterward and tried to kiss her, Georgia turned her face away.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I don’t want you kissing me.”
“Because . . . ?”
He left the question dangling, but she knew what he was asking. “No, not that. It’s because . . . I don’t have a toothbrush.”
A grin split Sol’s face. “You’re worried about morning breath?” He clearly took her silence for acknowledgment and laughed. “If you’re that worried, use mine.”
Georgia gasped. “You’d share your toothbrush?”
