Dazed and mostly out of it, I was flipped over, my bottom hoisted high and I was entered in a matter of seconds. With his firm hands on my hips, he pulled me roughly toward him and then eased slowly out. At first it was a slow steady rhythm and then it became frantically fast. The room echoed with the slapping noises as our bodies met and then he jerked suddenly, pulling me tightly to him, and thrusting one last time, he ground me hard into his pelvis. I heard his anguished groan and felt him pumping and clenching inside me. He collapsed against me and I slid down until I was prone and he was covering my body from head to toe with his. I turned my head to the side. “That was the longest foreplay of my life, that was amazing. When can we do that again?”
A heartfelt moan escaped his lips and he took in a deep breath. “I need an older woman, you are way too young for me.”
“I believe that I am actually a tad older than you.”
“In life years, not in love years.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’re on a makin’ up time track in the bedroom department, and I don’t regret that I was the one who put you there, but I canna say I can keep up. You’re insatiable,” he said as he caressed my bottom.
“And that’s not a good thing?”
“It is when you’re twenty. You’re just going to have to be patient.”
“How long do I have to wait?”
“Five minutes, maybe six.”
I laughed and rolled out from under him. Time for a quick shower then.”
When I came back he was sound asleep and such a beautiful picture of peacefulness and serenity that I had to stop and stare in admiration. The man was incredibly sexy in repose, but more than that, the relaxed look on his face and the absolutely boneless way he’d collapsed against the pillows and covers, was a testament to how content he was. I felt as if I was looking at romance, as it should be, and lovemaking as its perfect culmination. As I admired every line of his body and memorized every muscle and every tousled lock of hair, white as well as black, I realized that I was in love with this man. Dear God, what had I gotten myself into?
Chapter Seventeen
Dinner, Dancing, Devilment He didn’t wake in five minutes, six minutes, or even sixty. But a few hours later when we both stirred and moved into each others arms, we realized that we were hungry, famished actually.
“I’m afraid if we shower together it will just delay dinner, so why don’t you go first and I’ll go after,” he said as he grabbed the TV remote and tuned in the local news.
“I won’t be long. Where are we going?”
“Mistral, not far from here. As we’re both leavin’ in the morning I don’t want to miss too much time in bed with you. I’m afraid it will have to last for some time as I canna get off work for a while, the schedule for November is quite full, it’s the cruise ship season, you know, just before the holidays.”
“Maybe I’ll just have to wing my way there.”
“Maybe, nothin’. I’ll be countin’ on it. Now go get yourself presentable,” he said with a pat on my bottom.
While Roman watched the news, I reluctantly scrubbed off his scent and washed my hair, it wasn’t dirty, but after being in bed practically all day my curls had flattened out considerably.
Roman came in to shave while I was blow-drying my hair and I realized how domestic we appeared. Handsome, suave, man of the house, slapping imported aftershave on his smooth cheeks, while cute, perky woman of the house, was teasing, moussing, and scrunching her golden locks. We were a power couple, obviously both affluent. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if we’d met years ago instead of now. Would the attraction still have been there?
I wrapped my arms around him from the back, enjoying the feel of him against my soft sweater. My hands roved over his chest enjoying not just the bulk of him but the textures. I love the crisp curling hairs that define his pecs and then Vee down his abs to his crotch where they collect around his manhood. I ran my hands between us and caressed his butt. He was muscular there too, toned but yet still soft and wonderfully spongy. I squeezed one firm globe while murmuring, “Nice cheeks.”
He spun around and encased me in his arms, his mouth on my neck. “Mmmm, I love the smell of you. And the feel of you.” His hands roved over my own silk-clad butt cheeks and squeezed. Then he lifted me against his erection and rubbed against the front of my trousers. “I’d best stop or I’ll ruin your pants with my excitement of you. You’ve primed me already; I don’t suppose you’d consider room service?”
“I’m hungry, get dressed,” I said as I broke away and left him to his shower. Minutes later he came out toweling his hair and we both watched as the reporter on TV talked to men on the courthouse steps about today’s trial. It was one of the jurors.
“It was the expert witness who turned the tide for me. If he hadn’t documented how shipwrecks move with the currents, I doubt if that pilot would be free tonight. He was actually able to show that the shipwreck in question was resting over two kilometers away just three days earlier. Without X-ray glasses to see to the bottom, you just can’t do better, at least not with the technology on these older ships.”
Roman walked over to the TV and hit the power button.
“You’re a hero.”
“Rubbish. I just canna see a man taking the rap for something that’s not his fault.”
“I thought sonar allowed you to see what was on the ocean floor.”
“Some kinds of sonar. But often the harbor waters are so churned up and filled with so much silt and fuel you can’t get a good reading.”
“So how do you know so much about these shipwrecks?”
“I dive and help keep some of the historical records. After a big storm, we often lose some shipwrecks for weeks at a time. They go rolling along like everythin’else during a hurricane, you just can’t see them floppin’this way and that. It takes divers who care enough to report the changes and document new finds. I don’t do as much diving as I used to. It’s a young man’s game.”
“You’re young. You’re in great shape.”
“Yeah, well, I prefer to expend my energies above sea level these days,” he said as he grazed my hip and led me over to the door. “Eat hearty I have plans for you when we get back.”
We ate. We danced. We drank. We didn’t get to his plans until very, very late. Or very, very early as the case may be. John Legend’s song P.D.A. (We Just Don’t Care) from his Once Again album and Ray LaMontagne’s Till the Sun Turns Black serenaded us from the pub doors as we made our way back to our hotel.
We were both tired when we arrived back at the room and decided we needed a nap. Roman wanted me to sleep with my new jewelry on so I appeased him while he set the clips and then adjusted them. He made me arouse myself while he watched so he could attach the nether clip and we almost didn’t make it to the bed for our nap, except that I’d had too much wine and was quite tipsy and he knew it.
As he held me tightly to his chest and we talked, he occasionally tugged on one of my chains, sending instant heat to my loins. I was sorry the wine had been so good. I heard him whispering about how beautiful the moon looked out our window as I drifted to sleep.
At three thirty I was awakened and led to the window that faced the courtyard. We were on the second floor and set back, so we weren’t visible to anyone. But it was such a beautiful night that Roman thought we needed to enjoy it. We were both naked, except I was still wearing what I was referring to as Roman’s chains. Holding me against his chest and looking out the window to the tropical garden below and the moon above, I felt tiny. He loomed above me—a full head when I’m flatfooted as I was now. With a smile, I remembered when I had first seen Roman on the pilot boat, arms braced on his hips, masterfully in command as he leapt onto my cruise liner. I can hardly believe that the same incredible man is here with me in this hotel room in Charleston, and that he is now in full command of my awakening body. He is caressing my body, running his hands all over me and paying specia
l tribute to my tightly-ruched nipples. His voice is soft and lilting in the dark room as he talks and fondles me. His whiskey-coated voice sounds both far away, and yet near my ear.
“Imagine the slaves being off loaded less than a few blocks from here. And a lady so proper she had to have buttons on her gloves so no one could see her wrists, and flounces added to her dresses so her ankles wouldn’t show. Then imagine her being stripped of all her clothes, every single stitch, and every man on the docks, every man at the slave market, every man who shouldn’t have the right, but did—imagine them all looking at her, eyes honing in on her rosy tipped breasts,” as he held one breast in each palm, he tugged on both nipples, “imagine as their eyes draw lower to her nest of curls.”
He pulled on my nipples again then let his open hand wander down the center of my body, lingering on the gentle swell of my belly as his fingertips grazed my mound. “Imagine all those strangers jostling for the best position to view her. Men up front craning their necks and turning this way and that for just a wee glimpse of her sweet young slit. The bidding begins and as her cheeks burn with shame, tears run down her face. Her hands are cuffed to an iron ring in the wall but she still tries desperately to cover herself. Then a voice booms from the rear, “One thousand pounds!” All heads turn to see the man who has bid such an outrageous sum. It is the captain of the ship who has watched her from afar on this long trip. The auctioneer asks for a second and receiving none pronounces the lovely slave woman his. The captain steps up to the platform and slaps a sheath of paper notes into the auctioneer’s hand, whips off his great coat and wraps it around his new possession. From now on, no other will view her but him. A woman so beautiful that even in her tears she took his breath away. He lifts her into his arms and carries her off the block, down the steps and through the crowd gathered at the slave market and to his carriage.”
Roman stopped talking and I felt his lips kissing my temple while his roving hand breached the cheeks of my ass and his fingers taunted and pressed lightly at my opening.
“Then what?” I ask, totally immersed in the story.
“Then he ravages her, of course.”
“What?”
“He takes her right there in the carriage, hard and fast.”
“No, no, no! That’s not the way it goes.”
“No? What’s your version?”
“He tells her she is the loveliest woman he has ever seen and that he is distressed that so many lowlifes had the privilege of seeing her lovely body, and that from now on, she is his, only his. Then he takes her home to his estate, has his housekeeper bathe her and feed her, then he comes to her in the night, lifts off her nightgown and kisses her breasts until she is senseless with need. Traveling down her body he kisses her everywhere, claiming every inch of her. When he spreads her legs, lifts them to his shoulders and intimately kisses her until she is writhing in ecstasy and calling out his name, he knows he owns her and will forever.”
“That’s okay . . . but I’d probably add that the next day, his brother visits and as a birthday present he shares her.” He said it in such a deadpan voice that I had to laugh. I turned around and smacked him on the shoulder. “I said that he told her that from now on she was his and only his.”
“But this is a twin brother.”
I punched him this time. “So, if you had a brother, you’d like to share me?”
He looked down into my eyes and in a sober voice said, “No, outside of fantasy, I don’t share my women. And you, I would never share. You belong to me.” That said, he spun me around and grabbed the chain between my breasts. Tugging on it gently he caused both of my nipples to react at the same instant. They were hard and long and he drew them out even more as he used the chain to gently pull me across the carpet to the bed. “Let’s practice that scenario you spoke of, the one where the captain spreads your legs, puts them on his shoulders and ravishes your tender sweet flesh.”
“Let’s leave out the brother.”
“Well, yes, as I don’t have one. But if you had a sister . . .”
I did not have time to reply. His fist opened and he released the chains and hence my nipples. With the same hand he pushed me back onto the bed and before I had even bounced, his hands gripped my ankles and lifted them to his shoulders.
While his tongue laved, his fingertips unscrewed the clip around my clitoris and then I was sucked into his mouth. I fractured almost instantly. I was that sweet young woman with the captain’s mouth memorizing her for one amazing moment before I careened into a velvet darkness that engulfed me.
“You tell amazing stories.”
“I’m Irish—the storyteller is in me for sure.” “Erotic ones?”
“I found it vera helpful to walk a few virgins through
their debauchment with a fairytale gone awry, so to speak.” “Virgins! How old were they?”
“Oh, fifteen, sixteen.”
“Fifteen! Sixteen!”
“Hey, I was only sixteen meself. But a randy man I
was after Belinda, my winsome first. She was my teacher,” he said fondly as if remembering.
“Teacher!”
“Yeah, anatomy, if you can believe that. I learned a lot from Miss Belinda.”
“I’ll just bet you did.”
“Don’t complain, you are reapin’ the benefits of Belinda and the luvly virgins of my youth.”
“And your erotic fairytales. Tell me again, why were they necessary?”
“Well, the virgins are much too scared to enjoy the physical part of love making the first time, so the stories, they help relax the mind. And as you very well know, being a woman yourself, it’s the mind of a woman you have to conquer in order to own her body.” He gathered me in his arms and kissed me senseless.
“Hail the conquering hero,” I whispered as I insinuated my hand between us and found his erection rock hard.
“Indeed,” he whispered against my throat as he took the chain that was still between my breasts in his teeth and tugged. I felt his hand between my thighs preparing me for him and then I was on my back, my legs folded back against my chest. Propping himself high on his arms he entered me and shoved into me over and over again until I was clawing at his back trying to draw him closer. I was so close to coming when he pulled out saying, “Let’s try something new.”
I was hiked even higher and then I felt his prick make contact with my nether hole. “I don’t think . . .” was all I managed to say before I was breached.
“Ah, taking a woman like the pirates,” he whispered against my neck. And then as soon as he was sure I was accustomed, he plunged in deeper. It was the strangest, yet most erotic feeling, him being there. “You’re not ready for the full show, but here, how’s this?” With his thumb he circled my clit while easing and pressing back in just slightly. I came as I looked into his eyes and felt him grow inside me.
”Mine,” he whispered, and he ejaculated into me as I convulsed about him. I had never known, never even thought . . .
“Ah, another virgin bites the dust,” he said moments later against my throat as he lifted himself off me.
I could only sigh as my legs were lowered and he eased away. How could a woman have a seven-year affair, spend many years married, yet never know this kind of bliss? Granted Roman was European and that counted for some very different “techniques” but really, I had never felt this satisfied with anyone else. I was down-to-the-bone weary, but happy in a way I hadn’t known I could ever be. It was because we were all about pleasure I told myself, no machinations to make this permanent, no aspirations for long-term commitments. We were all about the physical, the sensual.
I watched Roman walk out of the bathroom and slide into the bed beside me. As he gathered me into his arms and pulled me into his chest, I gave a great satisfied sigh. “You sound like you’re done, finally. Did I actually manage to satisfy you?”
In the dark I whispered back to him. “I haven’t the words for what you did to me.”
“How abo
ut again?”
“How about in the morning?”
He chuckled, “I believe I actually did finally conquer you.”
In more ways than you know, I said to myself, just before drifting off to a deep, well-earned slumber.
Chapter Eighteen
Parting is such sweet sorrow We didn’t wake up until we heard the knock on the door signaling that room service was here with breakfast. Roman muttered something unintelligible, rolled off the bed and as he ran his fingers through his thick tousled hair he rummaged on the floor for his robe. Finding it, he managed to get his arms through it, belt it and open the door. I saw him grab some money from his money clip by the TV to use as a tip, then as soon as the door closed behind the server, he plopped back down onto the bed and groaned, “Surely ‘tis not mornin’ yet?”
Had it not been such a rainy, dreary morning, the sun might have woken us a bit sooner, but the combination of the lulling ocean on one side and tires sloshing on wet pavement on the other had continued to lull us into blissful slumber.
“We had a very late night and the absence of sun is not helping.” He rolled over and pulled me into him. I tangled my feet with his and luxuriated in the warmth radiating from him. “I dinna want to get up.”
“You have to; you have a plane to catch.” “I want to stay in bed with you.”
“You canna,” I said mimicking his accent. He tweaked my nose and turned my head so he could
breathe in my ear. “There was nothing you said ‘I canna’ to last night.” His breath fanning the side of my face caused me to tingle.
“You were quite . . .”
“Impressive? Innovative? Large,” he filled in. I laughed, “Why do men need to hear that?” “What?”
“That they are large, huge, gargantuan even.” “Well, which one was I?”
“Adequate,” I said with a smile.
“Adequate! I am far more than adequate,” he rolled
me over and smacked me on my bottom. “You must be punished for lying.” “Okay, okay, you were more than adequate. Much more . . .” I flipped back and slid out from under him and ran to the bathroom. “Don’t drink all the coffee,” I hollered over my shoulder as I closed the door behind me.
The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley Page 13
