by Rian Monaire
“Hi.”
Well, not the Gettysburg address, but a start.
He nodded, a tilted smile gracing his lips. “You look gorgeous.”
She could feel the heat flood her face and opened her mouth to rebut. He raised a hand. “Don’t say it. You are. Deal with it.” He took her arm, leading her toward a lovely, white-clothed table graced by a single red rose. Pulling her chair out with a flourish, he gently eased her down. He seated himself across the table, then picked up the long-stemmed rose.
Brushing it lightly on her cheek, he moved it slowly until it rested on her lips. She inhaled the scent and took the flower. “Thank you. For both the compliment and the rose.”
“You’re very welcome.” He smiled, then picked up the parchment menu.
The evening passed with much conversation and laughter. Laura couldn’t help thinking, even as they joked like old friends, about what Lala had said. Should she? How? Did you just ask, hey, I have an empty room and a babysitter, you want to? Seemed like it would take all the spontaneity out of it. And the mood. But how did you know? It had been a long time.
He was eyeing her quizzically. She must have been supposed to say something. Oops.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, brows raised.
Heck no, the content of my thoughts makes me a prostitute, she thought inanely, and then spent a few more precious seconds questioning her sanity.
“Just my mind wandering. Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous.”
He laughed. “If you’re worrying about sex, it’s ok, I can take it slow.”
“But we only have four more days. How slow can it be taken?”
This time it was an all-out guffaw. How piratical. “We have all the time in the world. I had an idea you didn’t recognize me.”
Only then did it occur to her that not once did she ask his name. You’d think that would have come up. “Recognize you?”
“The facial hair probably tripped you up. See, I signed with a temp business…they send us all over the place to play characters. But my home base is Pickford Elementary.”
“My daughter’s school.”
He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Mr. Kendrick, but you can call me Aaron.”
She sat in shock for a moment, then laughed and shook his hand. “The drama club supervisor. Fey took a summer workshop with you.”
“Right. And I was most taken by her mother.”
Now it came back to her. His hair had been a little shorter and the goatee missing, but the eyes had been the same. She had noticed him, but in the vague, passing way she noticed all good-looking men: as a pretty object she couldn’t afford. Like a Fabergé egg.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You think you hold the patent on shy? I’m not good at that sort of thing. Why do you think I like to play characters so much? I can be free.”
“How can you perform if you’re shy? You seem so outgoing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “My theory is there are two kinds of shy people. Shy people who hide quietly and try to disappear, and shy people who are loud and obnoxious in order to compensate.”
“And you are the latter.”
“Correct. Now, about taking it slow… I reiterate my position. I’m fine with it.”
Laura sat for a minute, thinking, her head lowering as she stared at her hands in her lap, nervously pleating the silky black fabric. And decided on honesty.
“I’m willing to give it a try.”
Chapter Four
Laura and Aaron sat on the bed in Lala’s room. After checking in on Fey, they had ventured here. Lala had apparently summoned housekeeping. The bed was freshly made, and scattered with rose petals. A bottle of iced champagne rested on the nightstand, with two glasses, and a bowl of strawberries next to it. Laura wasn’t sure what to think. She looked up at the very same moment Aaron did—and they both burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry—I’m sure she meant well—but she did everything but hang out a sign reading ‘Please put every romantic cliché in here that you can, please, I want my friend to get lucky’.” Laura choked out.
“Maybe she did, who knows?”
That set her off again. She fell back on the rose petals hard, and several fluttered upward, landing on her face.
He lay down next to her, fighting his own chuckles. “They do have a nice scent.”
He lowered his head, his lips inches from her temple. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like laughing anymore. She had been feeling the shimmer of tension all along, and with his close proximity, her earlier feelings faded to gossamer with the introduction of her current sensation.
He blew gently at one of the petals on her face, pushing it off. Then he nuzzled her cheek, his breath feathering over her flushed skin like a balm. “Oh, I see. It’s not the roses at all.”
Now, if I was writing this scene, she would… Laura turned her head, catching his lips with hers. Her belly tightened with a combination of pleasure and fear, both emotions sharing equal billing. Their lips moved delicately together, not wetly, but gentle and smooth. They were the only parts of their bodies that touched, but every synapse rang with the sweet tang of passion.
Fear began to dwindle, and she came to realize that he had spoken the truth. He was leaving it up to her where this would lead. She could be brave, she could take.
She could feel. Like Lala had said. Feeling anything was new for her, too. To feel sensations caused by something other than her own imagination, and her own touch. She reached out tentatively to stroke his hair, hooking a strand around her finger.
She could feel his body tense, sense the restraint. It was powerful. She had done that. Excited him.
She let her lips part slowly, as her heroines did, and he responded on cue, gently probing her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She stroked it with hers, drawing inward, and coaxing a moan from him. Her body tightened, drawn into the sensation. Tentatively he reached for her, his palm resting gently on her hip and the kiss deepened. Every move was slow and gentle, as if they were both untried teens just learning physical love.
He moved to the low neckline of her gown, slipping a hand inside. She tensed, and he moved as if to withdraw, but she shot a hand to his wrist, holding him there. “It’s all right. I’m just a little jumpy.”
A chuckle. “I know the feeling.” He cupped the smooth flesh, finding a nipple.
Ohhhhhhh…
Her body flexed, every muscle focused on that gentle motion on her nub of flesh. Heat spiraled in the folds between her legs, and a trickle of heat dampened the silk of her panties. It had been so long since she had felt the warmth of a touch there. Her response both surprised and pleased her, then coherent thought fled.
Pushing her neckline aside, he replaced the fingertip with his lips, then his tongue. Her hips jerked involuntarily, and the sensation grew. Encouraged, he sucked more strongly. She moved her hips in tandem, the fabric of her panties moving across the dampening flesh, and suddenly she cried out with her sudden culmination.
He paused, resting his cheek on her breasts as she stroked her fingers through his hair. “Do you want to stop?” His voice was quiet.
She couldn’t speak, but shook her head, no. No, she didn’t want this to stop. Never.
He rose from the bed, removing his jacket, then his shirt, then sat beside her. She reached out to touch his skin, sleek, almost barren of hair. At her first touch, he sighed and arched his neck, leaning into it. She gently ran her nails over his throat, and down to an erect male nipple.
She ran her thumbnail over it, and was pleased by his reaction, the power that rose within her. She reached for the button on his slacks, and got nervous again. Darn it.
“It’s ok,” He whispered. “Take your time.”
She sat up, and reached behind her for the zipper on her dress. He moved off the bed, and she stood up. “Can you turn off the lights?”
He frowned. “Are we getting back to insecurities again?”
/> She stopped mid-unzip. “Maybe. I’d just feel better.”
He leaned over, shutting off the table lamp. There was a faint glow of moonlight from the balcony doors, but otherwise dark. She unzipped the rest of the way, letting the dress slide to her feet, and stepped out of it.
Now, unfastening his pants was ok. Now she wanted to. They joined her dress on the floor, soon followed by her bra, panties, and hose.
They found the bed in the faint moon glow and wrapped around each other, their kisses no longer gentle. She found him in the dark, rubbing his shaft, enjoying the soft skin, the moisture beading from its tip.
He returned the favor, sliding one finger into her moist heat while his thumb stroked her clit. She could feel those ripples inside, those muscles tightening, building, consuming her mind until she had to feel him, had to have peace.
He moved away, and she heard the crackle of plastic. Wow, never even crossed her mind.
He moved over her, positioning his cock, She knew what he was waiting for…a signal from her. She mindlessly responded, locking her heels behind his thighs and pulling him forward. He moved with her, gently probing into a tightness long unawakened. Once he was fully within her, he began to move.
Her thigh muscles locked, and she began to move her hips in tandem. The base of his hardness rubbed her clit, and her movements increased the fantastic sensation. He slowed his thrusts, allowing her to savor the deep plunging of his cock, the excitation as he slid within her sensitive folds.
He pulled upright slightly, slipping a hand between their joined bodies, his finger finding her clit as his easy thrusts drove her to writhe in madness beneath his onslaught.
Just as she felt herself moving over the edge, he shuddered, releasing his seed into the condom as his hands moved to her ass, gripping the clenching flesh. His final wild thrusts completed her, and she clung to him, writhing helplessly as she gasped out her pleasure.
‘
Epilogue
His head lowered, inhaling her feminine scent. His tongue extended to taste of her nectar, her hips lifting to meet him. His practiced motions soon had her writhing beneath him, wailing her passion to the skies. His tongue teased her nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, then slowing when he felt she was on the edge. She begged him, pleaded for release, but he continued to tease.
Finally, just when she thought she would surely die if he didn’t stop, his hands slid under her ass, lifting her to his mouth, and his lips closed on her clit, sucking hard.
Her sweet orgasm burst through her, a pollen-like mist twisting through every synapse. He moved to hold her close, rejoicing in her intensity, stroking her clit to prolong the sensation. She trembled violently, the pleasure beyond that of anything she had ever known before.
As her shudders eased, he whispered in her ear, “You are my love. My soul begs for you, cries your name. I will give you my heart, and my name. You, my…”
“Mommy!”
Laura snapped out of her written world and back to her much smaller one. “What, baby?”
“When are we going to the park tomorrow?”
“Noon. Now go to sleep.”
“Mommy?”
“What?”
“I like Aaron.”
“Me too. Now get some sleep, or you’ll be too tired to play tomorrow.”
“Ok, Mommy.”
Once again, out of Diet Coke. Forget it. I’ll drink a regular one. Who am I fooling, anyway?
“Mommy?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Now go to sleep.”
Ok, where was I. Ah, yes. Soul begging, crying name, blah blah blah. Ok, to get back into the mindset…
The phone rang.
If that’s a telemarketer, there will be hell to pay.
Laura hauled herself out of her desk chair and peered at the caller id panel. Ah. No one will die tonight.
“Hi, Aaron.”
He sighed, the sound tickling her. It was only then she realized how tightly the phone was pressed against her ear. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
“Me neither,” she agreed.
“No, I literally can’t wait. Can I come over?”
Laura tensed. “I don’t know if Fey’s ready for that yet. She likes you, but…”
He laughed. “I’m not asking to spend the night. Just to stop in and talk for a while. I promise I’ll be good.”
She smiled into the receiver, hoping it would show in her voice. “Well, if you promise…though I better get the handcuffs just in case.”
A pause, then “Hmm…maybe I’m not the one who needs to promise to behave. I keep forgetting what you do for a living.”
She laughed outright. “Only if my editor says it’s all right.”
“On that note, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting…pirate.”
He clicked off quickly, and the residue of her laughter relaxed into a grin. Errol Flynn he may not be, but he could board her sloop anytime.
She shook off her inanities and raced to change her clothes.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rian Monaire was born in Turners Falls, Massachusetts, forced into existence by Stef Kelsey’s husband and mother, who felt it was time her talents were utilized. Rian fought hard, but her efforts were futile. She then decided, “Well, they can bring me into this world, but I don’t have to be nice.” This launched her into her career of obnoxiousness and sarcasm...and, of course, writing erotica.
