He laughed. “Come on, I mean it. Imagine I’m a dying man and it’s my last wish.”
“Um…” She hesitated, embarrassed, excited, and turned on all at the same time. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” His eyelids lowered to half mast, his look sexy and gentle at the same time. “I’d say I want to pleasure you with my tongue, but that doesn’t come close to expressing how selfish I am. I want to taste you. I want to slide my tongue inside you and suck your clit and feel it swell on my tongue. I want it more than coffee and breakfast, which is saying something. So please, grant my wish.”
“Okay,” she said shyly.
She lifted up and leaned over him, taking time to kiss him first, loving the lazy slide of his hands over her warmed, sensitive skin. He bent his head to her breasts and sucked each nipple in turn, and eventually she relented and gave him what he wanted.
Lifting a knee across him, feeling his hands caress her bottom, she lowered onto his mouth.
He gave a long purr of contentment, and then she felt his tongue slip through her folds.
“Ohhh…” She leaned on the headboard, widened her knees, and closed her eyes. This was a little slice of heaven, pure bliss, and she sucked her bottom lip and tipped her face up to the sunlight that streamed through the high window above the bed.
Aaron licked her leisurely, taking the time to explore her, his fingers joining his tongue to part her folds and give him better access. He slid his tongue inside her, lapping, tasting, then licked up to her clit, which he began to tease with the tip.
She couldn’t stop her hips rotating, giving little involuntary thrusts, loving the way pleasure spread slowly through her. His hands skated over her skin, stroking, brushing, down her back and her thighs, up her ribs, then cupping her breasts, where he took her now-soft nipples in his fingers and plucked them once again until they were pebble-hard. She looked down at them, finding the sight of him skillfully teasing them almost as erotic as the touch itself, and couldn’t stop a low moan escaping her lips as she closed her eyes again.
Her body was tensing, tightening of its own accord, and he must have felt it because he slowed his tongue to make long, sweeping licks right the way beneath her, drawing out her pleasure until she teetered on the edge of an orgasm, breaths away from ecstasy.
He stopped and blew warm air onto her sensitive skin, and she shuddered, the ache within her belly so powerful that she thought she might have come anyway, even without him touching her. But she didn’t have a chance to find out, because he covered her clit with his mouth and sucked gently. Bathed in the warm sun, she let the climax sweep over her, as sweet and sexy and fulfilling as the Tiramisu of the night before.
Aaron’s strong forearm pressed across her thighs, holding her in place until she’d finished. When the last pulse died away and she gave a long, happy sigh, he released her, and she lifted off him just enough so she could shuffle down and straddle his body.
Maneuvering herself until she felt the tip of his erection part her folds, she rotated her hips until it felt right and then pushed down, feeling him slide all the way to the top.
Aaron closed his eyes, digging his fingers into her hips. After a long moment during which he appeared to be holding his breath and fighting for control, he opened his eyes, gave her a wry look, and flicked his fingers up for her to get off. “Condom,” he said.
“Oops. Sorry.” She lifted off him. “I got carried away in the moment.” She remembered his comment about the one in his wallet being a few years old. “Do you have another one? Please say you have another one.”
He leaned over and opened the drawer of his bedside table. “Bought some last night in the shop, thank Christ.” He swiftly retrieved one, and opened the packet.
“Let me.” Bridget took it from him, then stroked his erection a few times, enjoying the feel of his hard length in her hand.
He covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. “Bridget…”
“All right,” she teased. She rolled it on, moved up, and let him slide inside her again.
He pushed up, pulled back a little to lubricate the condom, then pushed all the way in. She sat back and for a moment just enjoyed the sensation of being filled and stretched. “Oh that feels good.” She rocked her hips. “It feels fantastic.” Unbelievably, even though she’d only just come, as she clenched her internal muscles she knew another orgasm wasn’t far away.
He groaned. “Fucking hell, Bridget, have pity.”
“What?” she asked innocently, clenching again. “Do you like that?”
He gritted his teeth and covered his face, and she laughed, caught his hands in hers, and pinned them above his head. “You feel divine,” she whispered, starting to rock her hips with purpose. He looked amazing with his bulging biceps and powerful shoulders—he was a fine figure of a man, and she couldn’t believe she was this lucky to have him in her bed.
“Ohhh… You too.” He blinked super slowly, his gaze as it slipped down her as hot as the sun on her skin. He admired the movement of her breasts as she thrust, then looked down to watch himself sliding in and out of her.
“I love the way you look at me,” she whispered. “Like I’m beautiful.”
“You are beautiful. You look like the statue of a Greek goddess in a sunlit garden. Your skin is so pale, and it’s got this rosy glow in the sun…” He wrested his hands free of hers and cupped her breasts. “I love the way these move. They’re fucking marvelous.” He plucked at the soft tips and groaned when they tightened. “Jesus, that turns me on.”
“Turns you on?” She was almost panting now, and she dropped a hand between them so she could circle a finger over her clit. Aaron watched her, his lips curving up, clearly enjoying the show, so she gave herself over to the feelings rising inside her. Her folds were swollen and slippery, her clit tender to the touch.
“I’m going to come again,” she whispered, feeling the approach of another orgasm, and Aaron’s eyes lit with pleasure.
“Yes,” he said approvingly, so she gave in to it, gasping with each beautiful, powerful pulse.
Even before the last one had claimed her, she felt his arms circle her waist and he reared up, flipping her onto her back. Her body still pulsing around him, she gasped and raised her arms above her head as he began to thrust with intent, driving harder and deeper into her soft flesh with each push of his hips.
“Oh my God, Aaron…” She clung hold of him, her world spinning, watching with warm delight as his climax took him. His body turned to rock above her, every muscle tightening, and then he cried out and shuddered, swelling and pulsing inside her. An after-orgasm rippled through her, almost as pleasurable as the first one, and by the time he gasped and collapsed on top of her, she couldn’t do anything but lie there limply, exhausted and sated.
Chapter Seventeen
Aaron cooked them bacon and eggs, and they sat at his kitchen table and ate, talking about what they were going to do during the day, occasionally exchanging a smile as an image sprang into their minds of what they’d done that morning.
He’d wondered whether he’d regret his impulsiveness in asking Bridget to spend the night with him, but so far it had been one of the best decisions he’d made in his life. Occasionally her gaze drifted out of the window as she obviously thought about Wellington and what she was going to return to there, but when her gaze came back to him, it was always full of smiles.
She had a playful sense of humor that he adored. With Nita’s first language being Spanish, she’d often missed innuendo or quips he’d made, and it was a delight to be with someone who laughed readily at nearly everything he said, and who returned his jokes with a ready wit of her own.
It was Joe’s turn to hold the Saturday morning clinic, so Aaron had the weekend to himself, unless any emergencies came along. Usually, he would have taken the dogs and gone out on the boat, but he was more than happy to sacrifice his fishing time to show Bridget some of the local scenery.
After taking Tycho and Kepler for a long walk
on the beach, he settled them in their kennels in the garden, locked up the house, and then they left in the car. First he drove them back to the Opua ferry and crossed to the mainland, and then he took her up to Waitangi, where the Treaty had been signed back in 1842.
They wandered around the exhibits, then visited the Waitangi marae or meeting house to admire the carvings of ancient Maori gods.
“You’re supposed to think about your ancestors here,” Aaron murmured as they padded across the wooden floor. “My grandparents were from England. They came over looking for adventure. I sometimes wonder what it must be like, to just up and leave your place of birth and travel somewhere new.” It didn’t always work, of course—it hadn’t for Nita, anyway. In spite of having Mateo, he supposed she must have regretted coming to New Zealand on holiday. The thought made him sad.
They wandered outside, into the bright spring sunshine, put their shoes back on, and headed across the large lawn to where the view of the Bay of Islands lay spread out before them, the Pacific sparkling in the sun.
“What about you?” Aaron asked, holding out a hand as they walked down to the beach where the English had first landed over one-hundred-and-fifty years ago. “Where did your family originate from?”
She slid her hand into his. “I don’t know. England as well, I think, although I seem to remember Hitch saying one of our grandparents was Irish. It’s not something you think about when you’re young, and by the time I was interested in my heritage, my parents had both died.”
“Do you mind talking about them?”
“No. I like it. I don’t usually get a chance—it makes Hitch sad, so we don’t tend to talk about them much.”
“Tell me about them then. What was your dad’s name?”
“Martin. He died when I was ten, from an accident at work. He was a builder, and he fell from some scaffolding. He was in a coma for about a month, and in the end they took him off life support.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. It broke my mother’s heart. I can remember going in to say goodbye and being frightened. It didn’t look like my dad lying there. He’d lost a lot of weight, and he was deathly white. He had all these tubes coming out of him. Mum wanted me to kiss him goodbye, and I didn’t want to. She got quite upset about that.”
Aaron didn’t want to bring back too many bad memories for her. “What was he like when he was alive? Do you have many nice memories?”
“Oh yes. He was a lot like Hitch—a big guy, down to earth, practical. Good with his hands. He used to play rugby with us in the garden. He was the one who bought Hitch his first camera and encouraged him to take photos of the animals and insects in the forest he took us to occasionally. He liked that I could play the piano and used to get me to play to him in the evenings.”
“You play the piano? Are you any good?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I was. I haven’t played since my mother died, so I’m hugely out of practice.”
Aaron steered her down the hill toward the waka or Maori canoe displayed in a shed at the bottom. “Tell me about her.”
“Her name was Catherine—Cathy. Before Dad died, she was very bright and bubbly, always cheerful.”
“Like you.” He smiled.
Her eyebrows rose. “I suppose. Never thought of it before. Anyway, she was a very good cook and loved to bake cakes and muffins. Every time I smell baking—cakes or bread—it takes me back to my childhood. But when Dad died, she changed completely. It broke her, and I’m sure that’s why she developed cancer.”
“Breast?”
“Yeah. I’m convinced that physical health is closely linked to mental health. She just didn’t want to go on living without him, and she had no fight in her when she became ill.”
“What happened when she died? Where did you live?”
“With Hitch. He nursed her when she got sick and looked after her until she died. He was eighteen then, and he applied to become my guardian. He was an absolute rock. He worked while I was at school and then looked after me in the evenings when he should have been at university or out with his mates living it up. He saved every penny he could so he could send us both to university when I turned eighteen. He was like a father to me, so it’s not surprising he’s a bit over-protective.”
Aaron thought of Hitch’s demanding questions on the phone, and his obvious worry about his sister. At the time he’d thought it touching—now it filled him with a deep respect for the guy.
“Do you still live in the family home?” he asked.
“No. Hitch sold that so we had some money in the bank. I’ve rented a smallish apartment since I left university. I have to move out when I get back—I was going to move in with Mal, but I guess I’ll have to find another place now.”
“You can’t move in with Hitch?”
“He lives with Rowan. I know they’d offer me a room if I needed it, but I wouldn’t want to play gooseberry.” She pulled a face.
Aaron smiled, stepped down from the grass onto the beach and held out a hand to steady her as she followed him.
“This is beautiful,” she said, shading her eyes as she looked out to sea. “I can see why you love it here.”
“It’s wonderful. I miss it when I’m in Wellington. I don’t miss the city when I’m here though.” He laughed. “I’m hungry, I don’t know about you. I thought we’d go to a vineyard I know outside Russell—what do you think?”
“Sounds great.”
So they returned to the car, and he drove them back to the ferry, crossed to the peninsula, then drove up a steep hill and over a mile or so of gravel road to a high spit of land that overlooked the bay. The vineyard stretched down the hill almost to the sea, rows and rows of tiny grapes that wouldn’t be picked until February or March. At the top was a small collection of brick buildings that looked vaguely Mediterranean, with terracotta tiles on the floor and cream walls, the round tables and chairs spilling out onto a patio that overlooked the vineyard.
Aaron ordered a couple of platters—one of seafood, one of breads and cheeses—and two glasses of the vineyard’s own Sauvignon, and they took a table outside, a blue umbrella shading them from the bright sun.
“Tell me about your family,” Bridget said as she sipped her wine. “I don’t know anything about them. Are they both alive?”
“Oh yes, very much so. Dad—William—is a vet too, retired now, but sometimes he helps out at the surgery, and Joe occasionally calls him in when I’m in Wellington. He’s a solid bloke—although he’s from England, he’s very much a Kiwi now, practical, dependable. He came over here when travelling with a mate when he was twenty, met my mum, fell in love, and married her.”
“How romantic.” She leaned on the table, her chin in her hands. “What’s she like?”
“Her name’s Clara. She’s a lawyer. My sister, Fran, has recently had her third baby, and my mum’s in her element, and helps out there a lot. She misses Mateo.” He looked away, out at the boats heading into the open waters. Whenever Mateo came up to stay, Aaron’s mother always had to fight against tears when it was time for her grandson to return.
“Strange how you also married someone who came here on holiday,” Bridget remarked.
“Yeah. I’ve sometimes wondered whether that’s one reason why I proposed, because my parents are very happy in their marriage, and I thought if I did the same thing, it was obviously going to work.”
“I know what you mean. My parents met at eighteen and my father was the only guy my mother ever dated. I’ve wondered whether that’s why I stayed with Mal for so long—because I would have felt I’d failed if we broke up.”
She leaned back as the waiter brought over their platters. “Ooh, lovely.”
Aaron had to agree—the food had been beautifully presented, and his mouth watered at the sight of the plump prawns, the blue cheese, and the thick chunks of bread.
“That can’t have been the only reason why you stayed with him,” he said, smoothing a spoonful of hummus onto the bread and p
lacing a big chunk of the cheese on top of it before taking a bite. “I know it must make it easier to think it was all a mistake—I’ve been there, done that. It’s less hurtful somehow to think you were blind and it was all terrible than to think about how you loved someone maybe more than they loved you.”
She slowly took the shell off a prawn. “Is that how you feel? Did you love Nita more than she loved you?”
He sighed and stuck a fork into a scallop, dipping it into a small dish of sauce. “I don’t know. We had a very… intense relationship, I suppose you could call it, for a few years. I was ecstatic that I’d found the girl of my dreams. I thought it would be like that forever. But it was like a piece of land jutting out into the ocean that was slowly eroded by the waves. After those early years, especially after Mat was born, everything fell to pieces.”
“If she’d been happy living here, though, you think you’d still be together?”
He thought about it as he sipped his wine. “Maybe. Once I would have said yes. Now I think that’s more wishful thinking. At root, we are quite different people, with vastly different interests. We have little in common, other than our son. That’s not necessarily a problem in a relationship, but I know the view I had of us in the early days was more in my head than a reality. Does that make sense?”
She nodded, cutting off a slice of Brie cheese and placing it on a piece of bread. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to a dish of a bright purple dip.
“Beetroot, I’m guessing. It’s nice.”
“Cool.” She smeared a spoonful onto the cheese and took a bite. “Mmm. Anyway, yes, that does make sense. I feel the same way about Mal. Like you, we were quite intense in the early years. He was my first. I thought I’d found Mr. Right, and I was prepared to work hard to keep him. Mum had once told me that marriage takes hard work—even a good marriage like hers—and that it was important to compromise sometimes, and to work through arguments. So that’s what I did. Except it was always me who compromised, and usually me who gave in when we argued. I just assumed that’s what happened. Now, I know better.”
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 13
