by Dara Joy
He had carried her to the bed, actually carried her to the bed!
Her toes wiggled.
Hunter's knee wedged between her flannel-clad legs. He rubbed his thigh back and forth in a suggestive slide, inching higher and higher. The flannel of her gown pulled taut with his erotic motions and she gasped into his mouth.
How could she come to her senses when he wasn't giving her time to think?
One of his hands moved to the front of her gown and he cupped her breast, flicking his thumb slowly back and forth across the flannel-covered nipple. It hardened instantly.
He covered the jutting peak with his mouth, capturing it with his teeth.
When May felt the damp heat of his mouth through the material, a strangled sob seem to escape from her throat. Without thinking, she sank her fingers in the rich thickness of his mahogany hair. Drawing him closer.
He began to unbutton the front placket of her gown.
The feel of the tips of his fingers against the soft skin of her breast suddenly made May realize what she was doing. “Hunter,” she choked, “what— what are we doing?”
Hunter paused. She was starting to balk. Now what? Time out for following the directions, he realized.
“You feel this, sweetheart?” He spoke against her lips as he stroked his fingers around her breast.
May closed her eyes and nodded.
“I'm stroking my hand against your velvet skin— here. And here.” He brushed her lips with his mouth. “Does it feel good?” he whispered.
“Yes… oh, yes, Hunter, it does,” she whispered back breathlessly.
Hmmm… it seemed to be working. “Do you know what I'm going to do next?”
She watched him, eyes open wide. Slowly she shook her head, indicating she had no idea.
“I'm going to dip my hot tongue into your luscious mouth and then… ” He paused purposely.
May swallowed. My god, the man was dangerous. And he was very good with dialogue. “And then?” she asked faintly.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a roguish grin. “And then, lovely May, I'm going to drink.”
She gasped, lips parting, and Hunter did exactly as he said he would. He delved into her. And drank. May writhed beneath him, caught up in the sensual storm he was creating.
He reached down and methodically lifted her nightgown inch by inch up and over her head. She wore nothing underneath. When the entire six-foot length of his flesh pressed against her, heavy and hot, she sighed into his mouth.
Hunter ran the palms of his hands over the curves of her body, marveling at how exquisite the touch of her skin was. He hadn't stopped to get a thorough look, but he had seen enough.
May was beautiful.
He expected she would be because… well, she had had that effect on him right from the beginning. In his eyes, she would always be beautiful.
He took her breast into his mouth and she arched up against him, a small, sexy moan of pleasure escaping her lips. The feminine sound shook him to his core.
“Hunter!”
“Easy, May… I'm just tasting you.” He rolled his tongue around the jutting peak. “And teasing you.” He flicked the nubbin several times, causing her to clutch at his shoulders.
“And taking you inside the burning dampness of my fiery mouth so I can draw on you with an untold hunger,” he improvised.
May blinked. An untold hunger? That line needed a good editor. But then he drew on her voraciously, and in the next instant she didn't care what he was saying.
It was what he was doing that held her interest. And what he was doing was sending her over the roof. His hands were caressing her and molding her. Stroking and rubbing and stirring her up with each delicious sweep of his fingers.
Her palms found their way down his contoured back and of their own accord slipped under the elastic band of his shorts.
But no further.
May suddenly comprehended that there was only the thin silk of his boxers between the two of them.
And that item of clothing had a convenient slit in it.
May swallowed nervously. She couldn't do this! There was a very good reason why she couldn't do this. Suddenly scared, she desperately searched her brain for an excuse, any excuse that would…
She had it.
Grabbing a hank of his thick hair, she pulled his head up. Glazed silvery eyes tried to focus on her. “We can't do this, Hunter.”
He stared at her, frozen to the spot. Then he nodded, as if he understood what she was saying. “It's okay— I'll deal with the fact that you're a writer.”
May's eyes darkened. “No, you numbskull! I'm not talking about that. I mean we can't do this because we don't have… protection.” There. That seemed an excellent reason. The best reason. She was very proud of herself.
Dazed, Hunter paused, his kiss-swollen lips parting a little.
The poor thing.
Then a slow, calculating smile creased his passion-etched face. She did not like that look. “What are you smiling for? Didn't you hear me? We have to stop and I—”
“May.”
She stopped speaking to stare up at him.
“Don't you want to feel the driving thrust of my steely manhood between the petals of your tender femininity as I masterfully take you to a place where only the angels dwell?”
This he rasped in that perfected husky murmur of his.
“That is, until we float back down from the stars to the safe cushion of our entwined bodies.”
Her face flamed. In some strange way she couldn't define, his words were having the oddest effect on her. It was as if… No.
In any case— despite the rather enticing image his words provoked— they could not go on.
Hunter didn't seem to share her opinion. Taking her silence (and flushed face) as interest, he winked rakishly at her.
Furthermore, the silk shorts were quickly dispensed with.
“Hunter!”
A whoosh of cold air crossed her body as he jumped off the bed. May got a brief flash of something rather… robust, before she was presented with his backside as he headed toward the bathroom.
Her sweat pants hadn't lied— Hunter's bulge was nothing less than impressive. His buns weren't bad, either, she clinically noted as he strutted through the door. Not bad at-all…
Realizing she was lying on the bed buck naked, she dived under the covers. Then began to wring her hands. Was that it? Was he just… leaving?
Or was he coming back?
May didn't know whether to exhale or take a deep breath.
She soon found that Hunter was coming back.
And in his hands were dozens of foil packages. She decided to take a deep breath. Her brilliant excuse had just gone out the window. “Where did you get those?” she gasped.
He grinned at her. “Good ole Billy— your neighbor.”
“Billy?” This was more bizarre than she thought. She cocked her head sideways, trying to come to terms with the idea. “He's in his sixties! At least.”
Hunter snorted. “So what?”
May plucked at the quilt. “Well, I just thought… men that old didn't… I mean.… ”
“You thought wrong. My uncle is seventy-three and he's still pounding his—” He stopped, realizing what he was saying. C. Hunter Douglas turned bright red. “Ah.… sorry.”
Her lips twitched. He really was adorable. The perfect combination of boyish charm and predatory “hunkiness.” She sighed demurely.
Unfortunately, her nice thoughts of him shifted to apprehension when he tossed the mound of packets onto the bedside table.
She swallowed. There were hundreds of the little buggers. “You— you're being overly optimistic, don't you think?”
“Nope.” He lifted the quilt and climbed into bed.
Before she had time to think of something to say, he scooped her in his arms and rolled on top of her, his lips taking hers in swift possession.
Caught in her own sensuality, May succumbed to his passion— until he
began gently to probe between her thighs with his erection, trying to get her to unlock her legs.
“Open for me, honey,” He whispered the sweet words against her mouth, and if anything was ever more perfectly done in her life, she hadn't known about it. Still…
The wispy words rushed out. “Oh, Hunter, it's been… such a long time and—”
“Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll be careful.”
May unlocked her legs— a little— and squeezed her eyes shut.
What was this all about? Hunter wondered. Since she had only spread her legs the smallest space, he had to wedge himself in there bit by bit until she finally opened her thighs all the way for him.
Hunter pressed forward slightly.
She was very tight. A little bit more…
He felt the barrier.
Astonished, he looked down at the woman beneath him. Her face was drawn up anxiously and she was biting her bottom lip.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, his lips twitched. Does she think I can't tell? “May.” His voice held a hint of laughter and a hint of reproach.
She did not change her expression or open her eyes. “Yes, Hunter?” she whispered haltingly.
He decided that what he was going to say could wait until later.
“Aren't you going to kiss me?” His mouth brushed her closed lids in a loving caress.
Her green eyes fluttered open. “Oh, yes, of course, I was just—”
His mouth covered hers and he sunk into her, rapidly piercing the thin membrane.
She flinched, then lay perfectly still.
“I'm sorry,” he spoke quietly in her ear but May didn't even hear him. She was too wrapped up in the feel of Hunter. He was inside her and it was… it was… precisely as she had imagined.
Giving her time to adjust to him, he brushed his lips across her slightly parted mouth, back and forth, laving the seam with his tongue, gently suckling on her lower lip.
“Hunter,” she uttered tremulously.
“I know, honey. I know.” He kissed her deeply.
When he began to gently move in her, May cried into his mouth, small sounds of feminine pleasure that made it very difficult for him to maintain his control. She was driving him crazy. His body was telling him hard and fast, but his mind was cautioning him: slow and easy.
A sweat broke out across his brow but he held to his guarded tempo.
It was May who finally changed the pace.
Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and her legs securely around his waist, she hugged him to her, her uneven voice shyly beseeching him, “More?”
It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life. Hunter groaned out loud. And gave her more. Much more.
He drove into her with strength and power, releasing the passion he previously held in check for her sake. May went right along with him, encouraging him, begging him, commending him, in the unintelligible words of lovers which always spoke volumes.
A pounding, building tempest overtook her, lifting her higher and higher. It was extraordinary… she was pulsing everywhere and she wanted to— had to
“Let go, sweetheart, let it go,” Hunter rasped, guiding her even as he took her.
May cried out and let go and everything simply exploded around her. He thrust into her deep and clutching her to him, he covered her mouth with his own, joining her in a powerful release. May was intensely aware of the moment, of Hunter, of their joining.
It was a special gift that she would treasure forever; he had given her what every woman dreams of, hopes for. He had made the reality of her first time a true fantasy. And she would love him forever for it.
Hunter smiled tenderly down at her. He kissed the edge of her temple, feathering her jawline with tiny nibbles. “It looks like my May Bea didn't.” He teased her softly. “How did you write all those love scenes?”
May kissed his chin. “Writers don't do everything they write about, Hunter.”
He thought about that. “True. If Rex Stevens did half the stuff he wrote about, he'd have gotten the electric chair twenty times over.”
She nodded. “We only wish we could.”
He laughed against her throat. Then nuzzled her collarbone.
May sighed contentedly. Lovemaking was all that it was cracked up to be. And it was exactly the way she had written it countless times.
Incongruously, a large grin broke across her face. “Mmm, Hunter?”
Expecting to see a sexy, satisfied look on her face, Hunter was amazed to see a ridiculously huge smile. Confounded, he gave her a questioning look.
“I am a terrific writer!” She beamed up at him.
Oh-oh. It was another of those “writer” references that had a tendency to be non sequiturs. He had always marveled when he had seen two writers talking together; they always seemed to understand each other. It was the damnedest thing.
Well, Hunter had no idea what her being a good writer had to do with this, but he nodded as if he understood just the same.
He snuggled back into her neck.
And reached for another foil packet.
“Champ?” she whispered teasingly a few minutes later.
“Uh-uh.” Smiling, he nipped the curve of her neck.
Chapter Eighteen
Benny woke them up Christmas morning.
The little dog was barking and dancing around the bed, trying desperately to get Hunter to pay attention to him.
They both groaned.
Hunter had made love to May the entire night and they were both exhausted.
“What's the matter with him?” May mumbled sleepily. “Does he have to go out?”
“I don't think so— I just let him out a few hours ago.” Hunter yawned, then leaned over May so he could see Benny over the edge of the bed. “Wuzza matter, fellah?”
Benny wagged his tail and barked twice. Then he trotted to the front door, looking over his shoulder to see if Hunter was following him.
“I guess he does have to go out.” Hunter rolled over May to get out of bed.
“Hunter!” she complained.
The corner of his mouth lifted crookedly in a smile and he bent over to kiss her nose. “Sorry.” Naked, he padded after Benny.
May got a very nice view. She crossed her arms over her chest to watch the show. “Anytime,” she murmured to herself.
“C'mon, Benny, we gotta go out the back door— too much snow out there.” Hunter started for the door off the kitchen but the wiener dog wouldn't budge from the front door. He stuck his long nose near the bottom crack and sniffed all along the edge, his tail wagging excitedly.
“What is it do you suppose?” May asked.
Hunter scratched his chin. “I don't know. But he thinks there's something out there.” Hunter walked over to where the dachshund was standing and carefully opened the front door.
As he suspected, snow was piled three feet deep on the porch and there was no place to go.
“See, boy? Nothing there—”
Benny dived head first into the snowbank.
“Hey!” Hunter lunged after him, trying to retrieve him before he lost sight of the thumping tail.
He pulled Benny back out; the dog had a piece of cloth clamped in his jaws and was tugging furiously.
Curious, May squinted to get a better look. “What does he have in his mouth?”
“It's the sack!”
“What sack?”
“The sack of gifts I was carrying when I came up here. I forgot all about it. I must have dropped it on the porch.” Hunter released Benny, putting him behind him; then he yanked the material, trying to loosen the large bag from under the snowdrift.
It came free suddenly, and both Hunter and the sack came hurtling into the room. May giggled.
Hunter regained his balance and gave her a look.
“Well, it is funny, Hunter; I mean, you are naked.”
Shivering, he closed the door. “Not for long— it's c-o-o-l-d.” He snatched up his shorts and T-shirt, putting
them on.
Benny started circling the bag excitedly, yapping his head off.
“Now what?”
May found her nightgown scrunched down at the foot of the bed. She was still buttoning it when she came beside him. “What's in there?”
“Just gifts I was supposed to deliver.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a red package with a big white bow. A small tag dangled from the top.
Benny barked louder.
“To Joanna,” Hunter read the tag, “Merry Christmas from Santa Claus.”
Benny sat up, waving his front paws madly.
“I think he wants you to open it.”
Hunter shrugged. “Why not?” He unwrapped the gift. A huge grin filled his face.
“What is it?” May looked at him inquiringly.
Hunter reached in the box and held up a plate of candied sweet potatoes.
May's eyes glazed over. “Hunter.”
“Woof!” Benny concurred.
“That's why he was barking, he could smell the food.”
“Do you think it's still okay?”
Hunter dipped his finger in the sauce and licked it off. “Mmmm-hmmm. Natural Maine refrigeration. It's perfect.”
May rushed over. “Open up the others, quick!”
Hunter grabbed the next package. “To Alicia, Happy Holidays courtesy of Ingles Delicatessen, where Katya and Rolph say every bite of our food tastes like a little bit of magic.” This one held a scrumptious-looking pecan pie.
May and Hunter's eyes met above the plate.
In the next instant they were both diving for the boxes, tearing the wrappings open.
“To Jennifer… ” May opened a tray of assorted hors d'oeuvres.
“To Chris… ” Hunter held up a tureen of creamed pearl onions.
“This one is to Ted… ” May pulled out a pair of bay-berry candles and holders.
“For Richard, Happy Chanukah… ” A dish of giant potato pancakes. They both licked their lips.
Next came a box of dog biscuits with “Benny's favorite” taped to the box. Hunter tossed him one, then reached in the bag to get the biggest gift out.
“To Johnny… ” They both held their breath as he unwrapped it. It was a big Christmas ham.
