“Hey, hope ur doing ok not too hungover? Was hoping that we could get together at some point today, just to talk. X”
The kiss at the end of the text was new. He was usually so diligent about keeping our communication purely platonic. Just to talk? I presumed that meant he wanted to discuss that kiss we’d shared. I knew I did too, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do it today. Lifting my fingers to the screen, I tapped out my reply.
“Tomorrow, at mine? 7?”
I wanted to keep it on my territory, somewhere that I would be in control, and I never felt safer than when I was here. The phone buzzed in my hand again, and I looked down to see his message agreeing to my suggestion.
Okay, now I really was feeling nervous. Had we just arranged a date? It certainly felt like we did, and I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about it. But there was a fluttering down deep in my bones that said it was something I should be looking forward to.
By the time the next evening came, I was ready for him. I had curled out my hair, given myself a facial with all the expensive little beauty testers I picked up from advertisers, and painted my nails. It was exciting and strangely liberating to feel like I was making an effort to see someone. Admitting to myself that I actually wanted to look good for this encounter was the first big step, but once I’d accepted that, the whole thing became kind of…fun. And thrilling. My heart picked up the pace whenever I thought about him, my eyes constantly glancing to the clock to see when he would be over. I had always been terrible at the whole act-like-you-don’t-care school of dating, and I was worried I might scare him off with my intensity. Even if I did, I reasoned with myself, this was all part of getting back in to dating. Even if it made things awkward between me and Tate for a while, I knew that this was what I wanted to do.
By the time seven rolled around, I was sitting nervously on the couch, my ears straining for any indication that he might be getting near. When the doorbell buzzed, I practically launched myself out of my seat, jumping to the door to let him in.
“Tate!” I grinned, as I opened the door and saw him standing behind it. He’d bought another bottle of wine, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was dressed a little smarter than he usually was. His jeans were nicely cut, and his crisp t-shirt hugged his body in all the right places. I tried not to let my mind linger on that too much, and ushered him inside, plucking to bottle of wine from his hands and heading to the kitchen to pour it. Now that he was actually here, in front of me, it all seemed so much more real, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. Pouring wine, though? I was the top of my class.
I brought the two glasses through, placing them on my coffee table and sitting on a chair a few feet away from Tate. I wanted to make sure that we had enough space between us to shut down any awkwardness if one person wanted one thing and the other wanted something different. My heart flipped at the prospect. What if he’d just come here to tell me that what happened that was a mistake? He might look tough on the outside, but I knew that Tate was gentleman enough to let a lady down easy if he had to. I prayed that he had better news for me.
“So…you wanted to talk?” I asked, breaking the silence that briefly descended on us. I took a long sip of wine, savouring the burst of flavour over my tongue.
“Um…yeah,” he replied, his voice stilted. He sounded nervous. “I’m pretty sure that you know why I’m here. Right?”
“Is it about…?” I nodded towards the doorway. Tate glanced away from me, embarrassed.
“Yeah, that.”
The silence came between us again, and I felt slightly uncomfortable. I had no idea what to say. I had never been in a situation like this before, how was I supposed to know what you were meant to do?
“Look, Erica. I really like you. I think you know that. But I get that we have a really complex relationship, what with how we met, and your position, and my position…”
“That you were the best man at my husband’s wedding to me?” I cut over him. This wasn’t the time for pussyfooting.
He winced. “Yes. And I don’t want to betray Jake, and I don’t want to overstep my mark with you. But I really like you, and I want to do something about it. So…here’s me, doing something.”
He looked up at me, his eyes searching my face for a response, for anything. I took a deep breath, processing his words. He wasn’t saying anything that hadn’t been confirmed to me already a couple of nights ago with that kiss, but thinking they were true and actually hearing them confirmed were too completely separate matters.
“So…what do you want to do about it?” I asked. “Presuming that I…don’t object to it.”
His eyes lit up with a brief glimmer of hope, and his voice became earnest. “I want us to try it. We’ve both had no luck dating in this city so far, and I think it’s because no-one else understands the situation we’re in. I think we could make it work so much better with each other than with anyone else, because we’re coming from the same place, you know?”
I nodded. I did know. Much as I had liked the couple of guys I’d dated since I’d arrived here, it always felt like I was starting on the back foot, like I was the one who had to drag through huge piles of “hey, I have a dead husband!” on my first dates. But with Tate…it was different. He understood where I was at. I didn’t need to explain anything to him because he’d been there himself, in his own way. And, looking at him now, it was impossible to deny the fact that there was some real, serious chemistry between us-the kind that made me want to crawl towards him and press my lips against his, feel his strong arms around me. So, without letting my head get in the way any longer, that’s exactly what I did.
I felt his sharp intake of breath when I pressed my mouth to his, bringing myself down on the couch next to him so that I could wrap my arms around his neck. His strong hands ran down my back and towards my waist, caressing the fabric of my floaty halter dress. Even as it was strange to have all the first-kiss anxieties running through my head for the first time in a long time. Would my lipstick smudge on him? Was my breath okay? It didn’t matter. I felt totally at ease kissing him.
Our bodies seemed to meld together as he lifted me onto his lap, tugging me towards him. We rocked in time with each other, our mouths wet and warm against each other. His tongue caressed my own, and I let out a satisfied moan when he sank his teeth in my lip. It felt so good, not just to be desired like this again, but to desire like this- to feel that ache between my legs as my sensitive flesh cried out for attention.
But he held me there, and we kissed even longer than we had in that doorway. It was if a balloon had burst, and all the need and desire had come flooding out, drenching us both. I couldn’t get over how natural it felt to have my small body wrapped in his muscular grip, to feel his fingertips digging into my flesh as his deft hands felt every inch of me.
I was so glad he wanted to take it slow; I would have been happy kissing all night long, if that’s what he’d wanted, because I knew that we would both take some time getting back into the swing of being intimate with someone else again. But there was another, darker part of me that was crying out for some relief, and I wasn’t about to ignore it.
Pushing him back on the couch, I slowly hooked my legs over him so that I was straddling him, my crotch hovering just above his. Tate leant up to press his lips against my neck, his breath hot on my skin, and I let out a loud groan. It felt so good to let go, to give myself up to the pleasure he was causing all over my body. Soon, though, he pulled me down, so that I was grinding into the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. I instinctively rocked my hips against him, earning a couple of gasps from Tate as he pulled his mouth from mine to watch me.
I performed for him, slowly unhooking the top of my dress to reveal my bare shoulders, then allowing it to slide further down, exposing my breasts. My nipples were already hard, even as Tate bought his mouth up to them to suck and bite. I looked down at the mop of dark hair obscuring his face, and wanted to throw my head back and cry out in pleasure.
&
nbsp; I slowly felt his hand brush up my bare thigh. It was a shockingly unfamiliar experience, but my body responded to his touch. I reached down to pull up the hem of my skirt, allowing him to slide both hands around to my ass. I gasped as I felt him grope and grab at my flesh, pushing his face up to mine again so he could kiss me. I felt his fingers slide further, hooking around my panties and pulling them aside to allow him access to my aching sex. His digits skimmed my outer lips, and I was ready to plead him for more when he slowly pushed one finger inside of me.
Woah. I hadn’t been ready for how intense that feeling would be. The physical sensation of him inside me, mixed with the look on his face as he stared up at me, sent the pressure between my legs into overdrive. I began to grind against his hand, as he pushed another finger into me, his thumb reaching up to caress my clit as he did so.
Fuck! My mouth dropped open as my hips moved mindlessly, my body lost to the feelings he was causing. I balanced somewhere on the knife-edge between relief and frustration before the orgasm took me over, tearing through the lower half of my body as my pussy clenched around his fingers, my blood pulsing in my ears. Oh, I needed more. This wasn’t enough.
He leant up to my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. “Is that okay?”
I could only manage to nod my head as he gently scooped me into his arms, and carried me towards my bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time Tate had been in my bed—he’d slept over to look after Scoop a few times—but this was the first time I would be in there with him. He was treating me with such delicacy, such care, as if he was nervous he was going to do something to scare me away.
When he laid me on the expansive silk quilt on my bed, he took a moment to look at me, my breathing still a little ragged from my first assisted orgasm in months, my dress still hiked up to reveal just a sliver of upper thigh.
“You look so beautiful, Erica,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me again, his hand pushing up between my legs and cupping my pussy. His heat and his proximity were almost too much to bear, so I pulled him on to the bed with me, grabbing at his shirt and tugging at it till he whipped it off. I looked at him as he undressed, hypnotized by his gorgeous, toned body; I ran my hands across the taut muscles on his chest, marveling at the hardness of him versus my softness.
Our bodies seemed made to go together, they were so perfectly opposite. He held me for a moment, before he ducked down between my legs, peppering kisses along my thigh and up, up towards my pussy. I felt his breath on my clit before he clamped his mouth down, sucking hard, gripping my ass and using it to pull me towards him.
The pressure was almost too intense, the feeling almost too good. I felt my body protesting, still sensitive from the last orgasm, but it soon gave way into delicious pleasure. His tongue was clearly experienced, his mouth moving with practiced grace against me. I wanted to thrust my hips up to meet him, to lose myself in the sensation of his mouth on my body, but I held myself back. It was such a new thing, to have a man wanting me this much, willing to just lie between my legs and pleasure me, and I wasn’t about to interfere with his considerable skill.
It didn’t take long till I felt that familiar pressure building up inside of me, my legs clamping together around Tate’s head as he increased his speed and his intensity. Sucking hard on my clit, his fingers slid up my body and towards my breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
And that was it. For the second time that evening, Tate made me come, my body moving in endless gyrations against the softness of my quilt. His stubble had left small scratches inside my thighs, the kind that made me wince with pleasure every time they came together.
He positioned himself so he was above me, slowly lowering his mouth down to mine again. I could taste myself on his lips, and the physical proof of where he’d been was intoxicating, delicious. I couldn’t get enough of him. By now, my pussy was aching to be filled, my body crying out for some real relief. It had been so long since I’d been with a man in that way, and I could already feel my heart beating in my chest as I fumbled in my nightstand for that box of condoms I had always kept around “just in case.” I pulled out one of the foil packets, looking up at him as I pushed it into his hand.
“You sure about this?” he asked, his eyes soft. I nodded.
“Are you?”
“Damn right I am,” he smiled, bringing his mouth softly to mine as he ripped open the foil, unbuckled his jeans, and kicked off his underwear. Then he hesitated.
“What?” I asked worried he was having second thoughts
“I wanted to feel you bareback.” He replied lustily
I hesitated for a split second, and then came my uncharacteristic response. I grabbed the box of condoms from him and flung them across the room. I felt him position his cock head at the entrance to my slit, and looked down to watch him enter me; Christ, he was big. About as thick around as my clenched fist, and at least nine inches long. Tate gently lifted my foot, draping my ankle over his shoulder, as he lined himself up.
“Ready?” He asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.
“Ready,” I replied, and he slowly eased his way into me. I gasped as I felt his girth stretch my slit, landing somewhere between pleasure and pain, until he’d pushed his full length inside me. He held himself inside me for a second, as if savoring the sensation, and then he began to move. With my leg over his shoulder, he used my ass for leverage, sliding deeper into me with every thrust.
The feeling was…intense. I had never been with anyone this big before, and it had been a while since I’d had sex anyway. This was a shock to adjust to, but he felt so damn good inside me too. His hips slowed, and he rocked against me, hitting every spot inside me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing the feelings-but physical and emotional-to swim through my body. It was hard to articulate what I was actually feeling in those moments. Of course, there was arousal. Serious, unsatisfied, passionate arousal, the kind that wanted to be begged to be fucked, hard, until I came over and over again on Tate’s thick length. There was some of the guilt I’d so successfully put from my mind, but more than anything there was comfort. There was something so deeply comforting about being with a man I felt so safe with, someone who’d seen me at my very worst and still wanted me. I mean, I wasn’t going to lie. It helped that he was stunningly handsome and had already made me cum twice.
But it was his attention I wanted and his desire to make me feel comfortable that I really liked. I felt him pick up the pace above me, as he ran his hand up my thigh, pressing kisses along my bare flesh. Reaching down to move my breasts out of my dress, he released my nipples again, bringing his mouth down so that he could brush his lips against them. The best I could do was sink my hands into his back and try to hold on for dear life; the way he was moving his hips against me was hypnotically good, and I could feel my exhausted body heading towards another orgasm.
“Oh, fuck!” I gasped, pulling myself up against him so that my torso was curled up, my head against his chest. He continued, with deeper, harder, slower movements, the kind that sent a shudder all the way through my body. I felt myself teeter for a moment, and then the climax washed over me, my pussy grasping at his slick cock as I fell back onto the bed. A series of moans and groans came from between my lips as he pushed into me once more, letting out a single, loud cry, and found his own release. We stayed like that for a moment, waiting until our breathing rounded out and our bodies came back to earth.
“So…how do you feel?” Tate asked, cautiously, once a few minutes had passed. He moved off of me removing his cock from my now dripping slit.
“Good,” I smiled. “Really good. What about you?”
He cocked his head at me, that hint of a grin I’d seen so many times before now sending shivers up my spine. “I think I might have to try it again to find out.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but, as he began to run his fingers through my matted hair and pull me closer, I couldn’t help a smile breaking out over my fa
ce. This felt good. This felt right. This was about time.
The next few weeks were some of the best I’d had since Jake’s passing. For once, I was finally able to let go of my identity as a widow, as someone who’d been left behind, because I had someone to give myself to now. It felt like the final piece of the puzzle had been slotted into place, and Tate and I began happily dating.
Of course, there were more than a few raised eyebrows. Hell, some friends from before got back in contact and asked me if what they had heard was true.
When I told them it was, and that Tate and I were very happy together, they seemed horrified that I’d had the audacity to move on with someone they didn’t approve of. But I didn’t give a damn. After all, why should I? I had been given a chance at starting over with my love life, and I wasn’t about to turn it down just because some nobodies were trying to interfere with my life. Fuck that. I had spent to long trying to do what was expected of me, and I refused to do that any longer.
It took us some time to get used to being in a relationship again, but we eventually managed to get into a routine. Tate would come round to mine while I finished up work, and he would cook something for dinner. We’d pour a glass of wine, and we’d share the most interesting parts of our day with each other. Tate kept up his training for the counselling, and I was proud of him for it; he never ceased to impress me.
Taken By The Forbidden Highlander (Scottish Highlander Romance) Page 77
