A tight fist squeezed her heart, and for an instant she wished she had enormous riches, more than enough for the both of them.
In the next instant, she realized the folly of that. She already knew Tom would never accept money from her, even if she had it to offer. He was far too proud, too independent.
She looked at him, assessing every feature. His black curly hair had grown longer, and it hung down over his forehead, thick and rich. His face was both strong and weathered, each spare, handsome feature clearly drawn. There was an inherent toughness about his looks that spoke of hard living. She watched the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he shifted beside her, noted the elegant leanness of his hard body. Yet in spite of everything he’d told her---because of everything he’d told her, perhaps?--- she knew she still wanted him to be the one to love her.
But he was getting to his feet, absently brushing off the seat of his pants, reaching down to pull her up as well.
“We’d best be heading back, Zel,” he was saying. “It’s getting late.”
She’d wrestled with Eli enough to have learned a few tricks. She caught him off balance, pulling him back down almost on top of her, their arms and legs in a tangled heap.
“What the hell---”
She felt ridiculous, shy and silly and absolutely stupid about whatever it was one should do next in the game of seduction, but she was determined. Even before Tom appeared in her life, she’d decided she was not going to go to her grave a virgin, but neither was she going to bed just anyone.
She’d known from the moment he kissed her that this was the man to remedy the situation, and she’d decided that it would happen today, and when she made a decision, she stuck to it. Her skin grew warm and her breath came fast. It was now or never.
She reached up and grasped his head, just behind his ears, and pulled him down until her lips were under his. He’d taught her how to kiss, and she prided herself on being a fast learner. She parted her lips and touched them to his, her tongue outlining the shape of his mouth in exact mimicry of the way his had done.
For a long moment, their mouths joined, but instead of taking control the way she hoped and longed he would do, he raised his head and looked down at her. His forehead was creased in a frown, his dark blue eyes puzzled and somewhat shocked.
Tom, please, please don’t say anything. Don’t make me say anything - just do whatever it is men and women do. Do it now.
Surely, oh, God, surely this desirable imbecile of a man would realize what she wanted without her having to put it into words?
He’d done everything in his power to drive her away.
He’d told her brutally that he wouldn’t be staying, that he didn’t even want to stay in her world.
In spite of the fierce response she aroused in him, the slow-banked fire that burned between them, he’d believed he was doing the right thing in forcing her to listen, to acknowledge the facts of his presence there. He was doing the only thing that was right by making it painfully clear that there was no future for her with him, that whatever this explosive thing was between them, it would have to go unexplored. Casual sex in this day and age wasn’t accepted.
Tom knew that, just as he knew that Zelda was a virgin in an age when virginity was the only option for a respectable young woman.
So why was she teasing him like this? What game was she playing, pulling him down, kissing him, squirming so that the entire length of her tall, slender body pressed against him, and his own hardened painfully in response?
She kissed him again, and it was all he could do to pull away.
“We’d better go easy here…” His whisper was rough, yet gentle.
She didn’t answer. Instead, her arms wound more firmly around his chest and she pulled him even closer.
“Damn it, Zelda, you’re playing with fire, a man can only take so much!”
He drew back, scowling at her, and like a thunderbolt, the truth struck him. It was clear by the expression in her eyes, the look on her face, the slight trembling of her arms around him, that she wanted him to go on. Wordlessly, she was asking him to make love to her.
He froze for a long moment. Then he relaxed and gathered her close against him. “Are you absolutely sure, Zelda?” In spite of her body language, he needed the commitment of words, but she still didn’t speak. Instead, she nodded shyly and then again with more vigor.
A shudder went through him, and with it came exaltation.
She was asking him for what he’d longed to give from the first moment he’d met her.
“Come here.” He sat up, drawing her across his lap. It was his turn to take her head in his hands. Her hair was already tumbling around her ears, and with swift fingers he found the last of the pins that held it and freed them, combing the long, wild mass down around her shoulders. Loose, it reached far down her back, spilling over her shoulders in a thick, curling, fiery mass to cover the white fabric of her blouse.
“Your hair, Zel. You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” He threaded his fingers through its silky strands, cupping her head in his palms and drawing her face to his. His lips closed over hers in a lush, deep, luxurious kiss, the sort of kiss he’d ached to share with her. She tasted like sunshine.
Her arms encircled his neck, shy at first, her fingers exploring his shoulders, circling his ears, tangling in his hair.
The luxury of being able to hold her close and kiss her in all the ways he wanted was both heady and agonizing. Sitting on his lap, her warm buttocks pressing against his crotch, she unwittingly made it difficult for him to maintain the control he needed.
With a groan, he once again rolled them to the ground, body-to-body, mouth to mouth, pinning her half beneath him. He slid his hands from her shoulders slowly down to her breasts, cupping their warm, slight fullness, thrilling to the hard rise of her nipples pressing against his palms through the cloth. Slowly, deliberately, he circled them with his thumb, once, and then again and again, at the same time kissing her with deep, drugging kisses.
She went utterly still in his embrace. Her breath stalled, and when he raised his head, her eyes met his, wide, dark brown pools of wonder. “Oh, Tom,” she breathed. “That feels….”
She shuddered in his arms, and he moved to cover her with his body, gently separating her legs with his knee, making a cradle so he could fit himself against her. She groaned as her body bucked against him, innocently demanding what he was so willing to supply---but slowly, he reminded himself. Go slowly.
With trembling hands he tugged her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt, but his fingers were unbelievably clumsy on the tiny buttons that closed it. He managed three, four, six, before she took over the task. In moments the fabric parted, revealing another garment, a snowy-white camisole edged in delicate white lace, and fastened just as securely as her blouse had been down the front, but with even smaller round pearl buttons.
He groaned with frustration, but he valiantly began the task of undoing them. There must have been two dozen or more, and his fingers felt three times too large and unbearably clumsy. He thought ruefully of the single, easy front hook he’d become adept at undoing on the bras of his own time.
Once again, Zelda came to his assistance, her quick fingers making short work of the chore. The front of the garment parted, and to his intense relief there was nothing more under it. At last her creamy skin lay bare to his eyes and his touch.
As he’d suspected, she was delicately made, her collarbone fragile, her breasts small but beautifully formed. He leaned over her, supporting himself on his elbow, and beginning at her chin, he trailed his lips over every inch of her neck and shoulders. He took his time, breathing in the delicate, faint perfume that seemed to emanate from her very pores. He could feel her heart hammering against her ribs like a wild thing demanding freedom. Its rhythm increased as his lips nibbled at the tender skin at the side of her small breast and then at last closed over the hard copper-hued nub at its center, suckling, wetting, teasing
her nipple to full arousal.
Small sounds escaped her, wordless sounds that signified her pleasure, her surprise, her delight in what he was doing, and they inflamed him.
He sat up and undid his shirt, stripping it off and raising her so he could slip it beneath her. Then he gathered her to him once again to revel in the delicious sensation of her soft, smooth skin touching his hair-roughened chest.
“You’re strong, Tom.” Her hands touched his bare shoulders, stroking, sliding down, exploring him for the first time, coming as far as his belt and scurrying up again, inflaming him.
He slipped his hand down between them, under her skirts to the damply hot fabric of her underwear. He sought the part of her that fit his cupped hand, pressing and rocking against it until her buttocks moved in automatic response.
“Tom…oh, my heavens, Tom…” Her whisper was full of wonder, choked with the rising passion that made her skin seem to burn beneath his mouth and hands.
After a time he took her hand and guided it down to the front of his jeans, teaching her the shape and hardness of him. He groaned at the pleasure of her warm hand on him.
It was unbearably good, having her touch him. He unbuttoned his pants, shucking them and his underwear off, and she gasped as her fingers reached out and touched his naked sex. Then, with him guiding her hand, she found again what pleased him.
She learned quickly and all too well.
“Stop, love – stop –” He teetered on a dangerous edge and drew back, holding her hands in his to restrain them, his eyes shut tight. He breathed as if he’d labored long and hard, struggling for control.
“Did I hurt you?” Her agonized whisper brought a tortured smile to his lips, and he shook his head.
“It’s just that I want you, Zelda, so much that you’re making me crazy.”
“Love me, then. Please, teach me how, Tom. It’s so awful, not knowing what to do.” She drew in a shaky breath and let it go. The utter trust and innocent passion on her face and in her eyes struck at some deep part of him he hadn’t known existed until then.
With the last remnants of reason, he whispered, “You could get pregnant. I haven’t anything to protect you.”
Her eyes met his for an instant, then flickered away, and the rich color in her cheeks deepened. “It’s all right, Tom. I’ve taken care of that. I’d never try to trap you with a child.”
He was astounded, then grateful, and all he could think of now was getting the rest of her clothing off. He reached down, searching for the zipper at her skirt waist and encountering buttons. With a maximum amount of fumbling, he managed to undo them and slide the dark garment down her narrow hips and off. Then he searched again, trying to find his way past the intricate closures, the maddening layers of fabric to release everything else underneath.
She wore what he identified as a long, cotton slip, and beneath it her underpants seemed to reach all the way to her knees. She had high-laced boots, and her dark stockings disappeared into the legs of her---bloomers? Knickers? He’d never encountered anything quite like these panties before. He searched for elastic at her waist, and his heart sank when his fingers once again encountered rows and rows of buttons.
He cursed under his breath, and sweat broke out on his forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to help me out here.”
She giggled, and with a few deft movements, the problem was solved, the buttons free, her boots and stockings off.
Incredibly relieved, trembling with anticipation and intense desire, he was finally able to slide the remaining garments down her long, shapely legs, and finally, finally she was naked. Long and slender and fragile and so soft, her skin was the color and texture of rich cream, her long red hair a startling contrast to her pale nakedness.
He’d fantasized about her, dreamed about her, thought of her body and how it would look unclothed, and now his eyes devoured her.
“My God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed.
She frowned at him. “You don’t have to say such things to me, Tom.”
He was puzzled. “I can’t help saying them. You are beautiful.”
Her skin flushed, and the anxiety in her eyes faded a little, and he realized that she was infinitely more responsive, more vulnerable, more insecure, more self-conscious, than he’d ever imagined.
He must be careful, so very careful, not ever to hurt her in any way.
A Distant Echo: Chapter Fifteen
Nothing in her life had prepared Zelda for the sensations that flooded her body as Tom’s fingers slid into her most intimate parts and his mouth and tongue danced with her own.
She shivered and her mind filled with color as he kissed and caressed her. At first, through her closed eyelids, she could sense the spring green of the surrounding foliage. But as each breathtaking plateau gave way to another, still higher, color became a vortex that spun and throbbed. Green became yellow, hot orange, and finally, a burning, throbbing red heat that engulfed her.
Her body moved instinctively against him in a rhythm that only increased the agonizing need spreading in a hot liquid wash throughout her abdomen, deep in her belly. She whimpered with frustration and delight.
He slid his hand down between them and a cry escaped her. Her eyes flew open, riveted to his face.
“Go with it, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely, his blue eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to carve his features sharp and clear and hard. “Let the feeling take you.”
His fingers knew exactly where to touch and how to intensify the fever that gripped her, but the pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain. She shook her head from side to side, wanting him to stop, frightened now.
But he refused, and the exquisite sensation grew and grew. Suddenly she writhed against him, and something in her lower body clamped and held, then exploded into an ecstasy that went on and on, bringing a wild, hoarse cry soaring from the depths of her being.
He held her, murmuring words of encouragement and praise. When at last the fierce storm subsided, she felt boneless and weak, overwhelmed.
Before she had time to move or to think, he entered her.
The pain was as intense as the pleasure had been a moment before, and again she cried out, this time in acute distress. Her body bucked against his as she instinctively tired to ease the hurt, and for a moment she fought him. He held her immobile with his weight and strength, gritting his teeth, his elbows planted in the soft earth.
“Ssshhh, love. Easy, sweetheart. It’ll pass. Just relax and in a moment it’ll feel better.” Droplets of sweat beaded his forehead, and every muscle in his arms and chest was clearly defined as he held himself rigid above her, waiting for the worst of the pain to transform itself into pleasure. He watched her face, looking into her eyes until she felt he could see into her very soul.
When the worst of the burning passed and she felt her muscles relaxing, he began to move within her, slowly at first, and then with increasing intensity. She realized that the incredible sensation she’d experienced before was happening again, deeper and even more pleasurable.
Instinct made her wrap her legs tight around him and thrust up, and within moments, that was his undoing.
He threw his head back and his entire body convulsed. A low, guttural cry ripped from his chest as he spilled his seed within her.
“Do you think ordinary people ever talk about this honestly, Tom? Women to women, men to men?” She was wrapped in his arms, her head cushioned on his shoulder. The fabric of her skirt was drawn over their legs to ward off the coolness of the air now that the sun had disappeared over the top of the mountain.
“They sure do where I come from,” he said in a languorous voice, his fingers stroking the bare, silky skin of her upper arm. He knew they should get dressed and go home soon. It was getting chilly. But he was putting it off, drunk with the absolute wonder of having her naked, languid, and satisfied in his arms.
Her response, the depths of her natural passion, fascinated him, and if it hadn’t been s
o late, he’d have made love to her all over again. He’d had his share of women over the years, but he’d never encountered a woman like Zelda, wildly passionate, intuitively sensual, and at the same time so very innocent.
“What exactly do they say about it?” It was a subject she was obviously going to explore in depth, and he grinned again, captivated by her honesty as well as her natural curiosity.
“Oh, everything there is to say, and then some. There’s so much talk about sex it’d take all the pleasure and magic away if a person listened long enough,” he mused. “But things are different there, too. There’s problems that don’t exist, yet in this era.”
He remembered television ads for condoms because of the terrible threat of AIDS that hung over his generation like a modern-day plague. He thought of the epidemic of sex crimes reported on the nightly news with sickening regularity; the sexual innuendoes that were so much a part of everyday conversation; the movies and books and magazines devoted to lewd perversions; and the ad campaigns that used sex to sell everything from cars to cigarettes.
Here, now, there was an innocence that was restful.
“Well,” Zelda proclaimed in an aggrieved tone, “no one has every once hinted to me how absolutely wonderful doing this really feels.”
She sounded so offended he laughed out loud.
“The occasional romantic novel skirts around it,” she went on, pointedly ignoring his amusement, “but now that I’ve experienced it firsthand, I feel as though I’ve been the victim of one more conspiracy aimed at single women. There’s obviously a code of silence intended to keep spinsters unsuspecting and stupidly innocent of such pleasure. They must think we’d go berserk and accost innocent men in the streets, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’m very glad you liked it,” he said with heartfelt sincerity. He’d never made love to a virgin before, and the responsibility would have weighed on him if he hadn’t been half out of his mind with wanting her.
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