Her Immortal Love

by Diana Castle

  “What…what are you doing?” she cried.

  He carried her over to the bed. “I'm sorry, Lydia, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to break that promise I made at the coffee shop.”

  “Promise? What promise?”

  He winked and grinned. “Not to ravish you.”

  Chapter Five

  Tristan lowered Lydia onto the bed. He moved his long, muscular body on top of hers and slid his firm lips along her throat. Apprehension flickered through her and she pressed her hands against his broad shoulders.

  “Tristan?”

  His warm breath caressed her neck. “Yes, sweet?”

  “Do you….is this what you really want?”

  He lifted his head and looked down at her, a quizzical expression on his face. “What?”

  She bit her lip, her mind fluttering with anxiety. Despite the fact that she was here, in his arms, on his bed, it was still hard for her to believe he really wanted her. That he didn’t think her too old. “I mean, don’t get me wrong because I’m truly flattered and all that you appear to want to make love to me but—”

  “Appear to want you?” He pressed the hot, hard length of his cock against the front of her panties. “I think that’s more than just appearing to want you.” He smiled warmly down at her. “I’ve wanted to make love to you since the moment I saw you at that club. I wanted to take you home that very night and fuck you senseless.”

  Her throat tightened as she recalled that other young man at the club who had also wanted to fuck her. “You mean as in a one night stand?”

  He frowned then reached down and gently stroked her hair. “No, not a one night stand. You’re not that kind of woman. I’m not that kind of man. I wanted to fuck you because you looked so beautiful and so tantalizing. But I also wanted to know you. I wanted to know everything there was about you.”

  Pleasure swirled through her at his words, but doubts about how she must look to him remained. “But…doesn’t it bother you that I’m…?”

  “That you’re what?” He stroked her lips with the tips of his fingers. “A woman of a certain age?”

  Lydia nodded, her mouth trembling under his touch.

  “No, it doesn't bother me,” he whispered against her mouth. “Not at all. And I promise you, it never will.”

  He kissed her. Slowly, fully, divinely. He kissed her as no man had ever kissed her. As if she was the only thing in his universe.

  Reaching up, she pushed her hands through his hair, her fingers threading through the warm, silky strands, and she kissed him back, her mouth burning with fire and need and lust.

  He gently broke their kiss and looked down at her, his dark blue eyes gazing steadily into hers. And she saw in them something she had never seen in any man's eyes. Not even her ex-husband's.

  Pure, unadulterated desire.

  She gazed up at him, her heart madly pounding. This was what she had fantasized about all those nights since meeting him at the club. Him finding her and wanting her as much as she wanted him. And now her fantasy was about to become a reality.

  He rose from the bed and with his gaze locked on hers took off his clothes. She stared at his naked body. The tall, sculptured frame. The broad shoulders and muscular chest. The flat stomach and long legs. And, finally, his cock, which jutted forward from the dark bush of his groin.

  He was so beautiful. The most beautiful man she had ever seen. Seriously, what was she doing with someone like him? Or, better yet, what was someone like him doing with someone like her?

  “Have you ever modeled?” She tried not to stare at his cock, but her eyes kept coming back to it, her fingers aching to touch it.

  He climbed back on the bed and lay next to her, his head propped on one muscular arm. “What do you mean? Like in magazines?’

  She shook her head. “For artists. You’re body...it’s...it’s perfectly proportioned.”

  While in college, she had taken a life drawing course and one week the instructor had a male model come in and pose for them in the nude. He’d had a nice enough body and she had spent the entire week blushing, but his body was nothing compared to Tristan’s.

  He grinned boyishly. “I have done that kind of modeling. In Paris.”

  “Really?” She had always wanted to visit Paris, but Douglas had never been interested in going and she hadn’t wanted to go by herself. Not to the city of lights and love.

  “Yes,” he said, “but it was some time ago.”

  “Some time ago?” She laughed. “Tristan, you talk as if it were ages ago. You’re not that old.”

  “It seems some time ago to me.” He pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.

  Lydia moaned but his warm, insistent lips smothered any sounds she made. This time his kiss was demanding and it drew the very breath from her body. He took hold of her wrists and pushed them slowly up over her head. Holding her arms against the bed with one hand, he moved the other leisurely and deliberately down her body.

  She shivered beneath him. His touch was so sure, so confident. He caressed her like a man who was familiar with and loved every inch and curve of a woman’s body. He lowered his head and slid his lips over the swollen mounds of her breasts, his hand still moving down her body. Lydia opened her legs. Tristan’s fingers delved deep into the soft, slick wetness of her pussy. He still gripped her wrists with his other hand.

  He proceeded to fuck her with his fingers. She squirmed against the bed. Douglas had never done this to her. She'd asked him to a few times, but he had always looked at her as if she had grown another head. As far as he was concerned, the only thing that belonged inside her vagina was his penis. Not his fingers and, most especially, not his tongue.

  Tristan slid his fingers out of her. She was about to protest for she had started to feel the subtle swelling of an orgasm, but she watched, spellbound, as he lifted his hand to his mouth. Gazing directly into her eyes, he licked the taste of her from his fingers.

  Her heart beat hard and fast in her chest. He lowered his dark head down to her breasts and sucked greedily at her stiff nipples, his hand still locked tightly about her wrists.

  She moaned and tossed her head back and forth as he sucked her breasts. He pressed her deeper into the bed, his long, wet tongue lithely licking her nipples.

  “Oh, Tristan, please, please, let me touch you.”

  He shook his head no. Keeping his hands firmly about her wrists, he continued to ravish her breasts. It was only a matter of time before she exploded from the delicious torture he was inflicting upon her.

  He lifted his head from her breasts and looked up at her from over their tight, wet peaks. “I want to pleasure you first. I want you to come before we fuck.”

  Her breath quickened. She couldn’t recall the last time she and Douglas had engaged in foreplay before having sex. Usually he would just play with her breasts for a bit, shove his penis inside her, thrash around for about a minute, climax, pull out and and roll onto his side to promptly fall asleep.

  “Um, all right,” she said. “You...I mean, we can do that.”

  Tristan chuckled. He let go of her wrists and moved his hands down her body. He cupped one of them over her mound. The other he placed on the soft flesh of the inside of her thigh. “Open your legs.”

  Lydia did so, her heart pounding. She was still feeling nervous, but she also trusted him. Or, at least, she felt like she needed to trust him.

  Using his fingers, he gently explored the soft, moist folds of her pussy. “Open wider, sweet. Let me see all of you. Feel all of you.” His voice was low, soft, seductive. “Let go. Don’t think. Just feel. Feel me touching you.”

  She opened her legs wider, conscious of how her thighs must look to him. She did work out, but no amount of exercise could keep her thighs from thickening as she got older.

  Tristan, however, gave no sign that he was in the least bit disgusted by her. He slowly pushed her pussy lips aside, his fingers sliding easily into her opening. He pushed his fingers deeper, he
r juices thickly coating them

  “How does that feel?” he asked. “Feels good to me. Your hot, sweet cunt.”

  The nerve endings of her body tingled while electrifying jolts of desire thrummed through her. “It feels...oh, God...it feels so good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  He laughed softly. “Oh, I don’t intend to. Not until you come.”

  His fingers were deep enough inside her pussy that he was able to press his thumb against her clit. He slowly circled the pad of his thumb around it. Hot waves of pleasure surged through her and her mouth moistened. She licked her lips and arched her hips. He gently stroked her clit, his thumb achingly teasing it while his fingers continue to move inside her.

  Lydia began to shake and she could feel an orgasm rising inside her womb, steadily increasing, pulsing, aching. Tristan moved his head between her legs. He pressed his mouth against her pussy, his tongue replacing his thumb. His fingers continued to pulse inside her while he licked and caressed her clit with the wet tip of his tongue.

  She arched her back, pressing her sex against his mouth. She’d had her pussy eaten only once and that was before she met Douglas. It happened during her first year of college when she’d briefly dated another student. An art history major like herself he had been tall, gawky and painfully shy, but he had not been shy about going down on her.

  He had made her come that night. More than once as a matter of fact. But before they’d had a chance to fuck, before she’d gotten the opportunity to finally lose her virginity, her roommate returned home early. Soon after, Lydia and the boy stopped seeing each other. He’d eaten her out well enough, but Tristan was proving himself a master at it. He deftly used his tongue and fingers, synching them in such a way that she was being pushed swiftly over the edge.

  “Oh, God, Tristan. Don’t....please...don’t stop.”

  He shoved his fingers faster inside her, his tongue steadily licking her clit and the tender lips of her pussy. Her breath was coming so fast she was afraid she was going to hyperventilate. She rocked her hips against his hand and mouth.

  He pulled his fingers out of her and replaced them with his tongue, shoving it deep into her pussy. It went in like a snake, twisting and coiling.

  Lydia sharply bowed her back as Tristan roused her to her release. He grazed his lips and tongue over her puffy, quivering clit. Clasping the softness of her inner thighs he pushed them apart and lapped at her cunt.

  She exploded in a molten sensation of total and utter release. Her climax gushed hotly through her, a foaming wave of pure pleasure. She climaxed again, her heels digging deep into the mattress, her body shuddering uncontrollably. Ever since her divorce, her only orgasms had been self-inflicted.

  It felt utterly marvelous to finally come as a result of being pleasured by a man. Especially a handsome, younger man who seemed to know a lot about how to eat pussy.

  Tristan moved his head from between her quivering thighs. Before she could say a word, he slid up her body, cupped her head in both his hands and kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth. He thrust his tongue deep into the warm recesses of her mouth in the same way he had thrust it inside her cunt. His groin lay moistly atop of hers, the hard length of his cock pressing against her leg.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck and returned his kiss just as greedily, just as hungrily. When was the last time she’d kissed anyone like this? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t think she ever had. Tristan’s kiss consumed her, burned her. She moaned passionately against his mouth, their tongues twisting against each other in a fiery dance of lust.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire.

  “Now?” he whispered.

  Lydia’s breath rasped in her chest and she was about to say, yes, now, please, yes!

  Then she remembered. Protection.

  Wasn’t she supposed to ask him to wear a condom? She doubted she could get pregnant but there was still AIDS. There were still STDs.

  Noting her hesitation, his eyebrows lifted. “What’s wrong...?” He stopped, a look of chagrin falling across his face. “Damn. I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

  He quickly rose from the bed. “I think I have...” He stopped then nodded. “Yes. I do.” He smiled and pointed at her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  He strode from the bedroom and into the hallway. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked down at her naked body; her breasts, her stomach, her pussy. The pussy that Tristan had so expertly pleasured with his fingers and mouth. She was still feeling sweet aftershocks from her climaxes. And what climaxes they had been! She smiled and threw back her head, her hair tumbling down her back.

  And now she was about to be fucked. And not just by anyone. She was going to get fucked by a younger man who also happened to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. And he wanted her. He wanted a woman whose husband of seventeen years had left her for a far younger woman.

  Saffron would be so proud of her.

  Tristan returned to the bedroom holding what Lydia could see were condom packets.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I honestly forgot.” He laid a couple of the foil packets on the nightstand. The one he still held he ripped open and pulled out the condom. “It’s been sometime since I had to use these.”

  She wondered what he meant by sometime. Weeks? Months? She doubted it was years. She couldn’t imagine anyone as good-looking as him going very long without a lover.

  “Were you in a relationship?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  But that wasn’t the question. The question was how long ago had it been? She didn’t think she was up to dealing with any emotional baggage from a recent, former girlfriend. She’d watched Saffron deal with that and it wasn’t pleasant.

  He slid the condom down his cock. “I was. But it’s over.” He climbed back on the bed. “Better now?” he asked, smiling.

  Lydia didn’t want to pry, but she was curious about this relationship he’d mentioned. Saffron had warned her that once she started dating she had to be careful of men who were on the rebound from past relationships.

  “Did it...end badly?” she asked.

  He quirked a dark brow at her. Fearing she had crossed the line, she started to apologize, but he spoke before she could.

  “No, not badly. It’s just over.” He moved on top of her and smiled. “Now, where were we?”

  Sliding her arms up around his neck, she slid her fingers through the silky warmth of his dark hair.

  “You were just about to fuck me,” she whispered, a sexual boldness she had never felt before welling inside her.

  He grinned. Gently kneeing her thighs apart, he slipped one arm beneath her hips, smoothly lifted her up and thrust his cock deep inside her.

  She gasped. It had been over a year since a man had last been inside her. She didn’t count her dildo. Tristan’s cock strongly stretched the muscles of her pussy as he eased deeper inside her. She moaned when he began to move; slow, restrained strokes that coated his cock with her juices. He slid one hand up to her breasts. With the other he once more took hold of her wrists. He played with her nipples, rubbing and pinching them as he increased the speed of his thrusts, his other hand firm about her wrists, his hips grion between her thighs.

  She tossed her head back and forth. “Don't stop. Please, don't stop!”

  “What, sweet?” he grunted. “What don't you want me to stop?”

  “Don't stop….” She shuddered as his cock firmly pierced her pussy. “Oh, God, don't stop…fucking me.”

  He smiled down at her. “Don't worry, sweet, I’m not going to stop fucking you until you come. Until you scream.”

  He lowered his head and gripped one of her stiff nipples with his teeth. Lydia’s hips surged off the bed. Lifting her legs, she curled them around his waist and pulled him deeper inside her.

  Tristan groaned. Lydia wrapped her arms around his heaving back. As she softly whimpered toward climax, tears gathered on her la
shes. In all the years she was married to Douglas, not once had she climaxed during intercourse.

  But here she was, coming in the arms of this handsome, sexy younger man. Maybe there was something to Saffron’s claims about younger men.

  “Let me hear you, sweet,” Tristan groaned, his hard body slamming against hers, his sweat slicking her skin. “Let me here you come.”

  Lydia was pretty much used to remaining quiet during sex as Douglas had preferred it that way. But as another climax tore through her, she cried out. Sensing that Tristan was now driving himself toward his own release, she dug her nails into his back as the hard bones of his pelvis ground against her softness.

  Oh, goodness.

  She climaxed again. Harder and deeper than she had before. She cried out as the hot pulses of her orgasm rippled through her. At her cries, Tristan moved faster, his cock hammering into her pussy. Then he stiffened and, with a deep, shuddering groan, collapsed heavily on top of her.

  She held him close as his body relaxed against hers. She rubbed her cheek along his warm shoulder. She’d never been fucked by any man but Douglas. He’d taken her virginity that cold November night twenty years ago in his dorm room when his roommate had gone home for the weekend and, once, they had married, she’d been with no other man but him. Now, just having had sex with Tristan, she knew it was truly over between her and Douglas. As for Tristan, was he her future? Or just a passing moment in time?

  He lifted his head from where he had buried it in her neck and looked down at her. “Are you okay?”

  Lydia's eyes widened. “What? Are you kidding? You were amazing.”

  “I was, wasn't I?” He winked at her, which assured her she hadn’t just had sex with an egotistical jerk.

  She rubbed her hands up and down his arms. “Yes, you were.”

  He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and grinned. “You weren't so bad yourself.”

  She punched him on the arm.

  He laughed, his eyes lighting up as he did so.” Shall we?”

  She blinked up at him. “What? Again?”