by Bonnie Dee
After several moments of moving in a dreamlike trance, Ric twirled her around to face him and drew her close again. Resting her head against his chest, she listened to his thundering heart, while their bodies moved in perfect harmony. His erection nudged her stomach, and his arousal sent another wave of raging lust through her. If the dance didn’t finish soon, she’d fall on her back on the floor, legs spread wide.
Finally, the song ended. Carrie stepped out of the circle of Ric’s arms and looked up at him. He inclined his head and kissed her again, a long, slow exploration of her mouth right there on the crowded dance floor. He took her hand again, such a familiar, comfortable feeling already, and led her from the room.
Back outside, the rush of cool air felt like a blessing. She lifted her overheated face into the breeze, letting it ruffle through her hair.
“Little stuffy and smoky in there,” Ric said. “But the dancing’s fun.”
“Thanks for taking me. It was great.”
An awkward silence fell. She wondered if he was thinking about what would come next like she was.
“Do you…?” she said at the same moment he asked, “Would you like to…?”
They both laughed then she gestured at him to continue. “Go ahead.”
“I wondered if you wanted to go back to my house for a while. Nando’s at my mom’s house. Overnight,” he added.
Her mind raced, weighing the pros and cons of his place versus hers. She’d feel more secure on her own ground, but if she wanted to end the evening, it would be difficult to ask him to leave her apartment. At his place, she could simply make an excuse and go home.
As the moment dragged out, Ric’s smile dimmed. “I’m sorry. That came out really sleazy, didn’t it? I don’t mean to sound like some kind of—”
“I’d love to see your house,” she interrupted. “But I can’t stay too long, I have school in the morning.” Although I could take a sick day. When’s the last time I took a day for myself?
“Great.” His smile lit his face, setting his eyes sparkling and calling up that delightful crease in his cheek. How could she not be entranced by a guy with a charming dimple, especially one who sang to her in Spanish, and danced with a sensuality that had her pulse pounding?
Happy Valentine’s Day to me!
Chapter Five
He took her back to her car so she’d have her own set of wheels, and, naturally, on the drive to his house, Carrie began to second guess—or was it third or fourth guess—herself.
Ric was a widower with a child. What if this turned into more than one evening of fun? What if it evolved into a full-fledged relationship that somehow miraculously didn’t go sour? Was she ready to be involved with the parent of an eight-year-old boy? What would her role be—teacher, lover, mother figure? The last sent a chill through her. No way was she ready for that kind of responsibility.
“And once again, putting the cart before the horse,” she reminded herself aloud as she pulled up to the curb in front of Ric’s house. “One neurotic meltdown at a time. We haven’t even had The Sex yet.”
Ric parked his beauty of a car in a small driveway between his house and the one next door. He crossed the postage-stamp-sized front lawn to meet her on the sidewalk. Tossing his keys up and down in his palm, he slipped an arm around her waist and guided her up the walk to the front door.
The house was a small two-story sandwiched in between carbon-copy houses, the only differences being a door color here, an awning there. But for a row house in a lower-class suburb of the city, the place was well-maintained. Ric fit the key to the lock and ushered her inside. He took her coat in the dimly lit foyer and hung it up, then flipped on the light switch, illuminating the living room beyond.
Carrie quickly scanned the modest furnishings—couch, armchair, entertainment center. Car and fishing magazines on the end table. Toys scattered on the floor. A game console and controllers parked on the coffee table. The carpet was a dull tan color and the walls wood paneled. A large, generic nature print hung above the couch. Another wall was covered with framed family photos.
“Can I get you a drink?” Ric moved into the room and began picking up some of Nando’s toys as he talked. “I have beer and, uh, wine. Nothing special, though. If you’re a connoisseur, you’ll be disappointed.”
Carrie suddenly realized he was nervous and knowing that dispelled some of her own jitters. “Wine is fine. I’m not particular.”
He went into the kitchen with a toy robot in one hand and a stack of comic books in the other.
She turned to study the photographs on the wall. There was Ric and Nando on a ride at a theme park waving at the camera; an older couple, presumably Ric’s parents, at the same park, standing with their grandson in front of a roller coaster. She examined more snapshots of family events as well as posed pictures from weddings and other celebrations. His brothers were every bit as handsome as Ric and his sister a beauty. Good genes.
Carrie froze as she came across another wedding photo—Ric and Angelina in black and white, gazing into one another’s eyes over clasped hands. They were a gorgeous couple and the expression in their eyes made her stomach clench. Real love. The kind that made a family.
She examined pictures of Angelina pregnant and cradled in Ric’s arms, the grandparents holding an infant, Angelina and Nando looking up from a picture book, a portrait studio pose of their little family.
Then suddenly there was no more Angelina, only school pictures of Nando, and none at all of Ric, as though without her, he didn’t exist.
She started when his voice spoke from behind her.
“Hope this is all right.”
Carrie took the glass of wine he offered and sipped it. She nodded at the wedding portrait, deciding that acknowledging Angelina’s presence was better than trying to ignore it. “You look so young.”
“We were.” He gazed past her at the photo for a moment. “We dated during high school, married a couple of years later, had Nando the year after that. She died when he was six. For a long time, she was all I could think about. When I finally did try to date it was…a disaster, but you know what?”
Ric rested his hand on her cheek, turning her attention from the picture. “I actually don’t want to talk about my dead wife right now. Tonight I want to start something new.”
He leaned to kiss her.
Carrie tilted her head back, rising up to meet his mouth, her free hand braced against his chest. Once more his soft lips enveloped hers and a whimper of satisfaction escaped her. She stopped thinking about his widower status, quit worrying about him being a single parent, and reveled in the kiss.
He took the wine glass from her hand and set both glasses aside on an end table. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him. His muscles were unyielding beneath her hands and against her body. It seemed she could feel his very life’s blood throbbing through his veins.
Sweet from the wine, his tongue insinuated between her lips, twisting sinuously around hers and setting off sparklers of desire popping through her synapses. She was helpless to hold back another soft moan.
His hands spread wide over her back, roaming up and down before settling on her ass and cupping it firmly. The bulge of his erection pressed into her through the fly of his jeans and the fabric of her skirt. Her pussy tingled at the contact and another gush of wetness soaked her already-wet panties. Clutching his shoulders, she rubbed her sex against him and was rewarded by a quiet groan deep in his throat.
“Ah, baby,” he whispered as he released her lips with a wet pop. He kissed her cheek and jaw, and then sprinkled kisses all the way down the column of her throat.
She raised her chin to grant him access and shivered at the soft, sucking kisses he bestowed on the hollow between her collarbones. Her fingers clenched the material of his shirt, and she thrust her chest forward as his lips skated lower, across the plane of her chest and along the neckline of her sweater.
He abandoned his grip on her ass to push his hand undernea
th her sweater. It glided over her rib cage and up to her bra. When he cupped her breast in his palm, Carrie exhaled a soft, “Ohh!”
With his other hand, he pulled the neckline of her sweater lower, revealing more cleavage. He explored the new territory, licking, kissing, and sucking the top swell of each breast.
Ric straightened.
Her chin went down and her eyes opened as she looked at him questioningly.
His eyes burned like coal as they gazed into hers. “I love your fuzzy pink sweater, but could we…?”
She smiled and reached down to grab the hem and peeled the sweater over her head. Her skin itched all over. Goose pimples rose even though the room wasn’t cold. She was excited and nervous and embarrassed at standing there in only her bra and her naked skin. Swallowing hard, she met his eyes again and raised an eyebrow, determined not to let him know how shy she suddenly felt.
His gaze lingered over her breasts and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Ai, mami, beautiful!” He cupped them in his hands, weighing them and feeling their texture.
Carrie held her breath for a moment, frozen as he fondled her breasts and pinched her nipples. She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, tugging it down her arms and tossing it aside.
If possible, his eyes grew even darker and hungrier. They were riveted on her chest. His lips parted.
Her nipples were erect and as hard as diamonds. They thrust out pink and proud from her round globes. Ric bent to suck one bud into his mouth. The tugging sensation pulled a thread leading directly down to her crotch. Her pussy tensed. Carrie gasped.
She glanced at his large, tan hand enveloping her pale breast and the erotic sight sent another rush of desire coursing through her. It was all so incredibly real—nothing like a daydream fantasy of a man. She noted his blunt, square fingers, still with a trace of grease around the cuticles, and felt the rough, callused pads of his fingers exploring her flesh.
She moaned again and pressed her tits into his hands and mouth. Her fingers threaded in the soft, black curls at his nape and cupped his head, holding him to her.
Switching sides, he gave equal attention to her other breast, his tongue flicking her nipple lightly, swirling around it, before sucking it into his mouth.
Impossible to believe this was happening to her. The day had started out so bland and normal. Her eyes drifted half-closed and her mouth opened as another gasp of delight escaped her.
Ric toyed with her other breast for only a moment, then his hand drifted lower, sliding down her rib cage and stomach toward the waistband of her skirt. He slipped a finger underneath, stroking over her groin.
Her stomach muscles rippled at the contact and her pussy swelled eagerly.
But there was no room to maneuver, so he withdrew his finger and attacked from the other direction, sliding his hand up her thigh beneath the skirt.
Carrie bit her bottom lip as his fingers reached the elastic of her underwear then slipped beneath it. His touch on the swollen lips of her sex was light but sent fire racing through her. She wanted him inside her immediately, not just an experimental finger probing, but his cock, which she imagined would be as big as every other part of him.
Letting her nipple pop from his mouth, Ric dropped from a half-crouch to kneel in front of her. He kissed her belly and dipped his tongue into her navel. He pulled away for a moment as he located the zipper on the side of her skirt. The skirt slipped down her hips and he pulled it off her legs, leaving her clad only in her panties.
His hands framed her pussy, splayed on either side of the scrap of material covering it. For a moment, he knelt, gazing at the red satin underwear she’d chosen in honor of the holiday, just in case they’d be seen.
Carrie rested a hand on his shoulder, the other brushed through his curly hair. It was so soft and dark. She let a lock coil around her finger then spring loose. She loved the way he looked from this angle, kneeling at her feet, the sweep of his eyelashes seen from above.
Her pulse fluttered and her crotch continued to throb as Ric slowly lowered her heart-red panties, over her hips, down her legs, off her feet.
She felt incredibly sexy standing nude before him while he was still fully clothed. She was on display for this man she scarcely knew, his eyes feasting on her private parts. She’d never experienced anything so shockingly erotic in her life. A handful of hours ago they’d been talking in her classroom, now he was leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her most intimate area. He flicked his tongue over the tiny nerve bundle of her clit, releasing a powerful surge of sensations.
“Oh!” she moaned. Her eyes were barely open, but she didn’t want to close them the rest of the way. She needed to see him doing this to her. Needed to see his pink tongue licking up the length of her seam. Needed to see him spreading her labia with his fingers and delving his tongue deep inside to taste her. Sight combined with feeling, creating a sensual champagne of arousal that bubbled up inside her.
Replacing tongue with fingers, Ric plunged one, then two inside her. He pumped them in and out, while lapping over her clit.
Carrie closed her eyes and rocked her hips forward, meeting the thrust of his fingers. Soft gasps and whimpers came from her parted lips. Any residual embarrassment at being so exposed to him disappeared, as she completely gave in to the assault of sensations pouring through her body.
One of his hands held her hip steady, while the other fucked her, filling and stretching her with controlled thrusts. His tongue never broke contact with her clit, swirling around it, brushing it lightly, then settling on a steady pace that moved her from vague flashes of desire to a concentrated focus on that point. Little licks of random flame burned hotter and brighter, joining together, flaring into a conflagration that swept through her.
“Oh!” she cried out, gripping his shoulders and bucking against him. Lights flashed behind her closed eyelids as her body spasmed and her legs threatened to buckle from the force of her sudden orgasm.
Ric made a satisfied hum that vibrated against her crotch. His tongue stilled, but his mouth remained fixed to her, sucking lightly on her clit until the very last tremor passed through her.
Rising at last, he took her in his arms, letting her sag against him as boneless as a rag doll.
As her breathing slowed and evened, Carrie became aware of her nudity again. How strange to be so naked and vulnerable yet not feel the least uncomfortable or shy. But now she wanted to see his body unclothed, feel the smooth heat of his skin against hers, and his throbbing cock filling her hand. She pulled away from him and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Pushing her hands aside and ignoring the rest of the buttons, he pulled the shirt over his head. His undershirt peeled off with it. Carrie gazed at the wealth of burnished skin stretched taut over sculpted muscles, while her hands went for his fly, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
With almost frantic haste, he pushed the jeans down his hips and legs, teetering on one leg then the other as he pulled off his shoes and socks, too. He kicked the clothes aside and stood before her naked, his body as chiseled as a statue, but warm and real and glowing with life.
His broad shoulders and chest looked strong enough to lift a house. His torso tapered down to narrow hips, the angle naturally drawing her attention to the thick cock jutting from between his legs. It was framed by a dark tangle of hair and underneath hung his heavy sac. Altogether, impressive equipment.
Carrie reached tentatively to touch his shaft, but before she’d barely had a chance to feel the soft skin and encircle its girth in her hand, he proved the strength of his body by sweeping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.
He carried her to the couch. Knocking a Game Boy and a geography textbook to the floor, he laid her down on it. The rough, nubby upholstery scratched her naked back and ass, and something poked her in the left shoulder.
She reached underneath herself, pulled out a small, plastic solider, and tossed it toward the coffee table.
Tall and imposi
ng, Ric stood over her for a moment, gazing at her body spread against the ugly plaid couch. He nudged her legs wider apart with his knee and knelt between them, lowering his body over hers—a tight fit on the couch. His arms were braced on either side of her head, and her hair was trapped beneath one of them.
She tugged it free.
Her heart raced, pounding so hard it hurt, as his heavy weight pressed her into the couch. It had been so long since she’d held a man’s naked body in her arms. His skin felt like satin and the hard male muscles beneath it called to everything soft and feminine in her. Her pussy felt warm as melting butter, supple, open and ready for him to enter.
The tip of his cock sought her entrance blindly, nudging into the aching lips that gripped around him. As he pushed inside, he cried out, “Coño! Chinga!”
The barked words startled Carrie from her dreamy, sexual trance.
“I forgot a fucking condom. Just a second.”
He pulled out of her, jumped off the couch, banged his shin on the coffee table, and continued to curse a blue streak in both Spanish and English as he hurried from the room.
Good God, she hadn’t remembered a condom either! The precaution that should have been topmost in her mind hadn’t even entered it. What the hell was wrong with her? The powerful sense of need that had overtaken her common sense receded a little as she had a moment to cool down.
Glancing down at her naked body splayed wide, one leg pressed against the back of the couch, the other foot on the floor, she brought her legs together, hiding her yawning pussy.
A few moments later, Ric reappeared in the living room doorway, shoulders nearly touching the frame on either side. His head bent as he concentrated on ripping open the condom wrapper in his hands. His cock angled out in front of him like the hood ornament of a car.
Carrie’s flagging libido charged back to full strength. Oh yes, this was what she wanted. No doubt about it. She spread her legs wide again.
She smiled at the intent frown on his face as he paused to roll the condom down his shaft then continued on his way to the couch. This time he managed to stub his toe on the leg of the coffee table as he stepped around it.
