Consenting Hearts (The Hearts Series Book 1)

by Muffy Wilson

  “I think you felt the same way tonight, too, Sailie, and that’s why you sent Meesa home. Of course, I would like to think you wanted me all to yourself, but I think the truth is you wanted us all to yourself as much as I. And that’s even better. I don’t have a lot of time Stateside before I have to go back for the rest of my tour. I want my time spent in a myriad of quality ways, especially with the people I love. If I didn’t know it earlier, I knew it the minute I heard you sing My Funny Valentine—you are one of those myriad of quality ways. And I don’t want to share you with Meesa or anyone else—not even your cat. I want to spend what time I have here connecting your freckles, memorizing your every nuance, committing your fragrance, the aroma of your love, the radiance of your arousal to memory. I need to know that I’ll have you to keep me sane and whole when I’m back in the sand-blinding desert. I’m not asking you to love me but to share your love with me. I only want to make memories with you that I can take with me to keep me grounded while surrounded by heated insanity. Does that make any sense? Because it sure sounds crazy to me…and impulsive…and carefree…and spontaneous, perhaps even a bit reckless—but, time is not my friend.”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Another ten days, which no doubt will speed by if I spend them with you.”

  “But, don’t you have family who want to see you, spend time with you?”

  “Sure, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Besides, you have to work, don’t you?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “I can see my family and other friends while you are working. I will gladly spend my nights with you, if you have a consenting heart.”

  “I cannot believe I’m saying this—but, I can take some time off; I just have to get a few things in order and rescheduled.”

  “I would love that, Sailie. Truly. I can think of no better way to spend my nights than with you—eating, drinking, making love and memories. But, I don’t want you to jeopardize your job…or your boyfriend.”

  “I won’t. Boyfriends are for little girls. I am not a little girl, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh, baby, I noticed…”

  “Feel like another drink?”

  “If, by another drink, you mean a long drink of redhead.”

  “Well, that, too.”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough for a while. But you go ahead.”

  “No, I was just being polite. I really have had enough, too. I don’t want to dull my senses or my reflexes. For example, did I just hear you mention the word ‘head’?”

  “I believe you did. That is so astute of you. I love a woman that really listens to me—one cannot have a conversation with someone who is not listening.”

  “Listening is another quality I pride myself on…” and Sailie slid slowly from this beautiful man’s chest to his equally beautiful cock which was in the process of filling up with eagerness. She wiggled into position between his knees where she knelt and inhaled his wholesome manliness. His musky blend of earthy, mossy, steaming rain-forest and patchouli intermingled with the hard-polished scent of leather and sweet cigars. It was heady and inspiring to Sailie. His aroma was just as she thought it would be—like a deep, rich, aged brandy that lingers on the tongue delighting the senses before it departs to warm the depths of passion. She drew her hands expertly along the sides of his well-formed sides to his waist just above his buttocks and gave him a commanding tug, pulling him slightly forward, closer to her waiting mouth. He looked down at the woman kneeling before him then leaned his head back on the sofa and relaxed, opening himself to Sailie.

  She skillfully brought her hands up over his torso, down his hard belly, paused only briefly to kiss his bellybutton while his cock slapped reminders against her chin, to the artfully trimmed patch of pubes just above his cock. What a beautiful cock it was! She had delighted in the precision of this skillful loving shaft but had not gotten a close look at it until now. The head released a small drop of precum, like a tear suspended just outside of the slit, balanced teasingly on the cap as if waiting for her to scoop it off with a flick of her tongue. And so she did. She rimmed the cap and darted the tip of her tongue into the slit as if trying to coax more jism out. Sailie dropped one deliberate hand to his ballsack and the other held his cock with determination and slowly slid his fisted cock up and down. Sailie looked up at Dylan whose eyes were closed in quiet reverie. She licked the underside of his cock with her tongue from his balls to the head, leaving a slippery trail of her saliva dripping down him and her hand, rimmed him again and then dropped her mouth over the cap and swallowed him fully down her throat. To feel his warm pulsing flesh in her mouth was more than sensual, it felt as though she was connected to a life-giving, blissful human experience.

  Dylan moaned and held her head between his hands as he guided her rhythm and started to move with her.

  Sailie was near euphoric, her pheromones strumming her desire. As she sucked the cap into her mouth and swallowed the entire shaft down her throat, she sensed the pressure rise through his body as he moved and responded to the skillful dalliance of her tongue hard at work to bring his pleasure to total surrender. A speck of pre-cum touched her tongue and she savored it yet again; when Dylan reached orgasm, he pressed himself deftly into her mouth as he held her head steady. Sailie wanted to feel the warm silky touch of his hot ejaculate on her face. The blissful feeling of accomplishment bringing him such fierce and intense pleasure was overwhelming to Sailie as she squirmed in her own lustful pool. Dylan’s sperm was the essence of his life and she had just coupled with him to make it their own. It was no surprise that she wanted to taste it, drink it, take it into her body and make hers.

  They lay spent, a single sigh shared between them. Dylan dozed while Sailie replayed the moments over and over in her head, the moments preceding, the moments of and the moments after as Dylan’s throbbing flesh shrunk inside her mouth, the final vestiges of cum dribbled delicately on her tongue forcing another swallow. She would remember the heady feel of control, the sensuous aroma of his heat, the weight of his cock and the pulse of his heartbeat inside her throat.

  Sailie would never forget these precious moments of love with this man of chance she met tonight because of some higher power, a grand design that unfolded to envelope her.

  Sailie was wont to admit that she was in love. Sailie in love. Sailie in love with Dylan, her very visceral valentine. Yes, Sailie was in love, she smiled in her heart and knew instinctively what the lyrics finally meant in the song she sang tonight. And she was not afraid; not afraid of having love, being in love, finding love or losing love because she had this love—she had it forever. It would never leave her.

  She relaxed her head on Dylan’s thigh and he woke.

  “Sailie, love…let’s go to bed.”

  “Yes, Dylan, let’s.”

  “It’s been a long day for me and I need to stretch out—beside you.”

  “Me, too. Sounds silly, but I’ve never looked so forward to falling asleep with a man in my bed before tonight.”

  “I’m glad I’m that man, Sailie-love.” Dylan stood and took a drink from his Manhattan.

  “Me too. Here, grab my hand and help a girl up, won’t you?”

  “Gladly.” He put his drink back on the coaster on the coffee table and whipped Sailie into his arms and carried her in the direction of the dark hallway.

  “To the end and left at the last door.”

  He walked into the room and was surprised to find dimly lit lights and candles flickering in the moonlight streaming in through the open draperies. It was floor to ceiling lights between the stars and the bed of jewels in the city below.

  “Looks like you were a wicked, scheming wanton woman tonight, Sailie-love. The truth is there is no place more fitting for romance and love to thrive than here on the precipice, life at our fingertips, above the clouds on a bed of jewels flickering with the beat of our hearts.”

  “Oh, God, Dylan… I do love you. I love this moment,
the night, your touch. I cannot help myself; I am spiraling into your love—out of control.”

  “There is no time to waste; this is no time for control. The heart wants what the heart wants and it is ours to give and live together.”

  “But, aren’t we rushing things just a little? After all…”

  “Time is not a lover, nor a keeper. Time is a taker. If we do not seize this feeling as our own, it will be stolen from us and we will only regret what we did not take, what we did not do together. For how can a feeling so raw and pure be denied? Why should it be denied? Because we just met tonight? Who are we to say when we met? Perhaps we are old souls, lovers in a past of light-years separated by death or parents or war or…time. Why should such a passion be refused when it is seeking fulfillment? We are adults and can do as we please together or not. Is this moving all too fast for you, Sailie-love?”

  “No, Dylan, it isn’t. You had me at the proverbial ‘Hello’!”

  “Then let’s not talk about it again. Let’s not make plans or worry about propriety. Let’s not let time steal what God has given us.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Love, Sailie, love—and consenting hearts. God has perfect timing, Sailie, because today is Valentine’s Day and I get to spend it with you.”

  He laid her on the bed, covered her and walked around to the other side. He pulled the coverlet back and crawled in beside her, scooped her in his arms, her head resting upon his broad chest and shoulder. She sighed in total contentment as she listened to his breathing slow and his heartbeat soften.

  They slept the peaceful uninterrupted—restorative, recuperative—sleep of the pure at heart, the sleep of wholesome, exhausted satisfaction. It was a childlike slumber, one which reflected the confidence in the future, and what it held, that only lovers and children share—the knowledge that with a new dawn, a new day would be ushered in to replace the old and a bright future lay before them like the scattered, jeweled lights from the city below—a gift.

  “Yes, consenting hearts, darling,” she whispered and Sailie drifted into the night in Dylan’s arms. “And I get to spend Valentine’s Day—and forever—with you.”

  ~ A New Beginning ~

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Muffy, author of provocative romance about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in Texas to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and 'came of age' in France which forged her joie de vivre and love for books, writing and education.

  Married and living in the tropical paradise of SW Florida along the Gulf Coast, Muffy dabbles in real estate, writes and enjoys life in the sun with her husband and wee Havanese pup, Burt.

  ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion

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  February 14, 2016 Release

  Amazon Buy Link

  Feb 2016 ~ Consenting Hearts A Very Special Valentine

  Feb 2016 ~ My Life in the Sky A Memoir of Lt. Col. Joe Lyle Jr

  March 19, 2016 Release

  Amazon Pre-Order Link

  Mar 2016 ~ Alpha Fever Anthology with Gina Kincade from Naughty Nights Press

  May 2016 ~ Sequel to The Para-Portage of Emily

  July 2016 ~ Ribbons of Moonlight Sequel to Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences