Page 45 of After Care

I could almost see the surprise on his face. His dark eyebrows rise, his eyes brighten.

Really? How so?

How difficult could the truth be? How truthful did I want to be?

I ache for you, I typed. My core pulsed faster than my heart. Moisture dampened my thighs, and I ached, yes, I ached in a way I never had before.

There was no response, and I stood to undress. I wanted to text again, asking if my comment had been too much, but decided against it. My thoughts ran wild: worry over Masie; recollection of the backstage bathroom; hyperawareness of the racing between my thighs.

Then my phone binged.

Stay dressed.

Most women might want to read, get naked, but that…that message sent my pulse to near desperate measures. My fingers twitched, and I wondered if I could do the unimaginable. Could I touch myself? Would it feel as good as his thick digits? Could it replace him buried deep inside me? The thoughts alone almost brought me to orgasm, and the answer to each was a resounding no. I wanted him with every fiber of my being, and the anticipation heightened the wait.

Fifteen minutes later, my heart skittered in my chest, and I tried to regulate my breathing as a soft knock at the door announced him. He texted as well, but I didn’t need to read it. Taking a calming breath, I opened the door.

“How’s Masie?” he asked as he entered, and it soothed my anxiety that he asked about my child. I peeked into the bathroom to find her still on the floor, asleep.

“She’ll live, but she’ll hate life tomorrow,” I chuckled, leaving the door open a crack. Without questioning what he wanted, I led him to my room. I stopped in front of a chest of drawers with a flat screen television over it. It stood opposite the bed. My hands gripped the surface as my backside rested against it. I don’t know why I was so nervous.

He stepped inside and closed the door. Locking it, he looked at me. “You okay with that?” I nodded, agreeing that the interruption of one of my children would be mortifying. “I don’t think you’ll see Caleb for a while.” He was correct. Caleb still rode the tide of playing on stage, and he had a new collection of his own fans, or at least momentary groupies, but I didn’t want to think of him. Tommy sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, facing me.

“Put your shoes back on.” His voice was husky, deep and rough, like gravel in a glass jar, and I followed his order without question. Just like him telling me to stay dressed, replacing my shoes on my feet seemed sensual, alluring, and invigorating. I returned to my place by the dresser, and Tommy stood. First, he kissed me. His tough, thick fingers caressed my cheeks and stroked my neck as his mouth took its time to lick and suck and nip. Tugging at my lower lip, his tongue entered my mouth, but not in the aggressive, conquering way he typically took, but more like a casual stroll on a rainy day. He swept inside and covered my teeth, tangling with the hungry muscle.

His hands came to the collar of my shirt and pressed it open, allowing it to fall wide and slide down my arms. He untied the casual twist at my waist and slipped his hands inside, forcing the shirt to fall free. With hands at my waist, he continued to kiss me, drawing my mouth deep, lapping long at my lips and filling my mouth with his tongue again. A finger slipped under the thin shoulder strap and removed one side, and then the other. Hitching his thumbs in the sides, just under my arm, he rolled the material downward to expose my strapless bra.

How I longed for sensation, that tingle I should have felt, but Tommy took care of that. His mouth moved over the top of my cleavage, taking his time to suck at my skin and run his tongue over the swells. He unhitched the bra, exposing my tattooed tits and taking a long look.

“I hate cancer,” he whispered, his voice catching on a croak. “But you are so beautiful.” He paused, swallowing as he stared at my breasts. “And it changes nothing.” His mouth returned to attending each breast with tender kisses and light pecks before he dropped to his knees. He dragged the remainder of the dress to my hips and slid it to the floor, tapping an ankle. I stepped out of the material and stood before him only in the strappy heels. A calloused fingertip traced over the design across the top of my foot before he looked up at me, his eyes wide and obsidian black.

“I didn’t get to finish what I started at the bar. I knew there wasn’t enough time, but now I plan to savor every drop of you, and you’re going to come so hard, darlin’.” He parted my thighs, skating a hand upward and delving two fingers into my core. Releasing me with a moan, he licked his fingers and pressed my legs further apart. I gripped the dresser at my back for balance as his head fell between my naked thighs, as he returned to parting me with his tongue. It was different this time, slow and languid, as if he swirled and dug for every last drop of a favorite treat. The flatness of his tongue lapped at me, and then returned to slip inside me. My legs quaked again, but this time it wasn’t the thrill of the race but the torture of the tease. I looked down to find silver-and-ink-colored hair between my thighs, and it unsettled the tremors deep in the pit of my stomach. I released one hand to comb fingers through his hair, and he purred against my sensitive folds.

“Tommy,” I whispered, warning him, but he already knew. This man I’d known only days already read my body better than anyone ever had, and his attentions picked up the pace. He hitched up one leg, wrapping it over his shoulder as I balanced on one heeled foot. I gripped his head at my thighs, and within seconds, I came, so sweetly, so slowly, so surprisingly long, I nearly cried. The sensation was nothing I’d felt before, and emotion poured from me as I rode the orgasm at his lips. Kissing me tenderly inside each thigh, he pulled back and blew a kiss to my privates.

“Fine wine, just like I pegged,” he said, and I chuckled softly at the memory. Oh, how I hated to leave this man, I cried inside, warning my heart in equal measure not to fall in love with him. My practical side said you don’t fall in love within days, anyway.

He stood slowly, coming for my mouth again with a searing kiss before turning me toward the bed. When the back of my knees hit the mattress, he gently pushed me and I fell back. The springing felt carefree; the bounce made me young. I stared in wonder as he undressed, taking his time to torture me with a striptease of T-shirt, jeans, and boxer briefs. He’d already kicked off his boots, and he removed his socks as I scooted up the bed.

“We have one small problem, darlin’, and I hate to mention it now, but I must.” I paused, and he stilled, waiting at the end of the bed. “I used my only condom on you at the bar. I didn’t think to grab another one.”

I nodded as I stared at him, an impasse of indecision, because I honestly didn’t know how he wanted me to answer.

“I don’t suppose you’re on the pill,” he questioned, and I chuckled in response, shaking my head. There hadn’t been a need to be. David fixed all that after Masie. Besides, the chemo removed any other possibility of pregnancy.

“I haven’t been without a condom in twenty years, beautiful. I’m clean. I’m tested, and all that shit.” I nodded and continued backing up the bed. Separating my thighs just the slightest encouraged him to start crawling, making his way up the mattress over me. I was wanton and desperate for him, but more importantly, I felt wanted by him in the way he looked at me. He gripped himself as he neared my entrance, pausing just outside, teasing me with his tip.

“You sure about this, darlin’?” he whispered, peering down at himself. Hesitating a moment, he added, “I feel like I’ve never wanted anything more than to feel the heat of you surrounding me.”

“I want you, Tommy Carrigan,” I replied, and nothing could have prepared me for how quickly he slammed into me. I gripped the sheets in tight fists, and he slipped in to the hilt. His heavy sacs hit the underside of me. Releasing the bedcovers, I reached for his shoulders, stroking down the slight hills and over the deep swell of his biceps as he slowed his thrusting to a steady rhythm. My palms sculpted his body, skimming his sides and wrapping around to his muscled back. I reached for the glorious globes of his ass and pressed upward, willing him to go deeper, harder, faster. He continued to take his time before increasing in a manner that had us both catching our breath. If I thought I’d made love to Tommy Carrigan last night, he was making love to me tonight. He tried to kiss me, but we couldn’t keep the pace so instead he concentrated on filling me. Tension built in equal measure between us and I clenched, the release desperate to hold him. Instead, he pulled out quickly, spilling over my lower abdomen.

I watched as he came, the milky substance coating my belly. He rubbed some of it around my loose waist and then pushed the rest upward toward my breasts. Skating between them, he painted me with the seed of his release before he skipped up to my lips and forced a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, licking the salty flavor and removing the stickiness. He withdrew his finger and stared down at me.

“You didn’t,” he admonished, knowing I hadn’t come again.

“I’m okay,” I stated, the words being true. He’d already given me two orgasms in the span of four hours. He’d given me more in the last six days than I’d had in three years. I wouldn’t fault him this failure, but he dropped onto the mattress by my side, placing me on top of him. My legs parted, straddling near his sac.

“I’m getting soft, but I’m still willing. Take what you need, darlin’. Ride against me to get the rub.” I did as he asked, positioning myself so the spot I needed met him. I tried to be tender, but when I wasn’t getting the full effect, I slipped my fingers to the place I needed for relief. I came again with a deep shudder, my head thrown forward, biting my lip to keep from moaning.