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Again, pull out. Push in. She wanted more, wanted to come; she couldn’t bear to be still any longer, yet couldn’t bear to move and break the spell. But it wasn’t enough, this slow slide; she had to have more.
“Harder,” she whispered. “Please, harder.”
He wouldn’t, the bastard, but kept up the easy slide while 186
heat built through her, teasing and simmering, still not enough to get to a full boil. Her head fell back in frustration, her lips parted. He took advantage, kissing her, his tongue entering her mouth, withdrawing for a sweeter kiss, then entering again, sending her even higher.
Finally when she was on the brink of clawing and biting, his thrusts began to build in speed and intensity until she was clawing and biting, desperate for the release she knew he was about to give her. He pulled away; she protested, missing his warmth and closeness, but his thumb found her clitoris and she gave in to her climb to the top, watching him watching the pleasure on her face, then looking down at their joining, his hard length disappearing, reemerging, disappearing again, his thumb working her.
Candy went over the edge, crying out; he lunged, caught himself bent-armed on the back of the couch, pushed roughly, lost control of his breathing, then gave a hoarse moan and sank into her one more time.
She loved him. This had been raunchy, wonderful sex, not the tender and emotional kind an announcement like that would fit, but she loved him. She wanted to open her mouth and tell him, but fear held her back. Just because her feelings had come rushing up with her orgasm didn’t mean he felt it, too. She felt love; he felt pizza and a movie.
“Candy.” He helped her put her stiff legs down, gathered her in his arms; she burrowed there, drinking in his scent and proximity. “I don’t know if you figured it out yet, but you turn me on.”
She swallowed the thickness in her throat and smiled. Yes, she knew she turned him on. But she wanted to do a lot more than that. “It was incredible.”
Really incredible. She loved him. Crazy loved him. She couldn’t stop thinking it; her heart was bursting with the knowledge.
“I’m sorry I took you away from your cupcakes.” His ex-pression turned confused. “Wait, what am I saying? No, I’m not.”
She laughed, giving his joke its due, made sure her voice was clear and light when she answered. “I’m not either.”
“I suppose you need to get back to them now.”
She didn’t give a crap about the cupcakes. She wanted to go upstairs with him and lie in bed the rest of the afternoon, the rest of the evening, the rest of her life.
“That’s what I thought.” He’d mistaken her silence, pulled out of her gently and got to his feet, found her clothes and started putting his on.
She dressed, too: panties, bra, jeans, shirt, socks, slippers, thanks for the afternoon delight and goodbye.
At her front door, he pulled her into his arms. “I hate leaving. I want to stay in bed with you the rest of the day. The rest of the night, in fact.”
The rest of our lives? “Me, too.”
He kissed her, tenderly, sweetly, lingeringly, put his forehead against hers. “Tomorrow, okay?”
Valentine’s Day. “Yes.”
“We’ll have fun.”
“We
will.”
He kissed her again. “I’m glad I found you, Candy. This feels so good. And so…good.”
“Well, good.” She grinned up at him. Had he been about to say something else? “That’s good.”
“Yeah, um, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I’m getting out of here, I promise.”
“Bye.” She shut the door after him and collapsed against it, momentarily drained. Then, like a smitten teenager, she ran to her living room and peeked through the window to watch him walk home.
When he disappeared from view, she reluctantly returned to the kitchen without paying the slightest attention to what she was doing until she found herself washing the bowl and 188
realized the last dozen or so cupcakes were frosted. Next task: she filled a piping bag with red gel icing and started forming groups of hearts on each.
The phone rang. She started and hurried to check.
Not Justin. Marie.
“Hey, Candy girl, what’s going on?”
