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This was a special moment. Not only because it was her first time, but because she was finally making love with the man she had been in love with for years.
Letting her hands fall to her sides, she watched him finish undressing. She had seen him in swim trunks before, so his perfectly sculpted muscles were no surprise, nor was the golden tone of his skin, or the curly black hair on his chest, thinning as it traveled down his stomach.
But seeing those things in this situation had a profound impact on her. Heat suffused her body, while she felt a tremble work its way from her core outward.
“You are incredibly beautiful,” she whispered,
He stopped in the act of pulling off his silk boxers and stared at her, nonplussed. “Men are not beautiful, pethi mou.”
“You are.”
He laughed a little, shook his head, and then laughed again. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“I am glad to hear my body pleases you.”
“It always has.”
He nodded and pushed the boxers off, allowing that part of him that made him so intensely masculine to surge upward. It was big, and pulsingly alive. A darker color than the rest of his skin, his sex stood out proudly from his body in testament to the desire he claimed to have for her.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“My friends at university told me that the pictures of men in magazines were not representative. That the average man was not nearly so…um…happily blessed in his nether regions.”
Spiros shrugged. “This is true. Are you disappointed?”
“No…I…um…I…don’t think you are the average man.”
Once again he laughed, but this time more fully. “I do not measure myself against other men.”
“Liar.”
He winked. “Perhaps once or twice I have eyed the competition, but a man must learn how to make love to a woman, not merely have the tool to do so. It matters not how one measures in comparison without that.”
“Even if that measurement is very impressive?”
“Be careful, or you will make me blush.”
“Maybe I’d like to see that.”
“I think you would rather feel right now, byba. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know…would I?”
He came down on the double lounger, his hot body above hers. “Trust me, you would.”
“I do trust you, Spiros. More than anyone or anything.”
“I am glad to hear it, Phoebe.” He leaned down and kissed her again, then started divesting her of her clothing. “Let’s get rid of these, shall we?”
“If you insist,” she tried to joke, but her voice came out too breathy, and just a little high.
“Oh, I do.” His voice was sultry, and sensual as sin. Wow. Just wow. And maybe darn.
His fingertips traced her skin as he removed her clothing, sending shivers throughout her body as he removed one article of clothing after another. She’d expected him to spend extra time on commonly accepted erogenous zones, was even preparing herself for it. What she was not prepared for was the way he found nerve-rich centers in the most unexpected locations and spent time with his hands and mouth playing to her sensitivity.
Places like the arch of her foot. And just behind her knee. And the small of her back. The nape of her neck. And the underside of her chin. Yes, her nipples were responsive, achingly so, but by the time he got to them she was so aroused she cried out in pleasure as his mouth closed over one hardened bud. When he sucked, she bowed up off the lounger, feeling the cataclysm she had felt once before at his touch building inside her again. And he brought her to it without giving her a chance to catch her breath or touch him or anything. Building, building, building, until her whole body went rigid and then convulsed in ecstasy.
