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She went wild, arching against his hand, every muscle taut. “Please!” she gasped against his lips. “Don’t stop there . . .”
“I won’t, sweetheart. Believe me, I won’t.”
He parted her, and her breath caught on a sob as he traced her secrets with his fingertip. Her whole body began to quiver. He eased his finger inside her, and, just like that, she came apart with a great cry.
He held her through the aftershocks. As soon as she calmed and felt him, still rigid, pressed against the side of her hip, she had to fight back tears. She had wanted to give, but all she’d done was take.
“I— I ruined everything. I’m so—so sorry. I knew I’d mess this up.” She swallowed a sob. “I wanted to be—to be perfect, but I was never good at phy—physical things. Nobody ever wanted me on their team in gym, and now you know why. I’m all done, and you’re—you’re not, and I r—ruined it.” She was so stricken by her premature orgasm that she barely felt his lips moving at her temple.
“Nobody can be good at everything, sweetheart.” His voice had a queer, choked sound to it.
“But I wanted so much to be—to be good at this!”
“I understand.” He settled on top of her and nudged her legs apart with his own. “Sometimes you just have to accept your faults. A little bit wider, honey.”
It was the least she could do for him.
Once again, she felt his hand brush her thighs, and then his finger invaded. He groaned. “You’re so tight.”
“I’m sorry. It’s because I’ve never—” She gasped as he began a slow, rhythmic stroking that uncoiled ribbons of sensation inside her. He touched her everywhere, his skillful, inquisitive fingers making intimate silken patterns.
“Bobby Tom?” She whispered his name as if it were a question.
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You can’t help being a failure.” Through her excitement, she realized he was smiling against her damp cheek. But before she could figure out why, she felt a hard probing at the small entrance to her body. Her hands convulsed around his shoulders as tingling shocks of pleasure raced through her body. “Oh . . .”
He eased inside, stretching her bit by bit, giving her time to adjust to his size. She could feel his restraint in the tight coiling of his muscles beneath her hands. But she didn’t want restraint. She had been waiting for this forever.
“Hurry,” she gasped. “Please hurry.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, honey.” His voice sounded tight, the way it did when he lifted weights.
“Please. Don’t hold back.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do. I want everything.”
He trembled and drove into her. Shafts of delight sped through her tissues and sang in her blood. She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his. He shoved his hands beneath her and tilted her higher, thrusting more deeply. She reveled in her ability to bear his weight, to accept his sex, and she gave a gasp of joy at the woman’s magic that permitted her body to accommodate his.
His breathing was a rough rasp in her ear, and she moved with him as i
f she’d been doing it forever. The sensations that swept through her felt more powerful than anything she’d ever imagined, like wind and thunder. He carried her higher and higher into the clouds, toward a mysterious place where only ecstasy dwelt. The dampness from their bodies mingled with their cries until they were part of the clouds. For a moment they hung there, perfectly suspended. And then they tumbled together in a warm shower of silver rain.
It could have been minutes or hours before she hit the earth. The world returned in bits and pieces: the brush of cool air on her arm, the distant sound of a jet passing overhead. His body grew heavy on hers. She welcomed the weight and experienced a pang of loss when she felt a gentle suction as he pulled out of her.
He rolled to his stomach, keeping his face turned toward her and laying his upper arm across her chest, just beneath her breasts. He fell into a light doze, and, as she lay on her back, she studied him, memorizing every detail of his face: the sensuous lower lip, the way his spiky lashes rested on his cheekbone, the straight, strong nose, and the curl of damp blond hair at his temple. His skin looked golden in the soft lamplight. He was so beautiful he took her breath away.
Joy surged through her. She wanted to dance; she wanted to climb up on the roof of the house and cheer. She had never been so full of energy.
“Bobby Tom?”
“Uhmm . . .”
“Could you open your eyes?”
“Urgmm . . .”
She thought of a cartoon she’d seen long ago of dancing mice holding frilly umbrellas. That’s how she felt lying naked here in bed with this man, as full of happiness as a dancing mouse with a frilly umbrella. “That was even better than I thought it would be. I knew you’d be an excellent lover—you really are, Bobby Tom—I’m sure you must be exceptional. But you shouldn’t have teased me when I thought I’d ruined everything with my premature orgasm.”
