Page 53 of Paging Dr. Breakup
“Deirdre, you okay?”
“Yes. Are you okay if I, um—” She made a jumping motion with her hand.
Right this minute, he was no genius, but he could put two and two together. “You want to giddyap?”
Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Well, yes. If you’re okay with it.”
“That might be one of my favorite fantasies. You. On me.” His penis moved in time with his pulse.
He had no shame. It was obvious how much she turned him on, and he wanted her to know it. She was stunning, all confidence, soft curves, and glowing skin.
Scooting up into the middle of the bed, he reached for her, guiding her to kneel over his erection. The brush of her heated flesh over his penis tip cracked his restraint, and he clutched her thighs until she yelped.
Somehow, he loosened his grip. “This is going to feel amazing,” he said, voice hoarse. “If I survive it.”
Slowly, she lowered herself onto him. With every torturous inch, they panted in unison.
“Oh my God.” She gasped when he bottomed out in her.
They breathed together. Then she gently rocked against him.
He pulled her down harder. “Deirdre.” Pressing a thumb against her clitoris, he kept time there as he met her movements with upward thrusts of his own. The heat from her palms against his chest would be imprinted there forever.
After a few minutes, she slowed her pace.
He rolled them over, hooking her knee over his shoulder and driving himself in more deeply. Thrusting faster, he clamped his jaw tight when her inner muscles fluttered around him. Sweat rolled down his temple as he held off on his own release, wanting her to chase her own first.
In a burst of high-pitched cries and gasps, Deirdre climaxed, her inner muscles pulling him in even deeper. Then with a roar, he followed her over the precipice, her body milking him dry until they both collapsed limp on the bed, panting.
He kept his full weight off of her but nestled his face into the crook of her neck, licking at the salty sheen of sweat on her skin. She tasted like comfort and completion.
After cleaning up and returning to bed, Cal lay on his side and tugged Deirdre so that her back rested against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and reveled in the rise and fall of their breathing in unison. With his hand pressed against her sternum, he counted heartbeats.
“That was amazing,” she murmured, somehow managing to snuggle even closer to him.
His body fit perfectly with hers. A blast of conflicting emotions ran through him, none of which he wanted to deal with at this time. “You’re beautiful. Incredible.” He inhaled the floral scent on her hair and the warm musk of their passion clinging to their heated bodies.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? She was a special woman. She was his best friend’s widow. She deserved more than a guy who didn’t plan to stick around Yukon Valley.
“Are you okay?” she asked, half turning in his arms.
He loosened his clenched embrace. No way would he tell her about his inner conflict. He would rather hurt himself than take anything away from her pleasure tonight. “Absolutely.” He kissed her shoulder. “I don’t have words for what we experienced.”
“Me neither. Except, we should do that again sometime.”
He smiled. “Agreed. But—”
“But?”
“Someone of my advanced age needs recovery time.”
She snorted. “You’re the same age I am.”
“I would never call you old.”
“As long as you call me.”
He chuckled, but his laugh tasted bittersweet. “Will do. Mm-hmm.” He pressed his lips against her neck until she gasped and writhed once again.
