Page 21 of The Virgin's Dance
She pulled his head down to kiss his mouth. “I want you,” she repeated and Pilot smiled.
Boh felt a moment of terror as his cock notched into the entrance of her sex but as he slid gently into her, all of her fear left her. God, this man … As he filled her, his eyes never left hers, searching, questioning. She tightened her thighs around his waist as they began to move, making love slowly at first then as the intensity built between them, harder, faster, deeper.
This time her orgasm shot through her like a bomb, making her cry out, arch her back, beg him to never stop. Bright sparks filled her vision and she gasped for air, wishing this feeling would never end, not caring if she lived or died at that moment.
Pilot groaned as she felt his body spasm with his own climax, and she stroked his face as he recovered, his skin damp with sweat, his smile huge. “God, Boh …”
Oh, how I love you.But she didn’t say it, knowing that kind of declaration was way too soon, even if she knew without a doubt that it was true. “Thank you,” she whispered, “you take the pain away.”
Pilot chuckled a little incredulously. “Right back at you, gorgeous girl.” He kissed her and excused himself to go deal with the used condom. Boh lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through her.
When Pilot returned, she held out her arms and he went into them. They kissed, and Boh stroked his face. “You are the most wonderful man.”
Pilot laughed softly. “I’m not, but I hope to be for you, Boh.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I have to ask—the age difference doesn’t bother you?”
She shook her head. “Like I said, time is a human construct.”
“I’m crazy about you, Boheme Dali.”
She smiled and kissed him. “Pilot?”
“Yeah, babe?”
Her stomach growled, and they both laughed. “Food now?”
“Food, please.”
She swooned over the perfect little potato pasta dumplings as she scooped the last of her gnocchi into her mouth. “You are a genius.”
“Ha, it really is a very simple dish.” Pilot leaned over and caught a little glob of marinara sauce next to her mouth with his finger. She grinned at him.
“We keep cleaning each other up.”
Pilot laughed. “Strange you should say that because what I’ve got in mind for us is very, very dirty.”
Boh chuckled and slid off of her seat to go to him. He wrapped his arms around her. “Listen, I have news about our project.”
He showed her the shots he had sent to Grady Mallory. Boh’s eyes were wide. “That’s me?”
“That’s you, baby. You are luminous in front of the camera.” He traced the line of her body on one of the pictures. “Look how much movement you can see just in this shot. You’re amazing.”
“Yeah, I think it’s you who are amazing, Pilot, I—”
Pilot’s intercom buzzed, and they looked at each other. Boh felt her heart sink.Please, please don’t let it be that bitch of an ex-wife…
Sighing, Pilot answered but when he heard the “Hey, loser, let me in,” he began to smile.
“It’s Romana, my sister,” he explained to Boh, “thank God.”
Boh hopped off her stool, still alarmed. “Should I go?”
“Hell, no.” He waved his hand at her. “Romana will love you. Fair warning, you’ll feel like you’ve been hit by a friendly hurricane.”
Boh giggled. “Really? Still,” she looked down at her almost naked body, “I might go throw some clothes on.”
In the bedroom, she yanked her sweatshirt over her head and pulled on her jeans. She heard voices outside, sounds of greeting, loud Italian being spoken, and shyly went to join the siblings.
Romana Scamo was slender, elegant, but, as Boh was pleased to note, obviously a tomboy too. She and Boh both wore jeans and sweatshirts, but while Boh’s hair was long and wavy, Romana had cut her dark hair into a shoulder skimming bob. Her eyes were dark brown, unlike her brother’s, but shewasas beautiful as her brother. She smiled at Boh as Boh came into the room.
