Page 47 of Daring in a Blue Dress
“Ah. Then I must have imagined it. Here, let’s get the rest of your clothing off.”
“You still have yours on,” I pointed out, but obliged him nonetheless, peeling off my bra, and pulling my skirt over my head.
“That’s because you have me pinned to the bed, and besides, it’s more important you are naked.” His hands closed around my breasts, sending little shivers rippling down my back and arms.
I was in control until he took one nipple in his mouth at the same time his thumbs found very sensitive flesh.
“No!” I said, rising up on my knees, and reaching for his nightstand. I dug out a condom, ripped open the package, and slid it on him without mishap before positioning him exactly where I wanted him.
“No?” he asked, withdrawing his hands.
“No, not ‘no, stop doing that.’ No as in ‘I am not going to be able to stand it if you continue, and I’d prefer to wait for you before jumping into the big O.’”
“I love your Americanisms,” he said before swirling his tongue over my other nipple.
“I’m only half-American,” I said, arching my back and rubbing the head of his penis against all those intimate parts of me that were clamoring for him. Wave after wave of tingles rippled out from my inner depths, my body already tight and on the verge of an orgasm. I wanted badly to kiss and touch and taste him, but even more than that, I wanted him deep inside of me.
I sank down onto him, my muscles rejoicing at the sensation, all my female parts clasping him with a fervent embrace, making it difficult to sink all the way down despite the fact that I was very anticipatory. Alden moaned with happiness, his fingers stroking my butt and legs as I moved on him.
I kept sinking. He kept moaning. I sank a little farther, expecting an end to him, but there still seemed to be more. I rose up and doubled over to look at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, ceasing the moaning and stroking, a frown between his brows. “Why are you stopping? Why are you looking at my dick?”
“I could swear it’s gotten bigger,” I said, trying to do a visual measurement.
“Since when? This morning? I assure you that it is exactly the same as it was then.”
“Hmm.” I repositioned him, and slowly sank down, all my nerve endings roaring to life with his invasion. My back arched, my breath caught in my throat, and my breasts demanded the return of Alden’s mouth. By the time I reached the end of Alden, I was squirming withecstasy, needing to move, and at the same time wanting to stay exactly where I was. The urge to move won out.
“You’re definitely bigger,” I said, working out a lovely rhythm. He groaned, his hands on my hips. I leaned down to nibble on his lips while one of his hands moved around to my front, sliding down my belly. “Sooo big. And hard. And oh dear heavens, did I mention big?”
Alden panted beneath me. “You did. Maybe it’s because of this?” He held on to my thighs with both hands, and did an amazing, wonderful, astounding movement with his hips that had him pushing even deeper inside of me.
“Oh dear god, yes! Yes! Do that again!”
He did it again, and then twice more after that, which was all it took to push me over the edge. I didn’t even have a chance to warn him that I was so close—my entire body suddenly slipped into a joyous explosion of orgasm. I was vaguely aware of his fast, short movements, but when I collapsed down onto his chest, it was the manic beating of his heart that filled my awareness.
Oddly, my own heart seemed to be beating at the same rate, not to mention the fact that our breathing was equally as rough and fast.
It’s almost as if,my inner voice innocently pointed out,we were made for each other.
“You’re going to kill me if you keep that up,” I said between pants, biting the lobe of his left ear. “And don’t tell me you didn’t get bigger, because I know you did.”
He started laughing, but because he was still trying to catch his breath, it turned into a case of violent hiccups. By the time I disengaged myself, got him a towel and a glass of water, and he managed to stifle the hiccups, my inner voice had stopped saying how perfectlysuited he was to me, and I was able to crawl into bed and curl up with him in a fairly reasonable facsimile of calm acceptance of what we had together.
And how long do you think that will last?my inner self asked.
I ignored her. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.
Chapter 11
Two weeks passed during which Alden sweated in the house while tearing off old wallpaper in the library, the formal dining room, a small reception room in a gloomy corner of the first floor, and the kitchen. He sweated while he repaired holes in the walls, killed mold, cut out rot, rebuilt window seats, and repainted all four rooms. He sweated every afternoon for three hours while wearing full plate armor, learning how to fight with a sword and a shield, how to breathe in an enclosed helm, and, most important, how not to fall over in such a way as to leave himself vulnerable to attack. And best of all, he sweated every night with Mercy either on top of him or under him, but always she was right there with him when the pleasure became too much for him, and he gave way to limb-shaking orgasms.
“Unfortunately,” he told Mercy on the fourteenthnight of such limb-shaking activities, “the house hasn’t given up its attempt to do away with itself.”
“I really think you need to stop viewing what must be perfectly normal experiences for a house this old as a form of personal rejection. The house doesn’t hate you, Alden. If it had feelings, and I’m not saying it doesn’t, but if it did, then it makes sense that it would like you, because you’re working so hard to make it nice again.”
“You and I know that, but it doesn’t care.” He looked up at the ceiling, upon which, four nights before, a long, jagged crack had appeared, moving from the far corner to the exact spot under which he lay. He thought of it as an accusing finger, marking him for the house’s disapproval. “Just today a door in the attic tried to fling itself down the stairs.”
