Lover Pt. 02

V.

She smiled into his chest, and offered a quiet "Good morning!" in return. It was Sunday morning, and she was still in his home, and worse, in his bed, in his arms. Again. How was this even happening? She had arrived on Friday evening for dinner, after he had baited her — she realized it now, hindsight being 20/20 — and she was still here, recovering from yet another mind-blowing orgasm. She hadn't intended to stay on Friday evening, planning to take a cab home after dinner, and instead he had thoroughly seduced her. Not that it had been hard to do, she conceded, remembering his words when he had opened the front door at her ring.

"Wow! I hope my humble fare will satisfy your elegance, my lady!" He sketched her a deep bow, and they both laughed as he invited her into a warmly-lit foyer. Leading the way through his living room, he had urged her to drop her pocketbook on the couch and join him in the kitchen where he was putting the finishing touches to what turned out to be oven-baked meatballs. The spaghetti was al dente, the meat savory and delicious, and the red wine to accompany it all fruity and refreshing. His starter had been a hearty salad, and after their meal, she had complimented him on his expertise in the kitchen.

"My mother wouldn't have had it any other way," he told her, sipping his wine, and she had wondered what his mother would think if she knew her baby boy — he had told her he was the second son — was messing around a woman ten years his senior, divorced, the mother of twins half his age. She had asked the question, and his answer had shaken her.

"I'm not 'messing around', as you so inelegantly put it. I'm serious as a judge. And who I share my bed with is my business!"

Now she relaxed in his arms, listening to him breathe deeply under her ear. He had kissed her then, taking her by surprise. It had only been the second time he'd kissed her, the first having been a month earlier, after their first dinner date at a fancy eatery she had chosen, in an effort to piss him off, and maybe chase him away. As she had discovered, and was still discovering, though, he wasn't easy to discourage. Not only had he treated her to a wonderful and sinfully expensive meal, but he had taken her for a drive afterwards, when she said she wanted to see the harbor at night. The way his eyes had roamed over her, as they stood on the pier watching the boats in the distance, ought to have warned her she was in dangerous waters with him, but she had either been too sure of her ability to elude him, or too blind to his intentions to notice until it was too late, and he was pulling her in for a kiss she couldn't deny.

The thought of how she stumbled into his embrace as her knees buckled still made her cheeks warm, so thorough and passionate had been the kiss that had left them both breathless, and her aching for more. She had been wet and shaking by the time he stopped kissing her, and all the way back to her apartment, she had worried that he would take advantage of her in her current weakened state and she would sleep with him before she was ready to. So her shock when he had merely bussed her on the cheek at her front door and waited for her to close herself in had been complete. He confused her, and she didn't like feeling so off balance. And the fact of their age difference made her uncomfortable, which only compounded the feeling.

She thought she heard a chuckle and turned her face up to look at him. "What's funny?" she wondered aloud, startled that he had been watching her, and suddenly wishing she could read him better than she did.

"I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head, beautiful," he said, as if that explained everything. "Let's grab a shower together, okay? Maybe that will help you sort out your thinking."

"You just want to take me in the shower again," she answered, a reluctant chuckle escaping her.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "That is certainly a delicious bonus of getting clean with you, yes." He rolled away from her and stood up. "Coming?"

He extended a hand, knowing she'd have a harder time holding the sheet around her nakedness if she kept a grip on it, and she wished she could feel irritated with him. But after two nights in his bed, all she could feel, aside from trepidation as she waited for the other shoe to drop, was the glow of a woman who was desired. He made her feel good, special, like a seductress. Even if she knew she wasn't. Taking his hand, she dragged the sheet up with her left hand, glad that it kept most of her chest and belly covered, though her legs flashed out at him every time she took a step.

"Lose the sheet, baby," he said, stopping suddenly halfway to the bathroom door. "I've seen it all, and I love how you look. Stop hiding from me."

She hated these moments of decision, all of which seemed to involve her letting go of another set of inhibitions. She had hoped he wouldn't bother, but she was getting to know him too well. Nothing escaped his notice. Gritting her teeth and sucking in her gut, even knowing it wouldn't make much difference to the swell of her belly over her mound, she let go of the sheet, and he helped her to step over it. Instead of turning to continue the rest of the way to the bathroom, though, he held his arms wide and studied her. She felt herself coloring up, her body heating from her chest outwards, upwards and down to her toes.

The first time he had surveyed her like this, she had been fully dressed, at their first lunch date. He had been prompt, which pleased her as her ex had always been the late arriver. The dress she wore was business smart and girly pretty at the same time — a soft, cool gray linen tunic with a narrow black belt, it shadowed her curves deliciously. She wore low-heeled sling-back sandals, in deference to the injury she had sustained that morning when she tripped over her own feet and bopped her ankle against the hard foot of the bed. The silver jewelry had been understated — a simple chain, long enough to settle between her breasts, with a crystal pendant, silver hoop earrings, a watch and signet ring. His eyes as he had watched her walk out of the building toward him had been heated with sensual recognition, as though he knew she liked being in the dress, as though he knew she felt sexy in it, as though he knew she wanted to show him she was more than a fearful, fat midlifer. His look undressed her, seduced her, ravaged her, and made her cheeks flush with color. She had straightened her shoulders even more then, thankful that she could maintain an outward calm while inside she was all aflutter.

That same look heated his eyes now, though she had not a stitch of clothing to cover her imperfections, no corset nor stockings, nothing to disguise what she was under her clothes. He dropped his arms and stepped into her space, crowding her, and when she went to back up, he stopped her with a hand at her back, low on her hip. When she stopped, he moved away a fraction.

"Do you remember when I stroked you here?" he asked suddenly, touching her just to the side of her breast, the spot tingling from his lingering touch. "Or when I licked you here?" He traced his fingers down her belly to her navel, an innie by default. She gasped at the simple pleasure his gentle touch shafted through her. "Or when I sucked on this?" He strolled his fingers back up to pinch her nipple and tweak it, before lowering his head to taste it.

She sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of every place on her body that he had explored in the last two nights in his bed. Her body felt as if it were on a slow burn, and he was barely touching her. She forgot to worry about what she looked like in the cruel light of day, because she was too busy keeping steady on her feet, concentrating on not sliding to the floor in a messy puddle of liquid desire. How he managed that she would never know, but it was always like this with him. She started out in control, ultra aware of her body, and by the end of the encounter, she was a mass of nerve endings and lust.

"I especially loved it when you let me kiss you here," he whispered, sending his questing fingers feathering over the lips of her sex. "These lips are so sweet, baby," he added, spreading them with two fingers, sliding between them, spreading the cream that had her wet there. "So full and ripe and ready for my mouth to devour them."

He leaned into her then, and she felt his erection pressing against her thigh. Her body went up in flames. She swayed, and he steadied her, keeping his fingers busy with her lower lips, while he took the ones close to his own in a fierce and hungry kiss. Coming up for air, he said,

"Put your arms around me, baby," and when she did, he picked her up and carried her back to bed.

"This can't wait till we shower. I need you now." His tone was sharp, needy, deep, and his eyes took her in one last time before he pushed her legs apart and plunged into her roughly. He rode her hard, and kissed her without mercy, and she was helpless before the sweeping passion that ruled him. She thrust up to meet him, giving him back kiss for kiss, and when he pulled out and rolled her onto her belly, raising her hips to meet his invading cock, she cried out as pleasure swamped her. He gripped her hips and rammed her, reaching around to fondle her clitoris till she broke and fell into a powerful orgasm. And still he fucked her, his rod still hard inside her, riding her wildly. When she came a second time, he pulled out again, lay back and pulled her over onto his legs, guiding his cock into her and thrusting up, breathless with desire.

"Ride me, beautiful. Show me how much you want this!"

She leaned forward to hold on to his shoulders as she raised and lowered her hips, and he helped her, licking and tasting her swinging breasts as she did. When she felt herself tightening again, he pulled her down to his chest, mashing her breasts against him, and demanded,

"Come with me, baby. Come hard for me!"

His words pushed her over the edge. She gasped as she came, feeling her inner walls swell and contract around his spasming cock. He jetted his load inside her, crying out with her, thrusting up again and again until he froze, his chest heaving, a groan of satisfaction issuing from his parted lips when his hips finally stilled.

"You wore me out, lady!" His voice was amused, when he could catch his breath to speak.

"Does that mean I'm safe in the shower then?" she returned archly.

He chuckled, but his words were serious. "Safe? You're in no danger here, beautiful. You'll always be safe with me."

VI.

He let her go first. She kept surprising him with the way she responded to his touch, and he kept surprising himself with how often he was ready for her. But he knew she had to be tired, because he was. He could use a respite, and some breakfast, to recoup his strength. He wandered back to the kitchen to set the coffee going while she showered, to lay the table for two, and to put out breakfast fixings. After his shower, he'd feed her, and then go for a walk with her. His neighborhood was pretty, and bordered a nature preserve, so they could walk in the woods as well. Some fresh air would be good for both of them. Normally he jogged on the weekends, but he hadn't wanted to spend even a moment away from her. He'd make it up during the week.

When the shower stopped, he walked back into his bedroom and waited till she exited the ensuite bathroom. Clouds of steam billowed out behind her.

"Did you use all the hot water, lady?" he demanded, reaching over to swat her towel-clad bottom playfully.

"I washed my hair," she said, as though that answered his question.

He stood and ruffled her wet hair, loving the heavy silk of it beneath his fingers.

"May I have my clothes back now?" She turned to look at him as she spoke.

He pulled her into his naked body, loving the way the towel felt on his sensitized flesh.

"Have you decided to stay the rest of the weekend?" He watched her face as he asked the question, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she nodded. "Then yes, you may have your clothes back. But only because we're going for a walk after breakfast. Otherwise, you look good in my towel." He kissed her smiling cheeks and added, "They're hanging in the closet, and your undergarments, freshly laundered, are in that drawer." He pointed to his underwear drawer and watched her go to get them, loving the faint blush that stained her cheeks when she saw where he had put them. "I'll be out in a few," he said, and walked into the bathroom.

By the time he was dressed, he could smell deliciousness wafting in from the kitchen. He grinned when he walked in to pancakes, bacon, eggs over easy — how did she know? — and tangerine wedges in a small bowl next to his coffee mug.

"Ready?" she asked, wielding a spatula. "What would you like?"

He was moved beyond anything he could explain. All she had done was make breakfast, but the fact that she hadn't chosen to eat bran flakes and skim milk told him he had made major inroads into her comfort zone, if she was willing to eat what he ate, rather than skimping around as she so often did with him. And he knew she loved to cook, but he didn't want her reprising her role of wife or mother with him. All he wanted was for her to be his lover, the woman he wanted to treat like a queen.

"I'd like you to sit down," he said, and stole the spatula from her unsuspecting fingers. "What would you like?" He held her chair for her as she sat obediently.

"A bit of everything, please," she said, and nibbled on her fruit wedges while he served her plate. Once he had served his own and taken his seat, she began to eat. He watched her, forgetting he was supposed to be eating too. She was enjoying the food, licking her full lower lip when the runny yolk spilled from the egg she put in her mouth, crunching the bacon, sipping her coffee. When she licked her lips a second time, he followed suit, licking his own, and caught himself. Damn, she was hot even when all she was doing was eating! Or maybe he was just a randy-assed goat who needed to get a grip and eat his own food! He had been without a woman for a while when he met her, but never in his life had he ever been as hungry for any of them as he seemed to be for her.

They finished the meal in companionable silence, and when she got up to clear the table, he shooed her away.

"I have this," he said. "I don't want you to do anything this weekend. Just be here. With me. Okay?"

Not waiting for an answer, he kissed her lips lightly, and inhaled the smell of freshly washed woman, tangerines, and coffee. "I'll be with you in a jiffy," he promised as he shooed her out of the kitchen. Thanking God for a dishwasher, he swiped a rag over the counter one last time and went out. She was looking out the bay window onto his pristine lawn, and the sunlight made her glow.

"Let's go, beautiful," he said, and took her hand in his. He was looking forward to walking with her wherever the inclination took them, and as he laced his fingers through hers, he prayed they'd meet no one he knew, so he could have her all to himself.

"I thought you said you have a dog," she said as he locked his door behind him and pocketed the key.

"I do. But he's on the farm with my uncle the vet getting some good old-fashioned country air."

He led her down the curving driveway and asked, "Which way?"

She laughed. "I don't know. This isn't my neighborhood." When he remained silent, waiting for her to choose, she asked, "What's over that way?" pointing behind his head.

"Good choice. The golf course, the lake, the woods. See, you chose well!" He grinned as she rolled her eyes at him, and they set off across the cul-de-sac. When she tried to walk around the little grass island with its pretty flower border, he pulled her with him directly across the pristine circle, and when she protested, he stopped abruptly. She bumped into him, and he pulled her close and said,

"You must learn to trust me, Abby. And you must learn to relax and enjoy yourself. And until you can do those two things, I'll just have to keep punishing you."

At the look on her face, he chuckled and kissed her, scandalizing her even more.

"Ben, we're in the open!" she protested, and he kissed her again, deep this time. Her skin was flushed, and he wondered if it was embarrassment or anger or arousal, and decided, as he started off again, that it might just be a bit of all three. Which was fine by him. He wanted to rile her up, because when she was riled, she couldn't remain aloof and self-contained.

They walked briskly, and by the time they reached the golf course, a fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her upper lip. It distracted him, and though he wanted more than anything to steal another kiss, he handed her one of the bottles of water he had brought with him instead. She swallowed gratefully, and gazed across the open green to the golfers slowly making their way towards them.

"I've never understood people's fascination with that game," she said, staring at the people coming closer. "It's worse than cricket, which I always thought was the most boring game known to man. Neck and neck with rounders, of course," she added with a twinkle in his direction.

He chuckled, and gave in to the need to taste her. He swallowed her surprised gasp in a deep suckling kiss, and when he let her up for air, he said, "It's baseball, not rounders."

Her laughter worked its way down into the very core of his being, twisting there, winding him tighter and tighter, tying him to her in ways he had never thought possible. He took her hand again and as they continued, he tried to explain about form and precision in the game. She shook her head at him, and said, as they finally left the golf course behind,

"At least baseball burns calories, since it makes you run every now and again!"

She surprised another spurt of laughter from him, and he suddenly wished they were back at home so he could do more than wrap his arm across her shoulders and pull her close to his side. The path through the woods was inviting, and he steered her in that direction, pulling her closer to him, slowing his steps.

"Sometimes I walk here in the winter, when all the trees are bare, except for the evergreens, of course. It's an almost spiritual thing," he said and they entered the green dusk of the woods. The air was cooler here, and as it did every time he walked or jogged here, the serenity of the place sank into his very bones.

"It's certainly a different kind of quiet," she agreed, and when he released her shoulder to take her hand in his, she willingly gave it. He twined their fingers together and wondered what he would do if she decided that all she was willing to give him was this one weekend. Because he knew, as they traversed the quiet path back home, that he wanted her around for a lot longer than a weekend.

"I usually visit my mom for Sunday dinner twice a month," he said casually as he walked back with her into the house. "I could wait till next Sunday, or you could come with me today," he ended, leading her into the kitchen.

While he waited for her reply, he fetched another bottle of water and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She opened the bottle and gulped half its contents before replying, trying to give herself time, he was sure. The decision to ask her to his mother's house wasn't one he made lightly. She would be the first woman he had taken there since Carol, and he had been barely out of his teens at the time. Carol and he had been a bad match from the start; he had realized that when it had been too late to change the road they were on, a road that had led to divorce, and eventually her death in a drunk driving accident. Twelve years was a long time to blame himself for something he knew intellectually he was not responsible for. He shrugged aside the thoughts of his ex, and repeated his question.