He smirked and leant in again. His hand slid to my neck, his fingers caressing the side of my throat, gentle yet possessive. Heat travelled through me.
When his mouth met mine, there was no softness about it. The warm-up was done. His hand held me in place as his lips urged mine open. Hot damn, I don’t think I’d ever been kissed like that in my sixty something years.
He consumed me and his lips told me everything he was thinking—he saw me, he wanted me, he knew me…and he always had.
I answered, holding him tight.
He tasted like red wine, memories and good choices. His hand skimmed beneath the blanket and found my hip, and I didn’t stop him. A warm yearning spread through me.
“I haven’t done this in a while,” I whispered against his mouth.
“I have, many a time, with you, in my dreams.”
My breath hitched as he slid the blanket off my shoulders.
“But this is so much better.”
He undressed me the rest of the way with gentle fingers and unspoken reverence. His gaze travelled slowly across my body, taking every inch of me in. His breath quickened. So did mine.
His fingers grazed my collarbone and left tingles in their wake. When he traced the curve of my breast, he whispered, “So much better.”
This…me…I was better than his dreams?
As he caressed one of my breasts he kissed me softly, drawing a shaky breath from me. Heat settled between my legs and an ache developed there. It was a feeling I’d forgotten existed. The storm raging outside matched that on my inside.
If he was out of practice, he didn’t show it. Perhaps I should have been doing a lot more fantasising, like he obviously had. I’d been missing out.
He laid me back, then removed his boxer shorts before settling down beside me. I ran my hand down his chest, and my fingers through his soft chest hair. They shook slightly and if he noticed, he didn’t say a thing.
His erection pressed against my leg. The feel of him—strong and steady—grounded me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice husky.
His gaze roamed my body again and need smouldered in his eyes. I’d never felt so desired in my life, even when my breasts were perky.
He moved his large, calloused hand across my stomach to my waist and then my hip. It stayed there as he leant in and kissed me. His tongue swept across the seam of my lips, enticing them open. The slow, languid movements matched the want pulsating through me.
He pulled away and watched his hand as it ran through my pubic hair.
“OK?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His fingers travelled between my legs, and I opened for them. He explored, slow and deliberate. When he found my opening and pushed a finger in his groan matched mine. Then his fingers found my clit, and I forgot everything except the desire that bloomed low and deep.
He kissed me again, slower than before, then rolled on top of me and guided himself in.
I gasped at the slight sting. He stilled, giving me time to adjust. He watched me and I gave him a small nod. The sting disappeared as he moved inside me, slow and sensual.
We found the rhythm we’d always had when working together—easy and natural and deep. There was want but also trust. Need and maybe even love.
As his speed increased, I held onto his shoulders. Tightness built inside me. I moaned.
I’d forgotten sex was this good.
It may have been freezing outside but the sweat on my skin was a testament to how hot we were.
I cried out and pulsated around him as tremor after tremor ran through me. Dan stiffened and groaned as his dick jerked inside me. A load groan escaped his lips.
