Page 49 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

She slapped at his hand and snarled, “I told you I was ready two hours ago.”

Well, that was an exaggeration. They’d only been inside a half hour, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. Not when the woman he probably loved was inviting him in. Quickly, he rolled on a condom, placed himself on the key spot, and swish, he was home. Goal!

And that’s exactly how he felt. Home. Thirty-five years he’d been trekking along in life. Had this been his final destination all along? Oh, not Delilah’s vagina. Jeesh! I’m not that crude. But Delilah herself. He thought about telling her so, but if she’d been shocked at his declaration of a possible love, just think how she’d react to being his destiny. Besides, he doubted he could speak above a gurgle in his present state, buried to the hilt in muscled folds that were spasming around him in welcome.

For a moment, Merrill lay heavily atop Delilah, forehead to forehead, trying to regain a little bit of control. He’d never been accused of firing the torpedoes too early, but he might be now. If he wasn’t careful.

Once he’d taken his arousal down a notch, he raised his head to look at Delilah.

She smiled at him. She actually friggin’ smiled. While he was in agony.

He straightened his arms and began the slow withdrawal of his cock, followed by the slow thrust. Over and over, at least a dozen times.

She wasn’t smiling anymore. In fact, her mouth formed a little O of surprise.

This time when he was in to the hilt, and then some, he moved his hips from side to side so that he rubbed against her clit.

She whimpered and tried to arch her lower body off the mattress.

He was having none of that. He kept the pace long and slow. As long as he could.

Her whimpers turned to pants.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” he asked.

She didn’t reply.

So he did the talking.

“Spread your legs wider. Knees up. Yes! Like that.”

“Do you want it faster? Ouch! You pinched my butt! I take that as a yes.”

“De-li-lah, you feel so good. Like warm honey.”

“Can you put your legs over my shoulders? Ouch! No? Maybe next time.”

And then he was quiet as he began the short, hard thrusts that moved them both up the mattress to hit the headboard. Rolling over, she was on top now, straddling him, looking dazed and unsure what to do next.

He showed her. With hands on her hips, he lifted her up and down until she got the rhythm.

Being the one dazed now, he gave himself up to her climax which was pretty much telling his cock, “Now! Now! Now!”

In the aftershocks of their mutual, mind-blowing orgasm, she lay splatted over his body. Possibly asleep. His hands swept over her bare back and rump, caressing, comforting, loving.

Yep, he was home.

He didn’t understand why or how this had happened, what had drawn him to Delilah from the get-go, but one thing was certain. He was never letting her go.

Time for a full court press.

Just how thankful was she? . . .

Delilah was having an out-of-body experience.

It felt like she was a spirit or something floating above, watching one love scene after another—two so far. Merrill had control over the first one, turning her into a throbbing, keening creature she did not recognize. Then he led her down the rocky slope to the rough shore of the Atlantic behind her property where they swam together in the nude, a fantasy Merrill had been harboring for some time, or so he claimed. That led to the second bout of lovemaking back in her bed where she took the lead, worshipping Merrill’s hard, battle-scarred body in ways that must be instinctive because she sure as sin never learned that from experience.

Who is this sensual woman?