bearable.
He'd enjoyed a whole lot of women, some of them very thoroughly, but as soon as they invited him to Mom and Dads silver anniversary bash, or whatever, he was outta there. Which was doing them a favor, really, since it always went to hell anyway. Inevitably the day arrived when he opened his mouth, let whatever he was thinking come out of it, and kaboom. Screaming, tears, and scenes that ended with
The hell of it was that he never quite knew what exactly had set them off. It was a mystery.
God, what an idiot. He was a wild animal, dreaming about being domesticated. He stood in front of the refrigerator door, mustard dripping off the knife and onto the floor. Stupefied by the realization that he would say anything, do anything to keep this woman close to him. He was even willing to meet her parents. He stared at the splotch of mustard on the floor tile, transfixed. He would even put on a big show for them. Lie about his background, clean up his language. He would suck their goddamn toes, if that was what it took.
He was losing it. This wasn't about a cover, and he didn't even need Jesse to tell him so. He was terrified of wrecking this thing. It was so tenuous, so fragile. And it was all that was holding him together.
He shook that alarming thought out of his head, and gathered up plastic spoons and napkins. He stopped. Montserrat had liked candles. Chances were there were still a few of them floating around. He'd seen her loading up her witchy candelabras all the time.
He found five crimson candles in a kitchen drawer, along with a box of matches. He shoved it all under his arm, loaded himself up and carried it all up to the bedroom. Raine had fallen asleep, one hand cradling her flushed cheek. Her plump, childlike cherry-red mouth was slightly open, lashes sweeping the bluish shadows under her eyes. She was so beautiful, and she looked so exhausted. The protective tenderness that rushed through him made the plate of sandwiches shake.
He laid it on the bedside table, sank to his knees and lit a candle. He dripped hot wax onto the plate and set the candles in it. He liked them. Like a little wine-red grove of trees. They smelled faintly of honey, just like she did. He stroked her hair with his fingertips, hating to wake her. “Hey” he said softly. “Sustenance.”
“What?” Her eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed.
“It's your new boyfriend,” he informed her. “Bearing dinner.”
She propped herself up on her elbows, saw the candles. Her smile of delight was so bright, it hurt. She was so easy to please. He had to look away for a second, blinking away a stinging dampness in his eyes.
She gasped when she saw the plate of towering sandwiches. “Good God. Who's going to eat all that?”
He grunted, amused at her innocence. “Don't worry about it. I'll polish off whatever you don't want.”
Not since Jesse had been too little to forage for himself had he prepared food for someone else. Breakfast stuff and sandwiches were pretty much the extent of his culinary repertoire, but Raine seemed to enjoy it They feasted, sitting cross-legged on her bed. She got around an entire sandwich, and watched, fascinated, as he devoured the other three. Then he got the bright idea of feeding little pieces of brownie to her by hand, but that backfired on him because it was a flaming turn-on to place crumbs of fudgy cake in her soft mouth, to feel her hot tongue greedily licking off the crumbs and glaze, to watch the pleasure blooming on her face.
“Sugar orgasm,” she moaned. “Give me another piece, quick.”
“Cheesecake or fudge?”
“I want to finish with the fudge, so make sure that's the last piece you give me.” She opened her mouth, accepting another mouthful. “Who would have thought that such a strange day would end so well?”
He tucked another gooey crumb between her lips, and his whole body tightened as she licked the chocolate off. “Are you referring to the sex, or to the brownies?” he asked.
Raine stretched and smiled in a way that made his cock swell up again, poking dangerously close to the opening of his unbuttoned jeans. “Why? Are you feeling insecure and competitive?”
He was foolishly delighted with himself for making her smile. “I would never ask you to choose one over the other,” he assured her. “I'll keep you well stocked with both.”
She trailed her fingertips over his torso. Her eyes dropped, widened. He looked down, realizing that he had exceeded the waistband limit. His flushed, swollen cock was poking its head out hopefully.
“Don't worry,” he said thickly. “I know you're tired. I won't bother you again. I just want to hold you while you sleep.”
She swirled her fingertip tenderly around the head of his cock, her eyes fascinated. “Bothering me? Is that what you call it?”
He stared down at her circling finger, fighting for self-control.
“Bother me again, Seth,” she whispered. “Just bother me sweetly and softly. Like you promised. OK?”
He was off that bed in an instant, scooping paper, cutlery, condiments, all to the carpet. Stripping his jeans off and sheathing himself in a condom, in flat-out record time.
She lifted the duvet, inviting him into the dark, fragrant warmth of her secret female self. It made him drunk, crazy-wild with lust and longing. Sweet and soft, he repeated to himself, thinking of his promise, the candles, the chocolate. Sweet, soft and romantic. That was what she wanted from him, and that was what she'd get The duvet floated on his back as he mounted her, as light and puffy as a cloud.
She was so silky-soft and warm and strong, cradling him. Her slender arms wrapped around his neck and her legs twined around his. Sweet and soft, he repeated to himself. Official boyfriend-type sex. Not power games, or moon-crazed animal, or Conan the flicking Conqueror, or any of the other assorted craziness that his perverse sexual imagination could churn up at a moment's notice. He wanted to hold her, as close as he could. He wanted to make her feel incredibly good.
He wanted to make her feel safe.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done, keeping it slow and soft. Her perfume went to his head like a drug, and the candlelight turned her hair to swirls of bronze highlighted with glinting flashes of gold. She was so gorgeous, he could have come just staring at her face. He had to close his eyes, grit his teeth to hang onto his self-control.
She was wet and soft from the last time, and damn lucky for him; he was so desperate, he could never have survived a bout of foreplay. She let out a low, shaky moan as he prodded and pushed himself inside her. Their eyes locked, speechless. He was humbled. Awestruck at the mystery of it. It had never occurred to him before how intimate that moment really was. How enormous the act of trust on her part.
He had never thought of sex in terms of trust. Only of pleasure, his duty to give it, his due in return. A simple and straightforward exchange. He had followed his instincts in pursuit of pleasure all his life, but now they were leading him down paths that he had never trod. Sex with Raine was like nothing he had ever known.
He started rocking inside her, and suddenly they were kissing as if the world were about to end and her arms were wrapped around his neck. His strokes got deeper, and soon she was taking all of him, slick and deep, her hips jerking up to meet his.
He pulled away from that mind-melting kiss, laughing.
“Cool it,” he protested. “You said sweet and soft, but if you go crazy on me, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Oh, shut up.” She pulled his head back down to hers.
Her hips heaved and bucked beneath him, and he used his weight to hold her hi place, letting her churn and struggle and strain against him. Creating something firm and strong for her to break herself against, like a wave crashing on a rock, an explosion of foaming ecstasy, and he was the rock. He held her back, not letting her rush, or panic. Coaxing her towards where she needed to go, not driving her. Letting her pleasure unfold, over and over, blooming sweeter and hotter every time. He made her come, over and over, sweet and slow and careful. The hot, clutching pulses of her orgasm milked him ever closer to his own, but not too close. Not yet. Not until she felt safe enough to let go completely, to launch herself and fly. Not until he had fashioned a net to catch her, as big and soft and beautiful as the whole sky.
Raine lay beneath him, limp and exhausted with pleasure before he finally let himself go. Pleasure rushed and pounded through him, so hard and furious that he lay there, clutching her and trembling for a small eternity before he even remembered who he was.
The last thought he had, after he got rid of the condom, was of how incredible it would be to make love to her without latex. Usually it didn't even cross his mind. He hadn't had unprotected sex since he was too young and
