The Art of Stealing Time

She gave him a wry smile that made his stomach turn over. “Sorry. My jokes are suffering the effect of the heat, too.”

“I find you nothing but delightful.”

“Yes, but that’s because you want to get into my pants.”

“That is highly offensive.” He frowned, wondering if he had given her that impression by his actions or if she just held misguided notions about men. Perhaps it was both. “If I have led you to believe that I desire you simply for your ample, lush person, then allow me to disabuse you of that notion right now. I believe I’ve mentioned the fact that my cousin’s wife claims I could be a model. Whether or not that’s true, the fact remains that women have always been available to me. Women of all hues, sizes, and shapes, I would add.”

Gwen looked furious. For some reason, that pleased him. Could it be she was jealous of the other women who’d been in his life, even though they had little meaning to him now that she occupied his attention? “Oh, really,” she said in a drawl that was meant to grate on him, and it succeeded admirably. “No doubt you’re going to detail all of your relationships for me, so I can see just how available they’ve been for you.”

She sounded like she was grinding rocks between her teeth.

“No,” he said thoughtfully. She was definitely jealous. On the whole, he felt that was a good sign. Too much jealousy could become problematic, though, and would require steps on his part to assure her that he was not a man who believed in multiple partners at any given moment. But a little jealousy, an awareness that he had favored her above all other women, was, on the whole, not a bad thing. “I don’t see that such a discussion has any benefit to us.”

“Good. Because if we had to go into a mutual dissection of our past relationships, I was going to have a hissy fit. The reason my ex-boyfriends are ex is because I don’t want to think about them anymore.”

“Just so,” he agreed amiably.

He stopped suddenly, a horrible, vile, reprehensible thought striking him with the impact of a meteor on the moon.

Gwen had ex-boyfriends. Men she had been intimate with. Worse, men she had probably loved, men to whom she had given her heart and soul and splendid, incredibly sexy body. Who knew how many of them there were out there, smugly living their lives secure in the knowledge that they had once engaged her in a way that was by right his. The fact that she shared porraimos with him proved that they were fated to be together, and yet great big herds of men roamed the earth who had dared to usurp his position.

“Are you growling?” Gwen asked, giving her horse a wide berth in order to come around the front to look at him. “Is something wrong?”

“I am not a vindictive man,” Gregory informed her. “I am calm and sensible and with the exception of that which concerns you, always weigh my options before acting. With that in mind, you will furnish me with the names, locations, birth dates, mothers’ maiden names, and dates concerning all of these former boyfriends. A spreadsheet with pertinent links to related Google Earth and social media entries is preferable, but if necessary I will take notes while you dictate the information to me.”

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then began laughing so loudly that her devil horse, laying back his ears, danced an agitated circle around her, the various bundles and baskets attached to the saddle making clanking noises. She held on to his bridle, wiping her eyes once she was able to bring her hilarity into check. “Oh, Gregory, I can’t thank you enough for that laugh. It totally distracted me from how miserably hot I am. A spreadsheet with Google Earth links.” She chuckled to herself as she led the horse forward.

He hesitated, wondering if he should inform her that he wasn’t actually joking, but decided after a moment’s introspection that he would hold off that discussion for a later date.

They walked for approximately two hours, sometimes talking about the sights they saw (mostly deer, sheep, and cows) and sometimes enjoying a companionable silence, each deep in his or her own thoughts. Gwen seemed disinclined to discuss any of the weighty issues that occupied his mind, and he wordlessly agreed to the truce, content to simply enjoy being in her company.

He volunteered to water the horses while she went to cool off in the lake. That accomplished, he hobbled the horses as instructed, doled out their supplemental feed, pointed out the ample grass to be had for the savvy horse who knew his way around the concept of grazing, and returned to their little camp to lay out the food contained in the picnic basket before shaking out the two bedrolls that had been attached to the saddles. Once all was arranged to his satisfaction, he went to tell Gwen that their supper was ready.

She was naked. Naked and wet, her dark hair slicked back like a seal while she swam lazily near the shore, a look of abstract pleasure on her face. He imagined the cool water caressing her flesh. He imagined how it would turn her already satiny skin into that which resembled oiled silk. He envisioned the way the water would lap gently at her breasts and woman’s parts, and all those wonderful other bits and pieces that made up the enticing whole.

It took him all of three seconds to uncleave his tongue from the roof of his mouth and strip himself before plunging into the lake with much splashing. The noise caught her attention and she stopped swimming to stare at him, her eyes widening as the water closed over his (rampantly erect) penis. Not even the chill of the water could quell his aroused state. Once the water was waist-high, he dove, heading straight for the two long legs that sang such a sweet siren song.

“Glorious heavens,” she gasped as he broke the surface of the water. He pulled her to him, reveling in the feel of her body sliding against his. The water reached to about the middle of his chest, allowing him to stand in the soft mud of the lake and hold her tight. The sensation was almost as good as her mouth, which he tasted again and again until they were both out of breath.

“It’s not heaven yet,” he promised with a knowing look, taking a gulp of air. “But give me a couple of minutes, and it will be.”

“Gregory—”

That was all he heard before he dove back into the water, pulling one leg up so he could kiss a watery path upward to her thigh. She squirmed, her hands windmilling in the water to keep her balance. He released that leg, waited for her to put her weight on it, and repeated the process with the second leg.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked when he surfaced again. He bent to take one plump breast, bobbing on the water and clearly awaiting his attention, into his mouth. Her flesh was cooled by the water, the contrast between it and the heat of his mouth making them both moan. “Do the other one. Do the other one!” she demanded. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him on.

He obliged, swirling his tongue across her nipple, savoring the feel and taste of her, but needing more. Oh, so much more.

“More!” he said, unable to find any of that suavity that he was so known for. His brain had stopped all unnecessary processes, such as language and thoughts of anything but Gwen, focusing the full of its power on one thing: his need for her.

“Hell, yes, more!” she agreed, and slapped her hands on his arms. “Now!”

He grinned and dove again, picking up the serpentine line of kissing at her knees and heading straight for her hidden secrets. He couldn’t hear her moans as he probed and touched and swirled his tongue around in a manner that he hoped would please, but he judged by the way she clutched his hair and pulled him closer to her that she was, in fact, enjoying his attentions. He knew he was, although when the dark spots began to form in front of his eyes, he reluctantly admitted that there were limits to what even he could do.

“Nnrng!” Gwen said when his head popped out of the water. Her eyes were glazed, her hands urgent on his chest. “No stop!”

“Be patient, my demanding one,” he said as he gasped for air, amused that her brain, too, had ceased its ability to form actual words. “I shall take you to the finish line, have no doubt of that.”

“Yes, yes!” she yelled, pulling at his hair. “Finish!”

Filling each hand with one rounded globe of her ass, he pulled her hard against him, lifted her up so that her legs were around his hips, and said, “You must help me, dulcea mea.”

“Are you insane?” she snarled, pounding at his shoulders. “I can’t even think, let alone do anything but teeter on the precipice of the most amazing orgasm ever. If you don’t finish it, I will die, and then you’ll have to explain to my two moms why I died unfulfilled. And let me tell you, they will have a thing or two to say about that.”

He grinned again, kissed her because he just couldn’t believe how wonderful she was, and then, for both