Iris Johansen - Blue Velvet

He shuddered but not with cold. His flesh against her own was burning hot. "Perhaps we could talk later," he said, his palm splaying over her jean-clad bottom. "I think I've lost my train of thought anyway. I think it was going to begin with something about how I realize that you don't know me all that well and how unfair it was of me…" He drew a deep breath as he jerked her hips forward so that his iron-hard arousal was pressed boldly against her. "Oh hell, you do know me, at least in the Biblical sense. What's one more time?"

One more time. The phrasing made her vaguely uneasy but only for a moment. She was having trouble thinking at all through the haze of heat that was beginning to surround her. Beau's hands were working swiftly at the fastener of her jeans and she was suddenly confused about who was seducing whom. "What about my turn?"

"Sometime when I haven't been without you for a century or so," he said thickly. "But I'll be magnanimous and let you help." He pushed her away. "It will be quicker if we both take off our own clothes anyway." He patted her bottom briskly. "Hurry."

She tried, as much as fumbling fingers and curious eyes could hurry. She wanted to watch him as he undressed with that swift athletic economy of movement. She hadn't gotten a chance to look her fill that morning at the pool. He was all power and lithe supple muscle, his buttocks hard and tight, the line of his thighs and calves developed to whipcord toughness. She slipped her tennis shoes off and left them with the rest of her clothes as she stood and gazed at him admiringly.

"You have very nice legs," she said dreamily. "Is that from skating?"

He glanced up from slipping his own shoes off, his lips twitching. "Thank you. I suppose that exercise had something to do with my marvelous physique. You, on the other hand, have utterly fantastic breasts and I'm quite sure you did nothing at all to deserve that boon." He shook his head with mock mournfulness. "Most unfair." He took her hand and led her to the bunk. "However, I'm sure that a little well-directed calisthenics can only improve them. Let's see, shall we?"

"Whatever you like," she said, her lashes demurely veiling the mischief in her eyes. "I wouldn't want to be accused of being uncooperative. You've already convinced me I'm a nag."

"Whatever I like," he repeated softly. "It will be what you like too, Kate. I promise." As she would have sunk down upon the bed he stopped her with his hand on her arm. "No, not that way. Something different, remember?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and drew her down on his lap. "Something beautifully, excitingly different."

It was already different. The hardness of muscle and bone against her cushioned softness, the flickering heat in Beau's golden eyes, the urgent arousal pressing against her thigh. Different.

"It's always been beautifully exciting, Beau," she said laying her head confidingly on his chest. His heart was pounding erratically against her ear, but his hand was infinitely gentle as it stroked her curls. "It's as if you're giving me wonderfully precious gifts every time."

His laugh was a husky chuckle beneath her ear. "You've certainly got an original way of expressing yourself." He ruffled her hair. "It's definitely mutual, little Sheba. It would be highway robbery to charge you one hundred twenty talents for this." He was swinging her around to face him, positioning her legs on either side of his hips on the bed. "Though I'll industriously endeavor to prove I'm worth every single talent." He drew her close, his hands rubbing up and down on her back in lazy circles. "Isn't this nice?" he whispered in her ear. "I can touch almost every part of you." He made a minute adjustment and he was suddenly pressing against the center of her womanhood. "And you can touch me."

Her hands clutched spasmodically at his shoulders. "Yes, very nice," she said faintly. Nice wasn't the word for it. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life and there was a liquid burning that was becoming a throbbing ache deep within her. "Do you suppose we could get on with more in-depth touching?"

"When this is so sweet?" His drawl was boyishly playful. "And we haven't even started your exercise regimen yet." One hand cupped her bottom, retaining the contact while the other hand moved to her shoulder and pushed her body backward so that her spine was arched and her full ripe breasts were offered temptingly. "That's better," he said. "Now just keep that position, sugar. Do you feel the tension? Maintaining the tension is very important in any exercise curriculum, you know."

"No, I didn't know," she said faintly. "And yes, I do feel the tension." The position was almost unbearably erotic. The slight strain of the muscles in the small of the back and hips, the vulnerability of her open thighs and Beau's almost blinding sensual gaze on her breasts. "Beau?"

"You want more?" His bronze head was bending with maddening slowness until his lips were only a breath away from the pink crest of her breast. "So do I." His lips enveloped her nipple with teasing delicacy while his hand dropped from her shoulder to her other breast and began a rhythmic massage that caused a shudder to ripple through her. "Keep the tension, love," he muttered, his tongue licking the pink aureole teasingly. "It will make it better for you. I want it to be so good for you, Kate."

She was trying but it was becoming increasingly difficult when each muscle and bone in her body felt as if it were melting away like molten lava. Her breath was coming in little gasps and she instinctively tried to clench, hold, but there was nothing.

"Not yet." Then as her back arched in the tension he was demanding, his lips and hands accelerated their rhythmic pressure. "That's the way." His voice was a low velvet croon. "Sweet, soft Kate." His hands dropped away from her breasts to slide around her, one cupping her buttocks, the other at the small of her back, arching her even more. "Now, we'll do a little of that in-depth touching you were talking about. But slowly, very slowly." His lips enveloped her breast with strong suction while his hand on her bottom began to push her slowly forward. His hand arching her back prevented her from thrusting forward and wresting control from him. A little, then a little more, hotness, fullness, but never enough. Her breasts were heavy and swollen, his tongue and teeth an aching torment. He was moving so damn slowly! She felt herself clench around him trying to hold him, invite him, entice him. She heard him gasp and give a low shaky laugh. "Oh, that was sweet. But don't do it again, love. I don't think I could take it."

"What do you think about me?" she said, closing her eyes as his hand lazily caressed her back before resuming the pressure against her bottom. "I can't stand this!"

"Yes, you can." His lips switched to her other breast to give it equal homage. "We're almost home, Kate." He suddenly pushed hard and strong and was filling her completely. She gave a low guttural moan of infinite satisfaction. "What a lovely sound." His breathing was becoming labored. "Let's hear it again." He jerked her up and forward and this time her gasp was a keening cry of need.

He lifted his head from her breasts and wrapped his arms around her. His lips were buried in the curls at her temple. "Oh, Lord, this is wonderful. I never knew anything could be so fantastic. And it couldn't with anyone else." His hands were caressing her naked back with loving gentleness. His lips covered hers and his tongue thrust deep and probing. He raised his head and drew in a deep breath as if his lungs were starved of oxygen. "Only you, Kate. Only with you."

He didn't wait for her to answer, his hands were on her hips, moving her, thrusting, penetrating so deeply it made her gasp. It was so wild and sweet and hot that she moved from peak to peak with scarcely a breath in between. It was unbelievable that any sensation this exquisite could be sustained for so long but somehow Beau accomplished the impossible. It seemed an eon later that the final peak was reached and they collapsed back on the bed in a state of euphorically languid exhaustion.