Yvonne Lindsay - One Secret Night

Even so, it wasn’t in him to simply lie there, supine. Ethan stroked his fingertips over the tops of her thighs, then followed the line of her hip as it curved down along the edge of her panties and into the shadowed hollow of her core. He slid one finger under the flimsy covering, tugging the material aside and exposing her as a true blonde in the dimly lit room. She was wet and hot as he traced his finger around her moist flesh, dipping into her center. She ground against his hand, moaning her pleasure. He pressed his palm against her, even as he slid a second finger inside the scalding grip of her body. Again she pushed against him, her hips moving in a tight circle.

She ceased her exploration of his torso, sitting more upright, allowing him deeper access to her. He looked up at the vision of sheer femininity that hovered above him. Her eyes were open, staring straight into his, as if she could see into his very soul. Her breasts were small, perfect globes that shimmered in the half-light, her nipples drawn into concentrated buds. He stroked his fingers along her inner passage, pressed more firmly with his palm. Her body began to tremble, her stomach muscles—already flat and toned—tightening visibly as her whole body grew taut. And then he felt her crest the pinnacle of pleasure. Her inner muscles squeezing in paroxysms of satisfaction, her thighs shaking, a keening sound of fulfillment escaping from her, even though she had caught her lower lip between her teeth.

Ethan rose up and deftly moved her so she was beneath him, his hands now drawing her panties off her body, his fingers tracing the long, lean muscles of her legs. Once the lacy scrap was discarded, he slid her high-heeled sandals off her feet, massaging the instep of each foot before running his hands back up her legs again. The well-trimmed thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs glistened with the evidence of her gratification, and he nuzzled at the blond hair, inhaling the musky scent of her before exposing the swollen nub of flesh hidden inside. He traced a circle around the shining pink pearl with the tip of his tongue.

“Too soon,” she protested weakly, her body still quivering with the aftereffects of her orgasm.

“Trust me, it’s not soon enough,” he argued, closing his mouth over the tumescent bead and gently scraping his teeth over its surface.

Isobel all but leaped off the bed, her hips surging upward in response to his action. Ethan swirled his tongue around her again, soothing her, before repeating the action with his teeth. She may have been in control of her last peak, but he most definitely would be driving her to her next. He increased the pressure of his tongue and began to suckle firmly. The next time he softly closed his teeth on her he felt her break, her body at first stretched as tight as a bow before the arrow of physical delight flew free, turning her muscles slack and supple beneath him.

He brushed his tongue over her again, then again more soothingly, until he finally withdrew from her and dragged himself up and over her.

“You okay?” he murmured, his hands now stroking her belly, tracing her rib cage and moving slowly to rest against one breast. Beneath his hand he could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“Okay? Yeah, I think I’m just a bit more than okay,” she said, smiling as she caught his face between her hands and kissed him. “But what about you?”

She flexed her pelvis against him.

“We’re going to take care of that right now,” he said. Supporting his weight on one arm, he reached with the other into the drawer of the nightstand.

He shook out the box of condoms he withdrew and grabbed one packet.

“Here, let me,” Isobel insisted, taking the condom from his hand and tearing the foil open.

She slid the sheath from its confines and positioned it over the aching head of his erection before deftly sliding it over his length. It took almost every ounce of his control not to lose it as, once he was protected, she slipped her hand between them and positioned him at her entrance. She gasped as he probed her swollen, slick flesh, the sound vibrating through him as he fought to prolong this moment for as long as humanly possible.

Then, so slowly that it made his body shudder with the effort, he sank within her inviting depths. Her body gloved him, fitting so perfectly that he knew he would not be able to maintain this level of control for more than mere seconds. Bliss flooded him in an instant—potent and undeniable.

He moved within her, her hips rising to meet his every thrust, each one more powerful than the last, the rising pleasure becoming more exquisitely intense with each stroke. And then, he was there—sensation pulsating through his body and catapulting him into a place he’d never experienced so deeply before. He held her firmly to him, his forehead resting on hers, their rapid breaths mingling in the minute space between them. When he made to pull away, Isobel’s arms closed around him.

“I’m too heavy for you,” he protested as she squeezed tight.

“I like this,” she replied as if the simplicity of the words themselves were fully sufficient.

He relaxed against her, and realized that maybe they were. He’d never felt the full acceptance of himself with another in the aftermath of lovemaking before. It had always been a release, often a deeply satisfying one, but never quite this sense of physical communion. He didn’t know what to think of it, so he took what was—for him—a very novel approach. He decided not to think at all. Not just yet. As his heart rate slowed, he rolled slightly to one side, pulling her along with him.

Isobel reached up a finger to trace the line of his lips, her touch leaving a tingle of longing in its wake. He gave in and leaned into her to kiss her—not a kiss with the flaming sensuality they’d shared before, but one of quiet intimacy. Of thanks. He finally forced himself to break away and moved to rid himself of the condom, returning to the bed as quickly as he could and scooping her against him. Isobel tangled her legs in his and rested her head on his chest. For all that he barely knew her it felt almost frighteningly right.

One night, he reminded himself. That was all this was. Just one night.

Isobel traced a circular pattern with her index finger on Ethan’s chest. She’d been stunned by the force of their lovemaking, by their connection to one another. It almost seemed a shame that she’d be moving on to her next assignment tomorrow without ever seeing Ethan again, but she would live with that. She had to. It was the way she lived her life. Always fluid, always moving. Never staying still long enough to set down roots. It suited her.

And to her surprise, so had he.

She knew deep down that tonight had not been the type of thing a man like Ethan indulged in often, if at all. It piqued her curiosity. Why had he broken with what were probably very rigid personal boundaries to bring her home and share such profound intimacy? It was tempting to believe that it was just her influence that had him throwing caution to the wind, but she sensed that there was more to it than that. Her photographer’s instinct always knew when there was more at play than what could be immediately seen. Before she knew it, the question slid from her lips.

“Why me, Ethan?”

“Huh?”

He sounded sleepy, as if she’d dragged him from that in-between place in the middle of consciousness and slumber.

“What happened to you today?” she asked.

He sucked in a deep breath and his arm tightened around her. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Try me,” she coaxed. “You strike me as the kind of guy who doesn’t usually share what troubles you. Maybe you should try it sometime, like now, with me.”