Caroline Anderson - Once More, With Feeling

Her head was tipped back against his throat, and she could feel the beat of his heart against her shoulders.

‘It was a lovely day, wasn’t it?’ she said softly.

‘I thought it would never end,’ he murmured.

She turned her head a little and stared up at him. The flames were reflected in his eyes, but then he moved his head and she saw a fire in them that was all his own. She swallowed, her heart suddenly pounding, and he took her glass away and set it down with his.

Then he reached for her, a little clumsily, and she turned in his arms to meet his kiss. Their passion caught and blazed, yet he seemed reluctant somehow, as if he was holding back.

She lifted her head and looked at him. ‘What’s wrong?’

He shook his head slightly. I so badly want this to be special for you, but I expect it’s going to be a disaster,’ he confessed, his voice trembling a little. ‘I’ve never done it before, so don’t expect miracles.’

She reached up and cupped his cheek. ‘Nor have I, so don’t worry. I don’t know what to expect—except that it might hurt.’

His eyes clouded. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Emily.’

‘Well, we can’t wait forever,’ she told him with typical candour. ‘I suppose it will only be the once.’

‘I’ll be as gentle as I can.’

‘I know.’

He reached out his arms again and kissed her once more, slowly, softly, with all his love—or so it seemed, because suddenly Emily found she didn’t care how much it hurt, she just needed to hold him and be held by him, to feel his body on hers, to know him in the oldest sense.

She reached for his shirt buttons, freeing two and sliding her fingers inside against the warm, smooth skin. A light scatter of hair grazed her knuckles, sending shivers down her spine.

‘Cold?’ he asked, but she shook her head.

‘No—no, not cold.’

He moved away a little from her, and stripped off his jacket and tie, then his shirt.

Her heart thudded and crashed against her ribs. He was so—male? She felt liquid heat pooling low down, just where her body ached for him. She couldn’t drag her eyes from him, and as he slid his trousers down the taut, well-muscled thighs she thought she would die of wanting him.

He turned back to her, his scanty briefs doing little to hide his need for her, and she flicked her tongue out and moistened her dry lips.

‘Your turn,’ he said gruffly, and helped her to her feet.

‘You do it,’ she whispered.

‘I don’t know where to start—’

‘Zip at the back,’ she told him, and, turning round, she lifted her hair and bent her head forward.

She felt the slide of the zip, then the warmth of his lips pressed against her spine.

‘You smell wonderful,’ he breathed against her skin, and a shiver ran over her.

Turning in his arms, she slipped the dress down over her shoulders and stepped out of it.

The breath left him as if he’d been punched. He lifted trembling hands and curved them lightly over her barely covered breasts.

‘Emily,’ he whispered raggedly, and she arched into his hands, pressing her aching breasts against his palms. His fingers tightened convulsively as her hands locked behind him and drew them together, then as their hips brushed against each other they both gasped.

‘I need you,’ he said, the words shattering against her cheek.

‘I’m yours,’ she said simply, her shyness forgotten.

He drew her down on the rug and slowly, his hands shaking, he stripped away the scraps of silk and lace that hid her from his eyes.

‘Emily,’ he breathed.

She’d thought she would feel shy, but the awestruck reverence of his expression dispelled her last fears. Slipping her fingers in the waistband of his briefs, she eased them down and abandoned them, turning back to study his now totally naked form.

He took her breath away.

‘Let me touch you,’ he murmured, and she lay down again beside him, her hands reaching for his shoulders, smoothing the hot satin of his skin.

Tremblingly, his hands traced her body, cupping her breasts, gliding over the sleek skin of her flank, his knuckles grazing her inner thighs. Her legs fell open for him, her hips arching up against his hand as he straightened his fingers and laid his palm against the damp nest of curls.

Her own caresses grew braver, her hands sliding down his sides, her fingers curling round him, hot satin over steel.

His breath caught and he dropped his head against her shoulder.

‘Steady,’ he muttered.

She could feel the moisture pooling as he stroked her, feel the tension rising even higher. She didn’t want to be steady. She wanted to be his.

‘Oh, David, now,’ she moaned.

Her breath was choking her, her heart thrashing against her ribs as he moved awkwardly over her.

‘Help me,’ he pleaded, and just as awkwardly she did as he asked, guiding him towards the heavy ache inside her.

‘I love you,’ he said against her mouth, and there was a brief flash of pain and then fullness—fullness that she had never even dreamt of …

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his voice taut.

‘Oh, yes—oh, David …’

Her hands gripped his shoulders and she strained up against him, unable to bear the tension. ‘Oh, David, please, do something …’

‘Oh, Emily-oh, God, I …’

His body started to move, winding the tension higher, and then suddenly he stiffened, dropping his head into the curve of her shoulder, his harsh cry muffled against her skin.

Then he collapsed, his body trembling under her hands, his chest heaving.

She lay there, her hands smoothing him, and slow tears slipped from her eyes.

She needed more—her body screamed for more, for some elusive release that only David had found.

He lifted his head. ‘I’m sorry—oh, Emily, you’re crying. I did hurt you.’

‘No—no, you didn’t. It’s just …’ She hesitated, unable to voice her need, but it was unnecessary.

Shifting slightly, he slid his hand between them and touched her. ‘Is that right?’ he asked softly. Tell me.’

She was beyond speech, beyond anything but the feel of his hand touching, soothing, yet winding the tension even higher until—

‘David!’ she sobbed, and, burying her face against his shoulder, she felt the ripples spreading, lifting her higher, higher, until suddenly she was over the crest and there before her was paradise …

They came slowly back to earth, their arms wrapped tightly round each other, their legs still tangled, and David rained tiny, butterfly-kisses over her face.

‘Are you OK?’ he murmured softly.

‘Mmm. You?’

Shyly, she met his eyes, and nearly melted at the love in them.

He was speechless, just hugging her closer. ‘You were wonderful,’ he said eventually. ‘I had no idea it would feel so—oh, Em …’

‘Nor did I,’ she whispered, thinking of that unbelievable fullness, the rightness of his body joined with hers.

‘Next time I’ll wait for you,’ he vowed.

They grew cold, and while David explored the fridge she unpacked her dressing-gown and had a shower.

By the time she went back down he was dressed again in jeans and a sweatshirt, and had put some salad out on plates.

‘We’ve got champagne to finish,’ he told her, and they sat together on the hearthrug and fed each other nibbles of salad and toasted their toes in front of the blazing logs until the champagne was finished.

David had put on some music, and, emboldened by the champagne and the look in his eyes, she stood up, swaying softly to the music.

‘Dance with me,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘Dance for me,’ he murmured.

So she did, slipping the dressing-gown over her shoulders to puddle on the floor, teasing and taunting until with a ragged groan he drew her down before the fire and made love to her again …