Page 17 of Lovesick

“Whatever you say . . . whatever you want. I’m all yours.” Louise heard the words and knew she was in trouble because she was pretty sure those were words she’d never uttered before in her life. Yet, she couldn’t get worked up over having said them, couldn’t make herself feel concerned. She felt safe and excited and that she was absolutely doing the right thing to trust Max, to go with him wherever he’d take her. Fluttering in her chest accompanied the feel of his hand caressing her thigh as he moved the skirt of her dress upwards.

“We’ll have to take your clothes off.” His husky words went through her like a miniquake. She didn’t know if it was the huskiness or the words that thrilled her, only that her anticipation tightened, strangling her, driving her.

“There’s a catch,” she whispered as he removed her panties. “You’ll need to take your clothes off too for this examination.”

“Highly unusual,” he said, pulling her dress up until she had no choice but to yank it over her head. He pulled his shirt off too then stopped to stare down at her. He purred as he took her in, lowering himself over her again, this time skin against skin.

“But then everything about you, us, here tonight is highly unusual.” His eyes darkened with passion, his voice vibrated and she felt a surge of euphoric power, pleasure beating inside her center, pulsing and sending waves of rising pleasure through her, winding her higher and tighter.

She knew this climb, understood where it would take her, wanted to go there oh so much but only with him. She reached down and yanked at his pants, helping him with his zipper until his cock sprang free, restrained only by his boxers now. He pulled down his pants and managed to kick them off.

Hardly breathing, maintaining her edge, she reached inside the slit in his shorts and wrapped her hand around his silky hotness, stroked until she heard him groan and she groaned with him. Pulling his cock free, she guided him toward her waiting creamy pussy, but he stopped her.

With his breathing hard and his voice strained, he said, “Wait, honey. I need—”

“No you don’t. I’m ready, so desperately ready.”

Slipping his hand between them, between her thighs, he slid a finger into her pussy as if testing her words, staring at her with hot black eyes, half-lidded, and the strain of self-control in his rigid jaw.

“I know you’re ready. I’m ready. You have me in your hand.” His cock jumped. She smiled. Then she squirmed to feel his finger in that spot, that hard, slick ball of nerves nestled between her thighs and when he hit it, she jumped and cried out with the sudden spasm of pain-pleasure.

“It seems we have each other in a . . . hand-off,” he said.

Almost blind with the screaming need for orgasmic release it took a moment for his words to register. And then she giggled. He lowered his weight, lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

“I’ll need to wear a condom—”

She shook her head with vehemence, not caring what he thought of her that she’d taken precautions. After all, she was there, ready and so, so desperate.

“No need. I-I—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. Lowering his mouth over hers, whatever ironclad will he’d been using to keep himself from entering her, from plunging in to bring them both to that place, had given out. Whispering incoherent words into her mouth, breathing her breath, he took her. With one long gliding move, he pushed inside her, leaving his finger where it was, merciless on her clit, touching and exposing and filling her at the same time in an endless in and out, slamming to the hilt and pulling out to the very tip and back again, flawlessly building in her a crescendo like she’d never felt before, that filled her, that roared in her. Their hard breathing and groans were all she heard until that rush of blood took over, filling her head, and the unbearably tight spiral and swelling throb in her pussy escalated to a deafening pinpoint of exploding pleasure, rocking her, until she bucked and screamed and didn’t know who she was.

She only knew him as she held onto him, feeling his surge and rise and the ecstatic groan of his release pulsing through her, hot and full. Clenching down, she held him with everything in her, her arms, her legs, and her pussy all tightening around him to hang onto that powerful spinning endless universe of only this moment.

Exhaustion took over as Max kissed her, whispered to her words she wished she could hear, though she didn’t need to know to have them lull her to in his arms to the deepest contentment she could remember. She didn’t care that they were sticky, that her hair was a mess, that her makeup was probably smudged. Those were things she’d cared about before, with other men, other times. In another life.

Now she turned into him, sighed as his arm came around her, warm and strong, and felt a bubble of giddiness as the scent of sex wafted up to her, enveloping her like a blanket of the most effective sleeping elixir ever known.

* * *

“Stay awhile,”she said. He smiled in the dark as he circled the nipple of her breast.

“Unless you have that stick of dynamite handy, I don’t think I could move from here right now. For a while.” His voice sounded gravelly to his own ears.

“You own the only stick of dynamite I know of.”

He chuckled.

“You own the only fuse I know of.” He spoke the words and knew it was true. No joke. Not at all. She sighed and settled in.

“What I like to hear . . .” She drifted off to sleep just like that. He listened to her soft even breathing, relaxed. Kind of like he felt. Too satisfied, to contented to think past the next minute, he drifted away.

* * *

A loud alarmsounded and Max turned, feeling oddly languid, to where he expected to find an alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed. Opening his eyes, the first thing he realized was that it was no alarm clock, it was a fire engine in the distance. The second thing he realized was that there was no alarm clock because this wasn’t his bed. Or his bedroom. And he wasn’t alone.

Louise stirred and he turned to her as his mind spun awake, fully alert, the memory of their lovemaking—or insanely exciting sex, because that’s what it had been—incomparable to any experience he’d had before. Not that he was a particularly experienced man, but he must have been with a dozen or so women in his life before and after his marriage—mostly before—and with his wife. But never mind that. Louise opened her eyes and smiled at him.