Page 70 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

With her legs trembling and chest heaving, he pushed his fingers inside of her. Sucking in a breath, she went limp. Moving in and out he worked her open at a leisurely pace.

Looking up, he saw her eyes roll in the back of her head and her mouth agape. Her breath came in whimpers.

Standing, he nuzzled and nipped at her neck while massaging her hips. Something crinkled in her pocket. He pulled out the foil and smirked.

“Someone was prepared.” Leaning in, he whispered, “Do you still want me to use this? Or have you had enough?”

Her hazy eyes locked with his. “Please, more.”

He took her mouth in his, sweet and brief, before pulling back. Tearing open the foil, he rolled the rubber onto himself. One hand cupped her face, the other held her hips steady as he lined himself up with her opening. He pushed inside. Fully sheathed, he paused to catch his breath.

Sliding out, he pushed back in, moaning. She rocked herself into him, her back arched. Slanting his lips over hers, he licked deeply, claiming her mouth. Rocking his hips slow and steady, burying himself in her warmth. Her nails scraped at his bare chest and back.

He wanted nothing more than to take her away somewhere they could be alone for days. Where he could thoroughly worship her, memorizing every inch of her body, her moans, her taste, her pleasures, until he knew her better than anyone else ever would.

The other night had been frantic. He wanted this time to be slower, sweeter, even if it was on the kitchen counter. He wanted to savor every second of her in his arms. The feel of her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands tangled in his hair, clutching his chest.

Her hips moving in time with him. Body spasming, she broke the kiss, screaming his name. Dipping his head, he buried his face in her neck, nipping at her collarbone. A grunt tore from his chest, his release coming hard and fast.

Hugging her tight, they gasped against each other, catching their breath as they came down from their high. Cradling his face, she kissed him sweetly.

“Hmmm,” she hummed into his lips. “We should probably clean up if we’re still planning on going to your party.”

Eighteen

Clarissa

Walking across the vast lawn, a forest of pine trees and oaks surrounded them but were too far away to cast a shadow across the pristine greenery. Behind her sat a gray stone structure. At one part Clarissa counted three massive windows atop each other, and either end of the building had literal turrets. In front of the house, there were five garage doors facing the pea-stone driveway. Driveway was hardly the right word for it—it was more like a parking lot. The massive U-shaped structure was too much to be called a home.

Wandering in the shadow of the ‘house’ between massive white tents, she shook hands and met so many people, Clarissa didn’t think she’d remember any of them in ten minutes. Everywhere she turned there were new people coming up to Thomas.

Shaking his hand, they gushed over his generosity. Many were equally eager to meet her. She caught several of them staring at her in adoration, and dare she say, wonder? She also caught a few nasty glares, but she had no idea why.

Sticking close to Tom’s side, she smiled, shaking hands as they were offered, doing her best not to let her discomfort show.

“Thomas!” A middle-aged man shook Tom’s hand with both of his. “I just want to say, since you became the head of the family, things have been, I mean what you’ve done here is spectacular. Bringing the different families together. Your father would be proud.”

“You’re too kind, Darel.” Tom smiled. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without everyone’s support.”

“And you have it! Velma and I and our whole clan are proud to be at your side,” Darel gushed. “And may I say, I am so pleased to meet your lady companion.” He kissed the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Darel,” Tom said. “I hope you and your wife enjoy the picnic.”

Darel backed away, joining a woman standing a few steps away.

“Hey, boss!” A man as tall as Tom and roughly their age waved them over. “This is the family from Colorado.”

Tom stuck out his hand to a short and lean woman with dark ocher skin standing in point of a group of seven similarly built individuals. “Thomas Sinclaire, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” he said.

“Menna.” She shook his hand. “My boss sends his regrets that he was unable to attend in person. I trust you understand.”

“Of course.” Tom smiled. “I’m happy you were able to come. Perhaps next year he will be able to join us. I hope you all enjoy yourselves.”

Menna’s eyes grew wide, but she nodded courteously.

They walked the lawns, shaking more hands. With every step and every greet, the pit in her stomach grew. Everyone was calling Tom ‘boss’ or ‘head of the family.’

With a pang, she realized just how little she actually knew about the man next to her. Overcome by his kindness and open generosity, she didn’t question how comfortable he made her feel, nor her need to be around him. Now she wished she had.