Ecstasy (A Contemporary Romance) (7 page)

Instead she surprised him. “Do it again,” she
whispered.

His heart flip-flopped in his chest and
swelled with something he couldn’t quite name. He replaced his hand
with his lips as he kissed her softly on her thigh, right above the
now-dry vanilla wax. Reaching for another candle, he blew out the
flame and slowly dripped a trail of hot wax up the inside of her
left thigh, enjoying the sound of her moaning as the wax came
closer still to her wet, hot pussy, enjoying watching her try,
futilely, to move her sopping mound closer to his hand.

Again he followed the line of quickly drying
wax with his tongue and his teeth as he nipped at her skin.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” she whimpered
with every touch of his lips to her skin, and Charlie wondered what
the hell he was doing still fully clothed while a sex goddess was
tied to his bed.

He reached for another candle and told
himself to chill out. There would be time enough for him to pump
into her wet, tight hole, but not before he gave her more of what
she so desperately needed.

So he dripped wax along her stomach, and
kissed his way along her rib cage, until his face was so close to
her breasts he couldn’t hold off any longer.

When he gently touched the tip of his tongue
to one of her nipples, she nearly broke the silk binds off of her
wrists.

“More!” she urged him. “Please!” she begged
him.

Obeying her wishes, he took her nipple into
his mouth and sucked her areola in as well. He wanted to be gentle,
but he was too far gone himself to hold anything back. In the back
of his mind he hoped he didn’t bruise her, but he knew she wouldn’t
care even if he did, because she was moaning, “Yes! Just like that!
Yes!”

As if he had a timer in his head, Charlie
knew her fourth orgasm was long past due. And if he played his
cards right, he thought he could move her from four to five in
rapid succession.

Laving his tongue back and forth over the
hard nub of her nipple, he moved his index finger into the cleft of
her pussy and just as he touched her incredibly swollen clit he bit
down slightly on her left nipple.

She screamed again and Charlie sucked as hard
as he could on her breast while ramming his finger in and out of
her feverishly.

Thinking of all the heat pooling in her juicy
cunt gave Charlie an idea. He took the long, slim pillar candle and
slid it into her, just a little at a time. By the sound of her
moans, he knew she was still coming, and easily turned on enough
for whatever he wanted to slip between her legs

In the midst of her orgasm, Charlie removed
his lips from her breast and joined the candle with his tongue on
her clit. Even as she was resurfacing from her explosion, he felt
her twitching again beneath his tongue. He could feel the candle
jerk as her inner muscles clenched.

Charlie untied the silk bindings around her
arms and legs. Leaving the blindfold on, he picked her up in his
arms. Her body was completely limp from her five intense
detonations and slick with a faint sheen of sweat.

Gently, he carried her over to the chenille
rug in front of the fire.

She wrapped her slim arms around his neck and
as she sank into the deep rug, softly pressed her lips to his.

Charlie was unprepared for their first kiss,
and even the merest touch of her lips on his was more than he could
handle. Roughly he pulled the silk fabric away from her eyes and
stood up, pulling off his jeans and shirt as he did so.

In a few seconds he was completely naked and
kneeling on the rug between Candace’s legs. He paused briefly,
knowing it was longer than he could stand to wait, but he’d kill
himself later if he didn’t have this image of Candace burned into
his brain forever.

He memorized every gleaming, creamy, perfect
inch of her incredible body, her luscious breasts. He pushed her
legs open wide, bent her knees so that she could take him into her
and reached for one of the condoms he had placed at random in the
room, just in case he should get as incredibly lucky as he was
right now.

Her eyes followed his movement, and she shook
her head.

“No. I want you like this.” She reached out
tentatively to touch him with the tips of her fingers. “I want to
feel you inside of me. Skin to skin.”

Charlie wanted it too, more than anything in
the whole world, but he was torn.

“I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.
So you don’t have to worry about me.”

He shook his head and grinned ruefully, “Me
either.”

“Thank god!” she exclaimed, laughing as she
reached for him. As their lips touched, her laughter died in her
throat.

“Take me, Charlie. I need to feel you inside
me.”

Her words were punctuated by a firm squeeze
of her fist on his throbbing shaft. For a moment, he was afraid he
was going to spurt all over the creamy skin of her belly.

Charlie reared up, kneeling between her legs.
He wanted to watch as his cock slid into her pussy, just like the
candle, but this time it would be his own throbbing flesh and blood
pumping into her.

He angled the tip of his cock into her soaked
labia and probed her entry with the very top of his head. The head
of his cock was slick with his sperm, slick with his intense desire
to blow inside her womb.

If she was going to come again, he wanted her
to do it before he got inside her, lest the convulsing of her
muscles send him to his own end too fast.

Reaching his hands up to her breasts, he
rolled her nipples between his fingers, cupping her breasts. His
cock was his weapon of delight on her pussy, her clit, and within
moments her eyes drifted shut and her neck arched. Her hands held
fast onto his ass as she came against him.

Taking a deep breath, he slid into her an
inch. She was so tight, which he already knew from how snugly she
held onto his fingers when he pushed them inside of her, he
wondered how he was going to make it one more inch, let alone the
next eight.

He grasped for control, not wanting to blow
his wad before he had sheathed his entire shaft inside her. More
than he had ever wanted anything his whole life, he wanted to feel
Candace’s slick heat wrap around his cock, her tight muscles
milking him dry.

Gritting his teeth, he moved hands underneath
her hips to cup her butt cheeks in his hands, and he slid in
another couple of inches. She began to buck into him while using
her own strength to pull his cock into her.

“Charlie, you feel so good,” she moaned.

Charlie began to say, “Candy, you’ve got to
let me move slow here. Or else...” but let his words drift off as
she smiled a wicked little smile.

She lay back against the rug, rubbing her
hands up and down his thighs. “I wouldn’t want to disobey the
teacher,” she said, her voice a husky whisper of need. “You might
have to bend me over your knee so that you can spank me,” she
added, her voice thick with desire.

A vision of himself spanking Candace’s sweet
ass as she cried out on his lap gave him no choice but to plunge as
deeply as he could go. Mindless with the need to ravage her, to
blow his seed as deep within her as he possibly could, he dragged
her legs over his shoulders and rammed into her again and
again.

Joined to him in the most elemental way,
Candace’s hips bucked wildly, taking him all the way inside, then
forcing him back out along her slick canal. She cried out his name,
begging him to send her over the edge, but the roaring in his ears
was so loud, he could hardly make out her words. He thought he
tasted blood in his mouth, figured he must have bitten his tongue
in his crazy rush to savage her.

Breaking through his fog, he heard Candace’s
impassioned sob, “Oh Charlie, oh god, yes, yes, there, now!”

Gripping her hips against his, they pounded
back and forth in perfect rhythm. And as he collapsed beside her,
with his heartbeat sounding louder than a bass drum in his ears, he
said, “Sweetheart, you are definitely an A+ student.”

Sunday morning, less than twenty-four hours
after the most mind-blowing sex of her life, Candace sat in her
cozy home office at her cherry wood desk with her laptop open to a
blank word processing file. She stared blindly at the cursor as it
blinked at her.

“What happened to me yesterday?” she asked
herself for the hundredth time. Her breath fogged up her computer
screen, but she didn’t notice. She couldn’t see anything beyond the
images in her head of her writhing beneath Charlie, of Charlie
plunging into her, of his fingers wet with her, touching her,
making her scream out his name again and again.

She couldn’t for life of her figure out how
she had managed to put her clothes on, find her way to the front
door, get in her car and drive home. Less than twenty-four hours
later, she looked back on the entire experience and could barely
make out the details of the scene through the thick sensual haze
that blanketed her memories.

It was as if she was looking into a forbidden
realm of pleasure, where only the privileged, where only the elite
were allowed to participate. And since Candace knew she had never
been one of those elite, her brain was bewildered by the entire
experience.

She had hardly slept the night before. Every
time she closed her eyes she could swear she felt the imprint of
Charlie’s tongue between her legs, and when she gingerly touched
herself she was wet. So wet that she couldn’t resist touching
herself some more. She couldn’t resist thinking about everything he
had done to her body. Everything he had done that made her feel so
damn good.

As soon as Sunday morning had arrived, bright
and shiny through her windows, she dragged herself out of bed. She
put on her robe, made herself a hot cup of strong coffee and sat
down at her desk.

Candace had never let another human being
control her before. Always, even when she thought she was in love,
she held a part of herself back. Kept a part of her soul safe.

But with Charlie, surrounded by rose petals,
candles, and sumptuous fabrics, she had given in to his every
touch. If he had stopped touching her, stopped tasting her at any
point, she would have begged him for more.

Disbelieving still, she shook her head and
tried to make sense of her feelings. After she caught her last
boyfriend cheating on her, after he had made it perfectly clear
that it was her fault for being a prude, for being cold and
lifeless in bed, she accepted that she was never going to know true
passion. Even worse, she believed she wasn’t good enough for the
bastard and all the men who had come before him. They all wanted to
fuck her boobs, but didn’t give a shit about her heart.

But now that Charlie had pleasured her more
ways in one afternoon than she had ever felt in the first
twenty-eight years of her life, she wondered if it was because they
had a deeper connection than just bodies.

She sighed and told herself to get over it.
Just because their mentoring lessons had spiraled way out of
control—Candace hadn’t forgotten that it was entirely her own idea
to take off her clothes—he was probably thinking how she was just
another fan, another wannabe writer who wanted to get into his
pants.

“I’m not in love,” she said aloud. “I’m in
lust. Big difference.”

Feeling a little better, a little saner,
Candace took a sip of java. Suddenly words began to dance through
her mind.

Jolene was a good girl. She was the kind of
girl boys took home to their mother’s and said, “I’m going to marry
her, Mom.” They took one look at her angelic blue eyes and smooth
golden hair and knew she was pure as driven snow.

Jolene had spent her entire life with nuns.
In Catholic school uniforms. When she was a little girl, she
thought every other little girl got ready to go to school in the
exact same way she did, automatically reaching into their closet
for the blue and white plaid jumper and white cotton shirt. She
thought the only clothes in the world were white cotton knee socks
and black patent leather Mary Janes.

Mary, Jolene’s mother, was pleased with how
well-behaved her daughter was. They were more like sisters than
mother and daughter, and Mary thought Jolene told her everything.
But if Jolene ever had secret thoughts in her pink and white
ruffled bedroom late at night, under the covers with a flashlight,
reading the latest Nancy Drew mystery about a mysterious boy who
kidnapped her and gave her forbidden kisses, she never told her
mother about them.

The day Jolene turned twenty-one, she was
offered a full-time position playing piano for the church. For the
first time in her life she was torn. She loved the nuns with all of
her heart. Growing up in the safe environment of her private school
had brought her nothing but happiness, but lately she had begun to
feel a yearning inside of her that grew stronger every day.

Unbeknownst to her teachers, to her parents,
and to her few chaste and respectful boyfriends, Jolene had been
sneaking off to the used bookstore downtown and spending her
allowance on books.

Jolene had long ago outgrown Nancy Drew. Her
fingers trembled as she read Judy Blume. And then Jude Deveraux.
And then Katherine Woodiwiss.

Jolene would have sworn that no one liked
sex, that her parents had copulated only to create her and then
settled back in their separate bedrooms as soon as her father’s
sperm sunk into her mother’s egg.

In these books she saw a far different
reality and knew it was something she had to experience for
herself. Before she agreed to marry one of the boys who wanted her
only as a wife and mother. Before she agreed to spend the rest of
her days playing piano in accompaniment for little girls as they
sang their hymns.

Bravely she told her parents and the nuns
that she was going to spend some time in the city. She told them
she was going to work with a local church there—which in fact she
was, part time—and they were all so proud of her. Her parents found
her an apartment and paid for six months’ rent and didn’t worry
about their precious daughter. Why would they, when she had never
given them even the slightest bit of trouble?