A Taste of Utopia (8 page)

AT THE LOBBY
of the hotel, Seth hands the empty champagne bottle to one of the hotel’s concierges.

Laughing for no reason, but giddiness, we stumble inside the elevator. As luck would have it, the car is empty.

I press my back against the wall. My heart is pounding from the running and nonsense laughter.

Seth pushes the button to our floor and turns to face me.

Energy zings in the air. His facial expression morphs from carefree to predatory. He paces my way, like a lion approaching a gazelle.

My breath catches in my throat. The laughter dies in my mouth.

He places both hands on the wall on either side of me. “You look mighty delectable laughing like this, Mrs. Phoenix.”

My eyes flash to his mouth. He leans his head in and runs his nose along my collarbone. And oh my. That sweet spot south of me clenches and throbs.

He lowers his hand and clasps mine. He brings it to his erection. “Look what you’re doing to me. I’ve never been so goddamn hard.”

I inhale a sharp breath, surprised at his forwardness and terrified of his astounding size.

He moves my hand to his lips, placing a kiss and stroking his tongue lightly at the center of my palm. The softness and warmth of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure to my clenched muscles. Moisture dampens my panties and my legs weaken.

A ding announces our arrival. I’m mentally preparing to force my legs into motion when the floor disappears from beneath my feet. A squeak leaves my mouth.

“Allow me,” he says, carrying me out of the elevator.

Somehow he expertly opens the door while holding me and crosses the threshold. He places me on the floor and retreats a few steps.

The champagne we just drank renewed our fading buzz.

The sight of Seth standing a few feet from me is intoxicating. My mind swirls in anticipation and my body hums with desire.

His eyes bore through me. His perusal is slow and heated, making a tingling sensation travel from the soles of my feet to the tip of my head.

“Hot damn, woman! You’re mine,” he says, a guttural sound escaping his throat.

His words turn my body into molten lava. And I know I need him to take me. Claim me as his. Inside, a battle wages. My usual reserved ways are fighting a wanton woman that I had no idea lived inside me but who is now striving to break free.

The wanton woman wins and words roll off my lips, “Then come and take me.” My roguish voice is foreign to my ears.

“Damn straight I will,” he growls and leaps my way. His hands dart around my waist. His mouth crushes mine. His tongue delves in my mouth. Domineering. Overruling. Possessive.

I moan. And the sound seems to set him on fire. He urgently cups the back of my knees and yanks my legs around his hips. Another moan, louder and feral rips through me when my wet apex presses against his erection. My body vibrates and my heart pounds inside my chest.

He carries me through the room, his mouth consuming mine, his erection grinding against my damp panties making my body float on a cloud of pleasure.

After pushing the bedroom door open, he sets me by the bed. “Holy fuck, woman, I want to take my sweet time with you, make it memorable. But hot damn, I can’t control this beast you unleashed inside me.”

He reaches for my hair, and I notice his fingers trembling. I revel in the knowledge that I, too, shake him a bit. Because he is unhinging me.

“I want to fuck you wearing nothing but these flowers in your hair.”

With those words, his lips seal mine. His heat envelops me. His overpowering build dwarfing mine.

I surrender. There is no doubt, fear, shyness, past or future. Time and space blurs, erasing any rational thought. It’s just us. The present. Tangled bodies. Sweaty skin. Throbbing hearts. Animalistic needs demanding to be sated.

The kiss is sensual and slow. Like a simmering heat. A contained fire. His lips leave my mouth and brush against my jaw. It sets my skin ablaze. His tongue strokes a spot behind my ears that has my legs giving out under me. He tightens his grip on my hips, holding me to him as a prized possession, sustaining me. I gasp and groan. My head spins like a lost satellite.

“Your smell is intoxicating.” His tongue, warm and wet, touches my earlobe.

“Your skin tastes so good.” His breath in my ear makes my insides clench.

“I can only imagine how heady the taste of your pussy is.” His teeth scrape on my lobe. My body convulses with an onslaught of sensations that are spiraling me into an abyss of carnal pleasure.

The fabric of his shirt crumples under my balled fists. His mouth is now traveling along my neck. His sharp teeth sink into the soft skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cry out loudly, my head falling back. Mercy me, what is he doing to my body? Is this how sex is supposed to feel? How did I avoid it doing this all these years? Then, again, there is nowhere else I would want to come undone, but inside Seth’s embrace.

“Turn for me,” he commands with a guiding hand over my hips.

I find the courage to move my feet so my back is to him. His hands sprawl over my lower belly as he bends his knees and thrusts his pelvis against my ass with a gyrating motion. I lean my head on his chest.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” His hand palms my sex roughly and firmly. I groan, and my nails sink into the skin of the arm that is holding me.

“My dick wants your pussy so bad it fucking hurts.”

Had he not been holding me, I would have fallen on my ass.

He pulls away from me, and his fingers find the dress’s zipper at my side. Slowly, tantalizingly, he begins the descent of it. “Your skin is magic. Fucking magic.”

He pushes the dress down. It falls in a silent swoosh, pooling around my feet. I want to turn around, kiss him, and quench my parched throat. But I don’t dare move.

I can sense his eyes perusing my backside. I hear the shuffling of fabric, and I imagine him doffing his clothes. The mental image of him naked spreads warmth through my skin. The cold air of the room pebbles my skin. I crave his touch.

“Fuck woman, your ass is perfect.” The words sound strained. “Round like cherries. Just like I thought when I saw you standing in the lobby.”

Both his palms spread in a long caress over my shoulder blades. My breath hitches. Desire and need overflowing in a concoction of anticipation. His hands disappear. He plants open-mouth kisses on the burning skin along my spine.

I sense him lowering to the floor, his breath coming in hot puffs against my ass cheeks. “Turn,” he demands, guiding my hips.

I bite my lip and obey. My heart goes haywire when I see him kneeling before me, only wearing boxer briefs. The vulnerable position is at odds with his undeniable sexual prowess.

He gazes up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Hot damn,” he says with his eyes fixed on my heavy breasts.

Reverently he raises his hands to cup my breasts. “You are beautiful.” The simplicity of the statement, along with the awe laced in his voice makes me believe the sincerity of his words.

His hands run down to my hips, and his head lowers to my apex. He nuzzles on the damp lace covering me and inhales. I fear for my poor and feeble heart.

His fingers hook over the elastic of my panties, slipping them down my legs and over my feet. His nose is an inch away from the patch of hair between my thighs, but he doesn’t touch it.

After what feels like hours, his hands circle my calves and smoothly move up and along my thighs. “So fucking beautiful . . .” He gently guides me to the bed and hovers over me. His skin against mine, his weight over me—a delicious torment.

He kisses me again, his lips hungry, rough, demanding. He trails kisses along my neck, sucking, teeth scraping. He pulls back and gazes at my heaving breasts momentarily. “Mine,” he growls.

His lips close over my nipple with a hard and deep suck that connects every nerve ending in my breast to my clenched sex. “Seth,” I scream, my hands flying to his head, my fingers fisting his disheveled hair in a tight vice.

“So responsive,” he says as he switches to the other breast and repeats, invoking another scream from me.

I am at a loss of how to act. My body is an unrecognizable heap of flesh, and Seth has taken charge of it.

With his lips trailing down my abdomen, he lowers his face down to the bundle of nerve endings that are begging for some sort of release.

He spreads my thighs open and for a beat his complete attention is focused on the most intimate part of me. I should be embarrassed. I’m not.

His eyes are dilated, and his breath catches as he hisses. He plunges his head in between my legs, his tongue leaps over my sensitive skin.

Bells chime. Stars collide. My body levitates.

With every muscle in my body coiled, my skin becomes too tight for my body.

Relentless, Seth delves his tongue into my throbbing depths. I moan and cry, the overload of sensation overwhelming me.

He slides a finger into my narrow entrance. The pressure of his finger combined with the onslaught of his tongue is too much and I fall. I spiral down into a black hole of sensation and pleasure. My nails sink deep into my palms. My body trembles. My lips utter his name repeatedly and reverently. My mind, drunken in pleasure, tumbles over a cliff of blissful ecstasy.

I’m still riding the wave of pleasure when Seth strips off his briefs. Sitting on his haunches, he shields his shaft. I want to savor the sight. It’s so erotic. But my vision blurs.

With fluid movements, he props up on his elbows, hovering over me, his body a whisper from mine. And the absence of skin contact is a painful void I feel deep in my soul.

“Please,” I say, raising my eyes to meet his.

“Please what?” he asks, licking his glistening lips.

“Please, take me. Make me yours.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but only a guttural sound escapes his parted lips. He covers my mouth with his, his tongue stroking mine. The taste of me, salty and enticing, spreads in my mouth.

Overwhelmed from the overload of sensory stimulation, I close my eyes.

His hand guides his erection until it finds my wet and ready opening. He pulls back and commands, “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me when I take you.”

My lids flutter open. His brows are furrowed, his face full of deep concentration and undeniable lust. But I see a glimpse of something else. Something sublime. A vortex that could swallow me completely into a forever of pure happiness.

“This is going to sting, okay?” Before the end of his words, he firmly thrusts inside me, and I feel a sharp pang of pain. He stills.

His eyes are locked on mine. Our stare communicates words we have yet to speak. It exchanges more than other couples have shared in a lifetime together. Getting acquainted and intimate in a way we have yet to be, given the little time we’ve known each other.

And I know that our circumstances are a suspension of reality and that I might be a fool to think this way. But when I look into his eyes I see a part of me that has been roaming the Earth, finally ready to return to its home.

Then, he moves. Buried deep inside me, he moves. I discard all the racing thoughts, all the feeble attempts of reason and comprehension and all common sense. I focus on this monumental event. The sacredness and perfection of the act eclipses the crazy way I got here, under Seth.

“You okay?” Seth asks in a whisper.

I nod.

He gyrates his hips and thrusts deeper inside me, hitting every nerve ending that is begging for relief.

“Seth . . .” My voice is breathy and needy, pleading and imploring, husky and taut.

“You are beautiful,” he says reverently, his hips keeping a tantalizing tempo that has me writhing. And I fear that I’ll split in half. The overload of feelings and sensations are almost too much, and I’m at a loss of how to go on, what to do.

“Seth . . .”

“Let it go, baby, I’ll catch you,” he says and pounds hard and fast inside me.

I gasp, not in surprise over his change of pace. But in surprise that it’s exactly what my body was begging for. That this man—stranger, who now is my husband—knew what my body needed when I didn’t.

But thoughts evade me. The feeble grasp I have on reality dissolves. The energy in my body simmers down to a low heat, as the peaceful and gray brewing of a summer storm.

Seth increases his pace yet another notch. “Come for me, baby,” he growls between his teeth.

He clasps under my knees, raises my legs, and pounds into me.

And I fall.

And he catches me.

And he falls.

And I catch him.

And we spiral downward in a kaleidoscope of tangled bodies, intertwined souls, screams of release and the rapture of pleasure.

The gray clouds and the storm lift. Everything is still. And blue, so blue and so peaceful.

Seth’s body goes slack on top of mine. He buries his face in the crook of my neck. “This is what utopia fucking tastes like,” he murmurs.

He props up on his elbow and his eyes pierce through mine. “You okay?” His voice is so tender and at odds with the feral tone during our lovemaking or the seductive tenor of the foreplay. It undoes me.