Heavenly Lover (30 page)
Authors: Sharon Hamilton
He held her with a strong hand at the small of her back and pushed his other palm up from her lower belly over breasts and up to her neck, making her arch backward. She raised a knee to rub her sex into his upper thigh. His soapy fingers found her spot.
Standing her upright, he spread her knees as he bent to his. She rubbed the lavender bubbles in his hair. His nose and forehead were covered with white soapy foam as he kissed her lower belly. His tongue found its way through the wet soapy hair of her cave and flicked into its opening. Claire directed the warm water from the shower to cover the top of his head and sluice down over her lower torso.
As water rinsed all the bubbled gel from them, he pleasured her with long strokes of his sandpaper tongue. He held her thigh up behind the knee. He kissed the red abrasions from her fall at the beach. He blew on the injury, taking care to concentrate on every tiny red line, like he was willing her skin to heal.
Claire couldn’t believe how enraptured she felt at this small gesture. He followed with gentle kisses, extending them up her thigh to the spot between her legs. He sucked on her sweetness, feeling and tasting her folds, while his other hand brought her mound into his face. Then one finger began to pleasure her, then two fingers as she jerked and arched back. Claire was actually shouting, screaming out. He started to laugh, stood to cover her mouth with his fingers, which she drew inside with her hungry lips, tasting herself for the first time.
“Sh, Claire. They will think I’m ravishing you.” He was softly saying to her, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against her neck, driving her crazy.
“Who?” she asked.
He pointed to the ceiling. “Don’t they watch?”
“Oh, I hope so. I want to make love to you in front of the whole universe. I don’t care who sees. Take me, Daniel.”
She reached for his cock, stroking it back and forth. She dropped to a kneeling position and sucked him as hard as she could. She fondled him at the base where her lips were buried in dark curly hair. She tasted his salty drops of readiness. He was lurching now with every lick from her curled tongue, every suck elongating him, pulling him toward her.
He knelt, laying her back against the soapy bubbles at the back of the tub, positioning her scraped knees carefully up and over his shoulders. Under the rain of warm water sluicing over them he entered her, his rigid member splitting her all the way to her soul. He moved back and forth inside her with fury, each thrust becoming deeper. Claire pushed herself down to completely encapsulate him deep inside her.
Real. This is real.
She was grateful for the art of his love making experience; oddly thankful he had pleasured dozens of women first. She would be the last. She would be his insatiable and most willing partner.
She gave her body up to the spasms that overtook her, muscles deep inside clamping down upon his hardness and finally forcing him to explode inside. They shuddered together, spent.
The morning sun was just pushing its way from the widow. The room was fading from a pink glow. Daniel awoke to the sound of snoring. He was lying naked on his back. He almost expected to see Claire sitting next to him, smiling, as occurred so many mornings, that is, when she was patient and let him awaken to the day naturally. Before being sent back to Heaven, her appetites were such that she hadn’t let him sleep. He smiled at the memory of waking up to her lips covering and milking his cock.
This morning, however, she lay at his side, curled in fetal position under his arm, resting close to his chest, her knees holding one of his thighs between them. She snored again and he had to laugh at her lack of grace and control.
She snores like a soccer player after too much sex and tequila.
She would think this funny.
With care, he slid down the bed so he could see her face, partially obscured by her curled hands that lay together in front. Her head was buried in his soft pillow, mouth open. He had never seen her unconscious. As with most things, she did that too with abandon.
She will awaken to good old morning breath
, he thought with amusement. But today he found even that sexy.
He wanted to see the look in her eyes when she first saw him. He wanted to be the first thing she saw every day when she awoke, like she had been for him. As he watched her sleep, he wondered what dreams she had. Would she remember them?
Am I in your dreams, Angel?
His heart danced. He was a young child at the beach again, picking up pieces of sea glass and sketching the pretty girls that walked past with charcoal from the campfires. He looked back at her sleeping next to him.
My angel sleeping in my bed.
He traced a line with his forefinger from the center of her palm, down the length of her curled middle finger. Her reflex action was to squeeze her hand into a loose fist. Then she opened it, then the other hand as she inhaled, a smile on her lips. He needed to kiss those lips again. He wanted to make them hurt. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His errant finger began a journey lower on her belly.
“Hi.” He sighed.
“Hi.” Her warm pink hand reached for his face and stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers.
“What would you like to do today?”
“Hmmm…” she stretched, arching her back, raising her breasts, which brought his hand over them immediately. She smiled, then rolled over close to him, her body searing hot like a torch. “I think I’d like to take a shower, after a bit.” She kissed him. Her fingertips played with the muscles on his chest, and worked their way up his neck to trace his lips. His fingers had worked their way south as she let his hand part her knees. She was ready and wet. She sighed and squeezed her thighs together against his forearm.
“Then I would like some strawberry pancakes with real maple syrup, maybe a hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream that sticks to my upper lip.”
“And then?” His fingers called to her, tickling and tracing up and down her folds. He rested at her opening, waiting.
“There is a tradition I read about. The famous music couple who wanted to stay in bed in New York until they got pregnant. Daniel, can we do that?”
“The staying in bed or the getting pregnant?”
“Both.”
“Does it have to be in New York? In a hotel?”
“I was thinking right here would be fine.”
He lay back and laughed harder than he had in months, perhaps years.
“Yes, Angel, I think we can.”
THE END
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