Her Immortal Love (8 page)

Lydia began to shake and she could feel an orgasm rising inside her womb, steadily increasing, pulsing, aching. Tristan moved his head between her legs. He pressed his mouth against her pussy, his tongue replacing his thumb. His fingers continued to pulse inside her while he licked and caressed her clit with the wet tip of his tongue.

She arched her back, pressing her sex against his mouth. She’d had her pussy eaten only once and that was before she met Douglas. It happened during her first year of college when she’d briefly dated another student. An art history major like herself he had been tall, gawky and painfully shy, but he had not been shy about going down on her.

He had made her come that night. More than once as a matter of fact. But before they’d had a chance to fuck, before she’d gotten the opportunity to finally lose her virginity, her roommate returned home early. Soon after, Lydia and the boy stopped seeing each other. He’d eaten her out well enough, but Tristan was proving himself a master at it. He deftly used his tongue and fingers, synching them in such a way that she was being pushed swiftly over the edge.

“Oh, God, Tristan. Don’t....please...don’t stop.”

He shoved his fingers faster inside her, his tongue steadily licking her clit and the tender lips of her pussy. Her breath was coming so fast she was afraid she was going to hyperventilate. She rocked her hips against his hand and mouth.

He pulled his fingers out of her and replaced them with his tongue, shoving it deep into her pussy. It went in like a snake, twisting and coiling.

Lydia sharply bowed her back as Tristan roused her to her release. He grazed his lips and tongue over her puffy, quivering clit. Clasping the softness of her inner thighs he pushed them apart and lapped at her cunt.

She exploded in a molten sensation of total and utter release. Her climax gushed hotly through her, a foaming wave of pure pleasure. She climaxed again, her heels digging deep into the mattress, her body shuddering uncontrollably. Ever since her divorce, her only orgasms had been self-inflicted.

It felt utterly marvelous to finally come as a result of being pleasured by a man. Especially a handsome, younger man who seemed to know a lot about how to eat pussy.

Tristan moved his head from between her quivering thighs. Before she could say a word, he slid up her body, cupped her head in both his hands and kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth. He thrust his tongue deep into the warm recesses of her mouth in the same way he had thrust it inside her cunt. His groin lay moistly atop of hers, the hard length of his cock pressing against her leg.

She wrapped her arms about his neck and returned his kiss just as greedily, just as hungrily. When was the last time she’d kissed anyone like this? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t think she ever had. Tristan’s kiss consumed her, burned her. She moaned passionately against his mouth, their tongues twisting against each other in a fiery dance of lust.

He lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire.

“Now?” he whispered.

Lydia’s breath rasped in her chest and she was about to say, yes, now, please, yes!

Then she remembered. Protection.

Wasn’t she supposed to ask him to wear a condom? She doubted she could get pregnant but there was still AIDS. There were still STDs.

Noting her hesitation, his eyebrows lifted. “What’s wrong...?” He stopped, a look of chagrin falling across his face. “Damn. I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

He quickly rose from the bed. “I think I have...” He stopped then nodded. “Yes. I do.” He smiled and pointed at her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He strode from the bedroom and into the hallway. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked down at her naked body; her breasts, her stomach, her pussy. The pussy that Tristan had so expertly pleasured with his fingers and mouth. She was still feeling sweet aftershocks from her climaxes. And what climaxes they had been! She smiled and threw back her head, her hair tumbling down her back.

And now she was about to be fucked. And not just by anyone. She was going to get fucked by a younger man who also happened to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. And he wanted her. He wanted a woman whose husband of seventeen years had left her for a far younger woman.

Saffron would be so proud of her.

Tristan returned to the bedroom holding what Lydia could see were condom packets.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I honestly forgot.” He laid a couple of the foil packets on the nightstand. The one he still held he ripped open and pulled out the condom. “It’s been sometime since I had to use these.”

She wondered what he meant by sometime. Weeks? Months? She doubted it was years. She couldn’t imagine anyone as good-looking as him going very long without a lover.

“Were you in a relationship?” she asked before she could stop herself.

But that wasn’t the question. The question was how long ago had it been? She didn’t think she was up to dealing with any emotional baggage from a recent, former girlfriend. She’d watched Saffron deal with that and it wasn’t pleasant.

He slid the condom down his cock. “I was. But it’s over.” He climbed back on the bed. “Better now?” he asked, smiling.

Lydia didn’t want to pry, but she was curious about this relationship he’d mentioned. Saffron had warned her that once she started dating she had to be careful of men who were on the rebound from past relationships.

“Did it...end badly?” she asked.

He quirked a dark brow at her. Fearing she had crossed the line, she started to apologize, but he spoke before she could.

“No, not badly. It’s just over.” He moved on top of her and smiled. “Now, where were we?”

Sliding her arms up around his neck, she slid her fingers through the silky warmth of his dark hair.

“You were just about to fuck me,” she whispered, a sexual boldness she had never felt before welling inside her.

He grinned. Gently kneeing her thighs apart, he slipped one arm beneath her hips, smoothly lifted her up and thrust his cock deep inside her.

She gasped. It had been over a year since a man had last been inside her. She didn’t count her dildo. Tristan’s cock strongly stretched the muscles of her pussy as he eased deeper inside her. She moaned when he began to move; slow, restrained strokes that coated his cock with her juices. He slid one hand up to her breasts. With the other he once more took hold of her wrists. He played with her nipples, rubbing and pinching them as he increased the speed of his thrusts, his other hand firm about her wrists, his hips grion between her thighs.

She tossed her head back and forth. “Don't stop. Please, don't stop!”

“What, sweet?” he grunted. “What don't you want me to stop?”

“Don't stop….” She shuddered as his cock firmly pierced her pussy. “Oh, God, don't stop…fucking me.”

He smiled down at her. “Don't worry, sweet, I’m not going to stop fucking you until you come. Until you scream.”

He lowered his head and gripped one of her stiff nipples with his teeth. Lydia’s hips surged off the bed. Lifting her legs, she curled them around his waist and pulled him deeper inside her.

Tristan groaned. Lydia wrapped her arms around his heaving back. As she softly whimpered toward climax, tears gathered on her lashes. In all the years she was married to Douglas, not once had she climaxed during intercourse.

But here she was, coming in the arms of this handsome, sexy younger man. Maybe there was something to Saffron’s claims about younger men.

“Let me hear you, sweet,” Tristan groaned, his hard body slamming against hers, his sweat slicking her skin. “Let me here you come.”

Lydia was pretty much used to remaining quiet during sex as Douglas had preferred it that way. But as another climax tore through her, she cried out. Sensing that Tristan was now driving himself toward his own release, she dug her nails into his back as the hard bones of his pelvis ground against her softness.

Oh, goodness.

She climaxed again. Harder and deeper than she had before. She cried out as the hot pulses of her orgasm rippled through her. At her cries, Tristan moved faster, his cock hammering into her pussy. Then he stiffened and, with a deep, shuddering groan, collapsed heavily on top of her.

She held him close as his body relaxed against hers. She rubbed her cheek along his warm shoulder. She’d never been fucked by any man but Douglas. He’d taken her virginity that cold November night twenty years ago in his dorm room when his roommate had gone home for the weekend and, once, they had married, she’d been with no other man but him. Now, just having had sex with Tristan, she knew it was truly over between her and Douglas. As for Tristan, was he her future? Or just a passing moment in time?

He lifted his head from where he had buried it in her neck and looked down at her. “Are you okay?”

Lydia's eyes widened. “What? Are you kidding? You were amazing.”

“I was, wasn't I?” He winked at her, which assured her she hadn’t just had sex with an egotistical jerk.

She rubbed her hands up and down his arms. “Yes, you were.”

He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and grinned. “You weren't so bad yourself.”

She punched him on the arm.

He laughed, his eyes lighting up as he did so.” Shall we?”

She blinked up at him. “What? Again?”

He darted a glance at the condom packets on the nightstand. “Why’d you think I brought those with me?”

She felt him hardening inside her. Younger men. She could get used to this.

She moved her arms around his neck and held him close. “Then, yes, again.”

“A woman who knows what she wants and isn’t shy about asking for it.” He smiled warmly down at her. “And that, sweet, is one of the reasons why I prefer women of a certain age.”

Yes, she could definitely get used to this.

Chapter Six

Lydia slowly opened her eyes. It took her a moment to get her bearings as she had no idea where she was. Then she remembered. Rolling over onto her side, she looked over at Tristan.

His long, muscular body was sprawled languorously across the rumpled sheets of his bed. He looked so handsome and yet so vulnerable as he slept.

She yearned to touch him, to stroke his warm, firm flesh, but she did not want to wake him for she knew, her body shivering with delight, that Tristan slept the deep, heavy slumber of a man who had fucked wholeheartedly and had been equally well fucked in return.

Glancing at the bedroom window, she was surprised to see pale light filtering through the closed blinds. She turned over and looked at the clock on the nightstand.

The bright red display read 7:35.

Lydia blinked. 7:35? As in the morning? Had she and Tristan really made love all night?

Judging by the sweet stinging between her thighs, it appeared they had. Pulling the sheets up to her chin, she smiled. She really had spent all night making love with a sexy, attractive younger man.

She couldn't wait to tell Saffron.

She looked back at Tristan. His thick, black hair was a mess because as he had been shoving his cock deep inside her, she had raked her hands through his hair, her body quaking under his potent thrusts.

He lay face up on the bed so she could not see his back, but she would not have been surprised if there were scratch marks on it. During one particularly powerful climax, she had clawed at the hard muscles, fearing her heart would burst from the penetrating explosiveness of her orgasm.

That had been the eleventh climax she had experienced that night under Tristan’s hands, lips, tongue and cock.

Oh, yes, she’d kept count.

Tristan's sexual stamina was beyond belief. Not only had he been able to go for extended lengths of time before climaxing, but after he had come, he was ready to fuck again. She looked at his groin. His thickly-veined cock lay heavy and soft between his hard thighs. Her fingers itched to stroke it but, again, she did not wish to wake him.

She stared up at the ceiling as the early morning light slowly stole across it. She needed to get her clothes from his dryer. She was off from work today so there was no need to worry about that, but she honestly had not planned on spending the night away from her home.

She pushed the sheets away and made to get out of bed.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Tristan’s muscular arms slid around her and pulled her back into bed. “I’m not done with you, sweet.”

Lydia laughed, her body warming at his touch. “I was going to get my clothes out of the dryer. We forgot about them. They’re probably all wrinkled.”

Tristan nuzzled her neck. “I’m the Master of the Laundry, my lass, and I will see to thy garments anon.”

He gently but firmly pushed her back onto the bed. He gazed down at her in the pale morning light, his dark blue eyes drawing her deep into their mystical depths.

She reached up and gently stroked the planes of his face. She was still filled with wonder that a man so young and so handsome had not only desired her but had spent hours pleasuring her.

He smiled. “Lovely Lydia. You're even lovelier in the morning.”

She scoffed. She couldn’t help it. Most of her makeup was gone, her hair was a mess, and she knew that in the light he could easily see the lines along her eyes. “Really, Tristan. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you don't have to keep giving me false compliments.”

His eyes widened. “False? What? You don’t believe me?”

“I’m thirty-nine years old.”

There. She had said it. He knew exactly how old she was.

He frowned. “What does your age have to do with how beautiful you are?”

She laughed. “In today’s society? Everything. I have friends who started having cosmetic surgery done in their twenties.”

“Have you?”

“No.” She didn’t mention that she had thought about it. Especially after she found out about Douglas’s affair with his younger co-worker.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

Tristan stroked her face, his fingers trailing over her lips. “Don’t have any such surgery done. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

“I’m getting older. Time and gravity will inevitably do their dirty work. Actually, they already have as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”