Turning Thirty-Twelve (14 page)

“We could.” He kissed my nose.

“We could go watch birds.”

“We could,” he said before he kissed each cheek.

“We could—”

His mouth settled on mine before I could even complete the scatterbrained thought.

His kiss was so warm, so consuming. Every nerve tingled, from the hair on my head down to the tips of my toes. My heart beat in a steadily increasing rhythm that echoed in my ears. There would be no long, agonizing wait to see which one of us would make the first move. No worry about what each little touch meant. No stupid guessing games.

This was it.

And I wanted it to last forever.

As he pressed his hard body against mine, I drowned in his scent, his feel, and his touch. He deepened the kiss, stroking that talented tongue across mine. Every cell in my body responded with an agonizing want—an almost paralyzing desire.

I threaded my arms around his neck. He replied by lifting me by the waist and setting me on the countertop. Instinct made me wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer. His breath was a bit ragged when he ended the kiss. My ego liked that a lot.

“I feel like I’ve waited forever for this,” Mark whispered in my ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words raised shivers up and down my skin. Then he buried those heavenly lips against my neck, starting the process all over again. I arched into him. He growled in response.

His hot breath against my neck, strong hands stroking my arms, and firm muscles pressing against me were more heady than a stiff shot of whiskey. He found the zipper of my jacket and slowly eased it down, probably knowing he was driving me crazy. I pulled my hands back and returned the favor.

I marveled at the newness and savored the experience like a virgin who wasn’t afraid of what was to come. I knew what was going to happen—or at least I
hoped
—and I embraced every satisfying piece of the puzzle.

Clothing was in the way—garments that were too thick and entirely too hard to take off. Somehow he’d tugged my shoes off. Don’t ask me how. I was too busy trying to work his sweatshirt over his head.

Those incredibly masculine hands slipped up under my shirt as he pushed it up my torso. The light brush of his palms across my bra caused a couple of gasps. First mine, then his. I raised my arms to make his task easier. Anything to get those hands busy doing something more important than taking off my shirt. He needed to be touching me again.

For the first time, I rejoiced in my age, in Mark’s age. We weren’t a couple of kids fumbling around in the backseat of some car—frenzied, hurried, and left entirely frustrated. With age came grace and control. We teased. We tantalized. We enjoyed. He was slow and predatory, despite the overwhelming passion I felt in each kiss and each touch. I wasn’t afraid he wouldn’t wait for me, and that freed my own response.

Damn, I was glad I’d worn my red bra. I’d bought it at some silly lingerie bridal shower for a young teacher, thinking no one would ever see it. Best thirty bucks I ever spent.

Mark kissed me again in a deep, sharing exchange of breath and warmth and passion. With my legs holding him so tight he had no chance to escape, he put his arms around me and lifted me off the counter.

He shuffled us down the hall with me clinging like the ivy on the big wall at Wrigley Field. Somehow we got close to the bed, and I let my legs down. They were weak and trembling, but I stood my ground.

Mark kicked off his shoes before he crouched in front of me. He smiled up as he took off each of my socks and threw them over his shoulder. His hands settled on my waistband. Popping the button, he dragged the zipper down. As he stood back up, he pushed his hands between my hips and my jeans and worked them off my body.

Not to be outdone, I mimicked his actions, first letting my fingers slide slowly over that glorious erection that I was amazed his jeans could hold. I’d thought he was joking about his cock being big. Shit, I never figured I’d be so shallow as to admire a guy for
that
particular trait. But I did, licking my lips in anticipation. Jeans descending over his hips revealed a pair of light blue boxers that I planned to remove pretty quickly.

Mark jerked down the covers and picked me up before he set me on the bed. It took every ounce of self-control not to cover anything he could see with my hands. Although it was rapidly growing dark, there was still too much light to make me comfortable, because I was convinced he wouldn’t like what he saw.

He stretched out beside me, rolled to his side, and propped his head up. Then he just stared at me.

I reached for the sheet.

His hand shot out to catch me by the wrist. “Don’t. It’s been so... You’re beautiful, Jackie. Please don’t deny me the chance to see you.”

The man set my blood boiling saying things like that. He tugged at me to roll on my side and face him before he put the fingertips of his free hand against my cheek.

Mark traced a slow, lazy path from cheek to neck, which caused an uncontrollable, ticklish giggle on my part. His hand followed my collarbone to my shoulder and down my arm as he watched me with those intense eyes the whole time. He made a detour to my belly button where he circled it lazily, then his fingers moved up my stomach.

That hand made its way to my breast, which was already tightening in anticipation. I could feel the heat of his palm through my lacey bra. I absorbed it, savored it, needed it—but I also needed that damn lingerie out of the way. I reached behind my back and popped the clasp with one hand. Mark grabbed the bra and tossed it off the bed.

His dark eyes stared at me in the waning light. Then he moved so fast I let a surprised squeak escape when his mouth settled on my bare breast. I buried my hands in his hair and arched up. He gave me a satisfied male chuckle and shifted his attention to laving the other breast. Pleasure zipped from my nipple to core.

I couldn’t stop the sounds—the guttural moans and excited gasps tumbling from me with surprising frequency. I didn’t care an ounce about how I sounded—didn’t want to think at all and possibly drown out the maelstrom of sensations Mark sent scorching through me.

All I wanted was to
feel
.

His growls excited me and stirred the woman inside me. I was wet, warm, and past ready. “Mark, please... I need—”

“I know what you need. Patience, sweet Jackie,” he whispered against my skin.

But I couldn’t get any kind of grip on my control. This was
so
not me—so not the way my body had always reacted to David’s touch. So downright terrifying. I’d never felt raw desire pound through me with such intensity and crippling sincerity. My fingernails dug into his shoulders. I needed that anchor to keep me grounded.

He chuckled again and kissed his way down to my panties, which he proceeded to remove with surprising dexterity. There was no hurry, no trying to meet his own needs while ignoring mine. His hand found the part of me that throbbed in anticipation, the part that wanted him so desperately. He separated my folds and then eased a finger inside me.

“Oh, God...” My fingernails raked his shoulders.

I welcomed his touch, shamelessly pushing into his fingers, wanting the strokes to be deeper, faster.

Mark seemed to instinctively know exactly what I needed and had no problem providing it in luxurious quantities. He added a second finger as his thumb tortured my sensitive nub in a rhythm that had me teetering on the edge of orgasm.

My muscles tightened, begged for release from the exquisite torture. “Mark,
please.
..”

“I’m right here, babe. Don’t fight it. Let me love you. Please.” He dropped his head to my breast to suckle and tease.

His fingers picked up the cadence of my hips. And then it happened. I came in waves of bliss and searing heat, moaning like a banshee the whole time.

When had my body learned to do
that
so quickly?

Somewhere in my scattered thoughts, I figured I’d have to write Oprah and ask.

Mark wasn’t done, not that I wanted him to be. He tugged off his boxers and rolled to cover me. His body fit mine perfectly. The weight of him lying on me, the heat of his erection against my stomach, and the press of his muscular chest to my breasts were all perfection.

“I have condoms,” he whispered against my ear before he kissed my neck. He gave me playful, stinging bite that he soothed with a lick. “I need to go get them from my bag.”

A thrill ran through me. He’d wanted me enough to plan ahead. Knowing he’d been so considerate only made me want him more. “No, you don’t,” I replied in the same hushed tones, terrified talking too loud would break the spell of whatever voodoo Mark had been spinning. “I’m on the pill.”

“You’re not worried about—”

I couldn’t even let him finish the ridiculous notion. “No, I’m not. You were faithful to Elaine. I have not a single doubt of that. The only man I’ve ever slept with is my ex, and it’s been years. We don’t need condoms.”

He evidently didn’t need to hear it twice. His knee pushed my legs apart as he kissed me. I wiggled my hand down to wrap it around his cock. He hissed his approval. Then I guided him home.

I’d forgotten the feel, the utter joy of joining a man’s body with mine. Bliss. Rightness. Completeness. His low growls made me smile. The rhythm was slow, luxurious, sliding slowly in, pulling slowly out. My hands wandered his broad back and then settled on that heavenly butt. I guided, encouraged, and praised in mindless words.

Mark’s mouth settled on mine, his tongue sweeping in with each thrust of his hips. Each push was faster, deeper, driving me out of my mind. I could feel the peak again, muscles tensing and straining, before I shattered. Lights, sounds, sensations pounded through my body and my mind. He was a heartbeat behind, driving into me and collapsing with a satisfied grunt that sent a small wave of delightful spasms through me.

Mr. Yummy is a very talented man
.

I planned to fully explore the extent of his gifts for the rest of the weekend.

He chuckled in my ear. “Am I crushing you?”

“Nah.”

“I’m not sure I could do much about it if I was. God, Jackie. You... you...” He shook his head.

“I what?” Insecurity kicked in before I could stop it. Damn it, I wished I could turn that annoying part of my personality off.

“You were wonderful. Perfect.”

“Perfect? Really?”

Shut up, Jackie! You’ll ruin everything!

Mark pushed himself up on his elbows and kissed my nose. “Perfect.” He eased away and rolled onto his back.

Normally, I’d have gotten up, gone to the bathroom, and gotten dressed. But I didn’t want to leave. I snuggled up against him as he dragged my arm across his chest. There wasn’t any awkwardness like I feared. No shame. No feeling like I’d just made a huge mistake. No apologies because it wasn’t enjoyable for either of us.

It had been a damn long time since I felt this good. For the last several years of my marriage, I’d started to believe there was something wrong with me. Maybe I was frigid. Maybe I was defective. Maybe I just wasn’t pretty enough for my husband to waste time with any type of foreplay or the cuddling I desperately needed afterward.

Then I got angry.

It wasn’t my fault!

David had been selfish. He hadn’t cared about my needs or my wants or...
me
.

Fuck him
. Let Ashley deal with him and his premature ejaculation and selfish lovemaking.

I had a real man now—a man who’d actually been more concerned with my enjoyment than his own, who’d coaxed two incredibly mind-melting orgasms from my middle-aged body. I had a man I was pretty sure wasn’t going to stop at two. I cuddled up a little closer and smiled in sated contentment, marveling at what a lucky woman I was.

“I’m starving,” Mark said. “Want to see if there’s anything in the pantry. We’re not dressed to head to town,” he added with a chuckle.

“I suppose not, with public decency laws and all that nonsense. Think there’s anything here?”

“Probably. Staples at least. Maybe some cans of something edible. What do you say?”

I nodded. He kicked off the sheet. I squealed and grabbed it, practically ripping it from the bed and wrapping it around me like a cloak.

Mark just shook his head and smiled. He grabbed his boxers, slid them on, and held out his hand.

I shook my head. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a minute. I need to head to a bathroom.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go see what I can find to eat.”

After a hasty cleanup, I grabbed an over-sized t-shirt from my duffle, donned it, and slid my red undies back on. By the time I got to the kitchen, Mark had a small smorgasbord spread out on the island. Crackers, peanut butter, jelly, cereal, and I could hear some popcorn making a racket in the microwave. “Sweet. No shopping.”

“It’ll last us a little while. I plan on being too busy to head into town until later.” He let a leering gaze sweep my body, sending heat through me. “
Much
too busy. You look great in that.”

“Why, thank you.” I pulled the edges of my shirt out like a skirt and curtsied. “This li’l ole thing? I just threw it on.”

The microwave beeped as the smell of hot popcorn wafted through the kitchen. Except maybe for chocolate, popcorn was my favorite food, especially if I had a good glass of white zinfandel to go with it.

“Smells delicious.”

He took a few steps toward me, buried his nose against my neck, and inhaled. “Yes, you do.”

Was this man for real?

Feeling a bit embarrassed at the attention, I started rooting around the cabinets for a bowl for the popcorn. He sighed, and I hoped it wasn’t in exasperation, although I would have understood it if he had been frustrated with me. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know I could be a bit trying at times.

But I am what I am.

I grabbed an enormous ceramic bowl and put it on the counter as Mark opened the steaming bag and poured the popcorn into it.

“Was there any soda left in the cooler?” I asked.

“Yeah, there are a few I think. There was one thing in the fridge that looked interesting.” He opened the door and pulled out two Michelobs.