Roz found herself leaning backwards as Mick kissed her neck, her chest, and then kissed and sucked her breasts. And what she loved about Mick’s lovemaking was his staying power. He didn’t suck a few sucks and was done. He feasted on her breasts. He kissed them, he fondled her mounds, he sucked her nipples until they were so hard and filled with so much sensuality that Roz thought she was going to cum just from the way he fed on her.
But Mick was slick with it. While Roz was still enraptured by his mouth on her mouth and her neck, and his wonderful treatment of her breasts, Mick’s hand was now under her dress and was massaging her vagina. She was so into the attention he was giving her upper body, that she didn’t realize he had removed her underwear. She didn’t realize it until she felt his fingers rub her clitoris. By the time they slinked inside of her folds, and was soaking in her wetness, she could feel the pulsations. But if she thought Mick was ready to put his penis in and be done with it, she was wrong.
Mick laid her onto the elongated seat, opened her legs, and moved his head between her legs. When his tongue began to lick her, she smiled and closed her eyes. It felt like a familiar wonderment. But soon he was eating the way Mick ate: heartily. He was giving her not just tongue, but a tongue lashing. She was pushing down on his head, trying to push away from the heightened sensuality, but Mick held her down as he mouth-fucked her. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Mick loved the way she tasted too much to give her an inch. He knew it was intense. He knew she loved it more than she thought she could bear. But he knew she could bear it. And he kept eating her until his cock was so stiff it was unbendable. He knew then it was time.
He pulled down his pants, and then guided his penis slowly into her wetness. As soon as they connected, her wetness with his pre-cum and his stiffness, it was another world for them. And when he began to fuck her, when he began to glide his cock deeper and deeper inside of her, they both were moaning and grunting to the rhythm of his every move.
They were fucking long and hard. Mick held her hips as he moved his own hips with every thrust of his dick inside of her, and Roz reacted to every thrust with movements of her own. They were completely together now. The world was literally outside their window, and would have been shocked to see her legs so wide open and his naked ass so tight as his cock fucked her, but neither one of them could ever feel more humbled. Sex might have been in the air of that limousine, but love was in their hearts. Roz had been in love before, even though it was nothing like this, but Mick never had. He wasn’t used to fucking the woman he loved, or even the woman he cared this greatly about. He’d never come close to this. And it was exhilarating. It was everything he could have hoped for and so much more. He looked at Rosalind as he fucked her. He stared at Rosalind as his cock sank into her wetness and made that beautiful sexual sound. It was Rosalind. His Rosalind. She was the one who made them pop.
And they popped until they came. They made love until they were both fucking so fiercely that even Mick thought he wasn’t going to be able to bear it. And by the time they finished, with his cock red and sore, and her * red and sore, they thought it was going to be painful. They had gone too far. But it wasn’t painful at all. It was too beautiful to bear pain.
But by weekend’s end, the wonderment frayed. It started when Roz received a call from Marge, her assistant teacher and the person she had tapped to take over as the instructor of record. The students were rebelling that decision. They didn’t sign up for Marge, they said, they signed up for Roz. And Roz knew the students were right. They signed up to learn acting from Roz Graham, a lady who had had a taste of success, not Marge Whitfield, a lady who had not. She had to return to New York.
But she also knew that Mick was not going to like it, and might not want to let her leave. But she had an obligation to conclude and a charge to keep. And she was going to keep it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was a Monday morning meeting in Vito DeLuca’s office. Carp Bianchi was there. Teddy Stefani too. Mick was late, as usual, but nobody complained. They were a part of his inner circle at his pleasure, and each one of them understood that. But when Mick came in, not excusing his lateness or even discussing business, but humming a tune, they looked at each other.
Then he started singing what he was humming: “For once unafraid,” he sang, “I can go where life leads me. And somehow I know I’ll be strong.’
When he realized the Dons were staring at him, he smiled. “You’re afraid?” Carp asked him. “What are you afraid of?”
“He said he was unafraid,” DeLuca responded. “Not afraid.”
“Carp’s right,” Teddy said, disagreeing with DeLuca. “He said for once he was unafraid. That means all those other times he was afraid. Just not this time.”
Mick laughed. “You guys,” he said, as he sat at the head of the conference table. It was DeLuca’s table, but he sat at its head.
“Good morning,” Teddy said. “The meeting started at ten, and it’s already eleven, but so what, right?”