My orgasm began to build quickly and even as the waves tore me apart, he didn’t stop until every bone in my body had turned to liquid.
I couldn’t help the nasty little thought that darted through my brain: practice makes perfect.
But he didn’t give me time to think too deeply because he lay my hips back down on the bed, and positioned himself over me.
“I’ve waited a very long time for this,” he said.
Then he slid into me, inch by slow inch, as my body adjusted to his invading presence.
“Fuck, you feel so good, Caro. I can feel you all around me. So fucking tight!”
And I could certainly feel every inch of him. My numb brain began to fill with memories, the times, the places, the many, many times he’d made love to me before. Many times, but somehow too few times.
I ran my nails down his back again, then pressed the tips of my fingers into his tight muscles.
He groaned, continuing to stroke slowly in and out.
Ten years ago, the boy he’d been had been unable to stop himself from racing to the finish line. Now I was benefiting from his experience.
He held his weight on his forearms, and gradually increased the speed. I felt the cool metal of his dog tags on my skin over my heart, which was beating furiously fast, as my body began to respond again and again.
Death by orgasm – what a way to go.
I moaned out his name, and he seemed to lose a fraction of his careful control because he started to move faster. Soon his hips were plunging fiercely, and I absorbed every delicious thrust as he ground into me.
His eyes were wide open, staring down at me, almost wild in their intensity, then his mouth was on mine, our tongues twisting and twining together.
I tilted my hips up to meet him and felt his body go rigid; he flexed deeply once more then stilled, his breath coming in rapid gasps.
I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles behind his waist and clenched inside, milking every last bit of him.
Then he let his arms give way, burying his face in my shoulder.
A slow minute passed, and gradually, our breathing began to return to normal, and I felt his lips pressing lightly into my neck.
He lowered his hand to where we were joined, making sure that the condom hadn’t gone missing in action, and pulled out of me carefully.
He rolled onto his back, and peeled off the thin rubber, pulling a face as he tied a knot in the end of the condom before dropping it into the garbage can. Then he leaned up on one elbow to look at me, resting his free hand on my stomach.
“Are you okay?” he said, tenderly planting a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.
I’d promised myself I’d never get involved with another man in the military; I’d been determined never again to be attracted to a younger man; I knew that revisiting the past was a bad, bad idea; and I sensed that Sebastian was a volatile mixture of intense emotions and unexamined anger at the past.
And yet, my reckless body sang every time he touched me.
“Yes, I think so,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral.
I pushed his hand away and sat up, ignoring his confused expression.
“Where are you going?”
“Just to get some water,” I said, without looking at him.
I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the bathroom, brutally aware that my forty-year old body couldn’t match the exquisite perfection of his.
I pulled on the bathrobe and drank some water from the faucet. The bathroom mirror reflected my flushed face and tangled hair. I’d picked up my hairbrush to resolve one of the issues when I heard Sebastian, and turned to see him standing in the doorway behind me.
“Caro, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said, too brightly. “I’m fine.”
His eyes met mine in the mirror and I could see that he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t challenge me either. Silently, he took the brush from my hands and slowly, carefully, brushed my hair until it hung in tidy waves down my back.
“You have beautiful hair, Caro. I’m glad you kept it long.”
His tone was gentle, almost loving.