Love Unfurled (2 page)

“Such a clever, clever man you are.”

He presses a kiss against that spot just below my ear I didn’t know I liked having kissed until I met him. He frees my wrist as his hands travel along my body and I let mine do a little exploring of their own. I love when he’s over me like this because I can run my fingers across the firm muscles of his back, letting them travel down to the even firmer muscles of his ass. The gentle caress of his lips across my skin coupled with the tips of his fingers along my thigh; cause me to pant with need.

I’ve worked my hands under his shirt and the feel of his hot skin against mine sends an electrical current of pleasure through my body. His lips travel across my face, finding my mouth with a kiss that is as explosive as ever. He nips and tugs at my lips with his teeth, using his tongue to sooth bites that balance on the fragile border of pleasure and pain. It’s been so long and I can tell he really is hungry. Just the thought of that hunger makes my body moisten with anticipation.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he sighs as his hand caresses me.

When one of his fingers makes its way inside of me I don’t bother responding. This is nice but it isn’t what I really want so I start clawing and grasping at his jeans. He doesn’t help me because he’s released my breasts from the confines of my clothing and is giving them all his attention. I’m wild with need and desire as he pulls at me with his lips, biting down ever so gently with his teeth, and I growl in frustration that his pants don’t have a zipper.

He takes pity on me and hurriedly undoes the buttons at his fly and my hands find their prize. He’s hot and heavy. All I can think about now is the velvety smooth feel of him gliding inside of me.

“Inside me…now,” I gasp out.

“Now this is the type of greeting I was expecting.”

I open my mouth to blast him but he’s already spread me open and is pushing inside.

“So good.”

His hot breath against my ear sends little tingles of pleasure through my body. I’d planned for soft candlelight and coy looks, seduction at its finest, but as he pushes further into me on the bed that was now “ours” all I could think about was having him hard and fast.

“More,” I plead as I dig my nails into the skin of his back.

I know this—the kinetic energy of want and desire only he can evoke in me. I missed this—his hot hands and whispered words of naughty promises. I needed this—getting lost in the sounds and smells of us joining together in the most intimate of ways. He kisses me again as he tilts my body to go even deeper and I sigh with pleasure into his mouth.

“Beautiful.”

The reverent tone of his declaration as he looks into my eyes is all I need and I am lost to the feel of him inside me and the sounds of him coming. A wave of pleasure always sweeps me up in moments like these, but this time, this time it feels different, somehow special, and as the haze of my desire begins to clear from my eyes I see this same feeling reflected in his eyes.

“Love you,” he says before brushing his lips gently across mine.

“Love you,” I reply with a sigh because fancy dinners and sexy little black dresses don’t matter after all.

III

“Hello, sexy.”

I can’t help smirking at the sound of that deeply seductive voice whispering in my ear. Tilting my head to the side I provide the permission I know his greeting is requesting.  The feel of his lips pressed against the pulse in my neck, that has now begun to throb because of his close proximity, is a delicious little treat. His hands find their way to my hips, gripping and tugging me toward the warmth of his body.

“Hello,” I whisper back.

His soft chuckle sends vibrations of pleasure along my skin as he gently nips and kisses the curve of my neck. He knows that those little caresses kindle a fire that will spark a flame of passion within me. His hot heavy hands wonder the contours of my body, gathering the breezy cotton of my dress as they search for the sleek, slippery texture of my most intimate flesh.

“Nice,” he moans in appreciation when he discovers I’m not wearing panties.

“It is, isn’t it?” I reply in a breathy quality.

I would reach around and tangle my hands in the silky softness of his hair but I deny myself to prolong the anticipation of that particular pleasure. Instead I grip the counter he now has me pressed against. We are the only customers in this section of the antique store and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he is up to.

“Did you leave the house like this?” he asks seeking and parting flesh that hungers for his touch.

“Does it matter?” I brush ever so gently against the solid mass straining his jeans.

His only response is a soft chuckle that answers my question more clearly than any words he could say. We have perfected these little non-communications over the years, a look, a sigh, a well-placed moan just when…

“Now, you mustn’t be too loud, sexy,” he whispers into my ear as he slips his fingers inside me.

He is the maestro and I am his prized instrument.

“Like that?”

He is teasing me now but I don’t mind because I’m lost in the moment of pure pleasure. My hands will no longer be denied their rights to caress and explore. One to clasp the back of his neck and the other to get lost in the softly silken strands of his hair. I feel an orgasm cresting on the horizon, warm and comforting like the rising sun, and I rush to greet it.

“Oh please,” I plead.

I am needy and raw with desire and his labored breaths on the back of my neck are pushing me closer to the edge. This naughty little tryst, in the cluttered antique shop in the quaint seaside town, is bliss and my heart expands with the joy of sharing it with him, my love, my life.

“Beautiful,” he moans softly into my hair.

That one word is the aphrodisiac I needed to help me reach completion. I come in great waves of silent pleasure. There is a stillness that occurs in those moments of uncomplicated euphoria that makes me feel as if I am not bound to the laws of time and space. I relish the purity of it because it is something uniquely ours. Until the sound of rustling feet and muffled voices bring me back to the reality of our situation. I move to get myself sorted, as I stifle a nervous chuckle at the thought of almost getting caught.

When the owner comes toddling back into the private area we’ve made our own, I brush at the crumpled fabric of my dress. My husband Joel, the naughty man that he is, gives me a quick wink and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like we have what you were looking for. If you’re going to be in town for a while, I know the fella who runs the other antique store, and he said if you could make it today he’d look into it for you,” the shop owner says resting his hands on his ample belly.

I start to think about another cluttered shop and private nooks and smile brightly. I turn and look at my husband, whose eyes are sparkling with a mischievous intent, and I already know what his answer will be.

“We’d really appreciate that information,” I say sincerely.

The older man nods his head and turns to lead us back toward the front of the store, but I don’t immediately follow. Instead I turn and whisper in my husband’s ear, “I told you this would be a fun way to spend Valentine’s Day.”

J
ANET

Janet Eckford

Like most great superheroes (or super-villains, depending on who’s telling the story) Janet Eckford lives a double life. By day Janet is a mild-mannered crusader for justice (or nefarious deeds, depending on who’s telling the story) and by night an indestructible creator of prose (or pathological liar, depending on who’s telling the story) while munching on her favorite cookies—oatmeal raisin. A native West Coaster who hails from the sunny state of California Janet, has loved the romance genre ever since she convinced her dad it was required reading when she was eleven. Janet believes love shouldn’t have a color code and strives to create stories that represent that belief.

Send her your praise and adoration and she will return it in kind.

[email protected]