She dug in her pockets for the key while Alex entertained a wild vision of her dropping to her knees and
unzipping his pants. A knot of controlled panic welled. No bloody way he could get—or keep—anything up in this condition.
Pushing the door open, Helena towed him inside while he stifled an hysterical giggle. He wasn't in the least sure and thankfully Helena
knew it.
She kissed him gently, a reminder of why they were there. "Close your eyes," she murmured and nipped
his earlobe.
"Why?"
"Because you're about to die of nervousness. Close your
eyes. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?"
"I'll only be a minute or two. Close
your eyes, and breathe."
He did as she asked and once her footsteps faded, his ears fine-tuned. The muffled
pound of the surf and the quietly creaking house merged into a lullaby, easing his tension—until Helena's subtle scent returned a
moment before her footfalls.
"Don't look," her fingers twined in his, "just follow me."
He went where she led, encountering thick carpeting and then stairs. She drew him along, made sure he found each step before moving
on. "You're not going to surprise me with a room full of people, are you?" he asked, eyes still closed.
"What
are you talking about?"
"I have no idea. It just popped into my head."
"No big surprises,
only an icebreaker. Open your eyes."
Next to a bed, candles softened the room while one thing shone quite
clear. For all Helena sounded confident, she looked as nervous as he was. Yet she said reasonably, "I don't want you to feel like
you're going to have a heart attack any second, because high stress doesn't equal great sex, I do remember that. Anything else I can
do—would a beer help?"
"No."
"Don't think I'm expecting some kind of stallion
display. A pony ride will do nicely."
Her teasing brought a smile despite his tight throat. "Ta."
"Relax, would you—I can't until you do."
"I'm trying," he went the dependable, honest route, "but I'm not
certain how to proceed."
"Should we dive under the covers, cuddle up and see what happens?"
That did the trick. If she didn't know how to start either, there were no wrong moves waiting to happen. "Sure," he said, "I'd like
that."
She nodded and set about unbuckling her sandals.
As he kicked off
his tennies, he was filled with a strong sense of maleness. Age difference and social strata aside, she needed him, the man. If she
had thought he was too callow, she wouldn't have brought him home. Although, when Helena unbuttoned her blouse and he realized she
meant to start naked, his confidence wavered. Aidan had a thought, of course, but Alex sent him packing with accusations of being
a worse voyeur than the taxi driver.
The last of his silly fears stowed in their proper place, he took Helena's
lead and peeled off his t-shirt. Too nervous to look at her directly as he unfastened his jeans, he quickly stripped off pants and
jocks in a single swoop.
Candlelight bathed them in ambiguity as she crawled into the crisp linens. The sheets
cool and smooth against his heated skin, Alex slid in next to her. Settling under his arm, Helena laid her head on his chest with
a quiet sigh, while he concentrated on identifying even the smallest sounds, waiting for the right moment to speak.
The whisper of their breathing rang loudest, followed by the spit of burning candlewicks. A clock ticked across the room. The sheets
susurrated as Helena rubbed her face on his shoulder, stroked his chest and stomach, adding the purr of her palm ruffling through
his body hair under the thin blanket.
Then there were goosebumps that spread from her hand, tightened his
nipples, reawakened his erection and made him forget all about listening.
There was nothing overtly sexual
about her petting. Rather, she seemed to console herself with his presence. Despite the non-instigative nature of it, there were things
no man could control and a response to a naked woman—her bare skin fitted along his length—qualified. The covers tented over his pole,
standing out like a dog's balls on a cat, and he shifted onto his hip to hide the evidence.
"I'm sorry,"
her hand came to rest below his navel, fingers burrowing through thicker hair, "I hate a tease and I'm being no better than that."
"It's all right. It's nice holding you for now."
"You have no idea how sweet you are." Her hand slid to the
base of his cock, circled him.
A squeeze produced a hiss of pleasure he couldn't contain and she began
an even rhythm. Occasionally rubbing the sensitive spot under his cockhead, her thumb stroked the delicate perpendicular ridge much
the same as it did her lips. Soon his neck braced against pulsations emanating from an erection quickly approaching granite status.
Abruptly sweeping back the sheet, Helena exposed them, the cool air against their radiating heat an extra caress. With a groan, Alex
reached for her hair but she pulled his hand to cover hers. "Show me," she whispered, "show me how you like it."
His breath caught and he hesitated. He never assisted an all out wanking. A random stroke or two on the way to the act, yes. A performance
piece, no. On one hand, pun aside, he knew what to do, he just wasn't sure how to demonstrate. Rising hunger finally urged him to
mold her fingers to his firm flesh, begin guiding speed and pressure. Cheek against his working bicep, Helena murmured encouragement
until he huffed amid the perfect hand-job.
Through the fog of sensation, he was aware of Helena riveted on
their combined labor. Her interest so focused on his near-to-exploding phallus while her lips caressed his shoulder served a charged
erotic thrill that speared deep into his balls. When her tongue slipped into his ear, he shuddered, head arching into the pillow.
In concert with nips to his taunt neck, her insidious curiosity then traveled under his ear, predicating an abdominal twitch that
said no doubt about it, he was about to shoot.
Speech syrup-thick, he drooled, "God, Helena, that's—it's
so—I'm gonna come—"
"I don't think so." She pried her hand away, halted the fabulous fondling, leaving him
confused and his abandoned member sticking straight up and pulsing objections. "Not yet anyway."
He gritted
his teeth, willed back the threat of climax. No more waiting. Seizing her mouth, he fed on her lips when he really wanted to mount
her without further foreplay. Instead, he concentrated on the curve of her shoulders, the dip of her waist, the meatiness of her buttocks.
He tasted her throat under her chin, slowly moved lower until he could bury his face between her breasts. Cupping them reverently,
he tested their weight, tongue exploring the soft skin, moving ever nearer the stiff peaks tickling his palms.
"Please," she moaned, "suck my nipples. They're aching for attention."
With guttural agreement, he trapped
one, finding it as easy to manipulate as his hard shaft. Helena sighed, hands tangling into his hair. Kissing his way to the twin,
he flickered over the matching bud. She pushed upward, her hands roaming over his face, neck and shoulders before tracing his spine,
fueling a constant awareness of how much she enjoyed what he did.
Switching to and fro, Alex continued to
fondle her breasts, tending to her nipples with eager enthusiasm.
"I love that," her voice hitched, as did
her hands in his hair.
"A bit harder's acceptable then?" He filled his mouth with flesh, let it slide between
his lips. Grasping the distended nipple lightly between his teeth, he rolled it with intent. Her answer was a groan, louder in the
dark, and he paused long enough to murmur, "You said something about this before, didn't you? Just want you to know I pay attention."
Her answering giggle disintegrated into a sound light-years from laughter as he returned to his efforts, nibbling her nipples with
increasing pressure until he was satisfied with her undulations. Her cries for more convinced him to back off, return to barely grazing
them with his tongue. Although no sooner did her rolling hips begin to settle than he renewed his love bites.
Hard, then soft. Soft, then hard. Leisurely pace set, he aimed to give her a need as strong as his—particularly since, cock pressed
between them like a burning column of want, her wriggling produced monumental anticipation with ongoing, agonizing, perfection.
Caressing her unattended breast, she said, "Damn, boy-o, you wouldn't believe how wet I am."
The sight of
Helena tweaking her own nipple sent a trill down Alex's back, spasmed his ass. But when she cupped her breast, pulled the distended
morsel to her mouth and suckled, he completely lost track of what he should be doing.
Admiration awestruck,
he gushed, "Bloody hell, Helena, that's absolutely brilliant."
"Want some?" She offered the tender tip.
It took a second to realize she meant for him to suck it as well and he needed no further invitation. The nipple warm and slick with
her saliva as it slid between his lips, he couldn't begin to describe what tasting it straight from her mouth did to his prick. Her
tongue wrestled with his, tried to reclaim possession of the prize, and the throb in his tackle surged toward crescendo.
"Fuck," he choked, rolling onto his back, grasping the base of his shuddering organ like a tourniquet, willing semen back into acorns
doing their utmost not to comply.
Helena languidly licked her lips. "Just wanted to show you I pay attention,
too."
Quivering penis still in an iron hold, he wasn't sure if he giggled or moaned.
"But you were doing a better job on your own," she added.
What should have been words emerged in a congested
snarl. He pounced, pinned her to the bed. Aroused to a point he had rarely known, he pressed the ample breasts together, brought her
nipples side-by-side. Nipping and sucking, he alternated from one to the other. No more teasing. Instead, he went for maximum, merciless
stimulation.
She gripped handfuls of his hair, pulled his face tighter. "Jesus-God-in-Heaven!" she rasped—and
not quietly.
There had been a time when Alex didn't doubt his prowess. A time when he knew what he was capable
of in bed. He went out of his way to treat his lovers with care and respect, and that two-sided thoughtfulness always earned him horizontal
ovations. Then along came Miranda. He employed the most skillful and selfless lovemaking a man could summon for a woman, yet it hadn't
penetrated her cold heart even a centimeter. And that burrowed into his confidence until he questioned his ability to please, coloring
even one-night stands with an unsatisfactory reserve.
In that moment, wrapped in Helena and her cries for
more, he swelled with a pride to match his cock—pride he could give her gratification so easily—and experienced an extraordinary rush
as his missing bravery returned. He believed, accepted, nothing would have changed what Miranda did. Faith in himself spread, took
hold, melted into its rightful place in his psyche. Utterly conquered, he pushed Miranda into the darkest closet of his mind, wedged
her in with the rest of his regrets, and barricaded the door.
Haunts summarily banished, with a joyful cry
he fixed in the present with Helena and no one else. Man and woman locked in sweating, pulsing, glorious erotic labor, he was sharply
aware of her rocky nipples between his lips. Heart racing, he laughed as Aidan said, Stop lollygagging, mate, and put your back into
it!
"What's so fun—"
Her question was lost when he dove into a self-set mission. If
she had been celibate four years, he would bloody well make sure this night made up for every last day of her sexual exile.
He traced the outline of skin untouched by sun, punctuated the oral drawing with random flickers over her nipples. Accompanied by
sobbing cries, Helena's hips pumped against his wholly wooden staff with fierce intent, until even his skin felt as erect as his cock.
Meanwhile, the recipient of his reborn confidence tried to speak, tried to urge him on—and sure enough, her whimpers contained the
very language she warned him about.
"Fuckin' hell...so fuckin' good I can hardly stand it...oh yeah, harder,
suck them harder...God, when you use your teeth...what that does to my pussy...makes my clit throb...makes me want your cock deep
in my cunt..."
