He carried two of the game table chairs outside and set them up just beyond the steps. But they only used one of the chairs. He held Beth in his lap as they sipped at their wine—he didn’t have the heart to tell her he wasn’t a big fan of wine. However, it did seem suitable to the occasion.
Mutt lay at John’s feet. They watched the eclipse through its totality when the moon turned into a bright orange disk like the one John had seen on TV. Shortly after, he whispered into Beth’s hair, “I’d rather be looking at you.”
Without any objection from her, he stood and carried her into the house. He ordered Mutt to his bed, then went into his bedroom and shut the door behind them.
They undressed quickly and got between the sheets. Facing each other, he gathered her closer and worked his knee between her thighs. “Gotta be said that this is more comfortable than up against the wall.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “But that had merit. In fact, it was thrilling.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Your spontaneity was rather… barbaric.”
He arched an eyebrow and gave her a lazy grin. “That good, huh? How good?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re asking me to rate your performance?”
“Well, a guy likes to know how he did. His self-esteem hinges on it.”
She laughed, then swept her lips across his soft chest hair as she ran her hand down his rib cage, over the ridge of his hip bone, and closed her fingers around his erection.
“You rated high,” she said, speaking in rhythm with her stroking. “Waaay up there. If there were a chart, you’d be off it.”
He swore under his breath. “Not too much, Beth. I’m about to burst.”
“We haven’t done anything yet.”
“You haven’t. While you were moon gazing, I was otherwise occupied.”
“Doing what?”
“Reciting the alphabet over and over. Counting backward from one thousand. Twice. Wondering how soon I could be inside you again.”
With bedroom eyes, she looked up into his face. “I’ve been wondering that myself.” Withdrawing her hand from him, she raised it to her mouth and sucked a bead of moisture off her thumb.
Resorting to near-barbarism, he kicked off the covers and drew her across him. She came up onto her knees, then sank down on him and began rocking her hips forward and back.
“No, no, no, no.” He angled himself up, bringing them face-to-face, and bracketed her hips between his hands to hold her still. “Not yet.”
Her eyes were closed. She moaned, “Oh God, John, why?”
“I don’t want to skip the foreplay.”
She opened her eyes, looking surprised, and whispered, “Really?”
“Both times have been incredible. Wild, spontaneous, barbaric. Impatient on my part.”
“No less impatient on mine.”
“I’m not complaining, God knows. But I want to exercise a little patience this time.”
He made a caress of removing his hands from her hips. He brushed back tangled strands of hair, then cupped her face between his palms. Using his thumbs, he traced the arch of her eyebrows and stroked her cheekbones. He outlined her lips with the tip of his index finger. She tried to catch it between her teeth, but he snatched his hand away just in time.
To punish him for that, she rotated her hips as seductively as a belly dancer. He growled, “You’re gonna pay for that.”
“I hope so. Soon. Please.”
“You’re not enjoying this?”
“Immensely, but—”
“How about this?” He cupped a breast in each hand and lifted them to his descending mouth. His tongue played upon her nipples, with ardor one moment, with teasing the next, until she was pleading with him to let her move.
His hands left her breasts and moved around to her lust-inspiring ass. He imbedded his fingers in the soft flesh, and held her grafted to him. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this since I set eyes on you. Just like this. Ride me, but slow. Slow.”
She began to move as much as his strong clasp on her would allow, until he himself couldn’t remain still any longer. He placed his hands on the tops of her thighs, ran them up and down several times from her knees to the smooth creases that channeled down to form that enticing vee.
His thumbs slid down those twin pathways, and when they reached the meeting place, he wedged his fingers into the notch where they were coupled and found the heart of her sex, exposed and aroused and inviting him to fondle. Which he did, every movement of his fingers leaving her increasingly restless.
She exhaled a sound close to a sob and then began chanting his name as she ground against his hand. She wrapped her arms around his head and held it firmly against her chest.
He angled his hips up with strong thrusts, now reaching, pressing into her to the point where the feel of that silky heat that gloved him was surpassed only by the intensity of its contractions.
He needed to come or he was going to die, but he wanted to experience her orgasm. At the first jolt of her climax, he threw off his iron control.
He knew he would die remembering that instant of joy.
