Just One Taste Part 33

Just One Taste -

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"I know," she whispered. His hand still cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

"It's been a very long time for me, Alice. My God. Since before you were born. I don't let myself get close to people. They grow old, and I...I don't."

Alice nodded, licking her lips. His thumb took advantage. When he made contact with her tongue, the jolt was electric. She swayed and gripped the counter.

"I guess we'd better do this on a bed," He looked pleased with himself, but Alice couldn't complain. She couldn't even string a sentence together. Her mouth was on fire and her head was entirely empty. If he was going to read her mind right now, he'd get nothing. "I wouldn't want you to fall down. Do you know that most accidents occur in the kitchen?"

"I've heard that." Accidents. Pray that there was still a box of condoms in the drawer in her bedside table. Condoms didn't have an expiration date, did they? He'd had nothing in his wallet before, not even any money.

She didn't have far to walk from the kitchen to the bedroom, one advantage of having a single multi-purpose space. The bed was under a window, mounded with pillows she'd made herself out of vintage fabric. She stopped in front of it at it as if she'd never seen it before.

She felt his hands caress her shoulders. He turned her around slowly. "We don't have to do this."

"Are you kidding?" Her voice was all nerves, but she went on. "How many times am I going to get the chance to sleep with a time-traveling psychic? Guys like you don't come around every year."

"No. More like forty." He held her close. He seemed to be smelling her hair. She felt his lips press into her curls, heard him sigh. She pushed him gently away.

"I have to powder my nose."

Daniel tapped it, once, then pulled her back to him. "Your nose is perfect."

She escaped his hold. "You know what I mean. Why don't you, uh, why don't you get under the covers? I'll get undressed in the bathroom." She could feel how hot her face was. The rest of her was uncomfortably warm as well.

He raised a dark brow. "You mean I don't get to unlace you from your corset?"

"I wear a bra." And it was past due to be washed. "Twenty-first century women don't wear corsets. Well, my friend Tiffany does, but just for fun."

My God, she was babbling. He'd only been teasing, and here she was giving him a lecture on underwear. His eyes were crinkled in the corners with amusement. He would really be laughing if he saw her flowered cotton granny panties.

She had a perfectly lovely embroidered silk robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom for just such an occasion as this. She could not remember when another soul had seen her in it except for her mother.

She fled into the bathroom, tore off her clothes and brushed her teeth. Her hair looked like she'd been electrocuted, but that couldn't be helped. It was the curse of the naturally curly with a bad, slutty hairdresser. Her mascara was still miraculously unsmudged, her cheeks still flaming as though she'd applied half a pot of rouge. She relieved herself, then wet a cold washcloth and began to wipe herself down everywhere. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5 and she was as ready as she'd ever be. The green silk robe was enticingly slippery on her skin.

She cracked the door open and peeked out. As if he knew her sudden shyness, Daniel had turned off all but the light over the sink and had lit some candles. His clothes had been folded neatly on the couch, where Felicity was already making them into her bed. Daniel was lying under the pastel quilt, his beautiful dark head resting on a gingham pillow.

"I pictured myself here this morning," he said, so softly she could barely hear him. "Come and join me."

Alice padded barefoot across the vinyl flooring, clutching the wrapper to her chest. Daniel tossed a corner of the covers aside and patted the sheet. She caught a glimpse of his long legs, faintly dusted with hair. All of him looked lean and dark and delicious in the flickering candlelight. She took her glasses off and the room took on a blurry sheen.

The dark shadow of Daniel loomed larger in her bed. Everything about him was as large as it could be. Even without her glasses, she could see he tented the quilt. She was enormously flattered, and a little bit scared.

She opened the drawer, reached in and found the condoms shoved into the back behind a tube of hand cream and an embarrassing silicone object which she hoped he wouldn't discover. Without a word she set the box on the bed between them.

Daniel chuckled. Alice felt a shiver of anticipation deep within.

"Aren't you optimistic? A whole unopened box? I hope I live up to your expectations."

"Oh, no!" Alice fumbled with the seal and drew out one foil-wrapped packet. "Just once is good, really."

Daniel smiled, his teeth looking sharp and predatory just as Alice imagined one of her favorite vampire heroes might. "That's what you think." He dragged her down until she was on her knees next to him, the tie of her robe rebelliously loose. The condom slipped from her hand.

"Let me look at you." Without waiting for permission, he untied the robe and parted it. Alice felt another wave of heat course across her skin and shut her eyes. Her nipples tightened as she heard him take a breath, as though he were stunned by her beauty. How ridiculous. She knew she was a good fifteen pounds overweight. Well, twenty. Maybe even twenty-five. She looked down and watched his expression.

His smile had vanished. He was studying her as though he were committing each square inch of her to memory. Aside from dealing with her robe, he hadn't even touched her yet except with his eyes and already she could feel the liquid pool within her. She shifted on the bed.

"Lie down," he rasped.

She slipped out of the robe and tried to cover herself with the crumpled sheet, but Daniel was having none of that. He traced his fingers from her lips to her throat to her breasts, teasing the tips to swollen buds.

"Roses," he said, not stopping to explain. He dipped lower, fingers of one hand circling her naval, the others edging a path to her sex. Her legs fell shamelessly apart for him, and he took quick advantage. Now it was her turn to breathe sharply. Each brush, each stroke, each sweep left her wanting, needing more.

And she hadn't even put her hands on him yet. Kissed him recently. She had to remedy that.

She rolled and reached for his nape, lifting her face toward him. His hands continued on their blissful journey as his lips found hers. Her breasts rubbed against the breadth of his chest as their tongues tangled in a hazy shower of sparks, little bursts of taste and desire. Alice felt if she looked down, she'd see a filament of flame between their every touch point.

And she wanted to get closer. Hotter.

She slipped a hand around his shaft as he groaned into her mouth. He drew back and looked at her, his eyes mossy and dark. "I'll take that condom now."

She swept her hand over the sheet until she found the little square. Wordlessly she watched as he sheathed his cock into its confines.

"No," she said suddenly.

He looked as pained as if she had stabbed him, strangled him, and then shot him for good measure. "What? You've changed your mind?"

"No. Yes. I'm on the pill and I haven't had sex in over two years. I'm clean. Disease-free. I-I had to have a complete physical before I got the job. They ran every test imaginable. Do you know I had to carry a wooden box with a twenty-five pound weight up a set of stairs before the town selectmen would hire me?"

Daniel's expression was more confused than ever. She reached for him. "I want to feel you. I want to feel all of you. You haven't been with anyone in thirty years?"

"Longer. I should be ashamed."

She touched his cheek. "Don't be. You were saving yourself for someone special. Take the condom off," she whispered. "I want to kiss you there."

Chapter 5.

He was in the worst kind of torture. Exquisite, consummate pain. Alice's velvet-soft tongue swirled from his balls to his shaft, tracing the pulsating vein with its tip. He found he couldn't block out her thoughts anymore. Didn't want to, either. The moth had crashed through the screen and flown in, fluttering around the open candle flame, singeing her pretty white wings.

What she was thinking about was flattering in the extreme, and very, very naughty. The words 'hot seed' kept recurring, and he would be obliging her soon if she didn't stop. But he indulged himself under her small hands and luscious lips for a few more sublime seconds, until he knew he'd spill that hot seed into her mouth any minute. Which was, in fact, exactly what she wanted, the little hoyden.

But he didn't. He wanted to be buried deep inside her, feel her smooth freckled skin alight with her unexpectedly wanton sensuality. He wanted to drive in and out of her until her sweet greed would trap him with its fervor and he lost himself within her. Spend his last drop. And then he would start again before she could catch her breath.

With an oath he pulled her up and kissed her, one hand slipping through her gloriously tangled auburn hair as he held her bottom with the other, pressing her sex to his. Her lush body covered him like a soft warm pillow, a squirmy pillow.

She wanted to ride him. She wanted to do everything she'd ever read about in all the erotic novellas she'd downloaded from the Internet when she couldn't sleep. Everything. Whoa, she was reading some wild stuff. Forget that shades of whatever book, her mind was waaay more creative. She wanted to call in sick tomorrow and spend the whole day in bed with him.

"We can't, sweetheart. I've only got two more days. But I promise you my nights."

She blinked her eyes above him. "I thought you weren't going to read my mind."

He held a finger to her lips. "I can't help it. Your thoughts are inside me, now. I've never felt anything like this. This connection. I wish you could read my mind. You'd know I'm speaking the truth."

He gentled her back to him with a kiss, then raised her hips and slid her down his rock-hard cock. She was tight and oh so wet. Her knees gripping his sides, her nails grazing his shoulders, she moved above him, slowly at first. Almost too slowly. As though she wanted him inside her forever, completing her. A faint flush stained her breasts and belly. He flicked a rigid nipple with his thumb and watched her eyes lose focus.

"What am I thinking now?" she gasped.

She was going to make him blush. "You're going're going to fuck my brains out." As if to prove it, she came down again, squeezing his cock. "Then when so I'm weak that I can't f-fight you, you're going to suck me off until I get hard again." She rose up on her knees, and he met her challenge by holding her hips and pushing her back down. "You're going to get me to come in your mouth this time. You'll swallow it. All of it. You think you'll be such a slut."

He could hardly believe or think or utter the x-rated plans bouncing around between them. He'd have to make some of his own, but he really didn't think he was in her league in the imagination department.

She tossed him a brilliant smile. "I am a slut, aren't I?"

Gone was the shy, prim little librarian. In her place was a woman who knew just what she wanted and went after it. Thank God she wanted him.

He knew sex had never been like this before for her, either. He could feel the wonder, the joy, the sheer carnality that rippled through her curvy body. She increased her rhythm, taking him roughly. He was as in as deep as he could be. The friction was both punishing and perfect.

He slid his hand to her swollen clit, watching her mouth slacken and her eyes shut as he circled and pressed against the glistening jewel. With a stifled scream, she climaxed on his fingers, her vaginal walls contacting around his cock until he had no choice but to follow suit. He erupted within her, each thrust more powerful than the last.

He held her close after, their bodies slick and shivering. Every tightening, every constriction sent him into further into bliss. They stayed connected until nature inevitably reared its head and his receded. He slipped out reluctantly and brushed a damp curl away from her cheek.

"What am I thinking now?" she whispered, her voice hitching.

They thudded together, heart to heart. Her eyes were filling with tears. He closed his.

"Don't. Don't cry." Drops of moisture landed on his chest and he wiped them away.

"I'm crying because I'm happy." She snuffled as he licked the salty tears from her cheeks. Biologists had observed moths drinking tears from birds, but no bird could taste as delicious as Alice. Daniel felt that he was somehow taking a part of her within, to keep and treasure, to remind him of this night.

"I know. I'm happy too." And wretched just the same. How could he leave her in two days? This was why he never made any attempt to have a relationship with anyone. At first, it was because Rebecca had been so patently disgusted with his lovemaking. He didn't need to read her mind to know that she considered the marital bed both boring and repulsive. He thought there was some defect in him. How could he want her so badly when it was clear he didn't have the capacity to give her pleasure?

He knew better now. He was practically a virgin when he married her, a few trips to his father's brothels notwithstanding. He'd been as anxious and callow as any youth when he married at twenty-two. Rebecca was just seventeen, a sheltered child, her mother dead, her father seeing sin in every corner.

There had been little chance of happiness for them.

Once Daniel was in exile, he was too disoriented to think about his own needs. He hadn't been a monk, but coupling with anyone seemed futile, a foolish whim. He had work to do. Had done it. All but for the few intransigent books in Alice's library. And as of today there was only one left.

But he was not going to think of the past tonight, his own or his father's. He was going to make love again, and again if he could, before they both rose from the disheveled pink gingham sheets and faced reality. And if he failed, which seemed likely, he would spend a few decades wondering what Alice was doing. Was she reading aloud to preschoolers? Was she stamping books? Was she sharing her life with someone worthy of her?

He settled her against his side, massaging her shoulder. "Shh. Let's sleep for a bit. What time do you have to get up?"

Alice squinted at the clock. "In six hours."

"Plenty of time, then."

"Oh, for what?"

He kissed the tip of her head. "Read my mind."

Chapter 6.

He was awakened by the sound of the Jeep below. Alice's mother was a fourth grade teacher at Merrills Mills Elementary, dreading today's outside recess duty. Fridays were always wild. And there was a full moon to consider as well.

Daniel shot straight up. He had to get home. Alice stirred and sighed.

He hated to leave her, but he'd see her again in two hours. His hopes for a quickie this morning were probably unrealistic, anyway. Nothing could be quick with Alice. She was a marvel, to be savored slowly and thoroughly, like fine wine or chocolate or a Tim Horton's jelly doughnut.

He slipped out of bed, got dressed as quietly as he could. Alice was still asleep, her dreams making him grin. They'd try that later.

He went over to the breakfast bar, found a message pad and pen in a little basket next to the phone and left her a note. Short, but full of sweetness. It would have to do. At least she wouldn't think he'd ditched her like a one-night-stand man.

He ran all the way down the Merrill Road, even though his body jarred every time his trainers hit the pavement. Trees older than he was lined the lane, their leaves now brown and scattered. He remembered when this road was dirt, out in the country, his father's house the only one. It had started as a long carriage drive and ended at the Merrill Mansion. Now it was fairly well-populated with a mix of trailers and tract homes.

His father would not have approved. But Daniel had sold off parcel after parcel. He had to have something to live on.

Once inside, he shed his jacket and went to the room off the kitchen he used as a bedroom here. In the seventies, he'd arranged to have the majority of the furniture taken to an auction, so the house was mostly empty. Unwelcoming. But it had always been that. Built more as a symbol of power than a family home, its inhabitants had never been happy.

There had been a series of caretakers over the years, all from the same family, who didn't have to do much except keep the lawn trimmed and see that squatters didn't make themselves too much at home. He'd contacted the current one with specific instructions to turn the electricity on for one week and have half a cord of wood delivered. Daniel could do without oil heat, which was a good thing, as the house had no furnace. There was a woodstove in the kitchen, and it was only October. He guessed he should be happy his Prodigal Son act didn't happen in January.

January in Maine was not for sissies.

He opened the small trunk at the end of his bed. In it were things that he'd shoved into a backpack in preparation before he was zapped into Merrills Mills, appearing like an uncorked genie in front of his wife's grave as he did every single time. As though he needed reminding why he was being punished.

He picked up the small frayed cloth-bound Bible that had once belonged to Rebecca when she was a child. It was too worn for him to turn its pages anymore, but tucked inside was a folded piece of typing paper. Yellowed from being handled so many times, its creases were just about ready to separate the paper into sixths. On it, he had transcribed from the flyleaf of the Bible what his father-in-law had written in his crabbed hand.

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About Just One Taste Part 33 novel

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