She kept marveling, too, that she didn’t feel any guilt at all. Well, maybe any married woman getting kissed at random traffic lights by a handsome young man six years her junior automatically put aside all thoughts of her husband toiling in the vineyards on a holiday, no less, maybe most married women about to be seduced...
She already knew she would go to bed with him.
... conveniently put aside any feelings of guilt when they were poised on the steamy edge of breaking a solemn covenant, maybe so.
Either that or she was an uncommon slut.
The name on the mailbox outside the door was Carter-Goldsmith Investments. Well, this was no surprise, he’d told her he was an opportunity investor, hadn’t he? The surprise was that he’d taken her to his office, or so she supposed, and not to a hotel or a motel or wherever a twenty-eight-year-old man about to seduce a thirty-four-year-old woman might take her... where had Heather’s sixteen construction workers taken her?
It was no surprise that he kissed her again the moment he closed and locked the outer door behind them. Pressed her against the door and kissed her more fiercely than he had on the beach in St. Bart’s or in the French coffee shop on Second or in the Acura every time a light turned yellow, kissed her with his hands on her ass and his cock huge against her, oh Jesus, this was going to be something more than she’d bargained for, oh Jesus, she was doomed.
As she climbed the steps in the richly wood-paneled stairwell, Andrew behind her, she wished she were wearing a short tight skirt instead of the jeans, wished she’d had the foresight to have dressed in something more accessible, something that would make the impending, inevitable, and irrevocable act easier to accomplish. On the landing outside the door to what she still supposed was an office, he kissed her again and this time she moved in against him, the bulky car coat yet another obstacle to overcome, his hands inside the coat now, his hands on her sweatered breasts, she thought, Oh Jesus, and fiercely tilted her pelvis into him an instant before he broke away to unlock the door.
She scarcely saw the room. The room was a swirl of background impressions that served only as a setting for him, for Andrew, for what he was doing to her and about to do to her. This was not an office, she was certain of that, fireplace at the end of the room opposite the entrance door, he was slipping the coat off her shoulders, sofa facing the fireplace, he tossed the coat onto it, took her in his arms again, bookcases on the wall to the right, she wondered what he read, his lips found hers again, his hands were under the bulky woolen sweater now, on her back, she felt her breasts fall suddenly free, realized he had unclasped her bra, and stepped slightly back from him so that he could slide his hands under the sweater to find her naked nipples.
He took her hand in his, and led her swiftly to another wood-paneled staircase on the wall opposite the bookcases, climbing with her to the floor above where she glimpsed a kitchen and a dining room, and then to the floor above that, which was a bedroom at last, the one place in time she wanted to be with this man, the only place she’d wanted to be with him from the moment he’d kissed her on that morning beach in St. Bart’s.
They both shed clothing as they moved toward the bed. He tossed his jacket wherever it landed, unbuttoned his shirt down the front and at the cuffs, took off that as well, and pulled her to him again, kissing her, her hands on his bare chest, his hands clutching her buttocks. Breathlessly, she broke away and sat in a chair facing a smaller fireplace than the one downstairs, took off the low boots and dropped them to the floor, stood again to pull the sweater over her head, draped it over the back of the chair, tossed the bra over that, unbuckled her belt and lowered her jeans, and stepped out of them and threw the jeans over the rest of her clothing, and turned to him wearing only white woolen socks and white cotton panties cut high on the leg.
He was naked.
Her eyes moved over his body, grazed his cock, boldly lingered there. She wanted to touch him, suck him, take him inside her. She felt suddenly girlish standing there in the woolen socks and cotton panties, suddenly virginal though she was nothing such, suddenly so wet that she thought she would come in the next instant whether he touched her again or not.
She went to him still wearing the socks and panties.
He stood with his legs slightly parted, his arms opening to accept her. She moved into his embrace, felt at once the enormity of him between her legs, nudging the moist panties covering her crotch. They stood this way, joined but yet unjoined, for several seconds, her arms on his shoulders, his arms on her waist, she looking up into his eyes, his eyes coveting her mouth. He lowered his face to hers again and found her lips, and parted them with his tongue, gliding his tongue into her mouth, his hands reaching around her to claim her buttocks again. She rode his cock gently, her panties very wet now, rocking herself back and forth on him, her eyes closed, her mouth joined to his. He lifted her at last and carried her to the bed.
Lying beside him in his arms, she started to say, “I’ve never...”
“Shhh,” he said, and kissed her again.
She thought she would faint. When finally he took his mouth from hers, she was sure her eyes were rolled back into her head. Gasping for breath, she tried to find the voice to tell him she’d never done anything like this before, never been unfaithful to her husband, never so much as even thought of...
He lowered his head to her breasts.
She clutched him to her passionately, twisting on the pillow, tossing her head and her hips as he licked first one nipple and then the other, fondling her breasts, yes, she thought, oh God yes. He suddenly clenched both breasts in his hands, bringing them together caught in his hands, the nipples almost touching, took both nipples in his mouth simultaneously, and sucked on them, and licked them, she was delirious, she had never in her life felt anything like, flicking them with his tongue, his fingers tightening on her as he worked her nipples relentlessly. She was going to come, oh Jesus she thought, don’t make me come yet, just fuck me, damn it, put that cock in me, “Oh Jesus,” she said aloud, and wondered if she’d remembered to take the pill this morning, and wondered if he had any dread disease she wouldn’t care to catch, and breathlessly started to say, “Listen, you don’t...” but his hand was between her legs now.
As deliberately as he’d worked her stiffened nipples, he now began to work the crotch of the saturated white panties, his hand moving mercilessly, stroking and caressing, oh God, she thought, you’re going to make me, Jesus I am going to come. “Listen,” she said, “you don’t... you’re not... you don’t have anything I can catch, do...?” and he said, “No, nothing,” and she nodded in brisk relief and immediately rolled away from him, out of his arms and onto her back, raising her buttocks and hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties at the same time. She was yanking them down over her hips, when he said, “No, don’t.”
He gave her no time to register puzzlement. He clutched her hands by the wrists instead, her thumbs still hooked in the panties, and glided his body down the long length of hers, kissing her breasts again in passing, trailing a wet line between her ribs, licking her navel, kissing the fingertips of each hand captured in his, brushing his lips over the flat of her belly above the panties, and finally pressing them to the bulge of her cotton-covered crotch.