Everything I Need, page 14
“You don’t seem very sympathetic.”
“I’m not.” She spread the towel on the chair’s seat and pointed. “Sit.”
“I’m dying to get inside you.” Unsmiling, he turned to face her with his gleaming eyes and ran his thumb across her lower lip. She sucked it deep into her mouth, making him gasp before she slowly let it slide out again. “On the other hand, I do love what this beautiful mouth can do. What should I do?”
“Up to you.” Taking all the time in the world, she slowly gathered the bottom of her caftan, swept it up her torso and off, tossing her hair and exposing her breasts with a bounce. He made a choked sound. And that was before she nimbly dropped to her knees, rubbing her face against his crotch on the way down, and stared up the length of his body to maintain eye contact. “But I’d sit if I were you.”
He sat with a glimmer of wary amusement. “But you will take it easy on me?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She gave him her gravest look. “As easy as you just took it on me.”
“Fuck,” he said, gripping the chair’s arms to brace himself.
She scooted forward, eager to get his ripe head in her mouth. She sucked and licked, swirling her tongue around and around and ignoring the rest of his dick until, with a hoarse attempt at her name, he clamped his hands on her head and thrust his hips.
She laughed with triumph. Sucked hard. Took him as deep as possible. Bobbed her head up and down, letting him slide in and out. Let him go entirely, then ran her lips and tongue up and down his length, licking him all over. Cupped his balls. Squeezed them until his lungs heaved and his groans became particularly raw.
If she thought of it, she did it, determined to be as generous with him as he always was with her.
There was a distinct possibility that she’d been with the wrong sorts of men in the past, but they always acted as though just because they showed up with a dick when they swaggered into the room, any available woman should be happy to suck it.
But Anthony.
Anthony.
In addition to being a freaking selfless Einstein when it came to the erotic arts, he fascinated her. Delighted her. Cared for her. Showed up when he said he would. Called when he said he would. Exposed himself to the flu to make sure she was okay, and it wasn’t as though they’d exchanged any in sickness and in health vows. He’d brought her here, to the earthiest and most beautiful place she’d ever seen, and he regarded her with wonder, as though he was the lucky one.
Half the time, she wasn’t sure he even remembered that she had a scar.
A hundred percent of the time, she was positive that the scar didn’t matter to him.
So for this one man, she was happy to give everything she had. Happy to suck and suck and suck until her tongue, cheeks, knees and thighs hurt. Happy to have him grab handfuls of her hair and pull her closer.
With Anthony?
She was happy.
“That’s enough,” he said in a choked voice, staring down at her with glazed eyes as she let him slide free. “I can’t take it.”
Surging to his feet, he reached down to help her up. She held his hand as she backed up to the bed, then turned down the covers and stretched out as he reached for one of the condoms she’d left on the nightstand earlier.
He watched her the whole time he sheathed himself, his eyes darker now. Stormy. Meanwhile, the lines of his jaw and chin tightened down into sharp angles, and she was pretty sure she caught the glimmer of a tear as he levered over her, settling on his elbows, and cupped her face.
“I missed you,” he said, his gaze searching and urgent. Maybe even a little bewildered as he smoothed the hair at her temples. “You’re all I can think about. Every second.”
Truer words were never spoken.
“I missed you,” she said, staring him in the face and losing herself in the moment’s intensity even though it was like staring at a solar eclipse without the special glasses. “I missed you.”
He shifted his weight and reached between them. She angled her hips. He thrust home, stretching her. Filling her. Leaving her breathless and shocked that, on this perfect day of perfect days, nothing else came close to the exquisite sensation of having Anthony inside her.
The stunned look on his face reflected it all back at her.
Maybe being in Africa did something primitive to her. Maybe it was the fact that they’d been apart for a couple of weeks this time. Maybe it was just that she was beginning to realize how much this man meant to her.
Whatever it was, she was categorically incapable of holding anything back.
“Anthony,” she said, letting her eyes roll closed and her back arch as she rose up to meet him.
Their mating was frantic from the beginning. There was no other word to describe it. They’d spent too much time apart and she’d wanted him too desperately during all those lonely nights. She’d ached for this. Counted the days for it. Lived for it.
No detail escaped her notice.
The unrelenting hardness of every part of his body as he pressed her deep into the mattress and thrust for all he was worth. The way she dug her fingers into his back and reveled in his groans and his sweat and his flexing muscles. The surge and retreat of his tongue and the minty flavor of his insistent mouth. The saltiness of his skin when they finally broke the kiss and she ran her lips down the strong column of his neck. The clenching halves of his ass, which formed perfect globes for her hands to grip and to smack, urging him faster…harder…deeper.
The way his big dick stretched her to the exquisite edge of pain, unerringly rubbing her sweet spot with every powerful surge. The way all of her sensations intensified if she drew her legs in so she could cross her ankles behind his back and open herself wider. The way doing so wrung strangled noises from him and made his rhythm falter.
The way he watched her the whole time, his eyes bright in the fading sunset. The way her name poured out of his mouth on an endless wave of astonished whispers and groans.
He kissed her again, nipping nuzzles and tastes that made her lips feel deliciously swollen and never gave her the chance to keep up with him, much less catch her breath or say anything other than gasping attempts at his name.
And all the while, need spiraled lower and coiled tighter inside her, collecting at that one perfect spot between her legs. It didn’t take long for the clenching to begin, little rippling spasms of her inner muscles announcing that while she may have had the orgasm of her life a few minutes ago, that record was about to be broken.
“Anthony,” she said helplessly, her voice shaky because this wasn’t normal. Nothing that happened between them was normal, in bed or out, and surely she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how phenomenal they were together.
He levered himself up on his elbows and stared at her with those amazing eyes. His expression seemed bewildered but also exultant.
“It’s not too much, is it?” he said hoarsely. “The way I already feel for you?”
She hesitated, knowing what he was asking.
These things took time.
You didn’t just meet someone and cede them a big chunk of your heart on a silver platter.
You weren’t supposed to give everything you had to a person who didn’t even live on the same continent as you.
The potential for heartbreak was far too great.
Right? Right?
But as she looked up at him, this man who’d become every noncareer thought in her head, she didn’t want to slam any doors on him any more than she wanted to strap a raw steak to her chest and step outside to see if she could find a lion.
This was right.
They were right.
“No,” she said, reaching up to cup his beloved face in her hands and bring him in for another kiss. “It’s not too much.”
There was the glimmer of his smile as his mouth found hers again. With that, she bore down on her inner muscles, gripping him tightly inside her body.
He tensed. Thrust once more…twice…
He stiffened and came with an unabashed groan and a final thrust that made the pulses of electrical sensation between her thighs crescendo into waves of spasming pleasure that she had to vent from her body on an astonished cry.
They rode it out together, their breathing harsh in the relative silence as his head dropped down into the hollow between her head and shoulder and they held each other tight.
13
After a few minutes, he rolled to one side, taking her with him. They slid into that euphoric post-coital zone that wasn’t quite waking, wasn’t quite sleeping and always required drowsy half-smiles.
Then his wry voice rumbled through the growing darkness.
“I meant to ask if you were back to a hundred percent after your bout with the flu, but I’m going to hazard a guess that you are.”
She laughed, smacking him on his washboard abs.
Unsmiling, he caught her hand and kissed it.
“Do you know how hard that was earlier? Not touching you when I hadn’t seen you in weeks? Pretending I didn’t know you?”
“You didn’t do much pretending in front of Dr. Katika,” she noted quietly, running the backs of her fingers over his lips.
“Don’t worry. He’s an old friend. Very discreet.”
“I liked him a lot.”
“Good.”
They stared at each other for a long moment of mutual satisfaction and sensual knowledge. Anthony’s avid gaze covered her from head-to-toe, touching on everything from the wild tumble of her hair to her puckered nipples, cooling in the night air, and the cleft between her legs.
“Much as I’d like to lie here forever,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over her belly and making her flesh leap, “they’re expecting us for dinner. They’ve made a big fuss.”
“Well, I did work up an appetite.”
He grinned with unmistakable male smugness.
“But aren’t you concerned about so many people seeing us together here? Where everyone knows who you are?”
“Don’t worry about them, darling. They’re very discreet, I’m told. But before we get dressed, I want to give you your Christmas presents.”
“My Christmas presents?” She gaped at him, stunned, as always, by his generosity. “I thought this trip was my Christmas present.”
“Don’t be silly. Your coming to Tanzania with me was my Christmas present.”
“Wow,” she said, laughing. “Win-win.”
They both laughed as he got out of bed and leaned in for a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Hmm,” she said, temporarily distracted by the sight of his tight ass, sculpted torso and long legs as he left. Then she leapt up and reached for her overnight bag.
By the time he returned wearing a pair of silky boxers, she’d slid back into her kaftan and had her brightly wrapped flat presents for him sitting on the coffee table. He grabbed his own bag before he joined her on the sofa, then froze at the sight of his gifts.
“What’s all this?” he asked with an incredulous delight level that suggested she’d gifted him with the deed to a nearby conflict-free diamond mine.
“They’re for you,” she said, beaming and trying not to bounce up and down with the thrill of surprising him. “I hope you like them. You’re really hard to shop for.”
He stared at her, his big heart shining in his eyes.
“You didn’t have to do this for me. I didn’t expect anything.”
God, this man touched her.
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, cupping his cheek as she leaned in for a kiss. “Open the small one on top first.”
He hastily cleared his throat and, grinning widely, untied the ribbon.
“This had better not be a book,” he said, now tearing the paper and sliding it aside. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s reading books—oh, my God.”
It was a copy of Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom.
“Open it,” she said.
But he’d gone into a semiparalytic state, staring at it amazement, then blinking up at her.
It took him forever to speak.
“Melody, you didn’t.”
“There’s one way to find out.”
He checked the copyright page, then the title page.
“This is a signed first edition,” he said, gaping at her.
“I know! Do you like it?”
“Like it?” He shook his head helplessly, then gave her cheek a lingering kiss. “Thank you. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a meaningful gift.”
“Good.” She reached for the larger package and gave it to him. “Because I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this one.”
“There’s more?” he asked, aghast.
“There’s more. So you’d better brace yourself.”
Recovering slowly, he ran his fingers over Mandela’s signature, shut that book and set it down before setting to work on the other one.
“I’m afraid to look,” he said on a shaky laugh. “Not sure what could top the other one.”
But the disbelieving look on his face as he saw what it was told her she had topped the first gift.
“This is…” He flipped the large workbook over, possibly to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “This is a study guide for the bar exam. In New York.”
“Yep! And there’s more. Look inside.”
He did, discovering a sheaf of papers, which he quickly flipped through.
“This is…” He had to stop and clear his hoarse throat. “This is an application to complete the coursework so I can become a barrister back home.”
“It is,” she said, laughing at his absolute stupefaction. It was better than anything she’d envisioned in her wildest dreams. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d want to become licensed in the US or the UK, so I got you both.”
Long pause, during which some of her giddiness slipped away.
And that was before he looked up at her, his expression stricken.
Her heart sank all the way to her toes.
Oh, God.
She’d somehow gone and screwed everything up. What a way to end an otherwise perfect day. Was she a regular genius, or what?
“Only if you want to,” she said quickly. “I can take them back. I just thought that you seemed like you kind of wanted to pursue your legal career when we—”
“That’s just it,” he said, eyes flashing. “I don’t have a legal career.”
Melody met his turbulence head-on, absolutely determined to do what was right for this man, even if he wasn’t yet ready to confront his choices.
Even if he didn’t yet realize that he had choices.
“You could, though.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for you to think about whether you want one. And if you do, how much you want it. But, hey. None of my business.”
She stared at him, trying not to smile.
He stared back at her, his gaze ambivalent.
Whether he was trying to decide what planet she came from and where she got off making suggestions like this to him, or whether to take her back to bed and worship her for the rest of the night, she couldn’t quite tell. But she really hoped it was the latter.
He was still stunned speechless when she snapped her fingers and remembered the other thing she’d brought for him.
“Oh, and I almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her bag again. “This one just arrived before I left to come here, so I didn’t have time to wrap it. I hope you don’t mind.”
She unfurled it with a flourish and held it up for him to see:
It was a Mandela quote on a black T-shirt with white lettering:
It always seems impossible until it’s done.
This seemed to be too much for Anthony.
He took the T-shirt from her and, looking dazed, pressed it to his mouth.
She waited, half afraid she’d made him cry, but when he dropped his hands, he merely shook his head and regarded her with the sort of fascinated disbelief with which he might view a flying elephant.
“Are you an illusion? A figment of my imagination?”
“What?” She snorted back a laugh. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“Because,” he said, his voice and expression softening and his attention dipping to her lips. “You go so far beyond my expectations every single time I’m with you that I can’t believe you’re real. Either way, I’m fairly certain that it’s too late for me to stop myself from…”
Falling in love with you.
The words lingered in the air, terrifying, thrilling and tantalizingly out of reach as the color rose in his cheeks.
Melody froze, afraid he meant it and equally afraid he didn’t.
The silence mushroomed, eventually becoming excruciating.
Words crowded onto her tongue, demanding to be said. Things about how she might also be falling for him, but the woman who took him on had to be extraordinarily strong and that clearly wasn’t her. Things about how much better her life was with him in it, but how she couldn’t quite see how either one of them could fit in the other’s world permanently.
He needed to know all of this, but none of it came out when she opened her mouth.
She faltered.
He nodded and quickly turned away, rubbing his nape.
“I’d ah…I’d better give you your gifts if we want to make dinner in time, hadn’t I?”
“Anthony…”
“Number one,” he said, giving her a beautifully wrapped box about the size of a—
“Oh, it’s a mug,” she said, laughing with delight when she got it open. “I love mugs. And it says…Best Fucking Doctor Ever. Oh, my God.”
“You like it?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you!”
“Well, I saw it when I ordered the queen one for Granny, so I had to get it for you. And of course a perfect doctor needs…”
He reached into his bag and pulled out another gorgeous box with satin bow, this one about the size of a trade paperback.
“Did you wrap these yourself?”
“I did,” he said modestly.
“They’re gorgeous. Your mother was a good teacher, wasn’t she?”
