Chapter 14
She didn't know what to expect. That was a part of the excitement flowing through her. She didn't know whether Paul would come roaring down on her like a maddened bull, brutalizing her, punishing her selfishly, or whether he would be velvet and fire-ice in his approach. For a moment, looking up at him, she hoped he would be violent. She almost wanted him to hurt her, to churn into her with massiveness and strength and take her forcefully.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. He smiled at her. She extended a hand to touch him on the leg. She wanted him. She wanted to be ravished, used, used hard. Perhaps she felt that by having him use her brutally, she would be absolved of guilt. What she was about to do was in direct contradiction to everything she had ever believed.
Susan Emory was basically a moral girl. She had flouted convention before. She had had her almost forgotten affair with Lucia Moreland. She had enjoyed premarital sex with Gil. At that time her craving had been so strong that she flouted her conscience, went against her training, opened her soft body to sinful bliss.
That, however, was vastly different. She had done it, true, against her better judgment. She had given her body to a man without the legal blessing of the law or the moral sacrament of the church. But she was in love then, hopelessly and completely in love with Gil. At that time she knew, deep in her heart, that her sin would be erased by marriage.
Now, as she lay supine, waiting with pounding heart for Paul Radford to make love to her, there was no justification for the thrills that ran up and down the long, smooth columns of her legs. What she craved was sex, what she felt was lust. Not for a moment did she tell herself she loved Paul.
She was fully aware that she was nude and willing purely because the hunger of her body was so overpoweringly strong. Nor would she try to justify her actions by telling herself, later, that she had been too drunk to know what she was doing. She was not drunk. Tipsy, yes-stimulated, yes. She knew what she was doing. She knew what she wanted to do.
Paul Radford, leaning over her, was not love. He was sheer lust, and she was going to accept him and match his lust. She was going to like it! She knew that. She burned, quivered, gasped for him, and he had yet to touch her. Throbs of anticipation swept through her. Come on, boy! she thought. Get with it!
His hand touched her loin. It was fire and ice. She almost screamed at the thrill of his touch. When his hand moved, when his fingers teased, touched, she felt her buttocks muscles tense, felt herself lift herself to reach for him. It was as if that part of her were a living thing with hungers of its own.
She put up her arms and embraced him. Her lips parted. He came to her, his body hard and hot against her waiting softness. He lowered himself gently onto her, their torsos pressed together, her breasts flattening. She thrust her lower body against him, wanting him all the way. He didn't respond.
Unable to endure it, she contorted herself to make the contact that mattered. Her whole body shivered as if from vast cold. She thrilled with a passion, with an intensity she hadn't felt in years.
He kissed her at last. She couldn't breathe for long moments. Her insides seemed to melt, to run down in molten ecstasy to concentrate in that throbbing, living center of her awareness. His kiss was soft. She felt her heart pumping from the sweetness of it. Then she opened her mouth wide and used her tongue to spur him on. She mouthed him with wet lips, with extended tongue.
"I have to ask you one thing," he whispered. "Don't talk," she breathed, lost in the wonder of her fire.
"I must know this, now. Will it be just once for you or more than once?"
"More than once," she whispered, enraptured by the idea. More than once. Much-much-much more than once. Three times. Four. AU night.
"In that case," he said.
He was there. He had asked her the question because, she realized, he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Now that he knew, he was going to take her quickly.
He was, she realized with a burst of passion, going to take her hard and fast the first time. Then there would be more.
She let her legs cooperate, to give him that which had, till then, been Gil's. He was there, and love's portals slid aside under his gentle but firm pressure. There was no need for guidance. They united as if from long habit.
She gasped, arched herself. The long slide began. It went on and on until she felt herself gloriously expanded. She had never felt anything like him.
She wanted more. She couldn't get enough.
She moaned with bliss. Her legs lifted high. Her breathing became a lusty anthem to lust.
"Oh-it's good?' She heard herself and didn't recognize it. It was a stranger's voice, a hoarse croak of desire.
His lips met hers. He tried to devour her with his kiss as the moment stretched on and on, and then the movement began, rhythmic, wonderful, heaven, with quick beats of contact and pressings and his never varied penetration.
She smothered him with her softness.
She actually felt him climax, moved rapidly, using him to make the best possible ending for herself. Then she was weak, moving feebly to retain him in her flesh.
"I may not let you go," she whispered. "I may hold you here forever."
She felt wonderfully carnal. She relished the memory of their perfect climax, lost herself in lascivious yearning for the next. She wanted nothing more than to start it all over again. She wanted to pile thrill on thrill until he did it to her again.
"Don't go!" Her voice was panicky as he tried to pull away.
"I won't."
Everything had been planned well. Paul had a miniature bar in the bedroom. He didn't even have to get off the bed to mix a drink. Susan gulped hers greedily and watched him with hungry eyes as she fondled his thigh.
Paul put down his empty glass and smiled at her. "Now, my little sex-machine...."
"Yes?"
There was no prelude, just an immediate quick thrill of his kiss, and she was squirming. She thought of Lucia. Lucia had done it to her that way. It was better with Paul, because she knew what was to follow.
It went on and on and she was screaming inside, and then, when she couldn't stand it another second, she pushed him onto his back and mounted him, pushing herself down, missing him, moving desperately until she was right there over him and squirming down, down. She did it the way Una had been doing Gil. "Oh God, Paul!"
She used her weight to impale herself. His hands toyed with her.
True pleasure built within her, that wonderful dramatic storm inside her, the spasmodic pulsing of togetherness again.
And it was to happen once more! There were more drinks.
It happened again after he explained to her that he was at a point where drastic measures were necessary to create renewed desire. She wanted the night to be endless, so when he told her what he wanted, she was willing. She had never done it before, but it was thrilling to feel him respond to her soft mouth's caresses-to feel new life begin and expand. Then she was pulling him atop her again.
Fatigue at last caught up with her. The drinks seemed to hit her all at once. She was almost gone, unable to coordinate her movements. She remembered mumbling that she wanted to sleep with Paul. She remembered that she felt him as she went to sleep, naked, used, with Paul's body heavy atop her.