The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli
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His lifted his mouth off mine so our lips were almost touching, our breaths mingling in the intimate space. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he said.
That was another thing I liked. He hadn’t taken my consent for granted. He’d allowed me time to back out if I wasn’t comfortable with taking things further. I don’t want to make Andy sound like a predator or anything but there were a few times when he hadn’t really picked up on my change of mind or mood.
‘I’m sure.’ I put my hand to his face and stroked it down the chiselled plane of his jaw. ‘But thanks for asking.’
He rested his forehead against mine. ‘It’s been a while for me.’
‘Me too.’
He lifted his head to look at me. ‘How long?’
‘It’s been a couple of months.’ I gave him a wry look. ‘Actually, it’s probably longer.’
He brushed his lips against mine. ‘Good girl.’
‘Why’d you say that?’
He smiled at me. ‘You’re being honest.’
The words I was going to say were obliterated in the combustible heat of our mouths meeting in a scorching hot kiss that spoke of the deep, irresistible yearnings going on in both of our bodies. Our tongues tangled and teased, stroked and swept and chased each other in a sensual dance as sexy as any Latin tango.
I was standing up on tiptoe, my breasts pushed almost flat against his chest in an effort to get as close as possible. His hands gently peeled away my knickers; his palms warm as they cupped my bare behind. He moved against me, the strong pulse of his body sending mine into a frenzy of want.
He pulled back from me slightly. ‘I need to get a condom.’
He left me briefly to find one in his wallet. He didn’t have a supply in the bedside drawer, I noticed, which seemed to suggest he hadn’t brought anyone back here before. I liked the special feeling it gave me, the feeling that I was the only woman he’d considered making love with since he’d got back from the States.
He came back to me sheathed and gently guided me to the bed, where we ended up in an erotic tangle of limbs. That was another thing I noticed. There was no awkwardness about who was going to put which limb where. We fitted together like one of those complicated puzzles that only a Mensa member can solve. The feel of his naked skin moving against mine, the glide and stroke of his hands, the caress of his lips and tongue and the heat of our connection went through every pore of my body like a current.
I stroked my hands over his back and shoulders, discovering every knob of his vertebrae as his mouth savoured mine. Our tongues did that sexy little tango again that mimicked what our lower bodies were aching and straining to do. I shifted beneath him, urging him to take things to the next stage, but he was taking his time to ensure I was properly aroused. He stroked my entrance, felt the wetness of me and then slid one finger inside. I almost came right then and there. He stroked his fingertip across my clitoris, just enough to make me aware of him.
The sensations gathered like an approaching wave, building momentum with a force that threatened to overwhelm me. I felt the tension building in my body as he stroked me again, softly, slowly, then varying the speed, getting to know what I liked and what I didn’t.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more he moved down my body, kissing my breasts, down my sternum to my belly button and then to the top of my mons pubis. Instead of using his fingers, this time he used his lips and tongue. I know I sound like a ridiculous prude but I’ve never really understood all the fuss about oral sex. Andy did his best, but I always felt he couldn’t wait to get it over with so he could get on with the main event, so to speak. I would freeze up or fret that I hadn’t waxed or that I might not be as fresh as I should be down there. I would end up pretending I’d had a good time just to get it over with.
But with Matt I forgot about all those insecurities and hang-ups. His caresses were so perfectly timed, so cleverly orchestrated my body went on a feverish journey of discovery that left me completely breathless. The orgasm rolled over me like a massive wave, spinning and tossing me into a world of sensation that left no room for conscious thought. I was reduced to that one part of my body, my most primal part. I writhed and clawed and cried and gasped as the ricocheting pulses went through me, finally leaving me in a limp heap as the afterglow flowed through every muscle in my body.
Matt came back over me, cradling the side of my face with one of his hands. He didn’t ask if it was good for me. He didn’t need to. Instead, he kissed me again, the taste of my own body on his lips stirring me into a new round of arousal.
I reached for him to guide him into my body but he really didn’t need any help from me. He knew exactly where he was going. But he didn’t thrust in hard, not at first. He took his time, inching in to allow me to get used to his length. I felt like a virgin having sex for the first time with someone who really knew what they were doing. I felt special and respected and worshiped, instead of exploited and used.
Once he sensed my body was fine with him being fully enclosed, he began to move. It’s a rhythm as old as time but each couple has their own take on it. I never found my groove with Andy, or my other partners. I always felt I was three steps behind, like a novice dancer trying to join a complicated line dance. I was always out of sequence, out of time with my partners.
But with Matt I felt everything fall into place. He moved and I responded. Our bodies rocked together as if they had been programmed to do it. When he groaned with deep pleasure it made my flesh shiver all over. But instead of taking his pleasure, he hadn’t finished giving me mine. He somehow got his hand between our bodies and found my clitoris again and stroked and coaxed it into an earth-shattering orgasm. It was so powerful I could feel it rippling through me, the tight contractions triggering his release. I felt the deep shudder of his body as it drove into mine in those last desperate pumps as he emptied. I felt his skin lift in goose bumps and stroked my hands over his back and shoulders and down over his lower spine and taut buttocks.
Neither of us spoke.
I didn’t want to break the mood with banal conversation. I wanted to dwell in that quiet sense of physical harmony, the soothing mutual relaxation of two bodies that moments ago had been strung tight with sexual tension but which had now found peace.
It was a while before I realised Matt was soundly asleep. I know a lot a men fall asleep after sex, but at least he hadn’t rolled away to the other side of the bed and started snoring like a wild boar.
He had quietly slipped into a deep and relaxing slumber while still holding me in his arms. For some strange reason I felt like crying. Not because he hadn’t stayed awake long enough to tell me I was the best sex partner he’d ever had—as if that was going to happen—but because he felt comfortable enough with me to truly relax. I got the feeling he didn’t do it too often.
After half an hour or so I gently extricated myself from his hold. He made a soft, deep murmur of something that sounded a little like protest but he didn’t fully wake up. I covered him with the quilt and tiptoed about the room to collect my clothes. I dressed in the bathroom, and then, once I had restored some sense of order to my hair, I went downstairs. I gave Winnie a last pat and made sure she had doggy biscuits and a fresh bowl of water, and then I let myself out.
I HAD A pre-assessment clinic first thing the next day and then a meeting with the other anaesthetists about some minor changes to the training scheme. Then I had a list in Theatre that went over time due to the weirdest case of appendicitis I’ve ever seen, or the surgeon for that matter. Despite the patient only being seventeen, the appendix had been massively expanded and completely replaced by what looked like a tumour.
It meant I was nowhere near ICU until quite late in the day. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Matt since I’d left his place the night before, but I knew he was at work because I’d overheard