Enchanted Dreams: Erotic Tales Of The Supernatural. Nancy Madore
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her mind.
“Oh!” she said again. It was disconcerting—albeit refreshing—to be confronted with such honesty.
He parked behind her car and shut off his engine. “If I’m gonna get around this whole male instinct thing and prove you wrong, I’m going to need a strategy,” he told her. “My plan is to let the anticipation build for a while, you know, kind of work my way up to sex. I actually believe in the old adage that the harder you work for something the more you appreciate it.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Are you serious?” It was hard to tell because he was grinning at her.
“Sure. Kind of. Yes!” He opened his car door and got out. She didn’t even reach for her handle, knowing him well enough already to realize he was coming around to open her door for her. He even took her hand and helped her out of his car. But once she was outside, he blocked her from going anywhere. “Of course there’s another part to my strategy, too,” he admitted.
“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked, a little breathless.
“Well, I figure if I kiss you—and I’m not talking about a tight-lipped little prim-and-proper good-night kiss here, but a full-fledged, no-holds-barred, French, Italian and Portuguese all in one, make-out kiss—it’ll help build my anticipation and keep me on pins and needles until the next time I see you.”
“Portuguese?”
“Don’t question me,” he said, gently cupping her face in his hands.
She was still laughing when his lips touched hers, brushing them ever so lightly at first, but the laughter suddenly died in her throat, because he really did kiss her then, just like he said, with a full-fledged, no-holds-barred, French, Italian and Portuguese all in one, granddaddy of a kiss. She clung to his shoulders for support. His strong arms held her up as his hands moved possessively over her back and hips. His lips and tongue seemed to be consuming her. When he finally pulled away, she stared up at him in surprise.
And later, as Maryanne tossed and turned in her bed into the next morning, she wondered if it was for himself or her that he was building anticipation.
Whatever Dan’s intention, they were both eager to see each other again after that, and they made plans for the following night and then the night after that. It went on like this for several weeks. They spent more time together than Maryanne had ever spent with a man, and yet they had still not become intimate—at least not in the truest sense. Dan always refused to take her home. Sometimes he would even go so far as to please her right there in his car, when what started out as one of his good-night kisses ended with her trembling in absolute pleasure after he somehow managed to get beneath her clothing and find just the right places to touch her.
“But I want to please you, too,” she’d say, really meaning it, and not just offering herself because she felt that she ought to because he’d pleased her.
“Not yet,” he’d tell her. “I want you know how much I appreciate you. I want you to believe it.”
And she did. By the time he finally took her home for their first real night together, she was utterly convinced that she had somehow breached the ordinary parameters of relationships as she had come to know them and discovered something truly different and exceptional.
Dan had shown the ultimate self-control up to this point, but when at last she presented herself to him in a little silk negligee she picked out especially for the occasion, he finally lost control. With a strangled groan of anguish he embraced her, moving his hands all over her, trying to touch her everywhere at once and, in his enthusiasm, tearing the delicate fabric.
Maryanne laughed delightedly. She was filled with feminine arousal. She had never in her life felt more desirable, and she knew that because she felt so lusty and desirable, she was.
“God, how I’ve wanted you,” he moaned. He suddenly picked her up, holding her close in his warmth as he carried her to the bed. She could not wait to feel him inside her.
They made love their first time in a kind of frenzy, with Dan holding back for as long as he was able, trembling violently with his effort. He came to her in the ordinary missionary position, but there was nothing ordinary in the way he held her, cradling her shoulders and head in his strong arms, and gazing down into her eyes in between bouts of passionate kisses. He had that wonderful feel and smell of a clean-shaven man, and Maryanne wrapped her limbs around him in eager delight. A kind of aggressive passion welled up in her, and she dug her fingernails into his back. This seemed to push Dan over the edge, and his thrusts began to quicken with his impending release. But suddenly he stopped short, holding himself very still to recover his control, and shaking violently with the effort. Maryanne looked up at him in wonder and he smiled into her eyes.
“Almost lost it there,” he groaned. “You’ve got me in knots.”
“Go ahead if you want!” she encouraged.
“No. You first.”
And once again she was reminded of how much she meant to him, and her own arousal soared to be so valued and so desired. She kissed him with all the passion she felt. He moved with her, assisting her, maintaining control and using his hands and lips and everything else he could think of to please her. When she finally cried out with her release, he lost the last bit of his control, crying out with her.
Afterward he was not quick to release her, but held her quite close, remaining firmly embedded in her as he spoke in a low, intimate voice. “You’re an amazing woman,” he told her, and his eyes seemed to be trying to communicate something more to her as his gaze burned into her.
It was not long before they were both aroused all over again, and this time he had no difficulty prolonging their lovemaking, switching positions numerous times before Maryanne found herself being taken the way she liked best, on her hands and knees. With this she went wild, flinging her hips outward toward Dan in a most enticing erotic dance. Her sudden abandon roused him beyond what she had seen thus far, and she was once again struck with her own femininity and allure. She felt exceedingly sensual. All her inhibitions melted away, and she audaciously continued her dance until the pleasure finally became too much for her and a thousand little sensations exploded within her. Meanwhile, Dan paused to allow her to achieve the full spectrum of her release.
Maryanne smoldered in the aftermath for a few moments. But then, craving a more intimate embrace, she lifted her body up against him, so that she was on her knees and leaning back on Dan’s chest. He immediately acclimated to this new position, wrapping his arms around her body to offer support while lunging upward into her body. He moved his hands over her, squeezing her nipples with one while gently stimulating her clitoris with the other. Filled to overflowing with tender affection, Maryanne reached her lithe arms behind her to reciprocate the embrace, gliding her long, manicured nails up and down along his firm backside. Every now and then she would dig her nails into his flesh—just hard enough to stimulate but not to hurt—egging him on as he tirelessly thrust up into her. The lust was consuming her yet again, and she nimbly turned her upper body toward him suddenly, clutching his face in her hands almost violently so that she could kiss him. A kind of euphoric aggression reared up in her with her sudden awareness of her feminine power, but the soft, warm contentment that she was blanketed in overruled all.
“Why do you never eat?” Dan asked her later.
“I eat!” she replied.
“I haven’t ever seen you eat,” he countered. “And you’re so thin.” She was quiet, so he carefully maneuvered himself to look at her face without disturbing her much. “I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, or fix you or anything like that,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. And to let you know that I understand if you ever need a friend.”
“You understand?” she asked curiously. There were myriad things she normally said when someone brought the subject up, but at the moment she was too weakened by the intense lovemaking to get sufficiently worked up to a defensive status.
“My sister is anorexic,”