Page 45 of Wine & Dine

18

A tour of the heart

[Garrett]

Together, we collapse back to the mattress still holding on to each other. Her legs remain wrapped around my hips. My arm still encircles her back. We lie in silence, waiting for our breathing to regulate before I slip out of her. She whimpers at the release, and I want to promise her I’d stay inside forever if she asks.

Ask the Wizard for anything, Dolores. I’ll make it happen if I can.

I slip from bed to dispose of the condom, get a washcloth, and return to wipe her clean. She stares at me, noting the attention I take before dropping the cloth on the floor and slipping next to her again.

“That was sweet.” I don’t even want to know what she means. I don’t want to think of another man not offering her aftercare. I don’t want to think of anyone with her again.

My fingers comb through her hair at the side of her head. She’s so beautiful in the dim light seeping through the slim edge of the curtains. Her eyes gleam.

“You’re kind of incredible,” she says, a smile on her lips.

“I knew you’d come around,” I tease, and she swats at my chest. I catch her wrist and lift her hand, kissing her open palm. “Actually, I can think of a better word. Insatiable.”

There’s no way one time with her will be enough. Here’s the part that sucks about being fifty, though. I need a moment before I can get it up again. I could have brought some little blue pills, but somehow, with Dolores, I don’t think I’ll need them.

“We’re going to need to do that again,” I say into her palm.

“I’m exhausted.” She giggles, a genuine laugh of contentment. I like the sound from her.

“Okay,” I singsong. “I’ll give you twenty minutes.”

She giggles again and leans forward for my lips. She thinks I’m joking, but after twenty minutes of soft pecks, which turn to heady, open-mouthed tongue-included kisses, I’m ready again. I slip over her and prepare to slide home, when she mutters, “Condom.”

Right. I never usually forget them. Never. But something about Dolores makes me forget myself. When I was young, I was stupid and went bare with my high school sweetheart. It was the eighties; what can I say? But once I moved West, I’ve always been wrapped. Kate insisted on it, and painfully, I learned why. She already had kids. I shiver but quickly shake the thought.

I cover myself this time and easily slip inside. We’re slower this round. Our hips roll in a lazy dance. Our mouths remain connected. My thoughts race to her sitting over me, holding me inside her warmth, as she cups her breasts. I meant what I said—she’s a fucking goddess.

I pull back and peer down at her. Our hands explore, roaming over chests and breasts, down arms, and gripping hips. Eventually, I can’t take the slower pace. Dolores wraps her legs over my lower back, and my hand slips under her firm ass. I squeeze as I lift, pummeling into her.

“Get there,” I mutter, but Dolores shakes her head.

“Come,” she commands, and I still. My dick jolts and jumps, jetting off inside the snug condom. Still, I feel her clench around me, holding me deep. My head falls to her shoulder.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I couldn’t last.” Because she’s fucking stunning.

“I’m not sorry.” She chuckles, jiggling us both. I reach between us, still in her, and touch her swollen, sweet clit. Her eyes drift back, and her lids close. She lets me play with her folds until she whimpers out another orgasm.

Four for her. Two for me. Not bad, old sport.

I lilt sideways, tugging at her to follow me. We face one another, breathing in the scent of sex and us. Us. Like what I told her. There’s only us in this room.

I thought she’d eventually mention what I told her earlier, how I proposed to someone else in this very resort, but she hasn’t. Not surprisingly, I’m relieved. It’s history.

“You’re quiet,” she mutters, her voice drowsy.

“Deep in thought.”

“That would make you the Scarecrow,” she snorts.

“He didn’t have a brain.”

“Right.” She chuckles, drawing circles on my chest with one finger. “I don’t think you’re really the Tin Man, either.”