She slowed, opening the tube and coating her fingers while he slipped on the condom. Then she wrapped her hand around his erection and pumped. Soft and strong. Silky and iron hard.
Mark’s head fell back, and he swore. “So good.”
Touching him. Seeing him—this beautiful man who cared about her and who wanted her…
A special kind of magic filled the room.
Dana crawled onto the bed, straddling his thighs, bodies once again touching. Mark cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, deep and long and sweet before his hands dropped to tease her body. Pinching her breasts, taking hold of her hips and rocking her, slowly, slowly, pause—
The head of his cock notched against her. She pulled back to look into his eyes as he guided her down, the sweet stretch teasing in a wonderful way.
His face crinkled into a terrible scowl. “Oh, hell.”
Dana froze. “Mark?”
“It’s good, it’s good,” he said hurriedly. “It’s too damn good.”
Dana found her lips turning up in a smile, and she impulsively hugged him tight, laughter escaping. “I’m so glad. I’m so glad it’s good, and I’m so glad you’re here,” she confessed.
The little moment seemed to be what he needed to regain his control, because when she met his eyes again, there was both laughter and rising fire. He kept hold of her hips and rocked her, up and down, over and over again until they were both gasping for air.
Then he reached between them and pressed his fingers over her clit, rubbing even as he kept thrusting.
She didn’t care if anything else happened, but for a man who had seemed on the verge of losing control, Mark pulled in energy from somewhere. The pressure building inside her was nearly at the peak when he pulled her closer, her breasts brushing against the silver-laced hair on his chest. “Dana. Oh, yes—”
He kept going, tipping her over the edge, the muscles in his back bunching as she held him, body tightening around his thick length.
She was nearly finished when he cursed, pressing her down as hard as possible and locking her there as his body shook with release.
The slightly sweaty, slightly sticky pleasure was followed by kisses as Mark rolled her onto the mattress and covered her body with his. He kept coming back to her mouth over and over, whispering sweet things until her grin was so wide, Dana was pretty sure her cheeks would hurt in the morning.
She ran her fingers through his hair as he rolled to his side and they lay there, still tangled together. “Want to grab a shower?”
“That depends.” He brushed his knuckles over her shoulder and down her arm, accidentally making contact with her breast. “Is there room for two?”
Easy question to answer. “Just barely. We might have to stay really close.”
“I can do that.” Mark’s expression went more serious. “Thank you. Thank you for sharing with me, trusting me.”
There was nothing to say in follow-up, not yet, so she pressed her lips to his then pulled him off the bed and into the shower.
Coleman Memory Book
~Marion (Six Pack) Coleman~
Memories are funny things.
When I think back over the years, I can picture so many moments I’d like to share that were important. Then I remember I’ve already told that story to my children or laughed over it with my sisters-in-law.
Or there are the times where Mike and I try to tell each other the same story we’ve told a dozen times before—about something that we were both there for when it happened.
Does it matter if memories get repeated? Maybe it means that moment is even more precious because we want to share it again.
But here’s a memory I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone.
There’s a lot of waiting involved in life. Waiting for that special someone to call you. Waiting for a wedding. Waiting for a child to decide to arrive. Waiting for the garden to grow, the calves to drop, the storm to pass.
One night just over a year into our marriage, Mike was out in one of those storms, and I was scared for him. So very scared that something had gone wrong because it was dark and cold, and we didn’t have a way to be in touch in those days—although even now cell phones don’t always work.
I stood in front of the window, staring into the darkness, with nothing to do but wait.
As I waited, I finally noticed it wasn’t just the dark storm in front of me, the pale yard light