The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque) (12 page)

She almost came off the bed as tremors of raw pleasure rocketed throughout her body. Thinking was impossible, breathing was nearly so, but ecstasy consumed her. The smooth, long strokes of his fingers were like nothing she had ever experienced, and something she didn’t want to end.

Ophelia’s mouth moved, but she was clueless as to what she was saying. Her hips picked up the pace, matching his hand stroke for stroke.

Solomon’s desire to taste all of her overpowered him, and his mouth soon followed the trail his hand had taken. He rained small kisses down the valley between her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, and then finally the lips of her femininity.

“Sol…”

His mouth covered the very heat of her, and his tongue delivered pleasure so intense tears instantly sprang to her eyes. She lowered her hands to caress the sides of his face while she continued to rotate her hips at the same languid pace as his divine tongue.

Something wonderful was building inside of her—a bliss so sweet her entire body tensed in preparation. But as this burgeoning feeling drew closer, she suddenly was trying to back away.

Solomon would have none of that. His hands locked onto her hips, holding her in place.

Her caresses stopped, and she tried to push him away. Frantic, she glanced down at him, but their gazes locked, and then she could do little more than watch his mouth’s loving worship.

Her voice raced up the musical scale, and when her first orgasm hit, they discovered that she was indeed a soprano.

Satisfied with her reaction, Solomon crawled up the bed to lie beside her, his hands stroking her body. “Since I wasn’t planning anything like this tonight, I don’t have a condom on me. You didn’t happen to remember—”

“Oh.” She sat up in bed. “I bought a box. They’re in the bathroom.” Ophelia went to get up, but Solomon restrained her.

“I’ll get them,” he said, brushed a kiss against her temple, rushed out of the room, and bounded across the hall to the bathroom. He found the box of Trojans rather easily, and out of consideration took a few minutes to wash his face and swish a Dixie cup of Listerine. After that, he headed back toward Ophelia’s bedroom.

A startled gasp caught his attention, and he was stunned when he turned toward Ophelia’s roommate, Kailua.

Her eyes traveled down the length of him and froze at the sight of his erection.

“Sorry,” he said with a smile and strolled back to Ophelia’s room. Closing the door, he emitted a small chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Ophelia asked.

Solomon eased back onto the bed. “I think I just surprised your roommate.”

“She’s home?” Ophelia sat up. “She’s not supposed to be back until tomorrow.” Ophelia hopped off the bed.

Solomon, frightened their time together was over, quickly reached for her. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“To see what she’s doing here.”

“Does it matter?” he asked, pressing her back down onto the bed. “She has her own room. I’m just getting started with you,” he said, and sealed his lips against hers in another tantalizing kiss.

She relaxed and eased back onto the bed—ready for round two.

Chapter 16

O
phelia wanted to learn everything Solomon could teach. Yet, she didn’t quite understand how he was able to send her from one heavenly plateau to another. First it was his kisses, his hands, and then his talented tongue. And now with his heavy sex pressed against the apex of her womanhood, she was positively quaking for what would come next.

She heard the small rip of the condom packet and watched him through the mesh of her lowered lashes as he sheathed his hard member with the lubricated latex. This was actually going to happen, she realized. It was her last chance to back out.

She almost laughed at the thought. There was no way in the world she was going to back out of this now. She had waited too long and come too far.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Solomon’s passion-filled baritone forced her gaze to leap up and meet his boldly. “Shut up and kiss me,” she ordered with a lazy smile.

He did just that. He liked her boldness and even liked the little moans she made, too, when he drew her closer. Gently, he separated her thighs with one of his own, and then braced his weight on his elbows so that his body covered hers.

Solomon worried about the initial pain she would feel, and then worried whether his length and size would be too much for a virgin. But worrying didn’t mean he was backing out.

There was no way in hell he was doing that.

However, if he didn’t enter her soon, he was going to go insane. He distracted her with kisses and forced her to hold still by holding the sides of her hips. He hesitated at her soft entry, and then eased in slowly.

Ophelia gasped; but when he continued to sink deeper, she cried out. “Stop, stop. Wait, wait.” She needed to catch her breath, yet couldn’t.

“Shh, shh. Don’t move,” Solomon instructed. “Just relax and let your body adjust.”

Tears leaked from her eyes as she followed his instructions. To her amazement, the pain was already ebbing away.

Solomon kissed the tracks of her tears. “Tell me again if you truly want me to stop.”

Her eyes met his, and she was mesmerized by their intensity and felt that, somehow, she was drowning in their depths.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispered.

“No,” she answered in the same silky tone. “I don’t want you to stop,” she added to make sure that she was clear. When he moved inside her, the pain blended with something sweet—something wonderful.

Solomon drew a few deep breaths in order to maintain his control. She was so sinfully tight and warm that he feared he would explode prematurely. Soon, soft lyrical moans tumbled from her lips, and still he was able to maintain a sliver of control.

“Don’t stop, Sol. Don’t ever stop,” she panted.

During his slow, measured strokes, Solomon buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned at the exquisite feel of her.

A mindless Ophelia thrashed restlessly. How delicious it was that he filled her completely, but she no longer wanted this patient gentleness. Her body needed—demanded—more. She dug her nails into his soft skin and locked her legs tightly around his hips, which forced him to sink even deeper. More tears slid from the corners of her eyes as that wondrous feeling from the core of her soul began to spread.

Solomon’s smooth strokes morphed into deep thrusts. And, Lord, he’d never felt anything this wonderful in all his life. The bed creaked and the headboard banged against the wall. But, frankly, neither cared if the whole damn thing broke, it wasn’t going to stop this groove.

After a long while, a fine sheen of sweat covered them, and the satin sheet clung to them as well.

While Solomon’s hips hammered away, he reached in between their joined bodies and rubbed the soft bud between her legs.

Her thrashes intensified until Ophelia finally surrendered to her second orgasm, which hit her with the force of an atomic blast. She clung to Solomon in fear that she would die from the shockwaves quaking throughout her body.

However, it was those tiny tremors that finally pitched Solomon over the edge. His guttural moans were not without a level of spirituality. His shudder of release was both violent and sweet. His love deepened for this magnificent woman, and he intended to spend the entire night showing her just how much.

When the final quiver subsided, Solomon collapsed against Ophelia. Their labored breathing comingled, but when their gazes met again, they fluttered weak smiles at one another.

Tell her you love her.
Solomon drew a deep breath and opened his mouth…

The bed buckled, and the box spring and mattress—not to mention the newly acquainted lovers—hit the floor.

Ophelia cried out, glanced back at Solomon, and then erupted with laughter.

The tender moment had passed him by, but the night was still young.

Back to the present

Solomon splashed cold water against his face in a sad attempt to wipe the memory of Ophelia’s twenty-first birthday out of his head. Of course that was probably his problem; he could never forget. Yet, it pissed him off how easily she could.

He took another splash and had to admit that wasn’t exactly true. From time to time, references to their one night together were usually a tag to some joke or tossaway line that friends did to tease one another.

With the exception of her roommate, Kailua, no one else knew about that night, including the third musketeer—Marcel.

The alarm clock blared from the bedroom, and Solomon casually reached for the towel to dry his face. Calmly, he strolled back into his bedroom, eased onto the edge of the bed, and shut off the alarm.

The morning’s soft sunlight streamed through the large windows and kissed his face, but it failed to warm him. What was he going to do now? How could he possibly face a life without Ophelia?

There was nothing left of his heart to break. It had shattered hours ago when she’d last called. A low chuckle escaped him. He’d never pursued a serious relationship with Ophelia for fear of the off chance it could cost them their friendship—and he’d still lost it.

“I just can’t win for losing,” he mumbled.

You should have told her that night.
Solomon nodded to the little voice in his head. No one ever gets anywhere by playing it safe. He knew that. It had certainly applied to his business, and it sure as hell applied now.

He stood and walked over to the window, and gazed out at the landscape of his estate. In no time at all his mind drifted back to that wonderful night.

* * *

“How about that champagne now?” Ophelia giggled and sat up in bed. Of course, now they had to reach up for the bottle and cheap wineglasses.

“I wish you’d thought to bring an oxygen tank,” Solomon moaned. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“Come on, Mr. Two-time Football Champion. You should know that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

She wiggled her rump against him, and his long shaft instantly hardened and throbbed.

Yeah, she was going to be the death of him.

“Shall we make a toast?” she asked, handing him the bottle and corkscrew.

He accepted the items from her. “What would you like to toast to?”

“How about to me for no longer being the last virgin on campus?” She laughed with a roll of her eyes.

Solomon frowned. “What was so bad about being a virgin? What happened to wanting to wait until your wedding night?”

“Did you wait?” she challenged.

Solomon froze at the note of irritability in her tone. “Men aren’t the ones that are supposed to wait. That’s just setting the stage for disaster if neither party knows what the hell they’re doing.”

She stared at him as though he had grown another head. “If the men aren’t supposed to wait and the women are, then who exactly are the men doing it with?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but words failed him.

“Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms. “You were the last person I thought would be sexist.”

Solomon could tell a rant was coming on. Such things kept happening since she signed up for women’s studies this part quarter. Before she revved up, he could only think to do one thing.

He kissed her.

A second later, he popped the champagne cork. Ophelia and Solomon sprang apart, trying to escape the bubbly’s flow. Another round of laughter erupted and they finally managed to get some of the champagne into the two glasses.

“To you no longer being a virgin.” Solomon held up his glass.

“And to you for accepting my one-night-only invitation.” She clinked their glasses together and then eagerly took a sip.

Solomon didn’t.

Her eyes sought his before she lowered her glass. “What’s the matter?”

“Seems there was a clause you didn’t tell me about.”

“What, this being a one-time thing?” she questioned with a small smile.

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, I thought that would have been obvious. I mean…can you imagine
us
being a couple?” She laughed.

He gave a halfhearted chuckle. “You know, most women like to kiss, cuddle, and murmur sweet nothings after sex. You, on the other hand, really know how to hit a man where it hurts.”

Ophelia blinked and then returned her glass to the nightstand. “No, no. The sex is wonderful.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“But come on. Let’s be practical. We’re young, still in college. You still have wild oats to sow, I might have a few of my own.”

“Who the hell teaches those damn classes you’re taking?”

She sat her glass on the floor and then turned to caress his face.

He stilled her hand. “I’m starting to feel as though I’ve been used.”

She laughed again. “Don’t be silly. I’m just being practical.”

“There’s that word again.”

She sighed and held his steady gaze. “We’ve been friends a long time, Sol. You know I’ve always been pretty straight with you. But do you know how many adolescent relationships survive college?”

“No. But I’m sure you do.” He sighed, and then downed his drink in one gulp.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Half of one percent. Like those odds?”

Groaning, Solomon turned to climb out of bed.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home. We’re done here, aren’t we?” He grabbed his boxers.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” He stood up.

Ophelia flung the sheets back, crawled over to his side of the bed, and tapped his firm buttocks before he slid on his boxers. “So it’s happening already?”

He glanced back at her. Her beautiful nude body left him spellbound and prevented him from moving another inch. “What’s happening?”

“Sex is already changing us? Are you going to leave and never speak to me again just because I’m being honest?”

“Of course not.”