Thunder In Her Body (11 page)

He led her to his enormous bed, threw back the comforter and sheet and sat her down on the side of the bed.  She wanted to reach for the sheet or a pillow for cover but his exp
ression told her to just sit.  He stood about three feet back from her as he pulled off his red shirt and threw it over onto the rust-colored upholstered chair.  The dim yellow glow of the light on the night stand turned his body the color of spun caramel.  His chest was full and mildly chiseled; he had well-defined muscles in his arms, without the bulk of a body-builder.  They were the arms of a man who was not afraid of work.  His stomach was not totally flat but the
six pack
of muscles down his front showed clear definition.  The external obliques on his sides gave contour to his narrowed waist.  This was a strong man, a powerful man; a man who took care of his body.  He loosened his belt but his jeans wouldn’t fall easily to the floor.  To keep from hurting himself, he had to pull the jeans away from his terribly swollen self and then send them deliberately down to the floor.  On this day, he wore his pants commando.  Lynette wondered if this was for her sake so that it was easier for her to touch him there.  Without taking his eyes off of her, he stepped out of his pants and there he stood, beautiful, naked, unashamed, pulsating.  He was offering himself to her; he wanted her to see the entire gift.  Lynette shook her head in disbelief.  Only her mountain was more beautiful than this man in this moment.  She looked at all of him as he just stood there, then she reached out her hands and pulled him to her.  She wrapped her calves around his legs just above his knees, her arms around his tight waist, and laid her head against his chest. 
He is what I’ve been waiting for all of my life,
she said to herself.

Deftly, she slid over onto the middle of the bed.  She heard the crackle of foil. There was a hesitation, then he rolled over next to her and on top of her in one swift move.  There was no need for more foreplay. The foreplay had been done.  It started at the dinner table at the restaurant – when he touched her hand in that intimate way – it happened when they danced together last night, grinding against one another as if trying to become one entity – it happened when she put the tips of her fingers on his beautiful mouth and he licked them – it was clearly foreplay when he took her hand and showed her how to brush the horse as if she was stroking him – it happened when he sent Aaron out of his own house, painfully desperate to be with Lynette – and it reached its pinnacle when Blaze stood silently and watched Lynette examining the gift she was about to give him.  Yes, the foreplay had been done, subtly, certainly, totally.  They were both so hungry for one another that anymore hesitation would threaten their ability to sustain themselves.

She untied his hair and let it fall down on either side of his face and its length curtained her face, too, blocking out everything but the sight of him.  She kissed him with open mouth.  He held himself still, looking down into her eyes;  asking questions without moving his lips.  He gave her time, time to decide if she wanted her life to change the way it would if he took from her what she was offering him.  He needed her to know that something monumental was about to happen to their lives.  She answered with her eyes.  He reached between them and then there was a flash of fire.  It ran up into her throat and forced air out of her mouth.  Pressing slowly, persistently inside her, she could see it.  She could actually
see
the pleasure. Pleasure had colors.  It controlled the air.  It made noise where no noise existed.  It was the rumble of thunder.  It was what lightening looks like in a major thunderstorm – arms of it moving in diverse directions all at one time, then slamming down into the ground.  There would be no more tenderness; there
could be
no more tenderness at this point.  She let out a sound that even she didn’t recognize.  She clutched at him, pulling him hard into her warmth.  Her jaws clenched and she began to writhe beneath him.  He rose and plunged again and again and again.  When he tried to make the strokes short and shallow, she would not let him.  She rose up and pulled him down hard on her and the message was clear.  This would not be a sweet and tender first time; this would not be a delicate exploration; this would be the unleashing of two yearning souls, two hungry spirits, two people who knew all their needs could be met in this life, right here, right now.  She bit his shoulder, she dug her fingers into his back; she dragged her hands up and down his spine and reached as far down as she could, groping for his firm, hard hips.  He looked down into her contorted face.  This woman was the she-wolf of his legends; she was ruthless, hungry, passionate, beyond all reason.  And she could only be satisfied by the alpha-wolf, strong, powerful, determined and dangerous in the throws of the act.  So he became her alpha-male.  He became what she demanded.  He gave her what she needed.  Now he controlled her.  He bit her arm, he bit her lips.  He thrust his arms under her and clutched at her in a way that surely would leave marks.  But, that’s what she wanted. And he would give her everything she wanted.  He told her he would.  Every muscle in her body told him to relinquish his humanity and become an animal with her.  So they heaved together, consuming one another, rolling and writhing in indescribable passion; burning up with heat, loosing their breath, looking at each other yet unable to clearly see the face nearest each, for the fire, the flame.  They moved together as one convulsing mass – sweating, moaning, clawing at each other.  Then she began to shake and she buried the top of her head into his shoulder and formed herself into a half-sphere, wrapping her legs high up onto his back.  She slammed her fists against his rib cage and she cried out in agony, in pleasure, in confusion, because her body was disintegrating into a fire and she couldn’t stop it.  Fluids flowed from deep down inside of her, like the creation of her mountain.  This was what it was like; this was the way it must have been when Sierra Asombroso first broke through the earth’s crust, forcing the magma from the core of the boiling earth - sending her fire into the sky.  What was happening to Blaze was almost unfamiliar.  He was being taken; taken to a place he’d rarely, if ever, been.  He was being compelled to surrender his everything into her.  He was the air, the sun, the raging rivers, the raptors which sore high in the sky, being pulled down into her.  He wanted it; he didn’t want to fight it.  It hurt him, it felt so good.  Pleasure and pain.  The Yin and the Yang.  It felt like parts of him would tear away from the rest of his body.  He drove mightily, deeper and deeper, again and again and again until his head fell forward and he sucked air through his grinding teeth.  He shook uncontrollably as though trying to shake something off of him.  His face was contorted as his molars ground against each other.  The facial bones of his high cheeks looked as though they would cut through his flesh. He gasped for breath and then blew hard breaths out through his nostrils, hearing himself emit the sound of an animal growling in agony, growling in retreat.  Trying to hold himself up at arms length, was futile.  He couldn’t.  He collapsed onto her.  She held his weight and slowly, gently stroked both sides of his back where the muscles inserted into the spine.

They lay wet, sweaty, motionless except for the rise and fall of their straining chests.  They lay there quietly longer than it took for them to reach this point.  This had not been a one hour exercise.  It had taken only minutes, yet it seemed like a night had passed and surely they would emerge back into the light.  They’d entered a world together where only they existed.  It was their cosmos.  It is where the living soul goes when it is truly happy.

Slowly, ever so slowly, they unwound themselves from one another.  Blaze rolled over but he never let loose of her.  With the unencumbered arm, he snatched a tissue from the night stand, and easily removed the latex.  He rose, walked into the bathroom and returned right away.  Lynette was struggling to keep her eyes open.  But she turned on her side and faced him.  All she wanted to do was look at him.  No conversation was necessary.  She just wanted to look into his face.  That handsome, wonderful face with the all-knowing eyes; to see his flowing hair laying damp across his shoulders.  She needed to make sure he was real.  She reached up and touched his face with the softness of a breeze brushing an innocent cheek.  He was real.

With a pillow beneath his head, he rested on his side looking at her, stroking the curve of her voluptuous body where it sinks down below the ribs and rises high across the hips.  He looked at her lovely face, with the tired, satisfied eyes, and he smiled. There was a sense of absolute completion.  He was certain that this was the beginning of
always.
After awhile, he rolled her over to him.  Surely there were bruises on her back – and there were.  He kissed her shoulder and she snuggled into him, draping one arm over his side.  He fell asleep right after he heard her soft snoring.

IT WAS STILL EARLY in the evening when they woke.  The sun had set, and twilight cast a deep shadow through the bedroom windows.  Lynette unsnuggled herself from Blaze, rolled over onto her stomach and started kicking her feet from the knees down, like a bad little kid having a tantrum.  Blaze raised up on one elbow.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked.  It was the first time he’d called her anything but her given name.

“When did I die, go to heaven, and skip the trip through purgatory?” she spoke into the pillow.  Blaze began to stroke her full, sloping buttocks with a carefulness that almost tickled.  He looked at the reddish fingerprints starting to form on her back and wanted to apologize, but then he wondered if he had bruises also.  She was very strong and had held him at times in a vice-like grip, alternately pounding on his sides in ecstasy.  What happened between them, and so quickly, was astonishing.  From total strangers to lovers in mere hours.  He’d been married; had several girl friends over the years, but never had he held a woman to himself so tightly that he left finger prints on her.   Vacillating between shame and disbelief, he had given her what she wanted, what she demanded.  He promised her he would, and this was all a part of it.  In his 49 years, rarely had he experienced the intensity, passion and reciprocity he felt with and from Lynette. She rolled over onto her back and pulled him up onto herself, wrapping her legs around his knees, just like before when he was standing, and she just hugged him.  Gently she rocked him.  He slipped his arms under her shoulders and laid his face next to hers.  They lay there like that for several minutes quietly, breathing together, not even thinking.  Just
being.  
What happened between them transcended the normal; it rose to the level of the spiritual.  In their unbridled passion was a communion of souls, and somehow, they both knew it.  A long interval passed before a part of him began to move again.

“Whoops,” he smiled as he reached over for the night stand drawer.
  Again, she drew him into her, but this time it was different.  They were gentle together.  They moved with an understandable technique.  These were two experienced people, and each knew how to please the other.  Their love-making this time, lasted a long time.  He brought her to the point of mild paralysis twice, as the pleasure concentrated beneath her soft stomach.  And she guided him artfully into a powerful release that did not, this time, threaten to destroy body parts.

C
HAPTER 6

¤

The Commitment

“
C
an I take a shower now?” she pleaded laughingly.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked with a very contented smile.

The large, marble shower was plenty big for both of them.  Lynette had only enjoyed the luxury of such exquisite trappings when she stayed in really upscale hotels in her travels or when she was conducting a training seminar at an exclusive private facility.  Three or four shower heads were positioned on each of the three sides.   Water cascaded from a huge
rainshower
disc above.  She actually played in the surging sprays and Blaze laughed at the mature woman, turned temporarily child.  She lathered him down, and paid particular attention to anything that hung!  He was beautiful, even in his flaccid, post-coital state.  This is what was straining beneath the jeans only 24 hours ago. She could touch it, hold it, manipulate it, and he had given it to her in its most incredible wanton state.  It occurred to her, as he lathered her breasts and drew silly designs on them, that only a day ago, she didn’t know this man.  Yet, right now, this startlingly new relationship felt as comfortable as if they had been lovers for years.  She thought about the movie,
The Bridges of Madison County
and how the characters of Merle Streep and Clint Eastwood fell deeply in love in those four days.  Could it be happening here – so soon, she wondered?  As Blaze stood with his arms out to the side like a scare crow, Lynette dried him from his long, dripping, raven hair to his feet.   He returned the sensual gesture –  careful to dry certain places with tenderness.

She didn’t want to put the same clothes back on which she’d worn the day before, so Blaze – oh precious, precious Blaze – aware of her dilemma, appeared with a big, fluffy, navy blue bathrobe.

“Now this might be a little big, but it’s fresh and it’ll keep you covered for awhile,” he said reassuringly.  “Besides, it opens easily in the front,”
he added, winking suggestively.