Chapter 7

Hell, this is surely a mistake, she thought to herself, yet she wondered why she felt so excited about this.

Only one minor difference. She caught her breath at the sight of his aroused body—his wonderful, utterly male, terribly aroused form.

She had studied painting in college. They'd sketched naked figures, and she'd seen enough strong males—or so she thought. She'd spent a lot of time on naked beaches, but she'd never seen anything like... threatening.

He had to have noticed the frown on her face.

"What's wrong?"

She swallowed and thought she might respond to him truthfully. "It's just... I've never seen one... absolutely so big." At least, that was the truth.

She received her first glimpse of pure masculine ego when he grinned.

"You aren't frightened, are you?" he inquired.

What about that? Sure thing. "Me, oh, it's just—"

"I promise you, Daisy, I won't do anything whatsoever to you until you ask me to; you're the boss tonight."

"Promise?" she asked quietly. Their gazes were riveted.

"I will keep my promise."

My middle name is Danger. Hah! She was either the most naïve and naive woman on the planet, or her instinct was on high alert because she got this strange sensation that she could truly trust him.

It's not like she didn't know anything about Charlie Cole. Mary had told her so much about Tyler's closest relative that she almost felt like she knew him — just a bit.

"Okay," she stated.

"All right," he said. He approached her and slipped two of his fingers below one side of her pantyhose.

"Ah, can I keep those on for a few minutes, say, ten minutes?" Now that the big moment had arrived, she realised she needed a little more time. Just a tiny bit.

He chuckled. "Certainly," he replied, settling down next to her and slipping his chest over hers, resting his weight on his elbows. "You have an absolutely exquisite mouth," he said quietly, peering into her eyes.

"Hmmm," she mused before he kissed her.

It was different this time, with the warmth of the fire on their bodies. He was, of course, nude. He'd turned out all the lights while bringing her the glass of white wine, so the only light in the room was from the fire.

The fake fur carpet felt so sensual on her skin. His chest was firm and strong.

He kissed her again, then kissed her neck, then gradually proceeded to make his way down her body until he was kissing and stroking her breasts. She groaned with pure feminine joy.

She squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the damp, tingly, almost burning sensation between her legs. Her fingers knotted in his black hair; she crushed his face into her breasts more intimately and let out a deep, breathy gasp.

"Good?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, yeah," she replied quietly, then pulled her legs wider as she felt one of his hands go up her inner thigh, then underneath the band of her pantyhose.

Then his fingers appeared, just where she burned the most. He'd located her most sensitive point and slowly stroked and pressed until her hips arched and she moaned quietly.

"God," he said quietly, "you're so hot!"

She didn't care what he thought, and no portion of his body posed a threat to her. She merely went in the other direction of that knowledgeable hand, that devilish hand, and the certain and steady grasp that was guiding her to realms she'd never imagined existed.

Of course, she'd been playing with herself, but there was no contest. When a man touched her, it was so much more thrilling, so sensuous, so sexual, so... unpredictable.

"That's it," he said quietly as she placed her hand against his. "Yes."

Then something happened. She yelled out and grabbed his arm as her breath caught quickly. She shut her eyes and opened her mouth in a quiet oh. He gripped her hard and laughed quietly, a contented and delightful male chuckle.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly, caressing one of her breasts. "Especially right now."

She wasn't able to think clearly. She could only glance at him with heavy lids. Thank goodness he wasn't a jerk. She couldn't imagine how she would have defended it if her wig had fallen off. She'd obviously fastened it with enough pins to drown a battleship.

"You can do it to me now," she replied, arching her back and lifting her arms above her head. She began to laugh. "Anything you want, right now!"

He laughed. Then she watched him as he picked up her glass of wine. She thought he was going to offer her a sip and was surprised when he took a mouthful and held it in his mouth.

"What are you up to?" she whispered, then found out as he slid down her body, her legs still wide open, and settled his head between her thighs. With one hand, he pulled her panties to the side and found her with his lips and tongue.

"Oh, my God!" she cried out, and climaxed again within minutes.

He was enough of a gentleman to let her recover.

The minute she was capable of coherent thought, she decided she wanted to go all out. If this was the first and last sex she might be having for a long time, she wanted all her questions answered.

"I want to see you," she whispered.

"Be my guest," he breathed, as she scooted down the fur rug and took her first really good look at him.

He was impressive. Extremely impressive. She circled the base of his erection with her hand, amazed that her fingers didn't touch.

Impressive was the word, for sure.

She didn't want to give away her inexperience, so she said, "I know all men are different. Could you show me what you like?"

For a minute, she thought she'd done something wrong because he started to laugh, his flat stomach moving. This guy had beautifully defined muscles, even a six-pack.

"What?" she said.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven." He put his hand over hers and showed her what he liked.

"Thanks, I can take it from here."

"I'm sure you can," he said, his voice tight.

She wasn't totally ignorant. It was just the first time she'd had a real, live man to practise on—a full-size action figure, as it were. And as she was never going to see this guy again, why not go all the way?

Slowly, so carefully, she lowered her mouth to the tip of his erection and eased him in. And almost laughed when she heard his strangled moan. She experimented, pleasing herself and satisfying her own curiosity about men almost as much as she focused on pleasing him.

When he stopped her, she was confused.

"You didn't like it?"

"Oh, no. You might say I liked it way too much. If you'd done what you were doing much longer, well..."

"Oh." Her face flamed as she suddenly understood what he was getting at. Thank God he couldn't possibly know how innocent she was about all this.

"Come here," he said, drawing her into his arms as he sat up on the rug. He kissed her long and hard, cupping her face in his hands. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in forever."

"You, too," she said, and she meant it.

"Let's take those off, okay?" he said, hooking his fingers into the sides of her black satin panties.

The moment of truth had arrived. Red found that she wanted to know. She'd come this far and enjoyed herself immensely. Now she wanted to know all of it.

"Okay," she whispered, then bit her lip to stop its trembling.

"Hey," he said, and he traced that lip with his finger. "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head. "I'm just really excited."

"Me, too," he whispered.

Then she rose up on her knees, and he slipped her panties down her thighs. She sat back down, her bare bottom against the fake fur, and he slid her panties down past her ankles, then helped her take off her boots — and she was totally naked.

"What's that?" he said, his eye caught by something.

"What?"

"On your butt."

"Oh, it's a rose." She'd gotten the tattoo on her twenty-first birthday, on a dare. A small red rose with a green stem and two leaves. It was so much a part of her that there were times she forgot she even had it.

"Turn over," he said. She obediently lay on her stomach while he studied it.

"It's very pretty."

"I like it."

"You're very pretty."

She smiled. "I like you."

"Hang on a minute. This floor is getting hard." He got up and walked over to the couch, where he grabbed the duvet that had fallen on the floor. Folding it in half, he brought it back over and, motioning for her to scoot back, he laid it on top of the rug.

"Better," he said, then took her hand and pulled her towards him.

And kissed her. And kissed her again, harder. More insistently.

And she knew it was going to happen.

He kissed her eyelids, her nose, and her mouth. Her neck, her chest, her breasts He kissed her nipples, rolled them around on his tongue, and teased them gently with his teeth until she was whimpering with need. He kissed his way down her belly; he kissed her inner thighs; he kissed her there, whispering, "You're pretty all over," then he slid up her body and braced himself over her. She looked up at him and knew this was it.

He slid into her with an unchecked masculine force that rocked her back hard against the floor. At the sharp, quick pain, tears gathered in her eyes, but she closed them because she didn't want him to see them or know.

But that pain, that peculiar burning, stretching sensation, was so quickly replaced by intense pleasure that she found herself grabbing his shoulders, rearing up off the folded quilt, then grasping his buttocks so he had to move against her just so.

And then it happened again, another climax, and she thought he would finish, but he kept moving right through it, thrusting into her again and again, the intensely sexual rhythm increasing in strength and speed.

"You're incredible,"

She leaned in, her lips barely brushing against his. "So are you," she murmured, her breath warm against his skin.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as their lips finally met, igniting a passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The room faded away, and all that mattered was the electric connection between them.

The night was filled with passion, exploration, and a profound sense of intimacy. They discovered new heights of pleasure and shared moments of vulnerability that deepened their connection. As the hours passed, their wildest expectations were not only met but exceeded, leaving them both breathless and satiated.

And as they lay tangled in each other's arms, a glow of satisfaction spread across their faces, knowing that this night was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey they were embarking on together.

Their bodies began to intertwine, moving in sync with the rhythm of their shared passion. The air crackled with electricity as they embarked on a journey of intimacy, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.

Lost in the heat of the moment, they let go of any pretence or reservations, embracing the vulnerability and authenticity of their connection. In that moment of profound closeness, they discovered a love that transcended games and expectations, a love built on trust, openness, and a mutual desire to cherish and be cherished.

And as they surrendered themselves to the tender embrace of the night, Charlie knew that he had finally found the genuine romance he had longed for—a romance that unfolded effortlessly, unencumbered by masks or hesitation, in the arms of a woman who embraced her true self, just as he had come to embrace his.

Then she felt him stop, tense, and feel those masculine contractions. He groaned, buried his face against her shoulder, then gasped for air as if he'd been running for miles.

She could feel his heartbeat racing against her chest. When it finally slowed, he raised his head and found her lips with his. He kissed her, then slowly slid to the side, keeping their bodies joined.

She couldn't keep her eyes open. Her eyelids drifted shut. The only thought on her mind was that it had certainly been worth the wait.