Blue Willow by Deborah Smith Page B

the edge of her sex, feeling it stretch, holding back so hard that every muscle in his back and buttocks quivered. They inched closer, her eyes wide on his. “Does it hurt?” he asked desperately. “Is it all right?”
    A smile broke across her damp lips. “Yes. Its perfect.”
    They wrapped their arms around each other and huddled together. He began to move. It was amazing, wonderful, the sliding and tug of her flesh and the grip of her hard thighs on his hips. She gasped and burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, then shuddered and began struggling under him. “Susie?” he said with alarm. He could barely think, but he forced himself with the iron willpower he’d spent his whole life developing.
    “Don’t stop now ,” she ordered, whimpering.
    He arched against her slowly, staring down at her face, his heart merging with love until he knew he’d die with happiness. The swelling throb in his body was suddenlybeing stroked by waves of tiny contractions inside her. None of his friends’ descriptions of their own exploits had done this feeling justice. Artemas had never suspected that Susies body would hold on to him the same as her mouth had, earlier, but with a thousand small lips.
    She made a soft, throaty sound that sank all the way through him. He pounded against her, forgetting restraint, feeling her fingers digging into his back, her voice saying urgent little encouragements and thank-you’s, then her body relaxing only a little. That signal broke him, and he surged inside her, dragging his lips back and forth across her cheeks as she clung to his rigid, arching spine.
    “Oh, Artemas, Artemas,” she was moaning, as his head began to clear. “It was great. You were great. Everybody said it’d be awful the first time. But it wasn’t.”
    He lifted his head to look at her ecstatically She raised a hand and stroked his jaw. “You’re clenching your teeth. Are you okay?”
    Surprised, he realized she was right. “Sure. I just do that sometimes.” In the very second when he felt the most pleasure, he’d also felt a dark frisson of fear. He couldn’t let himself lose control completely. Who knew what might come out? All those terrible weaknesses Uncle Charles said he’d inherited from his parents—the ones they kept proving—might be lurking inside.
    “I just … didn’t know what to say.” He looked at her apologetically. Dismayed and bewildered, he smiled at her quickly. She stroked a hand through his hair. “You’re a clam, but I don’t mind.” She drew a finger to his face and tickled the tiny brown mole at the edge of his right eye.
    She began grinning at him, and he forgot the strange moment. He kissed her, and the grin became another sweet invitation to enjoy the rest of their time together.
    Much later, when the woods were filling with shadows, they rose and dressed. He held her hard and listened to her cry. “I’ll write to you,” she whispered.
    “I’ll write back.”
    “I’ll die before Christmas gets here, I just know it.”
    “No, we’ll have a great time.’
    “But it’ll be so cold then. Where will we go?”
    “Ill think of something. I’ll save my money and rent a motel room for us.”
    “Yes! Of course!” She looked up at him with dawning enthusiasm. “I’ll put aside half my clothing allowance at school. We’ll get a suite, with a Jacuzzi, and we’ll keep it the whole holiday! We can meet there all through Christmas.”
    “See?” He forced himself to smile down at her as if Christmas didn’t seem years away “All we have to do is use our imagination.”
    “And a lot more of the other parts.” They clung together, absorbing each other in a kiss filled with sadness. “I’ll walk you home,” he said.
    “No, it would only look suspicious, me coming out of the woods by the beach house at dark with you. Mummy has an eye for these things. And Daddy would think the worst.”
    “What, that you’re in love with your terrible Colebrook