those clubs on Broadway, but it turned out not to be her. She’d be too old for that scene by now anyway. I still think of her sometimes, sitting in front of the class primly, reading John Donne’s love poems to a room full of East Texas teenagers.”
“I love John Donne’s poetry, but I didn’t read them in high school. The poems are a little too frank for Spokane.”
T he home high up in Sausalito is ultra-modern. Through the wall of windows in the spacious living room I can see lights twinkling in the Berkeley hills across the Bay. The clean lines of the dark furniture in the living room match the architecture. Overall, it feels somewhat austere.
I don’t have much time to admire the view. Austen takes my hand and leads me back to a bedroom that is completely out of character with the living room. A big, ornate brass bed dominates the room. The bed cover is a pale aqua blue. An overstuffed chair is upholstered in pink. The porcelain lamps on the white painted bedside tables have pink shades on them. A stack of books are on one of the tables.
“It’s the daughter’s room,” he says anticipating my question. “The owner is on sabbatical in Europe and took his family with him. John and I flipped for the bedrooms. He got the master suite and I got this one.”
Then he pulls me into his arms . He feels so impossibly good, as if he is part of me that has been missing until now. I run my hands into his soft black hair and pull his head, his mouth closer. Our tongues seek out each other. He runs one hand down my back and caresses my fanny, then pushes himself against me. I push my hips back at him softly. He is so hard already and I can feel a needy ache deep inside me. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted him, his body.
Abruptly he pushes me down on the bed and lies down beside me. He pulls off his belt, unfastens my belt, shoves my skirt up and strips off my panties and tosses them on the floor. His hand goes down and circles around and around. “You’re juicy wet already,” he says, his voice dark and thick with desire. “I want to be inside you now, babygirl. I’ve dreamed of this the whole damned week.”
“Yes, now. Now.” I whisper , my voice revealing how much I want him.
He unzips his jeans and pulls them down. T hen we are in each other’s arms on the bed and he rams into me. Oh god, it feels like heaven. Nothing gentle this time. He has pinned my arms to the bed beside my head, his finger entwined with mine, while he drives into me, pounding again and again. He kisses me deeply, his tongue flicking around my mouth. I love it. My body loves it. My hips rise to meet him, again and again. He thrusts into me, faster and faster. His breathing is heavy and ragged. I am panting as I feel the tension inside me grow. He roughly pushes my legs further apart and rams deeper and deeper into me. Oh, it feels so good. I tilt my hips up more. Again and again he drives his steel-hard erection into me, harder and harder. So good. So good.
I begin to breathe in short gasps as I feel my orgasm building deep inside. My pulse is pounding through my body. He thrusts into me over and over again as the quivering tension inside me builds to an uncontrollable agony. Inside I am screaming for release.
“Oh god, Austen.” I gasp.
“Let it happen, babygirl,” he whispers, his voice raw and ragged.
His words are all it takes. I am overcome by a climax that sends shudders through my whole body. I am spinning into oblivion. Oh, god, it feels even better than before. Release…yes, sweet release…yes…yes…oh god, yes. His body arches at the same time and he comes, emptying himself into me, my name on his lips.
We both go limp and he collapses onto me, his body pinning me to the bed. My dress is tangled around me. His head is beside mine on the pillow, his breathing is heavy. My pulse is still racing through my body.
As his breathing
“I love John Donne’s poetry, but I didn’t read them in high school. The poems are a little too frank for Spokane.”
T he home high up in Sausalito is ultra-modern. Through the wall of windows in the spacious living room I can see lights twinkling in the Berkeley hills across the Bay. The clean lines of the dark furniture in the living room match the architecture. Overall, it feels somewhat austere.
I don’t have much time to admire the view. Austen takes my hand and leads me back to a bedroom that is completely out of character with the living room. A big, ornate brass bed dominates the room. The bed cover is a pale aqua blue. An overstuffed chair is upholstered in pink. The porcelain lamps on the white painted bedside tables have pink shades on them. A stack of books are on one of the tables.
“It’s the daughter’s room,” he says anticipating my question. “The owner is on sabbatical in Europe and took his family with him. John and I flipped for the bedrooms. He got the master suite and I got this one.”
Then he pulls me into his arms . He feels so impossibly good, as if he is part of me that has been missing until now. I run my hands into his soft black hair and pull his head, his mouth closer. Our tongues seek out each other. He runs one hand down my back and caresses my fanny, then pushes himself against me. I push my hips back at him softly. He is so hard already and I can feel a needy ache deep inside me. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted him, his body.
Abruptly he pushes me down on the bed and lies down beside me. He pulls off his belt, unfastens my belt, shoves my skirt up and strips off my panties and tosses them on the floor. His hand goes down and circles around and around. “You’re juicy wet already,” he says, his voice dark and thick with desire. “I want to be inside you now, babygirl. I’ve dreamed of this the whole damned week.”
“Yes, now. Now.” I whisper , my voice revealing how much I want him.
He unzips his jeans and pulls them down. T hen we are in each other’s arms on the bed and he rams into me. Oh god, it feels like heaven. Nothing gentle this time. He has pinned my arms to the bed beside my head, his finger entwined with mine, while he drives into me, pounding again and again. He kisses me deeply, his tongue flicking around my mouth. I love it. My body loves it. My hips rise to meet him, again and again. He thrusts into me, faster and faster. His breathing is heavy and ragged. I am panting as I feel the tension inside me grow. He roughly pushes my legs further apart and rams deeper and deeper into me. Oh, it feels so good. I tilt my hips up more. Again and again he drives his steel-hard erection into me, harder and harder. So good. So good.
I begin to breathe in short gasps as I feel my orgasm building deep inside. My pulse is pounding through my body. He thrusts into me over and over again as the quivering tension inside me builds to an uncontrollable agony. Inside I am screaming for release.
“Oh god, Austen.” I gasp.
“Let it happen, babygirl,” he whispers, his voice raw and ragged.
His words are all it takes. I am overcome by a climax that sends shudders through my whole body. I am spinning into oblivion. Oh, god, it feels even better than before. Release…yes, sweet release…yes…yes…oh god, yes. His body arches at the same time and he comes, emptying himself into me, my name on his lips.
We both go limp and he collapses onto me, his body pinning me to the bed. My dress is tangled around me. His head is beside mine on the pillow, his breathing is heavy. My pulse is still racing through my body.
As his breathing
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