Rocky Mountain Hook Up (To Love Again Book 1) (5 page)

“Not many people do, Tray.” She seemed relieved that they had some common ground. “Lots of people think I do something…I don’t know. That I couldn’t talk to my mother about.”

“Do you?” teased Tray. “Talk to your mother about it?”

“Good heavens, no!” Isabel’s eyes danced in the light of the fire. “My mother would never talk about sex – she tells her friends I’m a ‘couples’ counselor’. Anyway, I never discuss my clients.”

Tray stroked her hair and drank in her presence. She was beautiful
and
intelligent. And she sure didn’t look forty, although if she was hanging out at The Shore, he supposed that she was. He didn’t want to conceal his request, but somehow the timing didn’t seem right. He didn’t want Isabel to think he just wanted to use her. He was hoping there would be something in it for both of them. Of course, he hadn’t been thinking that way a few hours ago, but now…this was an incredible woman, and in spite of the circumstances, or maybe because of them, they did seem to have a connection.

He pulled Isabel closer, resting her head against his shoulder, and lightly kissed the top of her head. He wanted her, but wasn’t sure how to proceed. He was always so clumsy and he didn’t want to blow it with her. She snuggled in close and the heat from her body curled up his torso like a flame as she rested her hand lightly on his thigh. That was it. Suddenly, the pent-up arousal of the previous hours broke through, and reaching for her chin, he lifted her face until he could take her mouth.

His lips pressed into hers, insistent, firm, his tongue probing until Isabel parted her lips to receive him. His tongue danced against hers in the warmth of her perfect mouth. He kissed and probed and he could feel Isabel’s body responding to him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

He slid his hand down the front of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts. He enveloped one fully with his hand, the warm weight of it heavy in his hand. Tray wanted to see her breasts, to taste her, touch her all over. Breaking contact with her mouth, he pulled back to look into her eyes and what he saw there was pure desire. He smiled, her passion stoking his hunger. For once, he didn’t feel clumsy. He felt powerful and a little reckless. She smiled back and reached for the tiny buttons running down her blouse. As she released each button, he kissed his way down her naked flesh. Isabel slipped out of her top, one shoulder then the other, and he smiled in appreciation.

Her pale freckled skin shone in the flicker of the fire and her breasts heaved against the small bit of material holding them in. With each breath, they strained against the fabric, the outline of the nipples clear through the thin lace. He fumbled with the clasp between her breasts and the bra popped free. Tray wasted no time, grasping both breasts and holding their weight up with his hands, pushing them slightly together while he kissed across the top of the swell. Then, trailing his tongue between them, he started to knead gently with his hands while his tongue made its way slowly toward her nipple.

Isabel moaned and arched her back as he swirled his tongue around the outside of the hard nub jutting up to meet his mouth. Then he kissed his way to the other side, again washing the area around her nipple warm with his tongue. Isabel strained and panted against him, her head thrown back against the sofa. Keeping pressure on both breasts, he flicked lightly first one nipple and then the other with his tongue, rapid little licks that barely touched her.

He wanted her so bad, wanted to crush her with his need, but he forced himself to hold back. He was supposed to be learning something, even if his teacher was unaware of the curriculum. Somehow he had to detach himself from the physical and try to stay in his head through this.

Isabel groaned softly and pushed into him with a light pressure, and Tray knew that he was in for one hell of a fight if he had to do this in some sort of clinical way. The euphoria of knowing he was pleasing her made it difficult for him to think, and all he wanted to do was please her more. Her nipple, hard as rock, bumped against his tongue and he grasped it in his mouth, sucking, flicking, pulling away from her breast. Isabel’s long inhalation let him know he was doing something right.

“Tray,” she breathed. “Let’s move to the bedroom.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Isabel was ready to come. For all his youth, Tray knew what he was doing when it came to a woman’s body. At least, above the waist. She hoped he knew what he was doing down below, too. But she was uncomfortable on the couch. She knew no one would come in, but after years of living with her daughters, she couldn’t relax on the couch thinking someone might open the door at any minute. Although, that thought had been far from her mind a few minutes ago.

She stood quickly, allowing him a full view of her breasts. Her petite form had served her well, she knew. Her breasts were as perky now as twenty years ago, and apparently just as responsive, judging from her continued inability to breathe.

Tray leaned forward into her chest and nuzzled playfully. The obvious bulge in his jeans told Isabel he was just as excited as she was. She reached for his hand, pulling him off the couch and down the hallway toward the bedroom.

Lighting a candle on the nightstand, she turned toward Tray, who was standing, delicious looking, beside the bed. Isabel approached him slowly, breasts swinging softly as she moved, enjoying the effect her movement was having on him. She could feel the excitement racing from the tips of her toes, through her legs, up her thighs, to the warm receptive part of her that was pulsing with want. The want of three long years.

Tray reached for her, kissing the nape of her neck, fondling her breasts, bringing the rise higher in her body. He gently rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger, eliciting a sharp squeal from her. Heaven, she had died and gone to heaven. Tray’s other hand drifted down across her belly, a trail of fire blazing under the waistband of her skirt. He placed his hand over her mound and pressed firmly…just pushing his hand against her. Isabel squirmed, wanting more, while he started to rub his fingers over the ridge in her panties. She shifted her balance, allowing him better access, and could feel the dampness of the cloth clinging to her. She reached for Tray’s shoulders to steady herself as he slipped a finger beneath the lace and made contact.

Relax, Isabel, forget he’s so young, she told herself as she pushed her pelvis forward to receive more of his finger, gasping as he pulled the finger out, reinserted two. Pushing into her, withdrawing, pushing in. Her pelvis rocked in tandem with the motion, and she moaned as he clasped his lips around her left nipple. With his free hand he kneaded her other breast and exerted just slightly more pressure when Isabel groaned and slumped her weight into his hand.

This was too much. It was too fast. He was pushing into her, his fingers sliding in and out, and then, a shock coursed through her body as he shifted to cover her nub with his thumb, pressing solidly into the spot where she wanted him most, as she ground her pelvis into him.

“Tray,” she gasped. “I don’t think I can wait.”

But surprisingly, Tray could wait. He pushed her gently onto the bed with her lower legs hanging over the edge, and grasping the damp wisp of cloth that was her panties, he drew them off, and threw them across the floor. She squirmed as he blew softly on her toes, then gasped as he started to lick them. “This little piggy went to market,” he whispered, sucking, licking, pulling each toe into his mouth in turn. Isabel’s laughter turned quickly to ragged panting and she shivered as she felt his tongue, warm and hot, start its way up her leg. Up the shin, and behind her knee, then little nipping play bites up the inside of her thigh until she thought she would scream with pleasure as he neared her pulsing center. She arched from the bed to greet him, but he only blew softly into the wet curls and slid his mouth back down her leg. He licked her ankle and Isabel squirmed as he made his way back up towards her, kissing and nipping her other leg.

The world stopped moving as Isabel sensed Tray’s face hovering between her thighs. She pushed her pelvis closer, close enough to feel his breath against her.

“Isabel, are you in a hurry, honey?” Tray purred smoothly, a hint of laughter in his voice. She had never had a man tease her in such a way. Her husband had taken sex very seriously and had been quick to get down to business. He hadn’t been a terrible lover, just not very inventive. This move of Tray’s was something she could definitely share with her clients.

Isabel panted. From a place that seemed far away, she heard her voice say no, while her mind screamed yes and every nerve ending ached for release.

Tray plunged his tongue deep inside her, sending a raging current through her body. Isabel moaned, pushing her wetness into his face. He plunged and licked and then moved a little higher, nudging the exact spot he was looking for with the roughness of his tongue. It was such a delightful sensation, the hot wetness of his tongue with the roughness just behind. She flailed against the bed, forgetting her clients, forgetting her practice, being only in the moment. Only in this moment, with Tray bringing her closer and closer to ultimate pleasure.

She pushed herself against his mouth and Tray responded with greater pressure. As he plunged his fingers back inside her, she breathed sharply in and then moaned as the release rolled through her in waves. She trembled head to toe, her world centered on the spreading warmth between her legs.

Keeping her eyes closed, she let the sensations roll through her until the trembling quieted and her breathing started to slow.

“Oh, Tray. That was incredible, Tray.” She opened her eyes to see him standing between her legs and heard the rasp of his zipper. He peeled the jeans off his slim hips and gazed down at her. His muscled abdomen shimmered in the flicker of the candle, and she stared hungrily at the healthy bulge straining his briefs.

Isabel learned forward and reached toward him.

“Oh, no, Dr. Sex Therapist,” he laughed, stepping out of reach. “If I can pleasure you once, I can pleasure you twice.”

Isabel flopped back onto the bed, propping a pillow under her head. She doubted it, but hey, she was here to experiment and learn something so she would just relax. As if she wasn’t relaxed enough already.

Remaining almost upright, Tray rolled his briefs down and stepped out of them. Isabel said twenty-three prayers of thanks as she stared at the generous size of him. She longed to grasp the shaft, and measure it in her hand, but Tray had other plans. He grabbed his jeans, pulled a condom from the pocket, ripped open the foil and rolled the latex over himself.

Reaching for her ankles, he placed her feet on the edge of the bed, bending her knees. He grasped her buttocks and slid her down the bed so her pelvis was flush with the edge, then hooked her right leg over his shoulder. He leaned into her, the head of his penis bumping against her, seeking entrance. She was still slippery and wet from her first orgasm and she moved her hips slightly to ease him in. Oh, oh yes, she thought as Tray locked himself into position, just barely inside her. He walked on his hands slowly down the bed, sliding further inside her, bit by bit, until he was kissing her breasts, licking her neck. As her lips sought his, he plunged his tongue into her, thrust his hips forward, and filled her with everything he had.
Isabel arched instinctively and rocked with him as he moved slowly over her, filling her deeply. She squirmed against his faint circling motions and realized quickly that she would come again. Tray ground against her, gliding into her depths even further. She felt the liquid heat start to spread through her, the itch desperate to be scratched running through her groin, and she thrashed wildly against him, faster and faster, until her world exploded.

Tray pumped and continued to hold her until she stopped moaning, then with one deep thrust, he froze and groaned as he poured his love into her. His arms gave way and he rolled her to the side to relieve his weight against her. They lay spent and sated against each other, the candle playing shadows against the slickness of their bodies.

She rested quietly against Tray’s shoulder, a sloppy grin spreading across her face. Three years. Boy, she didn’t know what she’d been missing. But now she knew…boys. No. She couldn’t believe such tender, competent lovemaking had come at the hand of a boy. Well, not exactly the hand of a boy, she thought. More like the mouth of a boy, the shaft of a boy.

Tray stirred and stroked Isabel’s hair, leaning back to look at her. His eyes were glazed with satisfaction, and Isabel’s heart stirred. A few moments of romantic fantasy would not kill her. She was strangely attracted to this sensuous man, his golden locks, his amazingly toned body, his easy, laughing ways and gentle manner. If only he were fifteen or twenty years older.

“What’s your last name, Tray?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished could take them back. Casual sex indeed.

“Taylor.” He smiled down at her. “Yours?”

“Robinson,” Isabel replied, laughing into his eyes. “That’s Mrs. Robinson to you.”

Tray’s mouth dropped open. Again, Isabel wished she’d taken time to think before speaking. Her response was too on the nose. But they had met in The Shore after all. It did have a certain…reputation.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling the heat burn up her cheeks. “A bad joke.”

He heaved a sigh and rolled off his side onto his back. Isabel snuggled into the crook beneath his shoulder.

“I loved that movie,” he said, his fingers drifting lazily across her shoulder.