He extended his arm across the top of the pew. Ileana extended hers to meet his. Her touch electrified him. He stroked the top of her silky hand with one finger. Her brown eyes were very bright. Then he stuck his finger in his mouth to wet it and slid it between her thumb and index finger. Her eyes widened. He slid the finger in and out, telling her what he wanted to do to her. In and out—if only they were alone. In and out—if only they were naked. In and out—if only he was on top of her pressing her into the bed.
Her chest heaved with her breaths. He wanted to see her breasts move while she lay naked under him, jiggling heavily with his powerful thrusts. Her nipples pebbled under the thin red fabric. Her gaze fell to his tented slacks and stroked him with a look.
“To hell with the reception,” he whispered.
“We promised your mother. Besides, we have to talk.”
“We are talking.”
“Talking dirty.”
“You seem to like it.”
“So do you.” Ileana indicated his hard-on.
“If we’re not going to leave, we shouldn’t talk like this.”
“Oh, I think I’m going to keep on with this discussion.”
“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
“Put your money where your mouth...is.” Her sultry look could have seduced a saint.
Michael pictured all the places on Ileana’s body he could use his mouth and the ways she could use hers. His hand spasmed around hers.
“I’ll see your bet, and raise.”
Again he pictured her in his lap riding his dick as his hands on her small waist lowered then raised her...then lowered her once more.
“I call.” His voice was hoarse with arousal.
“I bet you do.” Her voice was throaty.
“I want to see what you have.”
“Tonight, if you’re lucky.”
If only he could. Maybe they could be together once to scratch this itch. If it was only once, no one would have to know. It was a powerfully tempting thought.
“What are you two talking about so intently?” his father asked from the pew in front of them. When had he sat down?
“Poker,” Michael answered straight-faced.
Ileana choked and began coughing.
“They’re talking dirty,” Analise said, stretching and sitting up.
His mother’s eyes twinkled wickedly. Michael’s face burned.
“Someone else was talking dirty to you?” Rick demanded of his wife in patently pretended outrage.
“Not
to
me.
Over
me. It got me all hot and bothered, and in my condition.”
Rick pulled her out into the aisle and into his pew and his lap. “That’s my job, honey.” He kissed her hard and then glared at Michael. “Have you no shame, man? You’re in a church.” He laughed and Analise giggled.
“I think your brother would like a few minutes alone with Ileana,” his mom suggested, bless her.
Rick snorted. “A few minutes alone now and she might end up in the same condition as Analise.”
“Richard,” his mother chided.
Michael’s face burned even hotter. He hoped his mom couldn’t see what condition he was in. How mortifying that would be. A glance at Ileana showed her face was equally red.
His mother studied their faces. “Maybe we should go straight to the hall.”
“Good idea,” his father agreed. “The newlyweds are ready to leave. We’d best see them on their way.”
• • •
The reception reminded Ileana of her own family’s weddings. Although the Sanchezes were of Mexican descent instead of Cuban, the Latin influence was similar. Ileana felt at home with the large and boisterous Sanchez clan and the sprinkling of Spanish words they spoke to each other. If only there wasn’t this unrelieved tension between her and Michael. If she hadn’t promised Mrs. Ziffkin, Ileana would have invited Michael home with her prior to the reception.
Whatever reason he’d had for allegedly breaking up with her, it wasn’t that he found her undesirable. Definitely not. Those looks he’d given her in the church could have melted her panties. Michael wanted to have sex with her in a bad way. And damn if she didn’t want it, too—very badly.
Ileana was afraid if too much time passed that Michael would cool down or think his way out of going home with her. Despite popular thinking that weddings were contagious, this reception was dampening Michael’s mood.
He was polite and overtly friendly to his family. He’d been overly solicitous to his mother until she said something to him that Ileana couldn’t hear. Then he’d clammed up and his tension had begun to increase.
After that, the family dynamics told her what she needed to know. Both brothers had new wives and looked ecstatic with happiness. They smiled a lot. Their mother couldn’t be happier for them and with her daughters-in-law. But in the midst of the revelry, Michael sat unsmiling. Despite her presence, he was alone. He shared in his brothers’ joy only peripherally. When it was only him and his parents, the mood grew more serious.
Ileana caught an expression of anger on Michael’s face so fleeting she wasn’t sure she’d labeled it correctly. He was watching Rick laugh with Charlie. Then she realized what was going on. Michael’s brothers got the happiness while Michael got the worry. And she was pretty sure it wasn’t the first time. He was angry because he had to carry the anxiety alone. That was the wedge between him and his brothers.
Ileana admired and liked Jane Ziffkin, but she thought the woman was wrong for withholding knowledge about her health from her other sons. She’d placed an unfair burden on her oldest. He probably felt like he carried the world’s problems on his shoulders. No wonder he was so serious.
The band had begun a slow song, and Ileana decided on a course of action to lighten Michael’s mood. “Would you dance with me, please?”
Michael frowned. “I don’t really dance.”
“You know how, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he admitted with reluctance.
Ileana held out her hand. She noted they were alone. “They say dancing is like making love while standing up.”
His dark eyebrow lifted. He placed his hand in hers. “Then by all means let’s find out if it’s true.”
Michael held her pressed tightly to him and, oh, it felt good. All her cells, muscles, tendons, and bones sung with joy. His lithe body telegraphed every move he made as they navigated the dance floor. Her body took directions like it had found its master. His erection was a welcome invitation pressed into her abdomen, rubbing between them as they moved. He kept a long leg between her thighs as he turned her, pressing her intimate folds against him until she gritted her teeth in frustration at the need for more intense contact there.
Michael nuzzled the side of her face, nipped her earlobe, blew in her ear, and pressed her breasts into his chest until she was light-headed. He stroked her back with his fingertips, down to the curve of her butt, to the edges of her breasts and down her sides. She tried not to moan or melt into a puddle on the dance floor.
A salsa dance came next, but they did not release one another. Their movements were lurid, sensual, wanton, excited. And when their steps parted, she flaunted her body for him, wiggling her hips and jiggling her breasts. Michael thrust his hips in imitation of the act they both wanted. She’d never danced a salsa with such heat before.
“Soon,” he whispered against her ear.
“Sooner,” she pleaded, biting his ear. She had to make love with him or she’d go mad.
Yet he made her dance the next song—a flamenco. On the dip, he ground his erection between her thighs and she gasped as her lower body clenched. There were a few abandoned twists and turns, and then he did it again. Ileana groaned with need.
The flesh on his cheeks was flushed and tight with arousal. The bulge in his pants was huge and hot.
When the dance ended, Michael grabbed her hand and dragged her back to his family.
“That performance was X-rated,” Rick commented.
“We’re leaving,” Michael announced. His voice sounded like grinding metal.
“I don’t doubt it,” Rick muttered.
His mother said nothing when Michael kissed her cheek, but her eyes were knowing. Ileana blushed and kissed his mom, too. His dad gave Michael a long, telling look.
They said good-bye to the newlyweds and fled the hall. “I’ll follow you home,” Michael said.
“Did I invite you?” she inquired, just to be naughty.
“Hell yes you did.”
“Took you long enough to get the message.”
“That was foreplay. Now I mean business.”
The click of the front door lock sounded like a starter’s pistol. Ileana could barely catch her breath from the excitement of knowing she and Michael were about to make love.
Michael pressed her against the front door with his hard, eager body and kissed her hungrily. As always, Ileana went up in flames. She wrapped her arms around him as he fumbled between them. He yanked her skirt up and her panties down then got his trousers undone. She helped by sucking on his tongue, pushing him to rough, desperate movements. She liked his urgency, knowing how much he wanted her. His hot penis slid between her legs, along her already moistened folds and she welcomed it there where she ached. He slid the head back and forth and pressed it against her opening. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man and it felt wonderful. She rode his length as he prepared her for entry.
“Condom,” Michael requested, breaking away from her lips and panting hard. His penis thrust faster through her folds.
“What?” Ileana tried to recapture his lips.
“I don’t have a condom. Where do you keep them?”
Cold reason caught up to her brain. “I don’t have any.”
Michael stopped moving. His body vibrated with tension and his chest heaved with his breaths. “I won’t risk getting you pregnant.”
“Michael, it’s okay...”
“No it’s not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She covered his lips with her finger. “I know how to give pleasure without intercourse. I know how to use my mouth and hands.”
He groaned. “So do I.”
“Good. I want this.” She licked her lips and admitted, “I wanted you all evening.”
“I wanted you since I first saw you.” Michael nipped her ear.
She shivered. He ran his tongue down her neck and she arched her breasts into his chest. Her nipples were already hard and tight.
“And then you asked why I was there,” she reminded him. Now that rationality had entered the room, she had time to think.
Michael pulled away to stare at her. “I meant the very first time. In my warehouse.”
Her breath caught. “I wanted you then, too.”
“What are we doing about all of this wanting?”
“Not enough.” She caught his hands and raised his palms to her aching breasts. He squeezed them and sensation shot deep into her lower body.
“I’ve dreamed of what I want to do to your breasts.” He planted kisses up the side of her neck.
“Do it. All of it.” His thumbs rubbing her nipples felt so good she pressed up on her toes to get closer. She wanted her clothes off and his hands on her bare flesh.
Michael chuckled against her neck. “I will.”
“Now!” she ordered.
“Impatient,” he breathed, but he released her breasts. Ileana nearly groaned with frustration and need.
But Michael found the back zip of her dress and drew it down. Then he pulled the dress down to her waist, tugging it off her arms. Halting Ileana from yanking it the rest of the way, he said, “I have a fantasy that involves a chair and that dress half undone.”
Her breath caught. It strangled in her throat as he unsnapped her bra and pulled it off. “Sounds interesting.”
“Ah.” He admired her breasts. “Beautiful.” He palmed them, rotating his hands just enough to ease the ache.
“More,” she begged.
“Touch me, too,” he responded.
Ileana unbuttoned Michael’s shirt and caressed his chest, until she found his erect nipples. Then she rubbed them, making him groan. He slid his cock back and forth between her legs again. She pressed her legs together, which increased the friction.
They both groaned.
“We have to be careful,” he warned. “I want you so much. I want to be inside you.”
“I want that too.”
“I could go buy condoms.”
She gripped his arms to prevent him from doing just that. “I don’t want you to leave. Not tonight.”
His answer was to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Her hands slid from his arms to his tight, round buttocks. She pulled him tight between her legs again and again.
Michael groaned deep in his chest.
Ileana’s lower body clenched with a needy ache. She made urgent noises against his lips. One of his hands left her breast. Finding her clitoris, he began to rub. All the places he was stimulating her coalesced into one hot throb of pleasure. She cried out as orgasm swept over her. Michael stroked her the whole time until she drooped against him.
Ileana felt the tension in him and caressed his buttocks. Then she moved her hands between them as he slid his penis from between her legs. It filled her hands, hot with his life and virility and slick from her body. She stroked his length and he groaned. She found his heavy sacs and fondled them with one hand while her thumb traced the head of his cock.
Michael’s fingers plucked hard at her nipples, the little stings of pleasure and pain caused her womb to clench again. Her hands moved more quickly on his cock and testicles, stroking him towards his own orgasm. Michael threw back his head with a groan. He gripped her nipples hard. His hips thrust into her hands, urgent in his need. His orgasm spurted over her hands. His groan sounded almost painful. When he finally relaxed, he dropped his forehead to hers.
“You do know how to use your hands.” He smiled and her stomach flipped.
“I’m going to use my mouth next. Do you need a minute?”
Michael laughed and then groaned. “Let me use mine first.”
“How would you like to use the bed?”
“Oh yeah.”
He stripped off his pants and she led him into her bedroom. She locked the door, which earned her a raised eyebrow. “My family has keys to the front door. They don’t have a key to this one.”
Michael sobered. “Do they drop by unannounced often?”
“Often enough that I installed this lock. I’m Cuban, after all, and close to my family. But I don’t expect anyone tonight.”