Wild Sweet Love by Beverly Jenkins
Chapter 8
When the beetle-shaped car with its antennae stopped for them, Teresa, trying her best to not act like a rube from the country, let Madison get on first. He dropped the fare into the box and she followed him down the aisle. They found two empty seats in the middle of the car just as it began moving again.
Teresa was impressed by this modern convenience. When Madison explained that the car was powered by the electricity it drew from the wires skimming its antennae, she was amazed.
She was further amazed by all the wondrous sights she took in. The Pennsylvania Railroad Station, with its multispired clock tower, was by far the largest building of its kind she’d ever seen; Congress Hall, where the United States Congress met when Philadelphia had been capital of the nation; and the truly magnificent Masonic Temple on Broad Street looked to her gaping eyes more like a castle than a church.
He took her to Market Street, where the trolley line turned around, and pointed out the buildings sporting painted signs for everything from shipping and cigar makers to painless dentistry. She learned the street was named Market because it originally held the stalls where farmers sold produce and meats to the city’s residents.
And just as he’d noted earlier, construction seemed to be going on everywhere, from the waterfront to Penn Square, but she saw not one man or woman of color working on any of the sites.
For the rest of the day, they alternately walked and rode the streetcars until everything became for Teresa one big wonderful blur. She had her first taste of Irish corned beef, and then grinned like a happy kid when Madison purchased a cool dish of ice cream for her. She had to admit, he’d been right, it was fun, the most she’d had since being sent to jail, and as he drove her back to Mrs. Nance’s late that afternoon, she realized they hadn’t argued about anything at all. “Thanks for a great day,” she told him.
“You’re welcome. Did you have fun?”
“I did.”
“Told you.”
“Yes, you did.”
Their gazes met, and Teresa wondered how to make her rising attraction to him stop. Developing feelings for Madison made about as much sense as running naked through a stand of cactus, but they seemed to be barreling ahead no matter how many times she pulled the brake. He was so outside of her sphere. From his suit and tie, to the way he spoke and moved, he was as exotic to her as she probably was to him, but there was something about him that drew her like a thirsty woman chasing a desert mirage.
“Have dinner with me, tonight.” Madison wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, and having dinner would keep her near.
Teresa drew in a long breath as his soft invitation rippled through her.
“I won’t pressure you in any way. Just want more of your company.”
The thirsty woman inside of Teresa wondered why she was even fighting this. She was a woman full grown. A man with his charm and sophistication would never enter her life again, so why not enjoy whatever the Ancestors had in store. “Do I have to get fancied up?”
Certain he’d never tire of her colorful speech, he replied, “I’ve never seen you fancied up.”
“Last time I dressed up was at my brother Neil’s trial. I was wanted by the law at the time, so to keep anyone from recognizing me, I rigged myself up like my sister-in-law Olivia does with a hat and a fancy dress. Sat right there in the courtroom with Hanging Judge Parker and the railroad lawyers and they never caught on.” She added, “Of course, I had my gun belt and leathers on underneath, just in case.”
“Of course,” he chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked with a smile.
Madison was more enamored with every passing moment. “The wonder of you, that’s all. You are one of a kind, Teresa July.”
“I hope so. Don’t think the world could handle two.”
Madison didn’t think so either but was glad the one and only was with him.
He pulled his horse and buggy to a halt in front of his mother’s house and set the brake. Neither of them moved, not wanting the afternoon to end.
“So, will you have dinner with me?”
“Yes.”
Madison looked at the delicate arch of her brows and the long lashes fanning the midnight eyes and beat back the urge to trace a finger over her tempting lips. “Good,” he responded in a voice far softer than he’d planned. “A caterer friend of mine owns a place where we can eat and hopefully not be disturbed.” Because he wanted her to himself.
Teresa was as aware of him as she was of her breathing. “That sounds fine.”
Madison caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. “Mother’s standing in the doorway. We should probably go in.”
Teresa nodded. Feeling as if she were awakening from a dream, she shook off the fog and let him help her down from the buggy.
“Did you have a good time?” Molly asked, opening the door for them.
“I did,” Teresa said.
“Me too,” Madison echoed. “Which is why I’ve asked her to have dinner with me this evening.”
“Oh?” Molly responded, studying them both.
Teresa added hastily, “Unless you don’t approve.”
“Oh, no. I do.” She looked between the two of them again, apparently pleased.
Trying to ignore the knowing look in her eyes, Teresa asked Madison, “What time should I be ready?”
He glanced down at the silver watch attached to his vest. “It’s four now. How about eight?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you then.” Madison forced himself to turn away from her compelling eyes and gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later too.”
“Good-bye, son.”
Once he was gone, Mrs. Nance turned to Teresa and said, “Dinner?”
“Yes. We had a nice time, so we’re having dinner. That’s all.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Pity. You’d make a fine daughter-in-law.”
Teresa laughed. “Madison doesn’t want to marry me any more than I do him, so don’t start naming your grandchildren.”
“An old woman can hope, can’t she?”
Teresa’s amusement showed on her face. “I suppose, but it isn’t going to happen.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Is there lemonade?” She was thirsty.
“Yes. Look in the ice box.”
Teresa went to retrieve a cold drink, leaving a thoughtful-looking Molly behind.
Feeling refreshed after a shower, Teresa looked through the armoire for something to wear to dinner with Madison. She knew she couldn’t wear her leathers so she chose a nice looking white blouse and a navy skirt she’d made in Mrs. Nance’s sewing class. The waistband wasn’t as evenly stitched as it could have been, but she doubted anyone would get close enough to see. She’d decided not to wear any of the fancy new gowns because she was going to be uncomfortable enough without being in uncomfortable clothing too, and she didn’t actually plan on wearing any of the gowns unless she absolutely had to. Teresa truly appreciated Mrs. Nance’s beautiful handiwork, but Molly was going to have to put a Colt to her head to make her leave the house wearing one.
Dressed, her hair done, and nothing left to do now but wait for him to arrive, Teresa went downstairs.
To her surprise, Madison had already arrived and was in the parlor talking with his mother. The woman beneath the outlaw rose to the surface and left her feeling nervous and unsure. She knew how to rob banks, break horses, and make a smokeless fire, but she didn’t know beans about having dinner with a fancy man.
When she entered the parlor, he smiled and said softly, “You look nice.”
Molly nodded her approval as well. “I especially like the ear bobs. Where’d you get them?”
Teresa’s fingers unconsciously strayed to the filigreed silver discs hanging from the delicate wire in her earlobe. “Neil and Shafts got them for me in Mexico City.”
“They’re very lovely.”
A glance Madison’s way found him watching her, and her attraction for him radiated inside. She thought he looked very handsome in his dark suit, white shirt and tie, and she was so nervous she had a hard time breathing normally.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
She nodded. “I guess.”
So he escorted her out to his buggy, helped her in, and they drove away.
Teresa didn’t know what to do about her nervousness. This was all so new to her. She looked his way and wondered if there was a more handsome man anywhere. Were he to ever meet her brothers, she wondered what they’d think of him. Knowing them the way she did, she was sure they’d tease him mercilessly for being city born, for being a banker, and for being with her. It was a good thing the imagined meeting would never take place, because she’d probably have to shoot them to make them leave him alone. Then again, Madison impressed her as a man who could take care of himself, so maybe bullets wouldn’t be needed.
When they entered Charles Watson’s small restaurant, Madison was not pleased to see Republican Party ward boss Dawson Richards waiting ahead of them to be seated. Standing with him was Paula Wade, of all people. The silly girl had no business being with someone so sinister, and he wondered if her aunt and uncle approved. He kept the displeasure from his face, however; he had no intention of letting Richards or his companion spoil his evening with Teresa.
As both couples waited for the maître’d’ to return and show them to a table in the moderately filled dining room, Richards noticed them for the first time, Madison nodded a terse greeting, and noted Richards’s obvious interest in Teresa.
“Nance,” Richards replied to Madison’s nod, showing off his perfect, pearl white teeth. “I don’t believe I’ve met your lovely companion.”
“Tamar August…Dawson Richards,” Madison said.
Without knowing a thing about Richards, Teresa sensed the predator lurking beneath the man. The reptilian light in his mulatto eyes gave him away. “Pleased to meet you.”
Paula seemed to be doing her best to pretend Teresa wasn’t there.
“Texan?” Richards asked, smiling delightedly upon hearing her accent.
She nodded.
“I was born in Louisiana. Are you a visitor to our fair city, or do you reside here?”
“Visiting.”
“Ah.”
Paula seemed perturbed by his inattentiveness, and gave Teresa a cold stare, which she ignored.
Tearing his eyes from Teresa, Richards said to Madison, “The party is having a fund-raising ball in a couple of weeks. I’d like for you and Tamar to be my guests.”
“No thank you.”
His eyes flashed. “Maybe the lady would like to answer for herself.”
“No thank you,” Teresa echoed.
Tight-lipped, Richards looked between the two of them. “Pleasure meeting you, Tamar.”
“Same here.”
The smiling maître d’ returned then and led Richards and the stony-faced Paula to a table.
“Is he as big a snake as he looks?” Teresa asked.
“Bigger,” Madison replied.
People were afraid of Dawson Richards because of the power he yielded over everything, from jobs and housing to the city permits needed by businesses. People who crossed him suddenly found their jobs eliminated or their stores shut down for code violations. Landlords had their occupancy permits voided on trumped-up violations, and on every other corner in the Seventh were thugs who functioned as his intimidators and his eyes. Madison didn’t fear him, however. He’d been his own man with his own property and fortune for many years. He wasn’t beholden to Richards for anything.
The maître d’ returned, and it was their turn to be seated. Greeting them with a smile, he took them through the main room past the other diners. Teresa could see the interest, especially Dawson Richards’s, but she ignored the stares.
They were shown to a white-clothed table nestled in a corner at the back of the establishment. There were a few other tables positioned around the space, but none were occupied. The shadowy setting, both intimate and private, kept them from being viewed by the prying eyes up front.
Madison helped her with her chair, something no man had ever done for her before, but Teresa bore it graciously. The heat of his nearness wafted over her back and neck for a prolonged moment, then faded as he moved away to take his seat across the table. The maître d’ informed them that their waiter would arrive shortly, then politely excused himself to return to his duties.
Content now that they were seated, Madison asked, “Comfortable?”
Teresa nodded, then confessed, “I’ve never had dinner with a man like this before.”
“Really?”
“Nope. Spent my meals with outlaws and cowboys.”
“This is better, I hope?”
“Much,” she admitted, and it was. But her nerves were still jumbled, so she took a deep breath and tried to act as if this was just another meal.
The owner of the restaurant, Charles Watson, dressed in the white coat of a chef, came over to their table. “Evening, Madison.”
“Evening, Mr. Watson. How are you?”
“Fine, fine.”
“I’d like to introduce Tamar August. She’s staying with Mother on her visit to the city.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss August. “Heard you throw some pretty mean horseshoes.”
Teresa dropped her head, then said with a smile, “I should have won.”
“Heard that too.”
Teresa liked the burly, gray-haired gentleman instantly.
Madison asked him, “Any more visits from our friends?”
“Nope. Things have been real quiet.”
Teresa wondered what he was referring to but wasn’t rude enough to ask.
Madison replied, “Good. Let me know if you do.”
“Sure will.” Pausing, he turned to Teresa. “Miss August, nice meeting you. Enjoy your visit.”
“Nice meeting you too, and thanks.”
He left them, and a young male waiter stepped up to take their order.
Once that was done and he’d departed, they settled back to wait. Madison studied her, enjoying her beauty, and said, “Tell me something I don’t know about Teresa July.”
She thought for a moment. “Well, let’s see. My middle name is Angel. Not many folks outside of my family know that.”
“Angel?”
“Yes. My mother said when I was born she looked in my eyes and knew right off I’d be a hellion, so she and my grandmother added Angel to my name, hoping it would temper my personality.”
“Did it work?”
She chuckled, “What do you think?”
Madison’s smile lit his face.
She turned the tables. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
He thought for a moment too. “You already know I think you’re stunning.”
Teresa’s heart sped up in response to his words and smooth tone. “Yes.”
“And that I’m being on my best behavior so you won’t sock me, shoot me, or hit me over the head with a horseshoe.”
She couldn’t hide her humor. “I’m noticing. Now, be serious.”
“Okay. I always wanted a sibling. How about that?”
“Did you?”
“So much so that when I was about seven, one of my friends told me that babies came when parents went to the market together, so every week I begged my father to go with Mother when she went to Market Street, but he never would.”
Teresa chuckled softly. “Did you ever tell him why you wanted him to go?”
“No, but I did tell Mother.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. She kissed me on the forehead and laughed until she had tears in her eyes.”
Teresa enjoyed the story. “For all it’s worth, when I was growing up you could have had any of my siblings. Take your pick. Being the only girl, the boys went out of their way to make my life miserable.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Four. The twins, Neily and Shafts—short for Two Shafts—then there’s Harp—that’s short for Harper—he owns a saloon up in Montana, and Diego, the youngest of the boys. No one knows where Diego is—if he’s living or with the Ancestors. Been a decade since we saw him last.” Her voice trailed off as she thought about the brother she loved the best. “He and my pa got into an argument one night, and Diego jumped on his horse and rode away. Never came back.”
“I didn’t mean to stir up sad memories.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. Just wonder about him, that’s all. He and I were closest because we were the babies. Miss him something powerful even after all these years.”
Once again Madison had to readjust his preconceived notions about her. When they first met, he was so intent upon being disapproving, it never occurred to him that beneath the dangerous reputation might dwell a woman with feelings. The cold-eyed outlaw portrayed in the press did not mesh with the striking ebony temptress seated across the table. He was pleased to be learning the truth.
Their dinner arrived, and while the waiter put down all the plates, glasses, and covered dishes containing their food, Teresa contemplated Madison. Who knew that when she walked out of the penitentiary she’d wind up here, having dinner with a man like him? In her former life, men like him were strictly prey, because he looked like he’d have a fat money belt. Instead, he’d turned into a companion, and their day together had been memorable. During their tour of the city, she’d asked him a hundred questions or more, and he patiently answered them all, never once making her feel dumb or uneducated. He’d been kind and considerate, something she never would have believed him capable of the day she first met him in his mother’s library.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he asked.
“Just thinking about how well you and I seem to be getting along.”
He looked into her eyes. “Are we?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s try and make it last for a while.”
She nodded. “I’m in.”
They began the meal. The late evening had by then melted into night, the darkness in the restaurant held back by the soft glow of gas lamps in the sconces on the walls.
Madison had another question. “Did you leave a beau behind out West?”
“Heavens no. Me? A beau?” She shook her head. “The closest I ever got to a beau was on those rare nights I needed an itch scratched. Once it was done, I pulled on my leathers and went on my way.”
Madison spit wine and grabbed up his napkin.
Chagrined, Teresa said, “I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”
“No,” he said, wiping his mouth and eyeing her with a mixture of disbelief and humor. Recovered, he asked, “Those rare nights weren’t really that passionless, were they?”
She forked up a piece of the succulent chicken and shrugged. “It’s an itch. Passion doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
Madison paused and assessed her for a moment. “Is that really what you believe?”
“Sure.” When she noticed the puzzlement in his gaze, she asked, “What’s the matter?”
“If this is too personal a question, you may sock me, but have you ever had a man make love to you, and I mean truly make love to you.”
Her brow furrowed. “If you’re asking me that, then I guess my answer is no.”
The male in him was delighted. “Really?”
“You sound like a pleased mountain lion.”
He moved his vision over her slowly, taking in the succulent mouth, the vibrant eyes, and asked with a hush, “You’ve never had a man take his time kissing his way across your skin, touching you here or there while your breath stacked up in your throat?”
Teresa swallowed.
“Never had a man give you more pleasure than you could hold, then have him pleasure you again, and again?”
Her eyes slid closed for a long second. “No.”
Beneath the table, Madison was hard as granite. He wanted to do to her exactly what he’d described because he already knew how fervently she’d respond. To learn that she’d never been properly loved only added more fuel to an inner fire that had been rising since the first day they met.
Teresa wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this conversation, but her tightened nipples and awakened core were making it difficult to focus. “I suppose you’d like to be the one to show me what you mean?”
“I’m not going to lie, of course I would, but that isn’t why I asked. Your answer was so unexpected, I was simply curious.”
“I see.” He looked cool as a fall rain, but Teresa knew better. His desire was plain, and it was kindling her own.
For the rest of the meal, the subtle heat between them rose. Every time she looked up, his eyes were waiting for her, silently tempting her to come out and play. She resisted as best she could because she instinctively knew that if she allowed him to show her the passion he’d talked about, she’d never be the same, but the thirsty woman inside her stood up and questioned her stance once again. That inner woman didn’t care about ramifications or repercussions, real or imagined. She wanted to know.
“So, where do you want to go?”
Madison eyed her over his raised wine goblet. “Go?”
“If I was back home, we’d meet behind a building or find a barn somewhere.”
He stared. “What are you talking about?”
“This passion thing. I want to try it.”
He set his goblet down. “You want to try it,” he echoed skeptically.
She nodded. “Yeah. You can get your itch for me out of your system, I can get mine out of my system, and we can go on about our business.”
Madison was floored. “Teresa, making love is not—” He stopped because he didn’t know what to say. “A barn? Really?”
“Why pay for a room? For the little bit of time it took, it never made sense.”
Speechless, he sat back against his chair.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Just amazed. Behind a building? Teresa, you are worth so much more than that. A woman like you—I’d make love to you until sunrise.”
“Why? It takes five minutes, tops.”
He dropped his head and chuckled softly.
“What, Madison?”
“Nothing. Tell you what,” he said quietly. “How about we go back to Mother’s and sit out in the gazebo and talk about this.”
Teresa shrugged. “Sure.”
“Are you done eating?”
“Yep. It was very good. Thanks for bringing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
On the ride back to Mrs. Nance’s through the dark streets of the Seventh Ward, Teresa looked his way. I’d make love to you until sunrise. Had he been serious? She could count the number of times she’d been with a man on the fingers of one hand, and none of those encounters had lasted until sunrise. The longest might have been fifteen minutes. Invariably, at the start, she’d be as hot as a mare for a stallion, but somewhere in the middle of the act the man would be so busy puffing and rutting, she’d lose interest and wind up just lying there until he finished. Sunrise? If Nance took that long with a woman, did it mean he didn’t know what he was doing? She couldn’t see that being the case, so why talk about sunrise? She supposed she’d have to wait until they got back to the gazebo for an answer, but sunrise? She didn’t understand it at all.
Mrs. Nance greeted them upon their return. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“We did,” Teresa told her.
“There’s cake in the kitchen if you didn’t have dessert. Me, I’m going to bed. Madison, please lock the door behind you when you leave.”
“I will. Pleasant dreams.”
She smiled and left them alone.
In the silence that descended over the room, Teresa felt the heat simmering in his eyes touching her, stroking her. “Do you want cake?”
“Not really. You?”
She shook her head.
Madison knew what he did want. “Then come outside with me.”
Teresa sensed that agreeing would open a door she might not be able to close again, but having been fearless her entire life, she nodded.
It was a warm night as they walked side by side to the gazebo. The breeze played across her face and whipped at the fabric of her skirt. The heat and wind reminded her of nights back home, nights too hot to sleep when she’d jump on Cloud and ride. Her yearning for home rose with such swift sharpness, she forced it back down and looked up at the stars and moon instead.
Inside of the gazebo’s latticed walls they took a seat on the stone bench. His presence beside her was as vivid as the wind and the nocturnal symphony of the crickets playing around them. She gave him a quick glance, not sure what she was supposed to do.
Madison reached out and gently lifted her chin so he could see her features in the moonlight. Into view came the eyes and the curve of her lips. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips across hers. “You’re a beautiful woman, Angel,” he husked out. “Don’t ever let a man treat you as if you’re not.”
He kissed her then, and the intensity spread through her like a slow tide of fire. Until meeting him, she’d no idea kisses could be this powerful or the sensations so overwhelming. As the passion rose and the kissing intensified, she slid her hand to the back of his neck to bring him closer. He complied, increasing the play of his mouth on hers; teasing her, wooing her, gathering her against him. They relished the contact of their flush bodies just as much as they did the tastes of each other.
He left her mouth to blaze a trail of kisses over the shell of her ear and husked out, “I want to touch you, Teresa…”
Her body rippled in response to the heated plea, and when his hand toured slowly over her thin blouse to caress the breasts beneath, she groaned with a reaction fed by delight. “Dios.”
Smiling, he kissed her full mouth again, nibbling her succulent bottom lip, all the while knowing this one night wouldn’t be long enough to love her the way he desired; no night would ever be. “This is passion,” he whispered while his experienced hands plied her nipples and made her draw in ragged breaths. “And this is passion…” Leaning her back against the bench, he nibbled at the tightened buds through the fabric of her blouse. Her body arched like a Seminole bow and the sensations pierced her with arrows of desire.
Teresa didn’t care that he was opening her blouse, and in her present state would have gladly assisted him, except she couldn’t summon the mental ability to remember how. The fog of desire was so enveloping, the only thing she knew for sure was that he definitely did know what he was doing, and that she was damn glad. The blouse lay in open halves, and he put his hot mouth against the vee of her breasts then blazed a trail over the lace of her camisole. The feel of the night breeze on her bared throat competed with the heat of his breath and kisses, and he won hands down.
“This is passion,” he echoed as he pulled down the top of her camisole and circled his tongue around her berried nipple until her gasps of pleasure sounded loud in her ears. The circling and tonguing, enhanced by his plucking fingers, followed by his bold sucking, turned her gasps into responsive groans, and no, she’d never had a man love her this way. Ever.
Madison thought her nipples as tempting as pieces of sensual candy, and he strove to draw as much sweetness from each tight dark morsel as he could. The male in him wanted to open his trousers, free his manhood, and place her atop it now, but he wouldn’t, not tonight. Without protection he’d undoubtedly get her with child, so he’d have to be content with tonguing her, sucking her, and touching her instead.
The sight of her bared breasts in the shadowy moonlight made him so hard he brushed his mouth over them, saying, “After tonight, your nipples will harden every time I look at you.”
Teresa didn’t doubt the boast. She was on fire. Her hips were rising and her core was damp and pulsing. His kisses were like manna from heaven, and his hands—moving purposefully over her back and bared breasts—divine. When his palm moved down and began to glide over her skirt-covered thighs, her head dropped back and he placed kisses on her bowed throat. She didn’t protest when her skirt began inching up. The warmth of his touch against the skin of her thigh made her suck in her breath. She felt storm-tossed and disconnected from everything around her except him, and because she was so new to both passion and a man who adored her, when he slipped his caresses lower and eased his fingers against that damp and pulsating spot, she came with a long cry. The orgasm buckled her and swept her up. He covered her vocal reaction with his mouth, savored the kiss-swollen lips while his fingers continued their lazy dallying.
The orgasm impeded her vision and her sense of place. She knew she was outside in the night air and that he’d just treated her to the most sensual experience of her life, but that was all. In reality, it didn’t matter; only her pleasure did. “You’re real good at this,” she admitted softly, “damn good, but then you already know that.”
The soft smile on his face answered her question, and she leaned up and kissed him without shame. “Again, please…”
“Yes, ma’am.” Delighted, Madison knew he would pleasure her a hundred times and more if she asked, so he recaptured her mouth and showed her just how happy he was to oblige. Humid kisses were joined by exploring hands that readied her nipples for more conquering and teased the honeyed gate between her thighs. Her skirt was rucked up around her waist and she parted her legs willingly to the heated palms moving so boldly over her drawers. He dragged them down, and she lifted her hips to facilitate their removal. He set them aside and her legs were scandalously bare to the night wind and his sensual explorations. Madison teased the wet flesh at her core, and she groaned, then purred and let him do whatever pleased him because she and that woman inside her had become one. Now, she understood sunrise. Now, she knew what it meant to have a man kiss his way across her skin so slowly and expertly the breath stacked up in her throat, and how it felt to have her nipples inside of his mouth and his fingers inside.
“Dios,”she husked out again in response to his long-boned fingers entering her flesh. If he pleasured her until summer’s end, she’d wantonly want more, more kisses on her lips, more of his mouth surrounding her nipples, more of his fingers…“Oh,” she groaned heatedly.
The fingers impaling her so wickedly were moving with a lazy, delicious rhythm that made her hips rise in responsive tempo. She felt like an exotic instrument that only he could play. He knew just how to coax her into crooning and sighing, knew how to keep her nipples ripe, while his fingers continued to guide her body in the ancient dance of lust.
“Think how it will be when it’s me filling you instead of my hands,” he said. “Sunrise won’t be long enough.”
She came again, keening and twisting and not caring how she looked, or that she was slippery with her own essence. Her being was centered on the sensations rattling her from head to toe and on the man with his hand between her thighs.
Madison wanted her like a condemned man wanting a reprieve. His manhood was demanding completion, but he reminded himself that it couldn’t be. She didn’t need an unexpected child and neither did he. A younger Madison would have thrown caution to the wind and played the percentages, but he was too old for that now. Were she to become pregnant, his honor would demand that they marry for the good of the babe, and that had disaster written all over it. So even as he watched her respond to the fading orgasm, he fought down the overwhelming urge to replace his fingers with something harder and far more substantial.
When he withdrew his fingers and gently brushed the coat of dampness against the fabric of her ruckedup skirt, she sighed with a pleasure tinged by satisfaction. Leaning down, he put his mouth to hers then righted her camisole and skirt. He then did up the buttons on her blouse.
He was nearly finished by the time she came back to herself. “What are you doing?’ she asked softly.
“Buttoning you up again.”
“But, aren’t we—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not ready to be a father.”
“Oh.”
He smiled at her in the dark. “So, did you enjoy the passion thing?”
“You know I did,” she replied without shame. He’d made her see stars. “Now, I understand what you meant during dinner, and you’re right about sunrise not being long enough.”
Madison liked hearing that. He did his best to ignore the way he ached for her, though it was difficult. Lord, she was passionate. Uninhibited too, to his delight. She was more responsive than he ever imagined.
Teresa leaned up and kissed him sweetly. “Can you be prepared next time?” She wanted all of him, and she didn’t care how unladylike that made her be.
“Next time?” he asked, running a worshipping finger down her night-shrouded cheek. “There’s going to be a next time?”
“Oh yes,” she whispered confidently. “I don’t think there’s any question.”
He chuckled, “You’re right. There will be, and as soon as you’d like, but let’s make it in a bed.”
A clap of thunder broke the silence and the wind picked up. A storm was rolling in. They ignored it for the time being; kissing each other was far more important. “Guess we should go,” he eventually told her softly.
Teresa didn’t want to. She wanted the kisses and his loving to have no end. “Guess so.”
He took her hand and led her across the grass for the return walk to the back porch and inside the house. They walked to the front door. In the echoing dark silence of the house, they heard the thunder sound again. Madison gently pulled her against him one more time because he couldn’t get enough. He looked down into her sparkling midnight eyes. “Good night, angel.”
Their final kiss was filled with the wild sweet passion they both felt. “’Night, Madison.”
With one last look back at him standing in the darkness, Teresa departed and floated up the stairs to her room.