A Many Splintered Thing / Day 21: He didn’t even have enough breath in his lungs to groan with pleasure.

I have a feeling you're going to hate me today. But maybe not. We'll see ;)
Two things, constant readers: 
1. I'd love it if you would spread the word of AMST if you're enjoying the ride. Part of my goal in writing it, along with saving my sanity as we traverse the man's illness, and giving a new novel to my faithful readers, is to connect with new readers. So if you could whisper in some ears on my behalf I'd appreciate it. Truly :)
2. I'd also love to see who you see in your mind's eye when you picture Caleb and Dahlia and yes, Jasmine and Harrison, too. So if you have a specific person in mind and would like to share, feel free to post in comments or send them to me and I'll post them in future segments.
Much love,Sommerp.s. If you are new and found me because of AMST please say hi. We don't bite. I promise. Well, not unless you ask. Nicely.  ~~~~~~~~ 
He held her there, as tight as he could and kissed her. At first she grew still. Caleb worried that kissing her after that confession had been the stupidest fucking thing he could have done. He nearly pulled back but then she responded. At first with an intensity that met his and then she blew right past him in the intensity department. She scooted forward on the bed so they were closer. Some dim but aware part of his mind noted the heat radiating off her. She was like a tiny oven in his bed.
He pulled back, looking her in the eye. “Drop that towel again, will you?”
“I didn’t tell you that for your…” She was about to use the word pity. He could feel it. Sense it the way you know what someone you’ve been around a very long time is about to say. Only they hadn’t been around one another a very long time—not even a day—but hell, it sure felt like it. “Sympathy.” She finally finished strong.
Again he found himself oddly proud of her. She was fierce, this woman. Life had kicked her—hard—and instead of rolling over, she kicked back.
He knew a thing or two about that.
Caleb hooked his finger into the top of the towel where the tail end was tucked in to secure it. He tugged gently, teasing her just a little. Trying to shift the mood. She trusted him, he realized that now. And it made him feel lighter inside. They were practically strangers. She had no real reason to trust him beyond last night. But she seemed to follow her instincts just as he did.
Again, the reflection of himself in her felt slightly intoxicating. Shouldn’t that mean they’d be explosive? A massive fail? The worst idea ever?
On that thought, he pulled that little swatch of cotton and the towel fell open and down. Now when he saw her, he didn’t just see a body that made him want to do really bad things below a face he was pretty sure could make angels weep…he saw a warrior. And that was the biggest turn-on about Dahlia. There was something to be said for a woman who made you wonder if she could kick your ass. It was beyond arousing.
“You do have my sympathy,” he said, running a finger down her collar bone to her cleavage. “But that’s not what this is about. I’m simply doing what I really wanted to do last night.”
His finger was nestled half way down the tight valley between her breasts and he thought his dick might snap off it was so hard. That made him laugh because if it snapped off, well, they’d both be screwed. Or technically, neither of them would be.
“And that’s funny because?”
She had steel in her voice but beneath his seeking fingertip he felt the echoing pound of her heart. It was beating nearly as hard as his. “It’s not, I was thinking about my dick.”
His hand slid lower, he felt ribs beneath the taut skin and the firm muscles of her belly. She definitely worked hard, it showed in her body. Not a gym body, a body in motion body. Caleb liked that better.
“Is your dick funny?” Dahlia asked, but her voice had warmed to a slight purr. She liked him touching her and that made him smile all over again. “Is there something I should know?”
“Nope. It’s a long story about my cock being so very hard I fear it might shatter, because of you.” He kissed her again.
She tried not to respond, he felt her try, but she caved again and that thing in his chest that had lightened now leapt for joy. Inside himself he felt giddy and wild. It was an unexpected sensation that almost startled him into stillness.
Almost.
He cupped her breast, pinching her nipple until he heard and felt a hitch in her breathing as they kissed. Then he soothed the skin he’d just pinched with small, soft circular swirls of his fingertips. She exhaled softly.
Caleb buried his hand in her still-damp hair and kissed her again. He thought if he kissed her long enough—just kissed her—he could come from that alone.
He kissed her neck and when she crawled onto his lap, straddled him while facing him, he kissed lower on her neck to lick and bite her clavicle. Then he slid his tongue along the scars she’d just explained to him. They were a part of her, as gorgeous and intense as her eyes, the flare of her hips, those long fucking legs.
She whispered something but he didn’t hear. She was grinding herself against him and he wished that his boxers would simply disintegrate. No such luck there. They stayed solid and in the way as she tugged his hair and bit his shoulder.
She whispered again and he had to reel himself up from the depths of his arousal. He had to push aside the scent and feel and movement of her to listen to her words.
“What?” he said, stupidly. “What?”
He felt slow and dull in the brain department. Electric and alive when it came to his physical being. All he could think about was being inside her—the warmth, the grip, the wetness.
Joined
It flashed through his mind as he watched her lips to comprehend her words. He’d never considered sex that way and it quickened his pulse.
“I said there’s a condom in the nightstand.” He grunted and she laughed, saying, “You animal.”
He nodded. “Damn right.” He didn’t let go of her, just angled his body to reach the drawer. Not just one condom. A box. He cocked an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I don’t outfit the guest house. Well, actually, I do, I’m the maid. But I mean, I was told to put them there. Everything is thought of around here. From cold medicine to rubbers.”
She winked and he laughed. “So, you’re telling me this condom we’re about to use is courtesy of Jasmine.”
Her eyes went a bit wide and then she bit her lip trying to stifle her own laugh. “Um…yeah. I think that would be safe to say.”
“God, I love this place,” he said and tore open the foil packet.
She surprised him by taking the disc of latex from his fingers “Let me.”
And then in the soft morning light, she slipped from his lap and dropped to her knees at between his thighs. She hooked her thin fingers into the waistband of his boxers and said, “Lift.”
He didn’t question or argue. With another woman he might have. But the sight of her there—like that—and her soft voice shut down any argument he might have. He angled his hips to allow her to slip the navy blue shorts off and then she touched him.
Caleb had forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager with a hair trigger. He’d blocked most teenage memories for many reasons. But the pleasure and runaway-train feeling of being touched for the first time by someone he wanted so badly he could taste it flooded back to him in an instant.
He didn’t even have enough breath in his lungs to groan with pleasure.

photo credit: Pensiero via photopin cc