She slowed, opening the tube and coating her fingers while he slipped on the condom. Then she wrapped her hand around his erection and pumped. Soft and strong. Silky and iron hard.
Mark’s head fell back, and he swore. “So good.”
Touching him. Seeing him—this beautiful man who cared about her and who wanted her…
A special kind of magic filled the room.
Dana crawled onto the bed, straddling his thighs, bodies once again touching. Mark cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, deep and long and sweet before his hands dropped to tease her body. Pinching her breasts, taking hold of her hips and rocking her, slowly, slowly, pause—
The head of his cock notched against her. She pulled back to look into his eyes as he guided her down, the sweet stretch teasing in a wonderful way.
His face crinkled into a terrible scowl. “Oh, hell.”
Dana froze. “Mark?”
“It’s good, it’s good,” he said hurriedly. “It’s too damn good.”
Dana found her lips turning up in a smile, and she impulsively hugged him tight, laughter escaping. “I’m so glad. I’m so glad it’s good, and I’m so glad you’re here,” she confessed.
The little moment seemed to be what he needed to regain his control, because when she met his eyes again, there was both laughter and rising fire. He kept hold of her hips and rocked her, up and down, over and over again until they were both gasping for air.
Then he reached between them and pressed his fingers over her clit, rubbing even as he kept thrusting.
She didn’t care if anything else happened, but for a man who had seemed on the verge of losing control, Mark pulled in energy from somewhere. The pressure building inside her was nearly at the peak when he pulled her closer, her breasts brushing against the silver-laced hair on his chest. “Dana. Oh, yes—”
He kept going, tipping her over the edge, the muscles in his back bunching as she held him, body tightening around his thick length.
She was nearly finished when he cursed, pressing her down as hard as possible and locking her there as his body shook with release.
The slightly sweaty, slightly sticky pleasure was followed by kisses as Mark rolled her onto the mattress and covered her body with his. He kept coming back to her mouth over and over, whispering sweet things until her grin was so wide, Dana was pretty sure her cheeks would hurt in the morning.
She ran her fingers through his hair as he rolled to his side and they lay there, still tangled together. “Want to grab a shower?”
“That depends.” He brushed his knuckles over her shoulder and down her arm, accidentally making contact with her breast. “Is there room for two?”
Easy question to answer. “Just barely. We might have to stay really close.”
“I can do that.” Mark’s expression went more serious. “Thank you. Thank you for sharing with me, trusting me.”
There was nothing to say in follow-up, not yet, so she pressed her lips to his then pulled him off the bed and into the shower.
Coleman Memory Book
~Marion (Six Pack) Coleman~
Memories are funny things.
When I think back over the years, I can picture so many moments I’d like to share that were important. Then I remember I’ve already told that story to my children or laughed over it with my sisters-in-law.
Or there are the times where Mike and I try to tell each other the same story we’ve told a dozen times before—about something that we were both there for when it happened.
Does it matter if memories get repeated? Maybe it means that moment is even more precious because we want to share it again.
But here’s a memory I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone.
There’s a lot of waiting involved in life. Waiting for that special someone to call you. Waiting for a wedding. Waiting for a child to decide to arrive. Waiting for the garden to grow, the calves to drop, the storm to pass.
One night just over a year into our marriage, Mike was out in one of those storms, and I was scared for him. So very scared that something had gone wrong because it was dark and cold, and we didn’t have a way to be in touch in those days—although even now cell phones don’t always work.
I stood in front of the window, staring into the darkness, with nothing to do but wait.
As I waited, I finally noticed it wasn’t just the dark storm in front of me, the pale yard light on the barn flickering as driving snow blew past it—I could also see myself and the room where I stood. My reflection, the window a perfect mirror.
While my mind raced, imagining all sorts of terrible things, my body was completely motionless. When the snow swirled outside, it looked as if it swirled around me, but my body was still, and warm, and seemingly peaceful.
Right then, I knew. I needed to reverse the image.
I needed my thoughts to be peaceful in spite of the whirling storm. I needed to trust that Mike was doing what he could in order to come home safe. I had to find something to think about right then that would be good and positive and make me enjoy the moment—even enjoy the storm.
Which meant my body had to do the moving and let out the restlessness.
I went to the kitchen and made a pot of tea then started a batch of cookies. The whole time I worked, I thought about what Mike would like most once he got home from his cold, hard trip. How I could show how grateful I was for his work and his caring.
How I could show him love with my hands instead of standing there, frozen with fear, and rushing to him so he had to wipe my tears when he did finally make it home, cold and hungry.
While my revelation might not be the answer for everyone and every situation, it’s given me somewhere to aim my heart. Every morning I get up and think, “What can I do today to show I care? Is my mind calm and are my hands busy with good things?”
I can do this because all the while I know that Mike is doing the exact same thing—thinking of me. Working to make my life better and to show his love. It’s a two-way street, and it works.
And I suppose my story just proves that a mother can turn even a memory page into a life lesson.
Love you all.
[Images: A face reflected in a window. Warm meal on a table. Wrinkled hands busy knitting.]
26
July turned out to be hotter and muggier than any in recent record.
With all the kids home from school, and the house and the garden chores to be done, the days were filled to the brim. Jaxi was very grateful for an air-conditioned minivan to get the lot of them over to visit with family on a regular basis.
The third week of July, she stopped in at Dare’s. Jaxi had brought a number of prepared meals but mostly just wanted to spend time with her sister-in-law.
Dare’s foster sister greeted her at the door, the dark-haired woman grinning widely. “Hey, you. Need help with the munchkins?” Ginny asked.
“Hi, Auntie Ginny,” Rae and Becca shouted as they pushed past her into the house, one of them holding Lana’s hand, the other guiding PJ.
Jaxi adjusted Justin on her hip, holding out a package for Ginny to take. “Cabbage rolls. Marion and I made a big batch. You can pop them in the freezer and deal with them later.”
Ginny’s dark eyes widened with amusement, but she tossed her shoulder-length hair back over her shoulder then took the bag. “Efficient as always.”