Sparkling Blue

"Sparkling Blue"

Chapter Four.

Charles lay down beside Margaret, propping his head on his hand, gazing up and down the length of her. He ran his hand along her smooth muscular thigh, stopping just short of where thigh met hip. His long fingers reached to her inner thigh and he pressed against her flesh, one sensitive finger stretching to touch her delicately, teasingly.

Margaret lay there, looking into Charles' glowing blue eyes, enjoying the way he looked at her. She knew he was taking her in, admiring her, practically worshipping her. It did much for her bruised ego, after her short marriage and bitter divorce. Her ex-husband had never looked at her this way; he was more the type to simply rip her clothes off and go at her. Granted, they saw one another so rarely that she didn't mind, at the time, but now with Charles' special attentions she realized how much she missed such blatant adoration from the man she was with.

She reached up to touch his cheek, drawing her fingers along his jawline. He moved his mouth to kiss those fingers, and she traced along his lips. He's got such a lovely mouth, she thought, smiling at him.

He smiled back. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said. "Just enjoying looking at you looking at me."

When she'd reached for him, the nightshirt again moved up. Charles peeked, this time not feeling the need to cover up her exposed flesh. She saw him look down at her, a mischievous gleam in his eye. He slowly bent forward, moving his slightly opened mouth closer to her exposed area, and softly kissed her where the border of his nightshirt touched her.

She gasped when she saw him leaning into her, not daring to move. She longed to open herself to him, but he seemed to want to take this slowly, so she did as well, enjoying the long drawn-out foreplay, knowing the evening was going to end spectacularly if the events so far were an indicator.

Margaret was not surprised to find Charles was such a romantic, the way he loved his classical music and poetry books. She felt a man who had such pursuits as he could be nothing but romantic at heart! And he was the epitome of patience. Most men she'd been with, by now, would have already taken her, whether she was truly ready or not.

Charles wondered if he could hold himself back much longer as he bent to kiss Margaret's delicate flesh, his nose touching her, teasing both her and himself. He ached to grab her by the thighs and bury his face in her folds, to taste her on his tongue, his lips, but no...that would wait. Patience, Winchester, he told himself.

As he began to pull back, a part of him fought the resistance and he leaned down quickly, giving her a quick touch with the tip of his tongue. That brief succulent taste almost did it, especially hearing her gasp in response and seeing her legs begin to slide back and forth.

"Margaret," he whispered, poised over her, battling within himself on whether he should bend down and give in to the temptation of tasting her, or to straighten up and be patient. He watched her as she continued to move her legs, her hips sensuously, the nightshirt moving teasingly, exposing bits here and covering parts there.

He would wait. He wanted to start from her lovely hair and work his way down to her delicate little toes. If he made it to her toes, that is.

He pulled himself up closer, leaning into her fragrant hair. The smell of her lavendar shampoo, and her own naturalness, enflamed him. He lifted the soft fine hair away from her neck, and nibbled softly under her ear. He sucked her tender earlobe into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue and breathing softly on her wet exposed skin.

"Margaret," he whispered softly, "I want to kiss you all over, to taste you, run my lips and tongue up and down the length and depth of you."

Her response was a moan of anticipation, and "Yes, Charles, please!" She ached to have his large sensitive hands touch her, reach into her. She could not keep her legs and pelvis still as he continued to work his wonders with his mouth.

"Shhhh, all in good time," he whispered again. He reached his hand up to fondle her firm breast, cupping it in his hand. He tweaked her hard nipple between two fingers, pinching and flicking at it. Her response did not disappoint him. As his mouth worked its way to the gentle curve of her neck, his hand started unbuttoning the nightshirt.

As soon as there was enough room, he reached in to touch her naked hot skin, grasping her breast roughly, kneading it, pulling on the hard tip once more. His breathing and kissing became more passionate, the heat moving through him like wildfire.

He'd opened the nightshirt completely down to her navel, and he pulled back to admire her once again. She's amazing, he thought, for someone her age. The high breasts and firm smooth skin of her tummy fascinated him, and he had to taste them both. He pulled the shirt the rest of the way off her breast and kissed the gentle curve where it flowed from her side. He tickled and lapped at her as he made his way to her stiff nipple, his tongue leaving a wet trail behind, cooling her fiery skin as she held her breath, concentrating on the feel of his lips on her.

When his mouth reached its goal, he stuck the tip of his tongue out, teasing her, running circles around her. He licked back and forth, faster and faster, causing the nipple to engorge. He roughly bit down, sucking it into his mouth, pinching it between his teeth as she'd done earlier.

Margaret gasped in pain, but it was exquisitely sweet pain, the type that drove its way through to her loins, tugging at her.

"YES!" she shrieked, throwing her head back, her hand pushing his head into her. She heard Charles take a sharp breath, and his resistance crumbled. He ran his free hand down her torso, past her navel, and put two fingers over her folds, driving them in.

Margaret arched her back as he moved his fingers back and forth, tormenting her with wanting more, NOW! He moved them up to her hard little button, tweaking it back and forth, teasing it, as he'd done to her nipple. His mouth continued to bite and suck at her as his fingers drummed furiously on her, harder and faster.

She couldn't keep her legs and pelvis still now, thrashing back and forth, trying to get him to drive his fingers into her harder and deeper. The tension was building in her, and she too tumbled over the edge, screaming out his name as the light and sensation exploded in her head.

"CHARLES!" she gasped, thrusting her hips up into his hand, already demanding more of him. She couldn't get enough, it had been so long since a man had devoted such attention to her!

And he was not disappointing her. He didn't give any indication that he was having to satisfy his own mounting need quite yet.

"Charles, please," she begged. "I need you...I need you IN me, Charles, NOW!"

He pulled away from her, releasing her swollen red nipple, kissing it tenderly as if apologizing for his ardor. "Oh, Margaret, I've not even BEGUN."

He stretched up to kiss her, telling her as he alternately kissed and pulled on her lips, "Margaret...I want to taste you... I want to run my lips and my tongue up and down your sweetness..."

Oh, gawd, he's going to kill me, she thought. If he'd done such wonders with only two fingers, what...?

He pulled away from her to look into her shining eyes. "Is that all right, Margaret, or am I presuming?"

She shook her head, denying any presumption. "Yes...yes, Charles, it's all right, but PLEASE do SOMETHING, I swear I'm going to go insane if you don't!"

He gave her a sweet seductive smile as he slowly slithered down the length of her torso, caressing and rubbing her as he moved.

He went back to his earlier position when he'd given in to temptation and had taken that tiny little lap at her sweet inner flesh. This time, he gave in to what he'd so longed to do earlier and reached under her, hoisting her up on his large strong hands, gripping the backs of thighs and buttocks. Her continual gasps and cries reached into the core of him, threatening to drive him over the edge himself with the urgency he was beginning to feel.

He channeled that urgent feeling into his hands, mouth and lips. He maneuvered her thighs enough to expose her inner tender flesh, just teasingly enough for his tongue to reach down and complete the job. He touched her little hard button that he'd so furiously assaulted earlier with his fingers, tasting it, delicately touching his teeth to it.

The movement of her pelvis and thighs, thrusting up into his face, spurred him on, and like he'd done earlier with her engorged nipple, he drew her once again into his mouth, rolling his tongue around her. The sight, the scent of her was driving him insane, and he instinctively started his own pelvic motions back and forth, not being able to hold himself still.

When her moaning and grasping at the blankets reached a fevered pitch, he abruptly moved away from her most sensitive spot, moving his fingers to slowly separate her outer folds, exposing her to his tongue's ministrations. He kept his promise, and drew his tongue and lips up and down the length of her, relishing the salty-sweetness of her, the wetness blending with his own as he lapped at her.

"CHARLES!" she pleaded once more, her legs trying to work furiously around him, his strong arms and hands restraining her. He didn't know that this restraint was enflaming her passion even further, his painful grip on her, the rough hair of his chest rubbing against the thigh he was holding against him.

"Hmmmmm?" he mumbled to her, chuckling against her wetness. He dipped his tongue into her, in and out repeatedly, and when she thought she'd literally die from the agony, he again moved up to her engorged button, sucking and pulling on it.

He'd never heard a woman scream as Margaret screamed then. The sound of her, the response to his attentions, was driving him close to the edge himself. He felt the surge of wetness, saw it go down her to the bed. He couldn't resist, and reached down with tongue and lips to again lap at her, making certain he got every savory drop.

"Margaret," he again muttered against her.

He was holding her tightly now, not allowing her to thrash and writhe back and forth as her instinct demanded. Denied that release, she reached out her hand to his slacks that for some reason were still on him. She leaned up enough to roughly draw them off him, grabbing his hardness into her hand, gripping him painfully as he was holding her thighs so tightly.

"MARGARET!" he yelled, having to summon all his control not to release the tension right then and there. He stood abruptly, having brought her satisfaction yet again. "Almost," he said, grinning slyly and shaking his finger at her.

Standing in front of her as he was, naked, close, hard, Margaret got a wicked gleam in her eye as he'd done earlier, and she moved onto all fours, crawling slowly toward him. Now it was his turn.