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I squealed at the sight of his head above the crowd, unable to stand still any longer. My man came to me. He was here, tall, handsome and grinning like a loon. I ran at him full tilt, nearly toppling people over in my excitement to close the distance and the time between me and his arms around me. Readying himself, he stopped and braced himself for impact. I jumped at him from six feet away and sailed into his arms, arms and legs clutching around him.
We laughed together, the relief of being with one another palpable and so very real.
Tom finally placed me back on my feet, his fingertips tracing familiar patterns over my cheeks and lips. I beamed up at him, so grateful he’d made it after all the drama of could he, could he not fit in a few days before reporting for filming in Paris for the Allen film we assumed would shoot in New York.
I hooked my arms around his neck and stood on my tippy toes, closing the distance between us, ignoring the cacophony of the airport: screaming children, sprinting latecomers, electronic voices announcing flights, baggage claims and wayward travelers. Tom and I were fully immersed in each other, eradicating and banishing all the months and conversations about us that we experienced on the phone.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” I teased my boyfriend lightly.
Stoically he straightened and looked down his nose at me, “I was thinking about it, yes.”
“You’ve been away an awfully long time.”
“I have. I’m happy that you noticed.”
“I noticed. You left at the most inconvenient time.”
Covering his surprise, Tom slid his hands along my arms to sneak his around my waist, pulling me closer still. “Inconvenient?” His right eyebrow lilted slightly and rested back along his forehead.
I bit my lower lip to avoid biting his, his sexiness flooding my system with overwhelming lust. “The kissing thing?” That eyebrow twitched again, and it took every fibre of my being not to throw myself at him, let him have his wicked way with me in front of everyone. “I think I was finally getting a hang of it. Very irresponsible to leave a woman when she’s perfecting her art of seduction.”
“Shall we try a crash course to get you back on track?” He smashed our hips together to accentuate his point and mine when he spoke the word ‘smash,’ making it sound intimate and primal.
The low raspy voice did nothing but increase my heartbeat, my temperature and my desire for this man. “Are you implying that I actually require improvement?”
A smirk graced his face as he cupped my cheek with his hand, lowering his lips to mine a fraction. “Absolutely not… a willing participant in your quest to repeat perfection, and no doubt you will.”
I tilted my face up to his, to ease and reel him in with fluttering lashes and coquettish glances. “That confident?”
“That weak to your charms, Ms Taylor.”
Tom finally put an end to our five month torment by claiming my lips with his. I felt his hand on my cheek slide into my hair and his other around my waist slip down to my ass, squeezing. He pressed me deeper into his embrace, his body engulfing mine, the move simultaneously sweet, sensual and a healthy amount of sin. He poured desire into my open mouth with his tongue, feeding my ache for him. Grasping a handful of hair, I crushed my wayward man to me, my grip urgent from the time away and my worry that we’d not make it to this point.
He lifted his head to slant his head another angle, leaving me just enough time to mouth, “I missed you so much.” His lips were on mine again, passionate, demanding and affectionate. We kissed until we were breathless, and only pulled apart to breathe.
Ghosting my fingertips over his swollen red lips, I whispered, “Take me home.”
He kissed the tip of my nose and nodded in agreement.
We broke apart and made our way through the airport terminal to baggage claim one floor down hand in hand, smiling to each other, lost in our own world. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face, looking forward to nearly five days of almost uninterrupted Tom time with the exception of only my performances.
The baggage carousel was already spinning when we got there to collect Tom’s bag. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and asked after the show, how I was enjoying it, how things had developed since he’d seen it, how grosses were. He peppered my neck with kisses, excelling at reminding me how good we were together, not that I could forget.
Asking into my flushed, heated skin, he questioned, “How much vacation time do you get?”
“A month in my first year with the show.”
“How many days have you taken so far?”
“Four, three when I lost my voice and one when my understudy had family in town.”
His warm wet tongue played at the shell of my ear and lust pounding through my veins. Lowly, he stated suddenly, “Come with me to Paris.”
The five words niggled and absorbed into my brain one at a time, my understanding delayed by the unexpected statement. I gasped and turned around in his arms. “Tom?”
His eyebrows were high on his forehead, his eyes reading my reaction. I couldn’t register his command as it was too good to be true and beyond my wildest dream.
A dream location with the man I loved, living in romance.
Tom cradled my face between his nimble hands, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ll be there for three weeks with a very light schedule.” With intensity in his voice, he said, “Come with me.”
I was speechless, stunned silent. Our relationship was so new and underdeveloped, probably clocked more time on the phone than in each other’s company. He surprised me with his trip to New York to see my first official night as a Broadway star. He’d been surprising me since the beginning by turning some of my personal dreams into realities, like the Globe, Royal Albert Hall and showing me love. He was now offering Paris.
“Kristiane,” he whispered, tearing down my wall of silent surprise. “As much as I love making you speechless, I hoped you might squeal.” He smiled mischievously. I’ve been listening, love. You want to feel irresistible and, seeing you, I know that I want to spend as much time as I possibly can with you. Say yes, come with me.”
Dumbly, I nodded, overcome.
Brushing a kiss on my lips, he murmured, “We can make the long distance work, we just need to shorten the distance and time between visits.”
“You are a smooth operator, Tommy boy.”
His face brightened as my attitude returned from its short flight. “And you can call me that later,” he hinted with a wink.
*
“I should… spend some time… with Terry while I’m… in town,” Tom admitted lowly. I was doing my best to distract him with nibbles on his neck, and he managed to speak between concentrating on the feel of me and his thought.
I was under his arm, sitting leg to leg, knee to knee, hip to hip, in the backseat of a yellow cab, heading back towards midtown Manhattan from JFK airport. I was reminded of our first taxi ride in London, the memory flashing through my mind at the smell of him, only this time I was allowed to act on my attraction to him. I moaned seductively into his ear, casting my net over him, to ensnare his primary focus. Whispering a warm breath against the long strong curve of his neck, I asked, “Do you remember when I told you that you were lickable?”
I felt his hand on my knee, squeeze gently before sliding up the inside of my thigh. Lowly he breathed, angling his head to invite me to perform that very action, “Vividly.”
I widened my thighs to exploring hand, caressing my denim covered skin from knee to maddeningly short of my center. I told him before licking the long line of his neck, “I was wrong.”
Growling into the moistness, he asked, “Is that so?”
“I could do so much more than lick you.”
The torturous cab ride from the airport dragged second by agonizing second. Tom and I were absolutely depraved and so very anxious to be alone together, the weeks and months apart increasing our feelings and our appetites for each other. My lover shuddered under my tongue as I liked the column of his throat again. The vibration from his growl was salaciously delicious and I was addicted.
Our hunger like a clawing bull, breathing heavy, its target in sight, abiding its time for the right moment to strike. Our moment would be when we lost our cab driver and we were behind closed doors.
Stealing a passionate kiss, he whispered into my lips, eyes still closed, “Where is Terry?”
His warm breath against my lips only increased my need for him, every inch of skin tingled with awareness and anticipation. “Out. Shed him for tonight and all of tomorrow.”
He commanded my mouth with his, tenderness, and raw, carnal need flavored his tongue as it slipped between my lips. Our few nights together five months ago had been passionate and exquisitely satisfying, and yet there was still so much we hadn’t learned about each other.
I broke the kiss to intone, “You haven’t found all my erogenous zones yet… gave you time to explore.”
He groaned appreciatively at my generous offer, “Kristiane.” He exhaled heatedly. My hand found a path from his knee up his lean thigh to his crotch. Delighted by my feminine effect on his lower body, I found him hard. He buried his face in my neck breathing faster. “Fuck,” he cursed softly into my skin as he invited my questing fist by spreading his thighs.
I stroked the length of him, keeping my movements small to not draw the attention of the driver. It was one thing to see us kissing in the rearview mirror, but quite another to let him see our lust for one another.
His fingers drew circles and patterns over my center, heightening my ache for him.
“Are you wet, love?”
Urgently, I huffed, “Yes.”
Without hesitation, he slid his hand inside my jeans into my panties and touched my dripping heat. My mouth dropped open at the bold act with another human being in the car with us, but I couldn’t stop him, I didn’t want to. The press between my legs undeniable and needed the attention. Two fingers pressed inside me as he bit down on my neck.
I could swear the driver could feel my heartbeat in the front seat, and his foot hit the gas to hasten the arrival at our destination.
*
Tom and I fell into my apartment, ripping clothes off each other and ourselves, kissing, biting, caressing, touching, moaning, and grunting. Our craving at its peak, and we hurtled into my bedroom. To give us his blessing, Terry left a full box of condoms on my bed with a Christmas bow attached.
At the foot of my bed, Tom was shirtless and his jeans unfastened. I pulled his pants down his long, long legs, kissing and licking my way back up. He groaned my name from above me as I carefully peeled his boxer briefs away from him. His cock stood at attention, begging for attention. I touched him gingerly, his head thrown back in ecstasy, a low moan rumbling through him. I kissed the tip before getting to my feet. With a hand on each of his shoulders, I pushed him down into a seated position on the bed.
I shimmied out of my clothes until I was completely naked before him as he rolled a condom into place. Eager and so ready, I straddled his hips with my knees on either side of his hips on the mattress to ground myself. Holding his erection in his hand, he guided his turgid length into me as sank down on him, sheathing him within my body.
Tom’s eyes were hooded, but glowed with desire, a perfect reflection of what I felt for him. Small, soft kisses flavored the moment, as we stayed in that position, reveling in being together. We didn’t move for a long time, enjoying our connection, our bodies fitting as they should, as we’d been missing for so long. My hand found his heartbeat, the rapid steady beat that I missed as if it were a part of me. “For you, Kristiane.”
I led his hand from my waist to the matching spot on my chest for him to feel, and repeated, “For you.”
I moved over him slowly, gliding my hips along him, savoring the heat and the pleasure our bodies found as one. My thrusting was even, measured, pulling away and pushing forward again with equal movements. I set the rhythm and Tom held my hips, guiding my way.
The slowness was good until our need grew and built like a bonfire, and we were burning for completion. My hands slid down his arms, the electricity between us igniting further. I laced my finger through his on my hips, the rocking of our hips and flesh in flesh increasing. “I love you powerfully, Tom.”
“I love you unreservedly, my love.”
In one fluid movement, my back was pressed into my bed, and Tom was driving into me. I cried out with the jolt of pleasure, holding onto my lover with all my might. My legs coiled around his waist, allowing him to take control of our climb to orgasm.
Swiftly, he pressed into me and retreated, the precision of his thrusts landing just right to send me straight over into oblivion. I felt it explode from my center, the very core of my being, and burst outward in waves. The sensation mind-numbingly incredible, my body, mind and world rocked by one man. When Tom followed me into climax, we sang together in harmony, our bodies and our love. We made music together.