Faster. Surer. Ever whirling with a pagan beat. Until—
Her soul seemed to open up and release a flock of colorful songbirds that scattered on a flurry of wings.
It wasn't enough! I'm still hungry, her soul cried in protest.
His denim jeans were rough, but not unpleasantly so, against her open thighs Buttons. Cloth. Then—
Hair. Skin. Man. Hard warmth and smooth strength. A velvety spearhead. All rubbing against her. Probing. Seeking its mate. Until they meshed the way they were intended.
The penetration was swift and sure.
She heard the sharp cry an instant after feeling the brand-hot pain shoot through her, but it didn't occur to her that she had made that surprised sound. She was too enthralled by the steely manhood imbedded tightly inside the giving folds of her body. But no sooner had she come to realize the splendor of his possession than he began to ease away.
"No, no." The words echoed through the darkened chambers of her mind, and she wondered if she had actually spoken them aloud. She was consumed with the determination that it not end yet, not quite yet.
Of their own volition, her hands slid beneath his jeans and pressed the hard, muscles of his buttocks with her palms. She felt the spasm that shuddered through his body, heard his animal groan, felt the rush of his warm breath in her ear, felt, miraculously, still more of his hardness delving into her.
Pliant, malleable, she let him gather her beneath him, positioning her for comfort and maximum sensation. Random kisses fell on her throat, her face, her breasts, leaving stinging impressions on her skin.
Her whole body responded to the myriad sensations rioting through it. She seemed trapped in the rhythm that rocked their bodies together in perfect harmony. Then the coil that had been winding tighter and tighter in her middle suddenly sprang free again. Thighs, hands, belly, breasts, replied in an ageless physical manner that milked life from him.
The body above hers tensed. Against the walls of her womb she felt each precious eruption of his love. Until there was nothing but the full pressure of him still filling her.
Replete, but selfish, her body closed around him like a silken fist. She was almost asleep when he finally left her, rolled to his side, and tucked her against him. She cuddled up to his solid frame, her fist clutching a handful of his damp shirt. She was embraced by a peace and sense of belonging she had never known before.
Still woozy, still entranced, still dazed by the experience, she was smiling when she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
She awoke early. She awoke alone. Sometime during the night Hal had left her. That was understandable and she forgave him, though it would have been wonderful to wake up in his arms. But the Hendrens would never have approved what had happened last night. Jenny, as much as Hal, wanted to protect them from finding out.
There were footsteps on the landing and whispered conversations that carried through the hallways of the old house. She could smell coffee brewing. Preparations were underway for Hal's departure. Apparently he hadn't spoken to his parents yet.
Last night had changed everything. He would be as anxious for marriage now as she. She clung to the precious memory of their lovemaking and could find no shame in it, even if she had used it to make him stay.
He belonged there with her. He would continue as associate pastor until his father retired and then take over the full ministry. She was well-trained in being a pastor's wife. Surely Hal could now see that that was what God willed for them.
But how would the Hendrens react to his change in plans? Not wanting him to have to face the music alone, she flung the covers off, almost surprised to find herself naked. Oh, yes, he had removed her nightgown, hadn't he? And quite frantically, she thought with an impish smile.
She was blushing furiously as she entered the bathroom and turned on the taps in the shower. She looked no different, though upon close inspection she saw there were rosy whisker burns on her breasts.
All the same, he had left an indelible print on her. When she thought about it, she could still feel the welcome weight of his body atop hers, still feel the supple movements of his muscles beneath her hands, still hear his moans of gratification. She was both ashamed and thrilled when her body responded to the recollections.
She dressed hurriedly and sailed downstairs, eager to see Hal. By the time she reached the kitchen, her heart was pounding with expectation. Breathless, she hovered on the threshold, taking in the scene.
The Hendrens, sitting at the breakfast table, were in an attitude of prayer. Cage was there, too, reclining on his spine in the ladderback chair. His head was bowed, but he was staring broodingly into his coffee cup, which he had balanced on his belt buckle.
Where was Hal? Surely not still asleep.
Bob pronounced the amen and raised his head. He spotted Jenny. "Where's Hal?" she asked.
Silently the three of them stared back at her. She could feel a blackness closing in, like storm clouds rushing closer from a threatening horizon.
"He
's already gone, Jenny," Bob said gently. He stood, scraped his chair back, and took a step toward her.
She retreated a half step as though he posed a threat to her. The encroaching blackness smothered her. She couldn't breathe. All color drained from her face. "That's impossible." The words were barely audible. "He didn't say good-bye to me."