Reviving Haven Page 19

  Latch takes my hand from his crotch and places it on top of his. He directs both of our hands to my sex, letting my fingers explore and tease my clit as he guides them. He begins moving his fingers faster, and my hand moves with his. I push against his hand, trying to create more pressure for release. As our fingers continue to penetrate my folds, I feel the swelling in my inner lips, as well as my clit, and my sex tightens around both of our fingers. I can feel my body start to arch, my back bowing slightly as my climax begins to build. Latch can sense that I can’t hold out much longer.

  He removes his fingers completely, leaving me to bring myself to climax. There is something scandalous about having my fingers inside of me as he watches. A sensation begins to build deep inside of me, a pleasure that’s so extreme that it borders on torture. My eyes plead for him to aid me in my release. Latch presses his hand against my mound and entwines his fingers with mine. Our fingers begin to move faster and faster, and I grind my teeth together as I rock back and forth against our hands. I catch a glimpse of his eyes burning into me as the exploding fervor washes over me in waves. I push up into our entangled hands as I cry out his name.

  I draw my fingers out of my slippery core and lay my arm across my eyes, trying to catch my breath. He keeps his hand on my sex, but I realize that he’s helping me to come down from my euphoric high. As I lick my lips in impassioned delight, it dawns on me that we have done all of this in public—in broad daylight.

  Latch pulls my arm away from my eyes and touches my cheek. His face shows deep satisfaction as I return a smile of fulfillment. He removes my hand from my panties, but his fingers lay across the lips of my sex, still tingling from my climax. He pushes one finger into my sensitive core, never taking his eyes from mine. He pulls it out and slips his finger into his mouth, licking it slowly. He closes his eyes and groans heartily, appearing to relish the act. He leans down to kiss me, twisting his tongue around mine, and I can taste myself in his mouth.

  “I love the way you taste. I’ll never tire of tasting you,” he murmurs.

  I sit up, pulling my knees up to my chest and leaning against him.

  “Haven, will you tell me about yourself? You know my story. I want to know everything there is to know about Haven Wells.” He pushes back into me, attempting to coax me into a reply.

  I care about this man; I shouldn’t, but I do. I haven’t known him long enough to unload my baggage. If nothing else, knowing my past will send him packing.

  “Not a lot to tell, really. You already know the basics,” I pause, shrugging my shoulders. “I own a bookstore, I have a roommate, I have an obvious passion for high-end panties, and I have a dismal sexual history.” I try to downplay my description because it’s pretty dull—not at all exciting.

  “Really . . . seriously? That’s your entire life—four descriptions? Baby . . . please . . . I can’t google you, so you have to give me more than your fetish for expensive underwear.” He chuckles.

  Do I really want to lay out my life to him, do I want to unload my crap? What if he freaks out, I know I would. Maybe it would be better if I tell him everything now. Well, not everything because then, on top of being a very non-sexual, immature, older woman, I will also look like a pathetic loser. Latch doesn’t need to hear about my issues. I’m sure he has his own problems with which to contend.

  “I’m from Colorado. My mom and dad still live there, and I’m an only child. Weezie and I met almost twenty years ago. We were college roommates. I moved in with her almost six years ago after a bad breakup.” I pause, waiting for a response, but there isn’t one. “I’ve only had two lovers, um . . . now three.” I smile and continue, “I was with the same man for six years, engaged to him for two. It didn’t work out—the end.”

  Sharing my past with someone is not something I enjoy doing. No matter who it is, I have a hard time opening up; it’s easier for me just to keep the past buried where it belongs.

  Latch reaches for my hand, turning it over and kissing my palm.

  “You know what they say about the third time—it’s a charm.” He talks into the palm of my hand, his breath caressing it.

  If Latch chooses to pry more out of me, I’m not sure what I should say. There’s indecision in my head, a conflict, a debate on how much I should reveal. It’s too early to unload everything on him and, really, should I have to tell him my life’s story? This is hardly going to be a relationship—it’s just a fling. But either way I have to choose my words cautiously or this will end before it gets started. I’m afraid he’ll think I’m clingy and possessive, which is how Jared described me right before we’d broken up. He had purposely left out the part of what an emotionally abusing, cheating pig he was. Even after seven years, I still feel bitterness and self-loathing for allowing someone to treat me like that.

  “Baby, that wasn’t the end. That was a prelude—a prequel, if you will—until we met.” He speaks softly as he runs his hand down the back of my hair.

  “I don’t want to pry, and if you don’t want to tell me I understand, but I’m curious. You were with this guy for, what, six years? I can’t imagine a man not wanting you, what happened?” He seems generally interested.

  “He cheated on me, among other things,” I say looking away.

  “What other things?” He asks.

  “He said some pretty awful things to me.” My body tenses up as I recall how painful Jared’s words were.

  Latch’s eyes grow dark even though he appears calm. His body language speaks volumes—he visibly stiffens and his hands clench and unclench repeatedly.

  “Did he ever get physical? Did he ever hurt you, Haven?”

  I notice a ticking in Latch’s jaw. I have to defuse this right now. I have no choice; I have to lie. Latch seems to have a part of him that’s aggressive and that worries me. Jared had never gotten physical per se, but he had done things to terrify me, and he enjoyed to pretending he was going to hurt me.

  “Not physically just emotional crap. He threatened a lot, you know. He liked degrading me. He told me continuously that I was inadequate in everything, including our sex life.” I wring my hands, trying so hard to push away all the memories.

  Latch stands up, pulling me with him. He draws me into his arms and presses me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. I feel the tension in his body, and he’s vibrating from his emotions. Oh, God, please don’t let him feel sorry for me. I won’t be able stand it. I suddenly feel tears prickle my eyes and I try to blink them back. I wish we’d never had this conversation. I don’t want all of the bad I’ve endured to mess up what actually might be the first good thing to happen to me in a long time.

  “When I first saw you at that party, I felt like someone was squeezing my heart. You were so beautiful, but sad. Every man was checking you out, yet you seemed oblivious to it. When I caught you looking at me, I felt like I’d won the lottery. Believe me, baby, when I tell you this—you are perfect in every way imaginable. That ex of yours doesn’t know jack shit about sexuality. You’re more than adequate and I’m more than willing to aid in your future education. I’ll be your teacher and you can be my naughty student. I guarantee high grades,” he replies, grinning widely. His hands rub my back protectively.

  “Why are you so accommodating?” I choke out, my voice threatening to disappear on me.

  I want to say more but the words are stuck in my throat. The pain in my chest is restricting my breathing. My emotions come crashing down on me and it feels like an impending meltdown. I need to go home. I need to get away from Latch. I don’t want him to witness me falling apart, not when I think I might be developing real feelings for him. I can’t do this, it’s too soon, and things are moving too fast. Not only will the age difference cripple us, but also I’m too emotionally unstable. I pull away from Latch and start running back to the house. I can hear him shouting my name and he catches up to me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Haven, what the fuck, quit running away from me,” he says frantically. I can’t look
at him and I hang my head down. “Don’t look away from me, baby, please.”

  He cups my face and makes me turn my face towards him. I stare at him with tears filling my eyes. He looks at me, horrified, and his shoulders sag as he crushes me with a hug.

  “Oh, leannán, please don’t let me be another man who makes you cry. I never want to be him, I promise,” he whispers in my ear, his voice strangled with anguish.

  He gathers me up in his arms, carries me up the stairs, and kicks the front door open with his foot. With my arms around his neck and my face buried in his chest, he carries me to his bedroom and lays me on the bed. He sits down on the edge and rubs his hand over his beard as if he’s deep in thought. I scoot up to the pillows and roll into a fetal position. I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. Even though I had left out quite a few details concerning Jared, just remembering my past with him has sucked the life out of me. I need my pills, but I had dumped them all down the toilet. So now, I have to cope with any bouts of anxiety on my own.

  “Latch.” I turn over and reach for him. I manage to grab the edge of his board shorts to pull him to me. “I’m so sorry about the drama. I’m emotionally defective. The fact is I’m broken.”

  “Baby, I want to be a part of your life, not just the good parts and not just the present, all of it and everything in between. I made that decision three weeks ago. Why do you think I’ve been so insistent? I wasn’t stalking you—I was claiming you.”

  I push up until I’m balancing on both knees. I place my hand on his cheek. He closes his eyes and I hear him breathe deeply. Latch has made me feel things I only believed existed in books and, somehow, he has turned those tales into reality. I really wish I could convince myself that what is happening between us is just purely physical, but what I feel for him permeates my soul. I want to be with this man, more than anything else I want in the world. But no matter how much my heart tries to push me toward him, logic and doubt screams at me to run away.

  “Latch, please listen to me. When you were nine years old, I was buying my first beer. When I’m fifty, you’ll only be thirty-eight. You say it doesn’t matter, but it will; you’ll feel the difference. My God, you’re only twenty-five, and regardless of all that you have achieved, you have no real life experience, not really. That comes with age.”

  Latch blinks and opens his eyes. He pulls my hair away from my face and leans into me. Our lips are almost touching, the warmth of his breath grazing my mouth.

  “Oh, leannán, my life experience began the moment I saw you. Anyone before you was just a rehearsal.”

  He inches forward until his lips are on mine, gliding his tongue between my lips. I emit a soft cry into his mouth. After a few moments, he pushes away, removes my glasses, and presses my body back down on the pillows. He stands up, grabs a throw blanket from the small sofa in his room, and covers me with it.

  “Baby, close your eyes. Take a nap. We’ll get take out for dinner later.”

  My first instinct is to pull him down on top of me, but I know where that will lead. These last twenty-four hours have turned me into a sexual deviant. I yawn, suddenly feeling sleepy. I close my eyes, suppressing my sexual desires for now. The last thing I hear before sleep takes me is the sound of the door closing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wake up to the light shadows of the moon trickling in through the blinds. I look around and attempt to get my bearings. Latch is sleeping silently next to me. I lean over to look at the clock, and it reads 2:04 a.m. I have slept over ten hours and Latch had let me. I’m hungry, actually starving, because I missed dinner. Many hours have passed since I ate last, and my stomach growls loudly, agreeing with my assessment. I stifle a giggle so as not to wake Latch.

  I quietly make my way to the bathroom and close the door, flipping on the light as soon as it’s closed. I relieve myself, brush out my hair and change into Latch’s t-shirt. Then I creep out of the bathroom and pad down the stairs toward the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I take stock of the contents, and the only appealing thing I find is flavored water, so I grab one of the bottles. I manage to find the pantry and go through the shelves, where I locate a family size jar of crunchy peanut butter and a loaf of bread. Jackpot! I grab both and turn the light on by the sink. I have to go through several drawers before finding a knife. I see there’s a fruit bowl on the far counter and gleefully snag a banana.

  Once I’m finished making my peanut butter and banana sandwich, I literally inhale it and wash it down with the flavored water. Even though it’s not a gourmet meal, both my mouth and stomach agree that it practically tastes like one. I put everything away and wipe down the counters, hoping Latch won’t be able to tell I ran a late night food raid. An image pops into my head of me stealthily sneaking into the kitchen, dressed in black from head to toe and swiping food from shelves, and I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to echo throughout the silent house.

  Once I’m back in the bedroom, I slip quietly back into the bathroom so I can brush my teeth. When I’m finished, I settle back into bed with Latch. His breathing is still even and undisturbed. For some reason, I cannot get comfortable. I feel wired and my nerves are twitchy. Just thinking about Latch lying next to me is making me hot . . . yet again. My sex is damp and my nipples are hard. If I were a man, I’d have a raging hard on. I try not to burst out laughing. I should try to go back to sleep, but my belly is full, my mouth is minty fresh and I’m all revved up with no place to go. I actually feel a pout developing. I can’t believe he didn’t wake me earlier. Maybe I should wake him now.

  That thought niggles my mind as I punch my pillow several times, trying to form it nicely under my head in order to get comfortable. I lean a little closer to Latch and make contact with his cool, bare skin. I bite my bottom lip hard. He’s naked—gloriously, utterly unclothed. My body rejoices and I inhale and exhale loudly. I just can’t help myself—I brush my hand against his muscled thigh and the feel of his skin sends tiny shivers through my body. He shifts slightly. I take my hand off his thigh and trace my finger along his flaccid cock instead. I softly hum as I remember the taste of him, knowing that my mouth has been the only one ever to taste his release. The memory of his confession makes my sex pulsate.

  I gently put my hand around his cock, rubbing my thumb across the crown. My eyes open wide as I feel his shaft expand, growing stiff in my hand. It feels like only seconds until he is fully erect and his hot flesh is throbbing in my grip. There’s a shift in his breathing and I suddenly realize he’s awake. He groans, and his body starts lifting, reaching for me, reaching for my lips. I let go of his cock, gently pushing him back. I can sense his frustration, and I grin and lick my lips.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” I whisper at his shadow.

  “Come here, leannán,” he says, trying to reach for me again.

  “Oh, no you don’t, it’s my turn at being bossy,” I say as I scoot away from him.

  “Oh really, and what did you have in mind?” I hear the amusement in his voice.

  I reach over, pulling the sheet completely away from his body. With the slivers of moonlight shining in the room, I can see the outline of his body radiating with heat. I lean over him, brushing his ear with my lips.

  “I don’t want to fuck you. I just want to taste you,” I coo in my sexiest tone.

  He growls. “Oh, leannán, I love it when you say the word fuck, say it again, will you?” He’s teasing me; I can hear it in his voice. I can tell he finds satisfaction in knowing that I’m using his own words against him. That I remember what he said to me that first night.

  Without warning, he has me flipped on my back and pinned beneath him. He keeps his arms on both sides of my body to brace himself so as not to crush me. He uses one leg to force my thighs apart. I try to get free as I squeeze my legs closed at the same time. I wish I could his face, but the moonlight is only allowing a very faint outline.

  “Now, Latch, this isn’t about me—it’s about you. Let me
watch you come. Let me taste you,” I cajole.

  He laughs heartily. “Oh, leannán, you’re killing me here. I’m happy you’ve been paying attention, but using my words against me, really?”

  His erection nudges at my opening. My sex is in total meltdown. If he stays on top of me much longer, my body will relinquish any semblance of freedom and submit to him completely.. My body and mind are weak in regards to this man, and I know I will surrender to him and let him take me. Not willing to give him the upper hand, I try my best to push him away. He protests, but he finally yields, moving his weight off me.

  As my eyes finally adjust to the shadowed darkness, I turn to where Latch lies, and I marvel at the sight of his bronzed, perfectly muscled thighs. The planes of his stomach are flat and smooth, and I gulp at that incredibly sexy “V” I want to trace with my tongue. His eyes flash seductively, trying to tease me toward him. His length is blatantly erotic lying on his stomach, demanding my attention when I see a bead of pre-cum on the slit. I purse my lips with anticipation. Latch watches me and curses with impatience. I stretch out beside him and run my hand up and down his cock. It’s ever growing, ever hard, giving off heat, demanding and sublime. I curl my fingers, making a fist as I continue stroking him. I bend my head, flick my tongue across the slit and lick up the moisture beaded at the top.

  “Haven . . . fuck,” Latch says and then inhales deeply.

  I allow my tongue to continue licking across the top, around the outer edges and down the side while I cup his balls. I slide my tongue down his full length and tease my tongue over his balls. I feel his body go completely rigid and he moans loudly. I lick my way back up to the crown and then open wide, covering his shaft as much as possible with my mouth and sucking him deeply. I have one hand around the base of his cock, pumping the still exposed length, and my other hand caresses his sack. I fist him faster, taking him deeper into my throat at the same time. His cock begins to swell and pulsate in my mouth.