Hilary Fields - Bliss

He called me “sweetheart”! Her heart did a little happy dance. Yeah, Sera—and then he said he didn’t want to fool around, the Negative Nelly part of her mind reminded her. The bottom dropped out of Sera’s stomach, and suddenly she felt very, very naked indeed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sinking lower in the steaming water. “I shouldn’t have… I’ll go back and get my suit…”

“Please don’t,” said Asher, coming to rest beside her on the bench—close, but not touching. “I only meant…” He stopped, sighed. “Bliss, I want very much to be with you—be naked with you—but I remember what you told me, and I didn’t want you to feel any pressure…” He slid away to dip his head under the water. He let the steaming liquid sluice his hair back from his forehead, as if it would help clear his thoughts.

“What I told you?” Sera ventured. She had an uneasy feeling she knew what he meant.

“About your, ah… condition.” Now it was Asher’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to rush you into anything, but believe me, Bliss… this Speedo doesn’t fit quite as well as it did before you left that robe behind.”

“Really?” she said, smiling just a bit. His confession pleased her inordinately, even as his thoughtfulness calmed her nerves, reminding her this was Asher. Asher wouldn’t ever embarrass her, or shame her the way Blake so often had. She could afford to be a little daring with him, to experiment with her wild side. Maybe things wouldn’t work out, but then again… she was in the land of enchantment now. Maybe a little of that magic would wear off on her.

Pauline would be so proud, she thought with a touch of humor as she stared up at the impossibly handsome Israeli. Now, if she’ll just stay out of my head for the next several hours…

“I would never joke about something as serious as a Speedo, Bliss,” Asher assured her, belying his words with a broad smile.

Sera floated closer. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t take your word for that,” she grinned. “Because I really think I need to find out for myself.”

* * *

The gentle chime of a bell interrupted what was proving to be a very magical moment. Gasping, Sera pulled away from Asher, who was nibbling her neck in a way that made her nerve endings trill like a chorus of songbirds. Since she was perched atop his lap and his arms were tightly banded about her waist, she didn’t get far.

“Waterfall tub, this is your five-minute reminder,” came a polite voice over the intercom.

Sera groaned. And things were going so well. No intrusive visions of Aunt Pauline. No yips, stutters, or stops. Only mounting passion more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. Asher had been so gentle, so thorough, stoking her desire with exquisite slowness, taking his time to treat each inch of her skin to the touch of his lips, tongue, and hands, getting to know every curve in a way that was both respectful and deeply, deeply intimate. No matter how she panted and pleaded, he wouldn’t speed up either, murmuring Hebrew words she suspected meant “whoa, girl” even as he made her pulse race faster and faster. Had the bell not rung, she marveled, he might very well have rung her bell. I never thought it could happen. But with Asher, everything feels so natural. I’m not self-conscious. I trust him. And more, I trust me.

“Can we ignore that?” Sera asked, nuzzling closer.

“I only booked the tub for an hour,” Asher said regretfully. He kissed the juncture where her neck and shoulder met, soothing the sensual fires he’d started, then eased her off his lap as though it was physically painful to part from her. “Come, Bliss. I’d better take you home.”

“Darn right,” she said, taking his face in both hands and kissing him deeply. “Your home.”

Asher studied her seriously. “You’re sure?”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Maybe the elusive orgasm would finally be hers. Maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, she wanted to be with Asher tonight. “Mr. Wolf, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Asher abandoned the tub in record time.

Moment of truth.

Standing with Asher in his sparsely furnished bedroom, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the skylight above them, Sera expected to find herself fairly coming apart at the seams. Always in the past, she’d been uptight, anxious in intimate moments. The few boys she’d been with in college had been about as clueless as Sera herself, and with her native shyness, she’d never really managed to relax and enjoy their ministrations. She’d get so far, and then just… freeze up.

And then would come the visions.

Pauline, watching expectantly over the boy’s shoulder. Pauline, shaking her head at Sera’s awkward caresses. Pauline, wearing pom-poms and a cheerleading outfit, doing cartwheels and chanting fight songs that ended in “cum, cum, cum” instead of “go, go, go.” And worst of all, Pauline, demonstrating clitoral stimulation techniques.

The harder she’d try to tune out her aunt, the more intrusive the images would become.

She’d figured she’d eventually warm up, get over her awkwardness, and—please, God—stop being haunted by Pauline’s passion pep talks. But then came Blake.

The charismatic chef had instantly attracted her. She’d craved his admiration, his affection, and at first, when he’d hit on her, she’d thought she’d hit the big time. A worldly, experienced lover. So debonair, so exciting. Surely, now… She’d had high hopes. But Blake hadn’t been overly interested in Sera’s satisfaction. He’d been a “wham, bam, thank-you-ma’am” sort of lover—only without the “thank you.” And when Sera—tentatively, shyly—had gotten up the nerve to ask him to slow down, maybe try a few things she thought she’d like, he’d practically tossed her out of bed on her keister.

And then he’d mocked her.

Frigid. Hopeless. Deadweight. Those were just a few of the taunts he’d hurled at her during the time they had dated. He’d made her feel she was lucky he even tolerated her presence in his bed, given what a lousy lay she was. But in hindsight, Sera had to wonder—who’d really been the one with sexual shortcomings? Hadn’t it been Blake who was impatient and selfish? She’d tried her best, but after a time she’d come to realize he actually preferred it when she lay there like a dutiful fifties housewife, letting Blake take, as he put it, “what little satisfaction he could.” That way, she realized, he could concentrate on what Blake liked best—Blake.

The part that shamed her, to this day, was how long she’d let him.

She’d let Blake make her feel fearful, inadequate. But tonight, with Asher, she felt neither. What she felt like was grabbing her date’s nice button-down shirt and rending it open in one great rip.

So she did.

Or tried anyway.

The first button popped off easily enough, but the rest, well… “Whoever sewed these on must have had serious OCD,” she muttered, yanking futilely at the fabric.

Asher laughed and laid his hands over hers to still her pillaging. “Slow down, Bliss,” he said. “We have all night.”

“You don’t have to treat me like some delicate virgin, you know,” Sera said. “It’s very gallant, Asher, but right now…” She trailed off, eyeing him with a sidelong smile.

“Right now?” he asked. He ran one finger down the V of her dress’s neckline and watched the goose bumps rise in its wake.

Sera could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, sensed his barely leashed energy even as she inhaled that uniquely Asher smell—hot metal, rampant male. She felt intoxicated; drunk with delight, with anticipation, with giddy knowledge that this delicious man wanted to be her lover as much as she wanted to be his. He’d primed her past the point of performance anxiety, and now she wanted only to feel his naked skin against hers, his heat and desire matching hers.

“Right now… I’d rather you ravished me senseless.” She backed him up against the bed with hands on his chest and a predatory leer. “And be warned, Asher… if you won’t, I will.”

He would.

* * *

As it happened, Sera did have a visitation just as she was approaching the much-anticipated moment of her bliss. As Asher carried her ever closer to the edge, doing extraordinary things with his talented craftsman’s fingers even as his body, so hot and sensual atop hers, drove her nearly mindless with desire, Sera saw a vision coalescing behind her closed eyes.

Please, not Pauline, she thought. Don’t let anything ruin this… this… oh, God, what did he just do with his tongue, that ought to be illegal… Please, just let this happen, I can’t believe how good this feels, oh… oh, wow, there’s no way a man ought to be able to… holy wow…

But what swam into focus as Sera soared close to climax wasn’t her aunt.

It was purple. It was petite. And… it was wearing what was undeniably a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat.

Hey! It’s my armadillo! Sera marveled.

It nodded at her, tipping its hat.

“Gesundheit,” it said.

And Sera’s world changed forever.

You’ve made Pauline a happy woman,” Sera said, rolling over atop her lover and planting a kiss on his smiling lips.

Asher, quite naked and quite obviously glad to be smothered in a blanket of Bliss, chuckled as he reciprocated. “Pauline, eh?” he said. “And what about the younger Miss Wilde?” He nudged her suggestively with his hips.