Chapter 17

At some point deep in the night, I woke up. Callie was stretched out on her front, face turned away from me, and I had her gorgeous naked buttock in my hand. An erection returned, fueled in no small measure by the memory of making love to her, and I wanted her again.

Rolling towards her, I woke her with soft kisses on her bare shoulder. She smelled wonderful. Callie murmured and stirred. Reaching over her, I turned her, spooning her, her gorgeous ass nestling into my groin. Rising on an elbow, I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She reached behind to touch my face, eyes closed, a small smile curling her lips.

My strengthening erection nudged against her closed thighs and, as if we’d been intimate forever, she lifted her leg. When my erection settled along her pussy, she lowered her leg, trapping me.

Without a word, I reached around and cupped her petite breast, a perfect, firm palmful that aroused me so. Callie was quiet. When I fondled her, rubbing her nipple, she moved, squeezing my erection between her legs. I hunched slightly, pressing my groin against her gorgeous ass. Callie eased away, then pressed back in a non-verbal invitation. Letting her breast go, I caressed down her stomach to brush my fingertips against her silky-soft pubes, another surge of excitement hitting me. A little lower, passing over her plump mons, I felt the tip of my erection poking out. Easing my body back, with a gentle touch, I found her clitoris and rubbed it. Callie’s pussy was still slippery from making love earlier. She squeezed her thighs and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed. I followed, slowly stroking my erection back and forth along her pussy, her sexy buttocks pressing to my groin. Arousal built. I wanted more.

With fingertips, I pressed my crown into her cleft, still stroking back and forth. For a few minutes I relished the experience, her pussy slippery and warm. Then Callie trembled. She tilted her hips in another silent invitation. Pressing my crown deeper between her labia, I found her entrance. Movement stopped.

Her hand touched the back of mine, pushing against me, encouraging me. At the same time, she pressed her ass back and my erection oozed into her, her vagina gripping me again, a molten, incredibly snug velvet heaven.

With the crown held tight, I went back to caressing her clitoris, enjoying the small tremors of pleasure in her body. We started moving, a dance of love. Slowly but easily my erection penetrated her deeper, each stroke exquisite. We fucked gently, almost languidly; no rush, no urgency, just mutual intimate pleasure, the ultimate closeness any couple can have. It was fantastic. I wasn’t desperate this time. This was pure loving. Callie pressed my hand harder against her pussy, my middle finger strumming her clit. Her buttocks clenched, body tensed, then jerked. She trembled against me like a frightened fawn, her pussy pulsing as she climaxed with almost silent gasps, a rhythmic milking sensation on my erection. I let myself go. Cock swelling, I experienced heaven again, semen erupting in a burst of ecstasy. I came softly, each gentle thrust bringing exquisite release, cum flowing, bliss, utter bliss.

As peace returned, our bodies stilled. With my softening erection held inside her, sleep, like a seductive sylph, danced in. My body was liquid and sated, relaxed. The last thing I remember was her scent; subtle jasmine and plums mixed with sex - Heavenly ambrosia.

At eight-fifteen I woke up. Callie was sound asleep on her front next to me, her dark burgundy hair an attractive mess spread across the pillow only partially contained by a ponytail. Watching her sleep hit me just so; beautiful, sweetly sexy, and I experienced a rush of affection. Easing myself from the bed, I hit the bathroom feeling refreshed and remarkably good. Sex twice with this beautiful girl had me smiling as I shaved. I must be smitten, I thought with a smile.

She was still out for the count while I dressed so I left her sleeping. I had three things to do; I’d be gone for one hour max. Grabbing the USB memory key and envelope with the microdot, I let myself out of the hotel room quietly.

Meandering back forty-five minutes later, I caught myself smiling in anticipation of seeing her again. When I opened the hotel room door, an arctic chill blasted through me.

“WHERE WERE YOU?!!” a clearly angry Callie yelled, her glacial stare chilling me.

My smile faded. “I had some things to do.”

Fist on a narrow hip and one accusing finger jabbing towards me, Callie yelled with a stern frown on her face, “And you didn’t think to wake me up?!” Man she was pissed.

“It was less than an hour,” I tried to reason. Stupid me.

“I thought something had happened, you ... IDIOT!!!”

She was spectacular. Barefoot, wearing sky blue yoga pants that matched her eyes and an un-tucked pale yellow cotton top with a wide neck that slipped down off one shoulder revealing a thin white bra strap, she was gorgeous in her anger.

“I thought you’d be tired after last night so I let you sleep in,” I explained.

“Be quiet! I’m too angry! I’m not talking to you!”

“All evidence to the contrary,” I muttered.

Her eyes flashed. “What’s that supposed to mean?!!!”

I grinned. Couldn’t help it. Our first fight.

She pointed a finger at me, now furious. “Wipe that grin off your face, Lightfoot!”

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Callie’s anger seemed to deflate like a popped balloon. Worry stole into her eyes. “You scared me, Hunter,” she said in a small voice.

Moving in, I wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry, Ayasha. I really didn’t mean to.” She pressed herself against me and hugged me back.

In a firmer voice, she accused, “I can’t believe you grinned at me, Lightfoot. Don’t you know how arguments work?” Leaning back, she looked up at me. “I was scared. Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

I nodded.

She smiled slowly, all forgiven. “You can kiss me now.”

I did, willingly.

By mid-morning we were back on a train heading towards Italy. Callie, sitting next to me, kept a possessive hand on my thigh or arm, just needing to touch me. She’d rebounded from the morning argument in fine form, chatting about two weeks on a ship, how many passengers were there? What amenities did they have? Why Montreal?

Then, as I watched the countryside pass, she nudged me.

With a twinkle in her eyes and a smile, she informed me, “I thought you should know, I like sex with you. I’m glad you’re virile, Lightfoot.”

I smiled with amusement. I liked sex with her, too.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had,” she instructed. When I didn’t respond fast enough, she added, “Come on. It won’t hurt you to admit it.”

“I was just comparing you to all the women I’ve slept with. Give me five minutes.”

Callie pouted and edged away from me. I grinned. She seemed to make me smile more than anyone I knew.

“How many?” she asked, shoving my arm away when I tried to put it over her shoulders and draw her back.

“None of your business.”

Judging by her expression, that might not have been the best response. Her blue eyes dropped several degrees towards frigid and she moved completely out of my personal space, turning to face me.

“I’m not sleeping with you anymore, Lightfoot. Keeping secrets I can understand. Lying to protect me I can understand. But telling me something personal about you isn’t my business when I love you isn’t acceptable. It never will be.”

Callie was serious! Feeling surprisingly contrite, I tried to explain.

“Callie, I’m a private person. I’ve never had to share with anyone. It doesn’t come naturally to me. When you ask personal questions my automatic response is to deflect. You need to give me time to adjust. I haven’t been in a relationship for a long time.”

Somewhat mollified, she asked, “How long?”

“Twelve years.”

After a slight pause, she observed, “You must have been in your teens. What happened?”

I shrugged. “I went to college. We stayed in touch but slowly grew apart.”

“What happened to her? What’s her name?”

“Christina. Like too many in the community, with so little work available, she found alcohol, then drugs.”

Callie moved back next to me, leaning against me. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Looking up at me, she asked, “How many, Lightfoot?”

I could see she was testing me; my willingness to reveal personal information a measure of our developing relationship. “Four.”

“Including me?”

I nodded.

“That’s not as many as I’d thought,” Callie observed. “How come?”

I shrugged. “Casual sex isn’t my thing. I prefer a personal connection; someone whose personality attracts me. That’s not easy to achieve when working all over the world and traveling constantly.”