Page 19 of Marrying the Guide
A maelstrom of emotions welled inside me. The contrast between this selfless act and the years of Gerard’s selfish demands struck me with the force of a tidal wave. Where Gerard had taken, Howell had given—freely, completely, generously, asking for nothing but my pleasure.
Gratitude washed over me. For this man, for his kindness, for the way he saw me—not as a project or a prize but as a partner. He was healing me, closing wounds that had hurt too long.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the words inadequate to express the enormity of my emotions.
“I mean it when I say it was my pleasure.”
I put my head on his shoulder. His embrace felt so…powerful. Protective. I played with his chest hair, then ventured lower. His stomach was flat, though he didn’t have a six-pack. Not that he needed one. The man was ruggedly handsome in the best way. He’d literally carried me to the bed…and I was well over six feet tall.
He also had a really, really nice cock. It had been hard as iron the whole time but had now flagged a bit. But I intended to remedy that. I just needed a moment to recover, both physically and emotionally.
I propped myself up on one elbow, gazing down at Howell. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, the muscled contours shadowed in the soft light. A surge of warmth filled me, not only from the afterglow but also from a newfound determination. I wanted to give him the same earth-shattering pleasure he’d given me.
“Your turn,” I murmured, voice husky with desire, and I found his lips in a gentle kiss, tasting the lingering salt of my release. He hummed, lifting his hands to tangle in my hair. But I was already moving, trailing kisses over his face, his ears, his temples, every now and then finding his lips again.
“You don’t have to…” he said.
“Hush. I want to. I very much want to.”
His skin was hot under my touch, each muscle tensing as I explored farther. I nipped and sucked at his neck, drawing a deep groan from him that vibrated against my tongue.
“Onno,” he breathed out, a plea and a benediction all at once.
My hands roamed lower, mapping the expanse of his broad chest, toying with a nipple, rolling it between my fingers until it hardened. Howell arched underneath me, seeking more contact. I obliged him by playing with his nipples until he squirmed on the bed.
His cock stood proud and beckoning, and I didn’t waste any time. He’d waited long enough. I wrapped my hand around him, relishing the velvety firmness and the way he bucked into my grasp.
“Ah, Onno.” Howell’s voice was strained, thick with need.
I loved hearing my name on his lips, loved knowing I was the cause of him coming undone. For a moment, I had to let go of him so I could position myself between his legs. When I looked up, he was watching me with brown eyes burning with want.
I lowered my mouth onto him, taking him in, sucking until his cock hit the back of my throat. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of musk and arousal, and my desire flared anew.
With my lips wrapped around him, I set a rhythm, hollowing my cheeks, applying pressure in all the right places. Howell’s fingers were back in my hair, guiding without forcing. His moans mingled with my wet slurps and the low, romantic strains of music playing in the background.
“Oh… Fuck, sweetheart. Yes, just like that.” Howell’s voice hitched as I took him deeper. He unraveled beneath me, his body taut like a bowstring, his thighs tensed. I knew he was close.
“Come for me, Howell,” I whispered and enveloped him once more. That was all it took—my words, my mouth, my hands. With a guttural cry, Howell spilled into me, his climax pulsing, and I drank him down, savoring every twitch and throb and tremble.
As he sprawled on the bed, panting and spent, I crawled up his body to claim his lips again. We lay on our sides, face-to-face,and kissed lazily, the urgency replaced by a tender languor. He trailed his fingers over my back, igniting tiny sparks that settled deep within my core.
I snuggled into Howell’s embrace, my skin tingling from his touch, the scent of our desire lingering like a heady perfume. His chest rose and fell against mine, each breath a silent testimony to the passion we’d just shared. The taste of him was still on my lips, salty and sweet, and it made me hunger for more. I flicked my tongue out, chasing the lingering flavor.
“Stay with me,” Howell murmured. He traced the line of my jaw, a tender gesture that spoke louder than any declaration. “I want to fall asleep with you tonight and wake up with you tomorrow.”
The earnestness in his tone settled inside me, soothing the scars left by a marriage where every offer had an angle, every compliment a price. Howell’s kindness was a balm, healing wounds I’d had for so long I hadn’t known they could be treated.
“Okay.” The word lifted a burden I hadn’t realized I was still carrying until it was gone. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
A smile spread across Howell’s rugged features, crinkling the corners of his eyes, revealing sexy dimples.
As he kissed me again, slow and sweet, I savored the taste of him, committing it to memory. Because in less than three weeks, I would be gone…and this would have to end.
8
HOWELL
Onno’s laughter bubbled over the sizzle of the wok he was stirring. Our hostess for the evening, the amazing Intan, had turned a simple Indonesian cooking class into an adventure for the senses. The rich aromas of garlic, lemongrass, and ginger made my stomach rumble.