Carmine Robertson looked at the rain that fell steadily down her window. The lights were low, the candles flickered in the back ground, their glimmer reflected in the mirror by her bed. She sat on the window seat, the cushion underneath worn and tattered, but still comfortable. Carmine, however was not. Her fingers trailed the paths of the rain as it splattered to and fro, the beating rhythm filled her senses and she pressed her forehead against the cold glass.
He was very late.
Deep inside she knew he was going to be. While she grilled the steaks, made the cheesecake, tossed the salad, and chilled the wine, she'd kept telling herself it was all for nothing. Once again as the lavender scented candles dripped their scented wax down the sides she closed her eyes and wept the tears of a love lost. . .
Thomas Robertson sat in his car, rain pelting his windshield. He'd just looked at himself in the mirror and scrubbed away the signs of his affair. He also noticed the bruise and cut from the slap she'd given him. They both came from the emerald ring he'd given her over a year ago as a present. Tonight he'd broken it off with her and the bruise was the proof of his adultery. He noticed the time and cursed.
He was very late.
Deep inside he knew she wouldn't forgive him this time. He knew he'd pushed that last button and she wouldn't be there at the door to greet him with open arms, though knowing ones. Yes, she knew. She just hadn't accepted it. Today though out of all the days of the year to be late, this one was the worse. . .
As Carmine blew out the candles, Thomas hurried home. As she walked around covering the food with plastic wrap and making room for it in the freezer, her husband was feeling the impact of an air bag slam into his face. As the beautiful brunette with the new dress on slipped out of her stilettos, the handsome business man fell unconscious against the steering wheel of his car. When the housewife and mother of two slid into bed and shut off the lights, the father was placed in an ambulance. As Carmine slept a night full of restless tumbling, Thomas slept the sleep of the dead, his life support echoing through the room. . .
Twenty years earlier. . .
The rain just stopped when the twenty-year old from Nebraska pulled his nineteen-year old bride into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. The small group in the church cheered and as Thomas and Carmine Robertson walked down the isle they were showered with rose petals. Pink, Red, White, Yellow. . .a rainbow of colors descended from above. When they walked out the sun burned through the clouds and the two embraced. They drove off to the local Bed and Breakfast where their bodies melded into one.
"Good morning, beautiful," Thomas said to his wife, the morning after their wedding. His smile as wide as hers and he knew it, though he couldn't see it. His mouth was to busy working at the soft curls of her sex.
Carmine had felt the first stirring of his breath upon her thigh minutes ago, but had feigned sleep so she could enjoy the anticipation of his caress. Last night had been awkward, but after she'd washed in the shower, with Thomas, the evening had gotten a lot better.
"Good morning," she whispered back. Her breath caught on its return back into her lungs from the rush of emotions that filled her as Thomas swept his tongue over her soft curls. "Oh Tommy," she moaned, lifting her hips. Her fingers clenched the bed sheets. The lids of her eyes covered the green orbs that were laced with specks of gold. "Tommy. . .are you sure?" she asked, though inside she thought she'd die if he said "no".
"I'm sure love. I read about this in a book and well. . .I want to try. I've heard about it from the guys at school too and from the way it sounds, its rather nice. Can I?" he asked as his finger swept between the two lips of his wife's sex. "You smell wonderful, Carm."
She shifted her hips nervously, bit her lip and nodded her head that it was okay for him to proceed. Carmine realized he wasn't looking at her when he did nothing else, so she muttered a quiet, "Yes."
She too had heard about being "tasted" but she couldn't imagine such a thing. Now as the warm breath of his mouth caressed her newly loved sex, she was feeling a new kind of awakening in her body. "I heard. . ." She stopped talking.
Thomas laughed as her gasp of either shock or pleasure tickled his ears and he pushed his tongue against the protruding clit he'd been toying with. He licked it slowly, unsure if he'd hurt her or not. When she moaned he grinned and increased the pressure. "You like?" he asked. He knew she did, but he liked to hear her talk, or try to. Last night after the initial act of their joining, she'd talked. . .a lot. One thing he knew he'd always be able to count on was her talking.
"Oh, yes Tommy. I like it a lot. Ohh... harder; it feels better when you lick harder," she whispered. Carmine had never dated much and now as her husband learned the shape of her sex with his tongue she was suddenly kicking herself for not taking things further with him. In the end though she knew she wouldn't have. They made out a lot, but both of them never pressed the issue and she was glad for that, besides they had forever to make up for it.
"Harder? You tell me if I hurt you, okay," Thomas demanded. He looked up and saw her shake her head with a firm nod and he smirked. "Can't even look at me," he thought to himself. "We'll have to work on that. I want to see her eyes."
Thomas moved his lips back to the soft down that had caressed his chin. He ran his tongue over it, parting the curls a little while he did. He tasted her and studied her flavor, then tasted her again. This time the sweeping action was stronger and more sure of the want inside it. "Carm, its wonderful. You're wonderful," he told her. His tongue pushed deeper and he found the small hole he'd invaded last night.
Carmine shivered. Goose bumps jumped up on her skin and threatened to send another round of chills through her, but they were quickly covered by a wave of heat that burned inside. The growing ember continued to build as Thomas made love to her with his mouth. She trembled and begged for him to not stop, the feeling so new and raw. Her fingers moved to her stomach, up to her breasts, and then down to his hair. She had no idea where to place her hands, the emotions to turbulent for her to control. "Thomas Oh Tommy... don't stop, please. Just keep going."
