One Special Night by Caridad Piñeiro Page A

so completely.   With him inside, she felt connected to something for the first time in like forever.
    “I wish, too, babe, only I think my balls might fall off,” he teased and grinned.
    Even with the remnants of her release humming through her and satisfaction filling her, she knew they weren't done just yet.   And she knew what she had to do to keep alive the joy and light that was so much a part of him.
    She reached between them and cupped his balls.   At his groan, she said, “They feel just fine to me, Tommy.   Maybe they just need a little attention.”
    Over and over she rolled them in her hands and then found a sensitive spot, judging from the way his body shook and he said, “I can't hold back anymore.”
    She brushed her lips across his and said, “Then don't.   Love me, Tommy.   Let go.”
    He did, wrapping his arms around her waist as he drove his hips in and out, his motions growing faster and rougher as he pushed them toward the edge again.
    She hadn't thought it possible, but this climax punched through her with even greater force, making her knees like liquid and curling her toes.   She called out his name and wrapped her arms around his neck.   Kissed his face as he drove in one last time and shouted her name.
    They stood there for long moments, breathless and shaking.   Sweating despite the chill of the air conditioning in the room.
    As calm returned, the noises from the party outside filtered into the room, a reminder of where they were and what they were supposed to be doing.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, his concerned gaze skipping over her features.
    “Better than okay, Tommy,” she said, inched up on tiptoes and tangled her hand in his hair to keep him close as she danced her lips across his.   “So much better than okay,” she repeated, sensing his continued worry.
    As she eased back, he pulled out of her, and jerked his head toward one side of the room.   “The bathroom is over there, so you can . . . you know . . .”
    “Get straightened up,” she finished for him, scooped up her panties from the floor, and slipped away to freshen up and get herself in order again.
    As she stood before the mirror, she almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.   Her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses and healthy color brightened her cheeks.   His evening beard had left a slight rash of pink along one side of her face and her hair was sexily tousled.
    She looked alive, but more importantly, she felt alive.
    She hadn't felt like that in a very long time.
    But the logical part of her warned that what she had just done was crazy and thoughtless and could only bring her a world of misery.
    She was damaged goods in more ways than one and once Tommy saw her real self, he'd be gone.   It wasn't just the scars on her body, it was the nightmares that came at unexpected times, day or night, and made her almost an animal from the fear.
    Driving away the thoughts robbing her of the happiness she'd been experiencing just moments earlier, she yanked her panties back on, smoothed her dress down, and did what she could to finger brush her hair and cool the heat on her face.
    When she exited the bathroom, Tommy was walking back into his room.   “I borrowed Nickie's bathroom,” he explained and strolled toward her.
    “You each have your own bathroom?” In her small apartment, four of them and assorted cousins who seemed to always be visiting shared one very cramped and barely functional lavatory.
    “My dad has a thing about bathrooms,” Tommy said with a grin.   “Don't ever interrupt him when he's in his reading room.”
    She wasn't going to spend enough time with him to have to remember that, which sucked yet a little bit more happiness out of her.
    Tommy cupped her jaw and tenderly pressed for her to meet his gaze.   “What's up, Jasmine?” he asked, all hints of playfulness gone.
    “Nothing, Tommy,” she lied.   “We just need to get back before people notice we've