The Perfect Match?

Chrissie gave a sharp, piercing cry of relief as she felt Guy’s first deep thrust within her body.

‘You feel wonderful,’ she heard Guy telling her thickly. ‘We fit together perfectly, perfectly.’

Chrissie couldn’t make any verbal response but she knew there was no need, the way her body was already responding to the rhythmic movement of his told him everything he needed to know.

She had never imagined that physical intimacy could be like this; that two bodies could be so well matched, fit together so perfectly that they together made one perfect whole; so completely in harmony with one another that Chrissie actually felt as though she could physically feel the ripples of pleasure that ran through Guy’s body with each movement he made within her own, and she sensed that he, too, could feel hers, that he knew exactly the second when she needed the more urgent movement of his body within hers, the heartbeat of time precisely even before she cried out to him that she ached for him, craved him, had to have him, deep, deep within the most secret part of her body.

And she could feel through the strong contractions of her own release the thick pulse of his.

‘Oh, Guy,’ Chrissie wept emotionally as he held her in his arms.

‘I know. I know,’ he soothed her tenderly, gently brushing the tears from her face as he bent his head to kiss her mouth lingeringly. He drew her deep into the protective warmth of his own body, stroking her skin as though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go.

‘You feel so good, so right,’ he told her emotively. ‘Oh God, you feel so good.’

‘I still can’t quite believe what’s happened,’ Chrissie confessed, suddenly a little shy. ‘It’s not...I don’t...’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Guy interrupted her gruffly, taking hold of her hand and lifting it to his lips whilst he placed a kiss in her palm and then closed her fingers over it. ‘And besides, what you and I have goes way, way beyond anything like any coy, false need to play games with one another. What we have...what we can have...’ He broke off and shook his head. As she looked at him, Chrissie saw that his own eyes were filled with moisture.

‘Oh, Guy,’ she protested shakily. It was her turn now to comfort him, so she kissed his mouth with all the love she felt for him.

‘We need to make time to talk to one another properly,’ Guy told her unsteadily when she had released his mouth. ‘No, not here,’ he told her, reading her mind. ‘If I stay here with you...’ He groaned and closed his eyes. ‘Have dinner with me tonight. My sister and her husband own a small restaurant. We could meet there. I daren’t offer to pick you up,’ he told her softly, ‘because if I do...’ He looked expressively at her still-naked body, warm and relaxed from his lovemaking, satiated... now...

But Guy was right. They did need to talk. There was so much she wanted to know about him, so much she wanted to discover.

‘How ironic that I should meet you here of all places, in the house that belonged to Charlie Platt,’ Guy murmured to her. When he saw Chrissie start to frown, he explained, ‘We never got on.’