“No. Don’t. I want to be the one doing that.”
She met his gaze again but kept her fingers in place. Tried to keep need contained. Surrendered to the dark energy that had filled the room. “One touch from you and I’ll fly apart,” she admitted.
“I want to see that happen. Enough with the bra, Shari. Get rid of it.”
A moment ago she’d been in charge of pacing the seduction, hadn’t she? Standing tall and liberated. She wasn’t sure she was ready to relinquish control and become his plaything, if that’s what he had in mind, but the crazy uplifting bra she’d worn just once before cut into her. Reluctantly letting go of her breast and pussy, she reached behind her and unfastened. She’d intended to execute a slow striptease as she’d seen done in a few movies, but her fingers numbed, and the bra dropped to the floor. Her flesh felt both sandpapered and as if she was standing in a warm summer rain.
She should have slept with more men, learned what an aroused male stare did to her heart and nerves, become more educated about her body’s responses.
Hopefully unaware of what she was thinking, Maco massaged his erection with the heel of his hand; his eyes had taken on a faraway look. Maybe he was so deep into himself that he no longer cared about remaining connected with her. One thing she had learned was that sex was selfish. Self-pleasure demanded priority. She could forgive him for that, understand and empathize. Or she could literally and figuratively grab him by the balls.
Stepping into his space, she took hold of his jeans. Just like that, she could no longer feel her fingers, but she’d started this, she wouldn’t stop. The snap called for all her concentration and a fair amount of strength while the zipper gave way without resistance.
“Nothing shy about you, is there?” he muttered as she dragged his jeans down over his hips.
“Is that what you think?” She flattened her hand over her heart. “If I took time to think about—”
“Then don’t.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
Burying herself in the pain and pleasure of anticipation, she hefted his trapped cock. Feeling returned to her fingers, allowing her to acknowledge the smooth fabric and strong warmth just beyond her reach. A rage of sensation clung to her as she lifted him higher. Sliding her free hand under his cock, she ran her nails over his cotton-protected balls.
“Oh shit!” He sounded as if he was strangling.
“You don’t like?” Her own voice snagged. Working her fingers into the slit in his briefs, she touched sleek flesh. Died a little.
He rocked back on his heels with his arms ramrod straight and tight at his sides. “I like. You goddamn know that.”
I’m not sure I know anything.
“Then stand there and enjoy.”
“You’re asking too much of me, lady.”
Lady. His equal. No Barbie doll.
Wondering where the limits of his control lay and what would happen if they crossed that barrier, she pulled down on his briefs. If not for the grinding sensation at the base of her spine, she might have stopped partway through the task. Only once his briefs had joined his jeans around his knees did she allow herself to look at what she’d exposed. His cock was weapon and promise, strength and vulnerability, satin skin and swollen veins. Dark. Demanding to be housed in her.
Dizzy, she sank to her knees. Her head still felt off kilter as she ran her cheek over him. She could worship his cock. Offer herself up as slave to this one organ. Leaning to the side, she stroked his erection first with her cheek and then her lashes. The pressure on her spine spread outward. Her panties’ crotch went from wet to drenched.
“Oh God. Feels good.”
“For me, too.” Running her hand under her panties, she cupped her pussy, pressing as she did. Everything was swollen there and fever-hot. Giving off sparks, her middle finger slipped past her labial lips and entered her core. Sent need screaming everywhere.
“You all right?” he asked, clamping his hands over her shoulders.
“I, ah, don’t know. Why?”
“You keep weaving back and forth like you’re drunk.”
“I’m not. I only had ...”
“You’re not going to pass out, are you?”
“I hope not.”
Grunting, he let go of her shoulders and worked his fingers into her hair. Used his hold to guide her head here and there. Under his direction, she leaned left and then right, then left again, her face always brushing his cock. Always smelling and feeling him. Going crazy with the wanting.
After too long, he set her upright and released her. A heartbeat later, his hands were back on her shoulders.
With her middle finger as far inside her as possible, she closed her lips around his cock head.
Intimate. Maybe more so than straight sex.
“You know what you’re doing?” he asked.
Even though she didn’t know anything, she nodded.
“Just checking. You’ve done this before?”
This time she didn’t respond. Like his marriage, everything she’d been part of before tonight didn’t matter. Truth was, she’d experimented with sucking cock twice, but uncertainty on her part had led to premature ends. It had been more like a test she was trying to pass than inhibition.
Tonight, however, a heady feeling of power warred with her need to lose herself in sex. She gave into the first by slowly, so slowly licking his length. During those two earlier attempts, just the thought of deep-throating a man had made her gag, but as she thoroughly bathed Maco’s cock, she wondered if it was possible.
Maybe not tonight but later, with practice.
Because she wanted to do this for him.
Once she’d gotten him wet and slick, she again closed her lips around his cock head and looked up, bringing his erection with her as she did. He stared down with his eyes smoky and his mouth open.
If she was a man, this man, what would she want done to her sex organ? Warm heat blanketing it, of course. Sinking as deep as possible into a woman’s mouth. Teeth lightly scraping sensitive skin. Trust and trusting. Being pushed out of the living cave where cool air waited to dry wet flesh and losing oneself in the thrill of a tongue gliding over quivering length.
Still gazing at him, Shari withdrew her finger from her core and gathered his scrotum in her juice-drenched hand. His balls lay heavy on her less-than-steady palm.
“Holy shit,” he ground out.
Smiling a little, she gently rolled him about while closing her other hand around his cock. His length could take hard use, his balls not so much. Keeping the distinction straight took some of her focus off herself, yet she remained acutely aware of her panties’ crotch sticking to her. On impulse she tightened her sex muscles, then whimpered as wanting ran through her. Maco’s
holy shit
fit what she was feeling perfectly.
He was hers now, belonged to her, had no choice but to acknowledge her control.
As long as she could keep from flying apart.
Her hands weren’t soft or her nails manicured. If he didn’t like being handled by work-hardened flesh and short nails, he’d chosen the wrong woman to bring to his house.
What was she thinking? He had chosen her, not the polished woman he’d once been married to. He wanted her as much as she did him. For tonight, at least.
The hands on her shoulders increased their grip. She tried to read his expression, but her eyes refused to focus. Being drunk felt like this, loose and disconnected from everything except sensation.
“Bedroom,” he mouthed. “Now.”
15
N
aked, Shari lay on her stomach on Maco’s queen-sized bed with her head turned to the side so she could watch an equally naked man. When he’d told her to get into this position, she’d asked what he had in mind only to be informed he intended to wing it and for her not to muddy his thinking with questions. After letting her run the first event, he’d informed her, it was his turn. If she knew what was good for her, she’d be an obedient little girl.
“I should pop you,” she teased back. “My fist smack into your chin.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. My chin’s as hard as my head.”
As he settled himself beside her but farther down, maybe so he could rest his head on her ass if he wanted, she first acknowledged and then fought an unexpected sense of vulnerability. Yes, he’d played the white knight when Ona was injured and made it clear that he was concerned for her safety, but she’d only known him a few days. She was on his turf and exposed on his bed. If he decided to—
“How often do you entertain here?” she asked.
“What makes you think I do?”
“Queen bed.”
“And you naturally jumped to the conclusion that—to set the record straight, my folks gave it to me. They knew I’d let Crystal keep all our furniture.”
Turning on to her side toward him, she placed her forefinger over his mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“I’m thinking maybe it is. Besides, I like hearing that you care whether I spend my nights entertaining. I don’t.”
“Because you don’t have time?”
He shrugged, then shook his head. “That’s part of it. Also, until now, I haven’t wanted to get involved.”
Until now.
Not knowing what to say, she debated sliding her finger between his lips.
“I said something I shouldn’t have?” he asked.
“No. I just, I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t expecting to hear that.”
“I didn’t know I was going to say it,” he said, and scooted even lower, tucking his legs against himself so he’d stay on the bed. She was still wondering what he had in mind when he gripped her hips and flipped her back on to her belly and turned her head away from him so she was staring at the wall.
He was behind her where she couldn’t see him, getting ready to do what? Anticipation made her squirm.
“You have a great ass.” His moist breath glided over and between her rear cheeks.
Shuddering, she dug her toes as best she could into the bedspread. Her arms were down by her sides and useless. “Thank you, sir,” she got out. “My best feature, I’m sure.”
“I didn’t say that.”
When he raked his nails along the ass cheek closest to him, she squealed and tried to squirm out from under the restraining hand he’d just placed at the small of her back.
“No, no.” He pushed down. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The nibble of unease returned to steal her breath. She tightly gripped the spread.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Yes there is. You don’t like being handled like this?”
“Let’s, ah, say the jury’s out.”
A low chuckle relaxed her enough to prompt her to reach behind her and try to grab his hair. She missed but managed to turn her head toward him. This time he didn’t stop her. Being able to study him while the spread cradled her breasts, belly, and pelvis settled her a little—until he licked where her buttock and thigh connected. A squeal shot past her lips.
“Jury still out?” he asked.
Going for broke, she said, “I need further demonstration.”
“Which I’m more than willing to give you.”
He again lowered his head but slower this time. His damp tongue grazed her ass cheek, disappeared, returned.
Flying
, she thought,
couldn’t feel any better than this
. The second time his tongue stayed longer, stroked longer, left more heated wetness in its wake. Goose bumps coated her flesh there and elsewhere. Breathing again became a nearly impossible chore. Studying his dark hair as he remained bent over her, she noted that it was coarse and thick with a handful of gray hairs. Pleased with what she’d found, she dragged her arm up from her side and pressed her finger pads to his scalp.
Maco’s tongue laid damp path after damp path on her ass until where her hand was didn’t matter. Her legs felt as if electric currents had been attached to them, and she couldn’t remain still. Regulating her breathing took all her strength. One leg and then the other bent, perhaps accomplished by some mysterious force lurking inside her. Inch by uninhibited inch, she increased the space between her legs and invited him in. Afraid she’d go crazy before he caught on to what she needed, she pushed his head in that direction. His muffled chuckle sent a hot stream of moist air to the small of her back.
“Oh God,” she gasped.
“I think that’s my line.”
Works both ways
, she might have said if he hadn’t taken that moment to shift slightly, which distracted her.
Before she had time to wrap her mind around the possibility, he slid his tongue between her ass cheeks. Mewing like some startled kitten, she struggled to escape the overwhelming invasion. Instead of handing her sanity back to her, he dove deeper, curling his tongue as he did. Clamping on to her ass cheeks, he separated them.
Growling deep in her throat, she bit the spread. The thought of him reaching her back door unhinged her. At the same time, she prayed for the courage to get through whatever he had in mind. Maybe he understood her conflict because he barely grazed her puckered opening and then headed for her pussy. Wet kissed it. Still making inhuman sounds, she lowered her head and lifted her butt in invitation.
He couldn’t hold his position for long. The human spine wasn’t designed for this. Still, grateful for every second he gave her, she buried her face in the cotton. Her fingers and toes dug into the coverlet. She couldn’t breathe. Barely cared whether she lived or died.
Instinct took over as she turned her head so she was no longer looking at him. This was surrender, wrapping herself in sensation. Her nails continued to test the spread, and her toes threatened to cramp. Nerves and muscles short-circuited, causing her legs to dance. Most important, Maco’s tongue pushed past her labial lips and he drank of her offering.
Her growling/mewling became bleats and then strangled sobs as her mind shut down. The world revolved around her sex.
“Enough.” Maco’s word burned over the backs of her thighs.
No!
Furious, she thrust her ass at him.
“Sorry. My neck—”
A whimper threatened to break free, but she forced it down where it lurked. Now thinking on a rudimentary level, she rolled over. The act exhausted her—that and her clit demanding attention. Maco was still on his side—or maybe back on his side—and propping himself up on an elbow. Her sex-moisture coated the left side of his mouth and his lips were parted, held that way by the tongue that had taken her deep into space. She desperately wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure she could handle the sensual overload. Besides, whatever strength remained needed to be reserved for fucking.
Fucking. Attacking each other with no thought of the consequences, taking him so deep inside her that the impression would last forever. Leaning over him and dragging her breasts over his chest while he gripped her arms so tight that his nails left grooves. Milking him. Being milked.
“What?” she demanded because instead of touching her, he was still simply looking at her.
“I’m thinking.”
No, don’t!
“I’m not.” She rolled her knuckles over his collarbone and claimed his heat. “I recommend it.”
“I don’t know much about you,” he said. It might be the last thing she wanted to hear. “Not as much as you do about me.”
“You want to talk now?”
“No.” He shook his head like some weary animal. “But I’m curious about why that is.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she told him and this time trailed her fingers over his chest.
“Yes, it does.”
Everything became hazy after that. She remembered, vaguely, him getting off the bed, taking a condom out of the nightstand, and putting it on. Then she was sideways on the mattress on her back with her legs dangling over the edge and him standing over her. Running his hands under her thighs, he lifted her buttocks and slid a thick pillow under her.
That done, he made room for himself between her legs, clamped on to her hip bones, bent his knees, and drove into her. No preliminary, no checking to see whether she was still ready for sex. She was. Hunger poured out of her as she clamped her legs around his buttocks, lifting herself off the pillow as she did. She dug her heels into him in a silent command for him to fuck her.
Maco did, fast and deep-breathing with his hands braced on the bed and his elbows locked. Stroking his arms and repeatedly tightening her cunt muscles, she struggled to match his pace.
He stared down at her. She stared up at him. When his gaze turned dark and inward, she raked his arms and shoulders but couldn’t tell whether she was leaving marks. She damn well didn’t care. Lifting her head off the mattress, she pretended to be trying to bite his arm. Laughing, he set the bed to bouncing and shook her shoulders back down onto it.
Drove into her. Pulled back. Powered deep and then deeper. Drenched both of them in sweat and wrenched whimpers, cries, and growls from her.
Her pussy locked down, held hard. Moments later with her spent muscles crying out for relief, she sent them free, relishing the wash of pain/pleasure.
Seconds later her pussy again held tight to him. All sanity fled. The quick, hot volcano flowed.
She screamed. Climaxed. Screamed again.
Heard a growl that went on and on.
“What’s with the secrecy about your past?” Maco asked.
No. Not now!
“I can’t believe that’s what you want to talk about.”
“Can’t you? You leave holes in your life story and expect me to let it go.” He’d just come out of the bathroom and, still naked, was standing over her. She hadn’t bothered covering herself or reaching for her clothes because those things took too much effort.
“It wasn’t deliberate,” she lied.
“Wasn’t it? I’ve given you my complete family tree.”
“Not close. I’m sure there’s more to you than that.”
“Which is exactly what I could say about you.”
They’d come to that place in their relationship, hadn’t they? After what they’d been through in the short time they’d known each other, she couldn’t expect either of them to buy that they were little more than strangers.
“Are you going to come back to bed?” she asked, stalling.
“No.” He walked backwards to the overstuffed chair that took up too much space in the room and sat. Loving his acceptance of his body, she sat up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. No way was she going to think about bolting for the door.
“Why not?” she pressed.
“Because this way I won’t risk falling asleep, unless ...”
“Unless what?” The room had two windows, both of them open. The cross-ventilation was already drying her sweat.
“You change your mind about spending the night.”
She looked at the floor because it was safer than meeting the challenge/question in his eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave Rachele alone. I won’t.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. All right. Talk.”
An order? Maybe, but then that was what she needed to get started. “I love hearing about your family. They remind me of what’s considered normal.”
“Which you didn’t have because you lost both of your parents.”
“That’s right. My father was murdered when I was pretty young. It defined my childhood.” Weary of wallowing in self-pity, she lifted her head, but his look of sympathy—or was it compassion?—had her staring at the carpet again. Her aunt, uncle, and her dad’s killer knew all the details. The police and lawyers thought they did, but they couldn’t possibly.
“You said you were there,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I believe you already said that.”
“What do you want from me then?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Hell, maybe a kick in the ass and a loud ‘get over it.’ ”
“You think that would help?”
“Maybe.”
Without her knowing how it had happened, he was on his knees before her and her hands were in his. Beads of water from the shower clung to his chest hair and the dark mat over his cock. “Can you talk about it?” he asked.
“Some.” The admission centered her.