Authors: Lilli Feisty
“You made that?”
“Yup.”
“What is it?”
“It’s for your ass. I’m going to put this in your ass, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
Use me.
She nodded as her bones melted with desire.
He coated his hands and the marble with lube, and then she felt the sculpture skimming her pussy. Leaning down, he licked
her clit again, working her into a frenzy as he pushed the marble inside her, into her ass.
“Oh my God,” she cried, straining against the ropes. The marble was solid, filling her, sending a rush of pleasure over her
body such as she’d never experienced.
Ash looked up. “How are you doing, babe?”
“Fuck…” She couldn’t speak, could barely see.
“Hold on for me, Joy. Wait for me.” He pushed the marble dildo even deeper, and she screamed as the foreign sensation sent
waves of awareness through her.
She’d wanted him to fill her. She’d never thought it would be like this, be this good.
After he’d rolled a condom onto his erection, he climbed on top of her and she met his gaze. “You are such a responsive woman,
Joy.” He kissed her neck as she lay there for him, her chest heaving as she let him use her.
Then she felt his cock at her pussy; he was guiding himself inside her, and as he buried his erection in one hard, deep thrust,
she screamed.
“You like this, Joy?”
“Yeah… ,” she admitted with a gasp as he withdrew and drove into her again. She felt him everywhere; she could practically
feel the marble and his cock touching inside her body. Bliss shot through her as she lost her mind, finally submitted fully
to him. She realized that, up until that moment, she’d been holding back, but now, with him filling her everywhere—there was
no holding back. The beauty of being restrained was giving up control, giving up all self-consciousness, giving up everything.
Giving Ash everything.
He bent down to take a nipple into his mouth and bit. The pain was exquisite, making every muscle in her body clench as the
orgasm thundered through her. She screamed, screamed his name and felt her vagina clenching around him in intense spasms.
Seconds later she felt him climax, felt his cock ejaculating into the condom as his entire body tensed and he groaned.
“Joy,” he ground out. “My beautiful Joy.”
He collapsed on top of her, nestling his head against her neck. They lay like that for a while, waiting as their bodies calmed
down, until the euphoria started to wane.
And still Joy thought she heard him whisper once more against her skin, his breath soft and hot, “My beautiful Joy.”
And what scared her was that she nearly believed him.
A
sh?”
“Mmm?” They were lying on their sides, and he pulled her closer to his body, tucking her sweet ass against his hips. He couldn’t
remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed, this calm.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been satisfied with stillness.
“Do you mind telling me something?” she asked.
“Shoot.”
“What happened? I mean your scars… How’d you get them? I know it was a helicopter, but do you mind telling me the details?”
He paused. Normally he didn’t discuss what happened, but something about Joy made him feel safe, and he found himself wanting
to tell her things he rarely talked about.
He trailed a fingertip up her naked arm, her soft, silky skin soothing him somehow. “I was a SEAL, and we were in Afghanistan.
I was in the chopper, monitoring the crew. They were militants, came out of nowhere and shot us down.”
He felt her sharp intake of breath. “And you were inside the helicopter.”
“I jumped, but we were so low to the ground that I was hit by debris when the chopper crashed and exploded.”
“Your shoulder was hit.”
“It was hit the hardest, yeah.”
“How did you escape? Did someone come for you?”
“Eventually.” He cleared his throat. Joy didn’t need to know about how he’d let his team down by not jumping soon enough,
by missing the attack in the first place. He should have picked up the movement with his equipment.
Nope, those were his own special secrets, and he intended to keep it that way.
“It must have been awful. Did anyone…”
“Die?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“The pilot. Luckily the ground crew was picked up. Finally.”
“And your arm?”
“Nearly lost it.” Yeah, a prison cell in enemy territory wasn’t exactly the most sanitary of places to be with major injuries.
He still woke up dripping in sweat from nightmares of that place. The dirt, the smell, the screaming sounds of inmates being
tortured…
“That’s why your photographs are so moving.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned over and faced him, her head resting on the pillow. In the moonlight, her hazel eyes sparkled with amber flecks,
and he saw a few freckles scattered across her nose. There was something so innocent about her, so open. He trusted her. He
hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time.
She brushed some hair away from his forehead. He’d been meaning to get it cut but never seemed to get around to it.
“Your photographs are so deep, moving. I think you channel your pain into them, turn your experiences into something different,
something beautiful. Art.”
That was the reason he’d gone back to photography and art when he’d quit his last job. He’d needed that escape, and it was
easier to look at the world through a camera lens, easier to lose himself in the nontoxic places in his mind. Photographs
and sex were the easiest escapes.
“I want to show your sculpture, Ash. In the gallery.”
“No, it’s not any good. I was just messing around.”
“People love it!” She took his hand and kissed his palm. “I love it.”
“You’re the only one who’s seen it, Joy.”
Her gaze darted around his face. “Right. Well, I’m sure they would, if, you know, they did ever see it.”
“I don’t know, Joy. I’m already regretting agreeing to do the photography exhibit.”
“What? Why?” She looked truly concerned, and he kissed her furrowed brow. “Is it me?” she whispered.
“No!” He pulled her tightly to his body. “I’m just busy, is all.”
“Busy with what? Does it have to do with all those computers I saw on your dining room table?”
Despite Joy’s seeming a bit flaky at times, she was certainly observant. “Yes,” he said. “I’m doing some private security
work now.”
“And that’s why you want to give up photography? To work in security?”
Security. He craved it, he worked in it, it was who he was. “In a way. I want security for my family, for my sister and my
mother. I never want them to worry… As she gets older, Violet’s needs will increase. I want to make sure I’m prepared.”
“So you’re giving up your art for your family?”
“That, and I’m burned out.” He traced her bottom lip with his fingertip. “I
was
burned out.”
“If we did a show for you, your sculpture would bring in quite a bit.”
He chuckled. “You’re always thinking, aren’t you, little one? You never give up.”
“I just hate to see something so beautiful hidden away.”
“I do, too.” He continued to rub her lip. “Fine, you can have the sculpture pieces. I’ll get them from the museum before the
show.”
She seemed more concerned than happy. “You will?” she asked, and he swore she sounded tense. Did she get nervous before an
exhibit, too?
“It’ll be fine,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. Then he rolled her onto her back and settled between her legs.
“I think you could talk me into pretty much anything, Joy.”
She wiggled beneath him, and he felt her pussy, warm and wet against his cock. “Anything?”
“What do you have in mind?” She was already ready for him; he felt her slickness against his erection.
Smiling naughtily, she reached for his good shoulder and pulled him lower. “Get a condom,” she said against his mouth, “and
I’ll show you exactly what I have in mind.”
Erica dumped yet another custard into the garbage, her third failed attempt at burnt-orange panna cotta that night. She didn’t
know what was wrong with her, but no matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t get the balance right between the orange
zest and the sugar. It was either too sweet or too tangy.
It wasn’t perfect.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
She looked up to see Blaine crossing the student kitchen. Even in his preppy button-up and chinos, Erica couldn’t help but
scan his solid form. Suddenly her wrist burned from where Blaine had touched her before. And her head burned from his words:
I won’t wait forever.
Fine. Why would she care?
“What are you doing here, Blaine?” she asked, whisking together another batch of sugar, salt, and cream.
“I came to check on you, actually.”
Erica jerked her gaze up. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You seemed upset earlier, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine; thanks for asking. You can go now.” God, she sounded like a bitch. But Blaine brought out the worst in her, because
he seemed to see things, know things.
And Erica hated the way her body heated just from being around the man. He was everything she despised! He annoyed her so
much—how could Erica possibly be having these feelings?
She hated to admit it, but the fact was, she needed to get laid; it had been far too long.
Instead of leaving, Blaine helped himself to a taste of the cream mixture simmering on the stove. “Nice.” He tossed in a pinch
of orange zest.
Erica dropped the bowl she’d been whisking and pushed Blaine aside. “What are you doing? I’ve been trying to get the taste
right all night! You probably just ruined it!”
Blaine dipped his finger into the warm custard and held it a few inches from Erica’s mouth. “Taste it and find out.”
Silence stretched between them, and Erica’s head spun with so many contradictory feelings: annoyance, resistance, lust. As
they stared each other down, Erica’s skin heated and her pulse raced. She wanted Blaine, but there was absolutely no logical
reason why she should.
Screw it.
Lunging forward, she grabbed Blaine’s hand and sucked his finger deep into her mouth, licking and tonguing every last drop
of the orange-flavored custard from his skin.
And damn it, the flavor was perfect. So she grabbed him and kissed his mouth, hard, her annoyance fueling the lust coursing
through her.
Blaine groaned and Erica yanked him against her body, the kiss deepening. The man who’d been under her skin for so long was
kissing her right back and allowing himself to be backed against the butcher-block island. Erica spread Blaine’s legs and
stepped in close, feeling his strong thighs surrounding her hips.
“Is this what you wanted?” Erica asked.
“No.”
Erica blinked up at him; had she made a terrible mistake? Blaine met her gaze, his brown eyes searching, intense.
But then he tugged her closer. “This is what I wanted.” He kissed her, kissed her like a man, not like a preppy or a prude
or any of the things she’d pegged him for.
When he pulled back, she was breathless, mindless. Her eyes fluttered open. Her heart hammered, and she knew only one thing.
“Don’t stop,” she said.
Turning so Erica was the one backed up to the table, he pushed the dress down her arms and off her body. She stood before
him in the practical underwear she wore for work—a cotton bra and unexciting boyshorts. He stepped back to rake his gaze over
her, and she wished she had donned sexier panties. She waved a hand across her torso. “I wasn’t planning on anyone seeing
me… like this….”
And he was still staring at her with that look, the one he’d given her when he’d first seen her tattooed arms.
She straightened her spine. “I bet I’m nothing like the girls you usually go out with.”
“That’s for sure.”
His words stung, and she didn’t want them to.
“You’re a hell of a lot sexier,” he said, and came closer. “I hate all that fancy shit girls wear. I like…”
“What?” she whispered.
“You.”
Her heart was in her throat as he fingered the amethyst at her throat and kissed her. Then his warm fingers went lower, to
unclasp her bra and toss it aside. Her breasts were not small, but when he cupped them in his large hands, they fit perfectly.
She gasped when he grazed a nipple with his thumb.
She ignored the goose bumps on her arms. “It took me all night, and I still didn’t get the orange zest right. And you walk
in, and just like that! Perfect.”
“I told you. I’m the better chef.” But he was smiling, his arms surrounding her as he leaned forward.
“But you’re damn good, and now I’m going to reap the reward of your hard work.” He reached beside them and lifted a wooden
spoonful of the custard out of the saucepan. He then poured the creamy mixture onto Erica’s chest, decorating her breasts
and her nipples with the sweet yellow sauce.
“Wanna taste?” Without waiting for a reply, Blaine pushed the spoon across Erica’s lips. “How is it?”
“Delicious,” she breathed.
His gaze focused on Erica as she slowly swept her tongue across the edge of the spoon. When every last bite of custard was
gone, she looked into his brown eyes. His intense look sent a fresh wave of desire over her. And then he took the spoon and
scooped up more of the sauce, slowly dripping the creamy liquid over Erica’s chest before he tossed the spoon aside.
She trembled as he dipped one of her fingers in the sauce and then placed it in her mouth. She sucked her finger as he licked
her breasts, cleaning every bit of the creamy sauce off her body. The custard was sweet and tangy, with the perfect amount
of citrus. She licked her own finger, pretended it was him, imagining she was swirling her tongue around his cock.
With a groan, she felt Blaine’s tongue on her skin, taking his time to explore the curves of her breasts. She saw his gaze
fix on her taut nipples, and he whispered, “Perfect.”
He sucked and licked every last drop of orange custard off her chest.