Invitation to Passion: Open Invitation, Book 3 (14 page)

 
    
And she didn’t give a damn that he’d won.

 
    
Stacy pulled Jud’s shirt over his head
before she slid off his lap. He was quick to stand, unbuckle, unzip, and toe
everything off into a heap on the floor.

 
    
“You are magnificent.” Hard lines of
muscle, dark hair
arrowing
down his abdomen, taut
buttocks, and the most beautiful cock she’d ever touched. Where were the signs
of age on his superb frame? She touched, sliding her fingers down the center of
his chest to the tip of his penis, and found only firm flesh everywhere her
hand traveled.

 
    
He tipped her chin. “I’m almost half a
century old, and I’m not perfect.”

 
    
Yet she couldn’t find any flaws.

 
    
His spicy male scent filled her head, and
the heat in his eyes brought an answering rush of moisture between her thighs.
God, she loved to be wanted like this. Her mind and body craved it like water,
food, sustenance. Her interludes at the club had never come close to the way
his touch shuddered through her.

 
    
Even last night, as good as it had been,
was a level below what he made her feel right now.

 
    
He pulled the tie on her pajama bottoms,
and they fell to carpet. Even as she stepped out of them, he tugged on the
buttons of her top.

 
    
“I want your breasts.” They overflowed his
big hands, and he stroked her nipples. Then he slid the sleeves off her arms.
She was naked, no makeup, no hair gel, no clothing.

 
    
“Perfect,” he whispered, and the tone of
reverence beat deep inside her.

 
    
He skimmed a finger down into the folds of
her pussy. “You’re wet. And I’ve barely touched you.”

 
    
Jud had taken her from zero to sixty with
unbridled laughter, lingering touches, and hot kisses. And what a master of
kissing he was. The man could suck the face off the
Mona Lisa
and leave behind just her smile. Stacy was wet and ready
for him. He pulled her into the chair, helping her slide her legs along the
side of his thighs but maintaining inches between the fit of their bodies. When
he entered her with two fingers, she shivered, and her body clamped down on
him.

 
    
She tipped her head back and relished the
mind and body sensations he created. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

 
    
He smiled, the color of his eyes deepening
to the warmth of earth. He started a slow, unyielding pump. Another finger
eased in with the first two, grazing a spot inside that spiraled her into
mindlessness. There was only his fingers taking her, his voice whispering to
her, and the steady, unstoppable climb to the pinnacle of passion.

 
    
“Kiss me while I’m inside you,” he
murmured.

 
    
She would have done anything at that
moment. She took his mouth, her tongue darting in rhythm to his touch inside
her. He cupped the back of her neck, holding her steady, then he sucked her
deep, taking her mouth, her lips, and her tongue the way his hand took her
body. Completely. She let herself drown in his scent, in the sheer pleasure of his
taste.

 
    
Then he withdrew from her, dragging a
finger across her clitoris, and finally pulling his lips from hers. She felt
dazed, needy, powerless. And impaled by his gaze.

 
    
She took a deep breath. “Fuck me, Jud.
Please.” All she wanted was the feel of him inside her.

 
    
He held out the condom he’d put on the side
table earlier. “Put it on me.”

 
    
She always employed condoms, and she often
did the honors, yet the heat in Jud’s eyes made her want to raise the simple
act of donning a condom from a mere necessity to part of the main course. She
took the package from his hand, “Hmm, flavored,” then broke the seal and tossed
aside the wrapper.

 
    
Scooting back on his lap, she stroked a
hand down his cock. Heat seared her, his hardness in her soft palm, pulsing against
her flesh. She went to place the latex, then backed off for a moment of
consideration.

 
    
“You’re not hard enough to put it on yet.”
He was a rigid staff in her hand and more than ready, but she needed a little
play. Holding him tightly, she smoothed her thumb over the slit in his crown,
smearing the tip with droplets of pre-come. He sucked in a breath. As she
pumped him lightly in her fist, his hips surged upward, a curse seething
through his lips.

 
    
“Hell, it’s hard enough. Any harder and I
can drive a fucking car with it.”

 
    
“No,” she sighed, shaking her head, “still
not quite there yet.” Her mouth watered for a taste of him, and she didn’t deny
herself, sliding his cock into the depths of her mouth and back out again,
teasing another drop of come from the crown.

 
    
“Jesus, Stacy, you’re killing me. Just put
it on, dammit. Please.” His plea broke in the middle with a groan.

 
    
The sound was so damn powerful, it made her
heart stutter and miss a beat. He was every woman’s wet dream, the fantasy of
scores of women at The Sex Club, yet he’d chosen her, was begging her. She
could get used to it, start to need it. In her current state, that didn’t
bother her one damn bit.

 
    
“Pushy, pushy,” she whispered. Placing the
condom, she unfurled it, following its progress with her mouth as she did so,
the flavor faintly strawberry. His shudder traveled along her thighs, through
her belly, and straight up into her heart.

 
    
“Fucking tease,” he muttered, and she loved
the harsh rasp of his voice. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her
forward on his lap. He slid into her pussy so easily, so perfectly, as if he
was meant to be there. The triumph of making him beg faded in the devastating
sensation.

 
    
It was the most gentle taking she’d ever
known, and in that, it carried its own power. She clung to his neck, burrowing
against the side of his throat, and let him control each movement. There was
nothing frantic, yet it was somehow so elemental. He filled her to her womb,
sealed every empty space inside her, made her feel beautiful and desirable. He
moved her hips over him, his hands guiding her to a faster pace.

 
    
“Kiss me again,” he demanded, and she took
his mouth as deeply as his cock took her. Chest hair tantalized her nipples,
warm breath puffed through her hair sending shivers along her scalp, and his
cock inside her hit something deep and untouched.

 
    
She always stroked her clitoris during
intercourse, or made the man do it. She needed outside stimulation. With Jud,
there was only how he felt inside her, the glide of his penis, the grip of her
pussy on him, the heat rushing through her body, the electricity in his touch,
and his minty taste against her tongue.

 
    
She came from the inside out, shattering,
moaning against his throat. When he pulsed in her, shoved up hard one last
time, rotating her against him before the throb of his orgasm filled her, she
came again, melting into his arms, holding onto him during the last moments of
passion. Held onto the fleeting, once-in-a-lifetime feeling.

 
    
In her orgasmic bliss, it felt like making
love.

* * * * *

 
    
Jud didn’t know how long they sat in the
chair, his cock still inside her, her silky skin pressed against him, her
delicate scent entering his mind and his heart. Her lips moved against his
neck, the dampness of her tongue sending a spiral of warmth down to his gut.
When he came, he’d given her a piece of himself, and he’d taken a piece of her.

 
    
She just didn’t know that yet.

 
    
“Now
that
was the real thing,” he murmured into her hair, nuzzling along her ear. She’d
kissed him. Finally. It had been more than a concession on her part. It had
been an expression of her need for him.

 
    
She pulled back and stared at him. “How do
you do that?”

 
    
“Do what?”

 
    
She fluttered her hands. “I don’t know. It
was just ordinary sex, nothing kinky or off the wall. And yet”—she shrugged,
searching for words—“it wasn’t ordinary at all.”

 
    
“Another best?”

 
    
She slapped at his arm playfully. “You are
so cocky and full of yourself.”

 
    
“Which means it was another best.” He felt
cocky. Sort of. When he was inside her, she was all he needed. It was a
slightly terrifying feeling, and yet it was what he craved from her, what this
whole challenge had been about. He’d set out to prove that he could be all she
needed, too.

 
    
Only he couldn’t explain to her why their
relatively vanilla sex—no toys, no props, no fantasies, just his mouth, his
hands, his cock, and most importantly his mind—had been the best. She had to
discover the answer for herself. It was a mind and a heart thing in addition to
physical attraction that transmuted pleasure into passion.

 
    
Since she hadn’t answered him, he took her
chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Good enough to remain
exclusive?”

 
    
She chose a glib answer, revealing nothing,
giving nothing more than she’d already given. “At some point, you’re going to
set an impossible goal for yourself. You can’t keep on topping the last time
every
time.”

 
    
Another irresistible challenge. “Try me,
sweetheart.”

 
    
She sat up, arching and raising her arms
above her head, then twisted her body, a long sigh escaping her. The slide of
her flesh around him and the sounds she made in her throat filled his balls and
cock. She felt it and raised one brow.

 
    
“You’re cocky
and
insatiable.” Bracing her hands on the side of the chair, she
rose and planted her feet on the carpet. Then she yawned. Pointedly.

 
    
His stomach sank as he removed the condom
and threw it in the plastic-lined trash can beside the chair. She’d boot him
out now. She was two steps forward and one step back. Sometimes two. Which put
him at the exact spot he’d been before.

 
    
Except that she’d kissed him. He’d made her
laugh. And she’d begun the escalation tonight.

 
    
He rose. Without her high heels, she was
pleasantly petite next to him. “I’m tired, too. Let’s go to bed.”

 
    
Nothing like forcing the issue.

 
    
She stared at him, her hands on her hips,
not one iota of self-consciousness about her nudity or his.

 
    
“All right.”

 
    
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. And
then he almost laughed. He’d been prepared for rejection, which was par for the
course with Stacy. Instead she’d given him...What? He couldn’t be sure. It
could be another trick. Another tease. Whatever. He’d take the bonus.

 
    
He folded her beneath his arm and led her
to the door. “Can I use your toothbrush? I didn’t bring one.”

 
    
“No, you cannot use mine. I’ve got another
one in the drawer. You can use that.”

 
    
And leave it behind for the next time. And
the next time.

 
    
Because, in the end, even if took
fricking
years, he would win this challenge.

* * * * *

 
    
She had a digital clock, but still, Stacy
could almost hear it ticking in the darkness. Jud had filled up her bathroom
with his size and presence and now dominated her bed, wrapping himself around
her like a big wooly bear rug.