Authors: Jory Strong
She didn’t tug. Didn’t pull him to her, and that made the
arrival of his lips all the more satisfying.
He whispered kisses across her cheek, pressed open-mouthed
ones along her neck, denying her the instant oblivion she craved.
She nearly whimpered, nearly whispered
please
, but
didn’t, something inside her preferring to flirt with danger, with a desire
that could only become a craving for deepened intimacy, for
continued
intimacy.
A sucking bite sent sharp need streaking to her swollen sex.
Her back arched, she cupped her breast, captured the nipple between her fingers
and longed for Tyler’s touch to replace hers.
He lifted his head.
Heat rippled through her stomach at the raw hunger in his
eyes.
His mouth slowly descended, as if he were giving her plenty
of time to think about Shane and change her mind, or maybe he was giving
himself that time.
She met him halfway, her arms going around his neck, her
heart pounding harder, beating against his chest as her tongue licked along the
seam of his mouth then touched his for the first time.
His moan of surrender was answered by one of her own. Giving
in felt as good as she’d known it would, as right as she’d feared.
He hugged her to him, the hard muscles in his chest and arms
offering strength and sanctuary.
She closed her eyes, hands fisting in hair that was close in
color to her own blonde. She gave herself over to pure sensation, the scent and
taste and pleasure of Tyler.
Her tongue rubbed against his, twined with his, retreating
only for the infinitesimal separation necessary to allow breath.
Firm hands glided over her back. Tyler’s fingers traced the
line of her peach-colored boy shorts and the heat between her legs intensified.
Her clit was as swollen and sensitive as the nipples stabbing
against the tank top. She arched into him, pressed her breasts to his chest.
Her teeth grasped his bottom lip. She sucked it and felt
pleasure shudder through him.
He pushed his hands beneath the tank, sliding them upward, strong
fingers tracing her spine, her shoulder blades, gliding around to cup her
breasts.
His thumbs rubbed back and forth across taut nipples, making
her ache for more, for always.
She pressed against him. Kicked the sheets still covering
her thighs downward.
Liquid desire pooled between her legs. The crotch of the boy
shorts was drenched, the feel of material against her skin already unbearable.
She forced a hand out of his hair and between their bodies
to the front of his jeans. Tyler moaned, hips jerking, the hands on her breasts
tightening, thumbs pressing, circling, sending pleasure streaking from her
nipples to her clit.
She cradled his erection, slid her hand up and down,
stroking him through the soft material of the distressed jeans.
“Tease,” he panted.
“All’s fair.”
“That sounds like something Lyric would say.”
“Or Shane.”
Tyler’s mouth slammed down on hers. Lips and tongue more
aggressive.
The possibility that it was because of the mention of Shane
did nothing to diminish her desire.
She stroked Tyler through the jeans, and he matched her
movements with the plunge and retreat of his tongue.
The need built with each thrust and rub and stroke. For more
contact. For more pleasure. For more everything.
He broke the kiss, grabbed the tank and she raced to lift
her arms.
He tugged upward, stripping it off her and tossing it away
in a single smooth motion.
His gaze zeroed in on her breasts.
Rapid pleasure pulsed through her at the darkening of his
eyes, the parting of his lips.
“You’re a wet dream waiting to happen. You know that, right?”
he said.
She reached, grasped his hair, letting it slide through her
hands on the way to his shoulders. “You don’t need the dream. You’ve got the
real thing.”
“Good point.”
His mouth returned to hers. His thumbs returned to her
nipples, this time joined by other fingers. He matched the pull and squeeze and
twist of her nipples with the thrust of his tongue, using pleasure to urge her
onto her back.
He straddled her.
She opened the front of his jeans.
His cock emerged. Hard and velvety soft and throbbing.
She took it in her hand, rubbed her thumb along the wet, darkened
head.
Tyler jerked, gave a panted moan, not sure he would survive,
not sure he wanted to.
She was killing him. Between Madison and Shane, it felt as
if he’d been primed and ready to blow for hours.
Her hand moved on his shaft.
Down. Up.
Driving thought away.
His balls felt like they were going to explode.
Down. Up. Another rub over his cock head and pleasure nearly
drove his head back and his eyes closed.
He was already slick. Ready to go in. Desperate to join his
body to hers—and wanting it without the separation of a condom.
She stroked him again.
He nearly lost it looking into her eyes, seeing the need
there, the desire, the connection his heart said existed.
His hand covered hers, tightening. He stopped her before he
experienced the abject humiliation of coming too soon. But having her hand
around his dick and not moving as she looked at his cock head getting wetter
and more flushed was worse.
He pumped.
Once. Twice. And knew he couldn’t take much more.
Nearly panting, he pulled their hands away from his
erection, managed to get off the bed to lose the jeans.
She shimmied out of the boy shorts.
Streaks of warning shot up his spine. He gripped his cock
and said, “Those things ought to be outlawed. Or at least carry a warning.”
Her husky laugh didn’t help his control.
“You think?” she asked.
“I know.”
When she’d kicked off the sheet and he’d seen them, fantasy
had surged in, of Shane and him on their knees in front of her, jerking the
things down so they could get their mouths on a package wrapped the same as
theirs but so very different.
A shudder of need swept through him. For that. For this.
She was exquisite, all flushed and wet and feminine with
only a tiny landing strip of blonde hair.
Her body called to his, her eyes said she wanted this as
much as he did, needed it.
He already felt consumed by her.
He straddled her again, not daring to cover her body with
his.
Her lips beckoned and he was helpless against the desire to
touch and taste and take.
The only thing that could make being with her better, would
be sharing her with Shane, taking her at the same time as Shane—and being taken
by her in turn.
He moaned against her mouth, a shudder of pleasure going
through him, sinking into him. They made love together as naturally as they’d
played music together.
Her lips closed around his tongue. She sucked.
His hands fisted the sheets. His hips jerked, his cock
pulsing, straining to get to her.
A murmured
no fair
would only gain him additional
torment and threaten his control. She already did that, in a way his control
hadn’t been threatened since he first discovered how good sex that wasn’t
self-administered felt.
But two could play at torment.
He left her mouth, kissed along her neck, sucked, a
primitive part of him wanting to leave her marked, not just to stake his claim,
but because of what it would do to Shane when he saw it.
Her fingers speared through his hair, urging him lower and
he went. He worshipped the slopes of her breasts.
She was the perfect size. Not too big. Not too small.
Just right. Everything about her felt just right.
Her back arched. With the press of her nipple against his
lips, molten need raged from his mouth to his cock.
He took what she offered. Sucked. Drank in the sounds of her
pleasure.
He shifted his weight onto one forearm, freed a hand to cup
and mold and take possession of her other breast, his fingers capturing the
nipple, squeezing and pumping it in the same rhythm as he suckled.
Her legs moved restlessly, opening, pressing against the
cage of his.
His cock bobbed, the head licking across his abdomen, slick
and wet and ready for her.
He kissed his way to her other nipple. Sucked until he left
it as love-bruised as the first.
He moved lower. Dipped his tongue into her navel.
Her hands fisted in his hair. Alternated between trying to tug
him upward, to cover her, and trying to push him downward, to eat her.
Being with Madison was already a heady aphrodisiac. The
scent of an aroused Madison…
He kissed downward, rubbed his mouth against blonde hair.
Licked along the underside of her clit.
“Tyler.”
Her voice was plea and command.
He captured her clit, sucked, her pleasure pouring into him.
The sound of his chanted name was a binding, and her release a lock snapping in
place.
He crawled up her body, covered it with his, moaned at the
feel of skin and curves and pure femininity beneath him.
He might have a thing for other men—one in particular—but he
could never give up women.
Touching his mouth to Madison’s, the sense of homecoming
swept in, and he acknowledged that she had already become a
one in
particular
, the same as Shane.
His tongue thrust into her mouth in a carnal kiss, the
sharing of her taste becoming entwined with the thought of Shane.
Her legs circled his waist. His cock spasmed at the press of
her wet pussy against it.
He rocked against her. The dig of fingernails into his back urged
him to lift, to plunge, nearly destroying what little remained of his control.
He broke the kiss, panting. “Protection.”
Her legs tightened before falling away.
He rose onto his knees, reached for the nightstand, praying
he’d find a condom in it and having that prayer answered.
She took it from his hand, carried it to her mouth to open
and he fisted his dick. Shuddered in pleasure when she rolled the condom over
him as he fought against air-humping.
The instant she was done he was on her, his eyes locked to
hers as he guided himself to her entrance, slowly forging into her, pleasure
wracking his body.
I’m in trouble
, he thought, and didn’t care.
He returned to her mouth, hips pistoning harder and faster when
she wrapped her legs around his waist, her inner muscles demanding movement,
surrender—and he gave both.
The vise-tight clamp when she came was all the trigger he
needed for ecstasy to scorch through his dick, whiting out everything else but how
good it felt to be with Madison.
He didn’t want to pull out, didn’t want to separate, though
he did when her legs fell away from his waist.
He rolled off, instantly hating the feel of the condom on
his dick.
He got rid of it, grateful for a trashcan in reach so he
didn’t have to leave the bed. He liked being with her. Already he liked it too
much, more than was smart though the time for self-preservation had come and
gone—at least when it came to her.
He stretched out on his side next to her, tugged the sheet
upward to their waists.
Remembering what had brought him to the bedroom, he brushed
his mouth across her bare shoulder. “Tell me about the nightmare.”
Madison’s heart fluttered. She’d never even told her
bandmates in Miami about that day.
Tyler kissed his way to her lips, her mouth parting,
clinging to his as if he’d become the ultimate source of comfort.
“Tell me,” he murmured.
She couldn’t deny him. Didn’t want to, and so she told him
about the day Elijah died.
Her throat felt raw at the end.
Tyler wiped her tears away with his fingers.
“I used to wake up screaming
No!
at least three or
four times a night,” he said. “And the nights I didn’t, I’d wake up with my
face pressed against a wet pillowcase.”
“What was the nightmare?”
“It was about the day my brother OD’d. In it I’m running,
looking for him. It goes on for hours. Me searching every place I can think of,
then finally I find him, at a playground we used to go to. He’s totally
unresponsive. I can’t tell if he’s alive or dead. I’m frantic, trying to get
help. Only when help comes, the one cop looks at the other, shakes his head and
says it’s too late.”
“It happened that way?”
“Yes.” He leaned over her.
His mouth descended, his lips offering comfort, not the
oblivion of sex. And hers offered the same, their kisses only slowly becoming
more, the covering of her body with his, the slide of his bare cock into her,
filling her, a shudder going through both of them at the intimacy.
There was no retreat from it.
Her fingers combed through his hair, roamed over his back,
hugged him to her. His first thrust led to another and another. To a faster,
harder rhythm met by the squeeze and release of inner muscles. To the build of
pleasure and then to an explosion of it.
And looking into his eyes in the aftermath, arms and legs
and channel tightening on him instead of releasing, she knew she was in
trouble, that already walking away would be hard.
Madison woke snuggled against Tyler, her arm across his
chest as he lay on his back, her thigh across his as if laying claim to him.
Her heart fluttered. The last time she’d woken up in a
position like this was with Elijah. And until last night, he’d been the only
person she’d ever had unprotected sex with.
Her fingers curled against the desire to trace Tyler’s
collarbone, his sharp cheek bones, the ridge of his nose and perfect lips.
What was she going to do about him? About this? About Shane?
Home was Richmond. Her parents needed her. And since leaving
Miami she could barely consider herself a struggling musician, much less
someone who’d finally achieved success and could let things get serious with a
man—or men.