Spectacular Rascal: A Sexy Flirty Dirty Standalone Romance (14 page)

“Fuck you,” she gasps, her words transforming to a tortured groan as I resume my whisper-soft assault on her body.

My hands smooth up her sweat damp skin to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers as I continue to lick and tease and suck, driving my tongue inside her far enough to make her wild, but no further. I pin her legs to the mattress with my upper arms, relishing the feel of her muscles straining against mine as she bucks and twists and tries every dirty trick in the book to get me to give her more. But I refuse to give in. I focus on her taste and her heat and how perfect it feels to have her pinned beneath me, spread wide for my mouth, mine to torture and pleasure and worship.

I ignore the racing of my pulse and the leaden weight in my balls and my throbbing, miserable, wretchedly hard cock. Every cell in my body is howling that this is insanity, that playing power games with Cat isn’t worth this level of pain and suffering, but I silence the voice of weakness and fight to stay in the moment. I focus on the way her body blooms beneath me, the flush between her legs darkening her sex, her breasts swelling in my palms as I make love to her with my hands. My attention narrows to the slide of her soft skin against my arms as I press against her thighs with a rhythmic pulse, mimicking the way my body will push her into the mattress when I’m finally able to fuck her.

God, I have to fuck her soon.

I need her so much. I’m so desperate, so ready, so wild for her that it takes a few minutes for me to notice that she’s letting forth a soft, steady stream of curse words, calling me every dirty name in the book and a few I’m pretty sure she’s making up on the spot.

But by that point, I can barely make sense of her words. I can’t make sense of anything but her scent and her taste and the bliss of her hands fisting in my hair with a desperation that echoes through my entire body. All I can think about is how much I need to replace my mouth with my dick and ride her into orgasm after orgasm, to fuck her until we’re both bruised with the force of our pleasure. But I didn’t come this far to turn back now. I’m going to have what I need, what we both need, even though a part of me is certain my damned cock is going to fall off if we keep this up too much longer.

Red isn’t the only stubborn cuss in this room. I am every bit as stubborn and determined and insane as she is. So I wait and suffer and twist in the hot wind of a lust unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire godforsaken life, until finally I hear Red begin to sob.

“Please, Aidan, please,” she begs, sucking in a ragged breath. “I’ll do anything you want, say anything you want. I’ll get down on my knees and beg you right now if that’s what it takes, but please, fuck me. Please!”

I drive my tongue deep in her dripping, swollen pussy, groaning as the salty heat of her envelopes me and I realize I am seconds away from having her, from being buried balls-deep inside this paradise between her legs.

“I’m going to die if you don’t.” She bucks into my mouth as I fuck her with my tongue, driving the rigid muscle deeper with each bob of my head. “I’m going to die, and I don’t want to die, not without having you inside me. It’s all I want, Aidan, please! God, please!”

Her voice cracks as she begins to sob harder and some primitive part of me realizes that’s my cue. I surge up over her, slamming my mouth against hers, kissing her with the taste of her arousal still thick on my tongue as my cock finds her entrance and glides home, driving forward all the way to the end of her without a single hitch.

And it’s so perfect, so right, like we’ve made love a hundred times. A thousand. It’s like the combination lock on a secret room deep inside me has clicked into place, the door swinging open to reveal my true purpose.

All this time my cock has spent fucking other women, or hanging out against my thigh, or sweating next to my balls as I do dumb shit like run naked across the Brooklyn Bridge has just been a way of biding his time until he found the place where he’s always belonged—between Red’s thighs. Sheathed inside her. Held in the most perfect embrace ever dreamed up by whatever benevolent force gave human beings the capacity for pleasure like this.

She is so good. So damned fucking good.

And this is the rightest thing I’ve ever done without clothes on. I want to slow down and make it last, but we’re both so wild I can’t do anything but take her. Take her hard, take her deep, take her without a thought more eloquent than “yes, mine, now, mine, mine, fuck yes, mine” as she bucks into my thrusts, giving as good as she gets.

I don’t think about showing off the tricks I’ve learned with other lovers, I don’t think about all the things I wanted to prove to her when we started this. All I think about is getting closer, closer, until there is nothing between her soul and mine but a few layers of pulsing skin.

And when I look into her eyes, I realize how very stupid I was to push her away. I spent years stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that the perfect-for-me girl was right under my nose and even more years convincing myself that the recollection of feeling effortlessly at home in a certain redhead’s company were just idealized memories. They were moments frozen in time that my mind insisted were perfect because they were in the past, never to be recaptured again.

But maybe I was wrong.

“Yes,” she says, as if she can read my mind, looking up at me with tears shining in her eyes as she chants, “Yes, yes. Oh, yes.”

And I know exactly what she means.

Yes to more of this unbelievable pleasure. Yes to unguarded moments when there is nothing to fear and nothing to prove.

Yes to long days and longer nights and months and years or however long we can hold on to this because there is nothing better than realizing that everything you’ll ever need is already in your arms.

“You feel so good, Aidan,” she whispers against my lips, her fingernails digging into the mounds of my ass as she urges me closer, deeper, faster. “I’m so close. So close.”

“Yes, come for me. Come for me,” I pant, breath catching as her pussy locks down around my cock, squeezing me so tight my heart skips a beat.

I fight to hold back, to keep going so I can make her come again, but the feel of her molten heat gripping me tight is more than I can take. I come with a deep cry wrenched from the center of my chest, a pained, pleasured sound that echoes through the room as my balls clench and my cock jerks hard inside her pussy.

“God!” she cries out, her hips bucking hard enough to lift me several inches into the air. “Again. Oh God, I’m coming again.”

“Fuck, I can feel you. You’re so tight,” I groan, rocking my hips, letting the curve do its work against her G-spot as I continue to come so hard it feels like the muscles in my lower body are being shredded by the force of my orgasm.

But I’m not going to complain. If I’ve pulled a muscle fucking Red, it will be the best injury ever, one I will brag about for years to come.

Finally, after riding the wave, coming and coming for longer than I’d realized the male orgasm could last, Cat and I finally lie still, our bellies pulsing against each another as we catch our breath. We’ve fucked our way to the far corner of the bed from where we started, sent the comforter sliding off the other side, and managed to knock every pillow to the floor, but I don’t remember when any of that happened.

I was too lost in her.
Found
in her.

The cheese factor of the thought would usually send a sour taste flooding through my mouth, but right now it just feels true. I haven’t felt this good after sex in years. There is no awkwardness or distance, just the sense of being where I’m supposed to be, with someone I can trust. It’s fantastic, and I finally understand why some of my friends preach the holy gospel of the fuck buddy. There’s a lot to be said for hot sex with a good friend. A whole lot.

“Damn,” she whispers as I roll to one side and lie facing her on the mattress, admiring how pretty she looks with her cheeks flushed red from fucking me. “Shit.”

My lips curve as I brush the hair from her face. “Damn and shit?”

“Damn and shit,” she says, breath rushing out as she grins. “That was amazing. I came so hard my toes are still numb.”

My smile widens. “And that’s something to cuss about?”

“Yes! Absolutely.” She nods seriously. “Because now that you know you’re the best I’ve ever had, you’re going to get an even bigger head than you have already. You’ll be completely insufferable.” She sighs. “I was really hoping you would be like stinky cheese.”

“Stinky cheese,” I echo, because my brain still isn’t anywhere close to fully functional. I may have actually fucked some of my brains out. And it was one hundred percent worth it.

Her tongue sweeps out to dampen her lips. “You know. Overpriced and overrated and it leaves an unpleasant aftertaste unless consumed with ridiculously expensive wine.”

I let my palm skim down her ribs to her waist and fold my fingers over the curve of her hip. “You did not hope that I was like stinky cheese. You wanted it to be good. But it was so much better than good.”

“It was,” she says with a happy sigh.

“That was the best I’ve ever had, too.” I’m so fresh from being open and defenseless I don’t even think about holding back. “I had no idea it could be like that.”

“Well, thank you.” Her muscles tighten beneath my fingers. “I do a lot of Kegels.”

I lift my gaze to hers, blinking fast as I see that the vulnerable Cat I was making love to a few minutes ago has vanished, replaced by a Cat who watches me with a wary look even as her lips curve in another grin.

“You know, Kegels, right? The exercises that make your—”

“I know what they are,” I cut in. “I wasn’t talking about that. I mean, yes, your pussy is amazing, but—”

“And your dick is a revelation,” she says with an enthusiasm that should be flattering, but for some reason isn’t. “I can now testify that Curved for her Pleasure isn’t just an excellent Dasher name. It’s scientifically sound. I wasn’t sure I had a G-spot until a few minute ago, but that was…completely incredible.” She rolls onto her back, squinting up at the ceiling, as if she expects the secrets to the G-spot to be written on the blades of her fan. “I didn’t know an orgasm could feel like that, like it’s turning you inside out but you’re loving every minute of it.”

“Well, good.” I sit up, smoothing my hand down both sides of my face, taming my beard into something resembling submission. “I’m glad it was good for you, too.”

And I am. I don’t need her to tell me that she felt the safe, home, this-is-so-right feeling, too. I’m pretty sure she did—though she might never admit it—and that’s good enough.

Is it? Really?

How
right
can it be if she’s not willing to talk about anything but Slot A and Tab B?

Maybe she felt jack shit, jackass. Maybe you’re the only one floating around in a big soggy vat of your own feelings.

“Can I use your shower?” I clear my throat, deciding it’s time to get the soggy feelings stuffed back under the hood where they belong. “According to a very bad man I met today, I apparently smell terrible.”

She humphs as she reaches out to squeeze my arm. “Of course you can, but you don’t smell terrible. You smell wonderful, like an Aidan who’s been eating pussy, which is probably one of the most incredible smells in the world.”

I glance over my shoulder at her, smiling at her stern expression. “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.”

“I take smell very seriously,” she says with a straight face. “I’ve always loved the way you smell.”

“Thanks.” I lean over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be right back.” I slide off the bed and cross the room naked, heading for the entrance to the bathroom.

She loves the smell of me and confessed that I’m the best she’s ever had. What more can a man expect from an old friend he hasn’t seen in years and has only been back in contact with for one very strange, very stressful day?

Nothing.

I have no right to expect or want anything more, but as I step into the shower and start the water, I can’t help wishing our walls had stayed down long enough for me to find out if Red might consider making this thing between us about more than hot sex and business. Maybe we could become fuck buddies, the way we should have years ago. Maybe even something more…

“She’s getting out of a terrible relationship with a psychopath, and you’ve never made a relationship last more than a few months,” I mumble to the water spraying over my face. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

It does. But that doesn’t make me want it—or her—any less.

CHAPTER TWENTY

From the note and text archives of

Curved for her Pleasure and Polka Dot Panties

Dear Panties,

Let’s talk about your ass, and how it wasn’t at conditioning for the past two weeks, or at our last Dash on Saturday. Add to this the fact that you haven’t responded to my texts, or been seen getting your nerd on in the library, or loading up a giant soup bowl at the frozen yogurt machine in the cafeteria, and a few of us have started to worry.

If I’m on your shit list for some reason, please make contact with someone else in the club as soon as possible and let us all know that you’re okay.

Pissy Toes and Back End Bonus are especially worried since they haven’t heard from you, either, and apparently, unbeknownst to the dick-possessing members of the club, the three of you have a secret, girls-only conditioning run every Monday night, followed by beer, pizza, and chick flicks.