My pussy clenches in sensory memory. Once that bit has wedged its way in, my cunt starts to feel like a competitive eater after his eightieth hot dog.
And at that point, my thumbs stay in the exact same place and I begin to massage that very point. Jenna calls this edging, although that isn’t my intention. Well, maybe just to tease a little.
Pre-cum has soaked the glans, already. I use the moisture against him, letting my fingers trail up and down his shaft, gently, almost tickling. Learning each and every vein, rubbing it and giving it a bit of treatment before returning to the head of his cock and loving it.
The mushroom-shaped tip starts to throb and seeing it, my pussy softens, melting almost with the need to have that thick rod inside me.
Not yet.
Knowing he’s on the brink of cumming, I bring a halt to my play and start to move toward him and ultimately settle at his groin. I spread my legs so they’re as wide as I can comfortably stretch and with his cock down the central line of my cunt, I rock my hips.
His back immediately arches, the tendons in his neck flaring, the muscles in his belly rippling as he grunts out, “Fuck that feels good.”
He isn’t kidding.
Even with the cloth of my short shorts separating us, it feels intense, so fucking good it should be illegal. The friction of the fabric is both a pleasure and torture. Had the room not been damned hot already, steam would have started to mist it up.
As it is, the temperature is like standing next to a geyser. The atmosphere feels as pressurized as that too, and the air conditioner can’t keep up.
Beneath me and between my thighs, Nate is tense. I can see each and every muscle straining against the simple rub of my covered sex against his bare one.
I continue with the gentle movement, teasing myself and him. Sweat beads my brows, drips down between my breasts, and is only caught by the damp fabric of my demi-cup bra. Maintaining the rocking motion, I cross my arms at the waist and drag the camisole top I’m wearing over my head.
The sight of my slim body makes Nate hiss.
With any guy, I’d feel uncomfortable revealing myself. My body confidence isn’t all that huge. When you’ve got the Next Top Model as your best friend and another who’d make Marilyn Monroe jealous, it’s easy to feel overshadowed. Even cocksure me.
But never with Nate.
He doesn’t see the flaws.
The pointy bones and ribs show through my flesh no matter how much I eat. I wish I were curvy, feminine instead of boyish. But he never complains. He just sees me and likes the little there is of me.
My hands move around to my back and I make to release the catch of my bra, but he grabs my wrist and stops me. Shrugging, I return my grip to about his waist and shudder when his fingers peel down the cups of the bra and provide a shelf for the meager offerings of my breasts. The dexterity of his prosthetic is surprising and having grown accustomed to just the one set of fingers plying my body with sensation, to have both nipples teased and tugged simultaneously has my back arching, head flying back with the deliciousness of his touch, and a hiss whistling through my teeth.
The perfectly timed pinches send bolts of fire down to my already molten-hot pussy, and the act stirs me into motion.
From my kneeling position, I bolt upright and away from the pleasure-pain pinch of his fingers. Once standing, I proceed to peel down my short shorts to the sight of a bemused if satisfied Nate.
When I’m naked, save for my tangled and mangled bra, I return to my earlier position. This time, as bare flesh hits bare flesh, the pair of us share a long, low groan. I spread my pussy lips, surround his shaft with the clinging petals, and once again, continue with my rubbing motion.
I rock until my hips ache and my thighs are wincing with the abuse, but I don’t care. This is slow torture for both of us and somehow, it’s just what the doctor ordered. A way to reconnect, to come together again after such a long time apart.
I hiss every time his drenched glans nudges my clit and he grunts, when on the backward rock, his cock almost finds its way inside me.
I can’t say how long I tortured us both, all I know is I turned myself mindless. I become nothing more than a rutting madwoman using the cock between my legs for my own pleasure. All the while knowing that the cock doesn’t belong to a stranger, but to a man who means too much to me, and who is being driven as crazy as I am.
I was dragged out of the odd trance, a stasis that had my pussy so slick with juices it was like lube had been poured over my sex. I was too far-gone to give a damn or to be in anyway embarrassed. Hard hands suddenly gripped my hips and forced me to stop the endless rocking. The instant I was back in business, my head no longer spaced with the sheer gut-wrenching pleasure of being at one with Nate, I buried my nails deep into the muscle-ridged expanse of his belly. He didn’t let that stop him though.
Within seconds, I’m riding his head. His show of strength fills me with arousal and I let him position me, as my brain ponders if what he’s just done was physically possible. Then, I stop giving a shit, because he stops rearranging me and lets me just sit there.
Dazed, I hover, both awaiting the next touch and dreading it. I’m too sensitive. I know it and my pussy knows it.
Inches away from Nate’s mouth and nose, I know my scent, the most intimate part of me, is likely to be filling his senses. I should be embarrassed at the idea; instead, it just ratchets up my need a little more.
As I breathe, my body naturally moves. Only inches, hardly at all, but it’s enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble against my most sensitive parts. With each faint grate of coarse hair against the tender lips of my sex, I quiver.
It’s immense, intense.
The sensations rattling through me are turbo-charged, so Christ knows what the tug and suck of his lips will do.
With each slow release of his breath, I begin to shudder. The hot and cold gusts of air shoot me right to the edge until I screech, “Do it, Nate. For God’s sake, do it.”
Driven to the edge, he can hear the desperation bleeding out of me and he does exactly what I wanted.
The screech of seconds before seems low-pitched in comparison to the shriek that escapes me now.
His lips pull my clit between their soft pillowing flesh, and he tugs. Then sucks, and then licks.
The rhythmic trio is a series of actions invented to break my sanity.
My hands claw at the air, wafting about, unsure of what to do, where to settle to calm the raging beast of my arousal. Eventually, I rest them on my head and pull at my hair as numbing heat singes my very soul.
On a lick, I explode. And Nate takes advantage. His tongue flutters down to the opening of my sex and he rims it with the pointy end of the slick muscle.
Had I been seeing stars before, now with the sounds of his slurping filling my ears as he licks my cream, and the faint sting of my hair-tugging roiling around my system, I’m at St Peter’s pearly gates. Because nowhere else could possibly be this beautiful.
Before I have the chance to join the long queue, I’m dragged back to Earth. But it isn’t a disappointment, because in those few milliseconds, or seconds, or minutes, I don’t know which, I’ve been repositioned again.
This time, I’m on my back and Nate is where he needs to be. Right between my legs. His cock is at the entrance of my body, and even though I feel drugged in the aftermath of my heaven-sent climax, my lower body tenses slightly in preparation for Nate’s cock.
He has managed to lodge the tip of his shaft inside me and my pussy quivers and quakes about it. His hiss tells me I need to relax if I’m to accept all of him. But you fucking try to let a cock as thick as a can of soda inside you.
Especially after three months of abstinence.
His fingers retreat to my clit and as sensitive as it is, the faint massage has my pussy fluttering open a little. Something he immediately takes advantage of by forging another inch of hot, thick cock inside me.
His dexterity, once again, shocks me.
In a good way.
With his natural hand, he’s pinning one of my legs wide open, by placing his fist against the mattress to support himself so I can’t lessen the angle.
My other leg is bent at the knee and pressed to his chest. The position gives him stability and enables him to touch my pussy the way he is.
Sweat is pouring down his face. It’s killing him to go so slow, but he’s doing it for my sake. Touched, I bear down and force my pussy to release the taut grip it has on his shaft.
He takes it for the invitation it is and rams deep. A keening cry escapes me, and it isn’t the depth of his penetration that has my body arching, head pinned to the pillow in reaction – it’s the breadth. I’m pulled wide open. Spread. The thicker wedge at the base of his shaft pulls the mouth of my sex, with all its nerve endings, apart. I want to push my legs together, force him out. But my position won’t let me.
It’s only here that Nate can dominate me. Only between the bedroom walls. And he does it every time. Takes control of me and my body, takes the mantel of power away from me, until I don’t know who I am any more.
Split apart by his shaft, I rock my head from side to side and a frown crosses my brow as I try to acclimate myself to the thickness. It’s hard, literally, and I feel a sudden weight on my bent knee as he leans over and presses a kiss to my scowling forehead.
“Relax, baby,” he whispers and rotates his hips.
The softness of his voice, that slight wriggle of his cock deep inside has a whimper escaping me. Another rotation, then a slight thrust, and the scowl remains but is there for a different reason. He’s ignited me again. Set fire to the dying embers of my arousal.
Another kiss to my forehead and the pressure on my chest abates as he retreats to his earlier position. Holding his weight on one hand, he grabs one of my own and positions it between my legs.
“Touch yourself, Marina,” he grits out, and the gravel in his voice rakes down my spine.
I open my eyes and bridge a connection with his. The fire in his depths matches the one ravaging my body. As I lower my hand to my pussy, I keep the connection as I slide my fingers between the lips of my sex. Rubbing the nubbin, a deep breath whooshes out of me at the sensation surging through my bloodstream, and on the next inhalation, he pulls out.
I rub hard, frigging my clit, knowing he’s going to forge another path inside me.
And he doesn’t disappoint.
Flinging my head back, my hips rock upwards as he thrusts in, deep. As I play with my clit, he fucks me. I try to concentrate on the pleasure flooding through me, but he’s so damned thick that each thrust is borderline painful. And sick bitch that I am, that makes me all the hotter.
The next time we fuck, I’ll be prepared. It’s always tough the first time. Like my cunt can’t possibly believe his shaft is so damned huge.
The tingles of pleasure increase and keep me on edge. I open my eyes, knowing I’m nowhere near coming and watch Nate. His shoulders and biceps are straining, the veins clearly visible, and the tendons at his throat show white through his tanned skin. His eyes are hungry, staring at my clit and the fingers I’m using to tease myself. He keeps on licking his lips and from the left field, with no real indication as to why, he suddenly increases his pace. Claiming me, fucking me until the bed starts to shake against the wall. As fast as he’s going, he just stops.
Then, he starts again. Thank God.
Another hard thrust and his entire body freezes. His hips start a weird undulation and he grunts, low and long. Warmth blasts inside me and his eyelids alternate between flaring wide open and narrowing to slivers as his climax rattles through him.
Watching him, feeling him, knowing I made this gorgeous hunk come, fills me with a feminine glee. I don’t care that I didn’t climax. He saw to my needs beforehand and my arousal is on a low simmer, waiting for the next round.
And with Nate, there’s always a next time.
Chapter Five
Silence throbs through the room for a few minutes as Nate lets the pleasure of his climax settle in his soul. I raise a hand and reach for his cheek, cupping it in my warm palm for a second, waiting until his eyes pop open.
When they do, I smile at him. “Hey.”
The greeting is inane, but it makes him grin. “Haven’t we already done this part?”
I wink at him. “Yeah, but now the tension’s gone, we can say hi properly.”
Releasing my hold on his jaw, I raise both arms overhead and stretch. Nate watches and the wriggling of my small breasts has his cock twitching inside me. My brow cocks up and I ask, “Already?”
He grins again. “No way. Give a guy a chance.”
“Oh, you’ll have plenty of chances tonight. I promise you.”
“Sure bet, are you?”
I stick out my tongue at him. “The best kind.”
His smile turns a little serious as he pulls away to release my bent leg from its tight compression against his chest. I grab a hold of his butt to maintain the weakening connection of our sexes and he nods, silently telling me he understands. He maneuvers so that we’re still joined, but my legs are free. He settles all of his weight atop me and rests his forearms either side of my head so that our faces are only a few inches away from the other.
“Did you really mean it, when you said you were coming to the ranch?”
There’s a vulnerability to his voice I hadn’t expected, but I don’t mention it, simply nod. “Yeah. But that’s something I want to talk about in the morning.” I smile up at him, to take the sting of my words away and continue, “You surprised the hell out of me with your prosthetic.”
“Pretty neat, huh?” His grin is like a little boy’s. I can only imagine how much the bionic hand has improved his quality of life and soon, if he agrees it’s safe, I’ll be with him and will be able to see the difference it has made to him.
“Yeah. I didn’t expect it. Two hands, double the trouble,” I tease.
“Oh, you’ve no idea. Matt Davids had me training with it for months. You wouldn’t believe how much play dough I’ve gone through, and all the time, I’ve been thinking about…” He breaks off then bends down and presses a kiss to my lips, and then, tilts his head and brushes them against my left earlobe. “… your clit and your nipples. Thinking how hard I could make you cum with both hands to tease you.”
His breath washes over the sensitive flesh of my throat and I stutter out, “You can practice on the real thing now.”
His laugh is music to my ears. “You’re right. I can.”
Nate shifts his mouth back to my lips and for a second, he just kisses me. A simple kiss. One that makes my heart stutter a little.
He breaks the connection and murmurs, “Shall I run some water in the tub?”
I nod and watch as he tugs free of my body—his stomach rippling as he does and a faint moan escaping me at the sensation of being empty—then he leaps off the bed and strides toward the bathroom.
The muscles in his butt flex with his movements, and the pretty picture he paints has my eyes glued to him as he stalks away. The sounds of running water come from the bathroom but I lie still. Knowing what will happen if I don’t move and looking forward to it.
There are some advantages to being skinny. Yeah, clothes fit, but that’s nothing in comparison to having a man haul you about as though you were lighter than air.
Nate returns, a low whistle sounding from under his breath, and without a murmur, he returns to the bed and lifts me up. Carrying me from the bed to the bath, his hold is careful and sure, and I feel like a million dollars as he lowers me into the swiftly flooding bathtub. Seconds after being submerged in hot water, something that’s only going to cause us both heat exertion when combined with the ambient temperature of the suite, he climbs in too. Both feet in, he flicks off the faucet and then lies down beside me. Before he settles, he repositions me astride him so that my back is against his chest.
It’s a large bathroom for a hotel suite. A huge tub at one side of t
he room, a shower with way too many nozzles at the other, and the vanity and toilet behind a glass-block enclosed wall. The spotlights dazzle overhead, but there are different areas of illumination. Nate has put the lights in the toilet area on, so we’re kind of in the dark, but we can see each other.
For a moment, we just lay there. We don’t need to let the heat seep into our bones, because it’s hot enough, but still, it’s nice to just be. He reaches for my hand, and I curl my fingers into his. I do the same with the prosthetic, and I can tell he’s touched when he nuzzles his damp chin against my sweaty cheek.
“You’ve never had a problem with it, have you?” he asks, his words merely confirming my thoughts.
“No.” It’s the truth. I haven’t.
“Why is that, you think?”
I shrug and jostle the water so it ripples over us. “Growing up at the IQ Commune, you don’t really question the way people look. It’s more about the brain. You get used to thinking that way. It was only in New York, when I realized the rest of the world wasn't like that.”
He hums under his breath. “Is that when you started to get all body conscious?”
I stiffen a little in his hold, but I make the admission with no real shame. It’s the truth. In fact, it’s weird we haven’t had this conversation before, because he knows I dislike being nude, even if I’ve gradually grown accustomed to it when I’m with him.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Another hum and a kiss to my cheek. A silent prompt to tell him more.
“When I was a kid, we had this math scholar at the commune and he had a prosthetic. Nobody really gave a damn. He was John, he was bloody smart. And I mean Stephen Hawking smart. That was all that counted. I had some friends in Sheridan and I invited them over one day. They were so freaked out by him. I don’t know why. But they were.” I shrug again. “Like I said, stuff like that was never important at Blue Ridge.”
Sinfully Mastered: Naughty Nookie Page 6