by Kade, Teagan
I do my best to lever myself against him, to press my clit against the stony contours of his abs, breathing fast and heavy against him.
I don’t know when I last felt so horny, but it was a long, long time ago. Before this job. Before this life.
He lets me down and I think it’s over, but he’s still smiling.
He takes my face in his hands, one finger tilting my head to his. He stares down into my eyes before covering my mouth with his own.
And then he’s kissing me again. Like freak the fuck out, it’s on.
It’s New Year’s Eve inside my body and the party is well underway.
He’s kissing me, his tongue sweeping over my bottom lip, which makes me wonder how it would feel in, you know, other darker, more private places.
He holds my face in his hands and I realize this is more than I imagined. The awareness alone is incredible, electric.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before, such urgent intensity.
His fingers wave up into my hair, drawing me to him.
The kiss deepens and slows. He pulls away and I feel his hot breath lingering on my skin.
“How’s that?” he asks, his voice gravelly, going right to my core.
“Good,” I moan back.
I notice his eyes are dilated. I can see the reflected resolve within them, how much he wants this, how much he wants me.
My only reply is to take his face in my hands and bring him back to my mouth. There, he smiles against me, a hint of laughter.
We’re still kissing when his hands slide down my back and cup my ass again. He picks me up easily, carrying me over to the kitchen counter.
Pans and plates rattle to the floor but I don’t think either one of us notices.
I spread my legs and he comes forward against me, including something hard, and large, very large, pressing into my belly.
I’m going to guess it ain’t a flashlight.
He takes my shirt around the hem and lifts it over my head, discarding it onto the floor.
I reach behind myself and unclasp my bra as he pulls his own shirt away to reveal what can only be described as the Taj Mahal of man-chest.
His hand runs up my side until his fingers brush the underside of a breast.
I moan.
Jesus H.
Don’t do it, my head screams, finally breaking through, but I slam the door on that inner voice and bring myself back to the moment.
Automatically, my hands move to his chest and the rock-hard tessellations to be found there. He’s not just hard down below. He’s hard freakin’ everywhere.
He takes the opportunity to run a lone finger around a nipple, my back snapping forward to meet it and that sensation within me running hotter and faster with every second.
I slide a hand into the center of his chest, his heart pounding against it like a wayward hammer. It undoes him.
He plunges a hand into my hair and tilts my head back, seizing control and kissing me hard.
I slap my hands down against the counter for balance, happy to let him take the lead here.
He’s moving his hips, rocking forward against the hot crotch of my panties, pressing his iron cock against me.
With one hand he cups a breast, the other continuing to knot and pull in my hair, to hold me in place while he takes his fill of my mouth.
A shuddering breath and he’s beside my ear. “You’re making me so fucking hot right now,” he whispers, pressing his cock forward, squeezing my breast lightly. “You’re so god-damn beautiful.”
We’re panting like dogs in heat, our chests rising in falling in sync, in wait for what we both know is to come.
It’s very possible I’m being played here, especially in the hands of such a so-called sexual master, but, funnily enough, I don’t care right now. I need this.
He kisses me again, his lips making a path down my chin, my neck, soft pillows presses against my collarbone and down into the valley between my breasts.
My head falls back and I look up at a solitary lightbulb, a beacon.
His fingers are fucking everywhere, the rough touch of them bringing me to the point of insanity.
He slides down my body and I don’t know what to do.
I’m wet, so wet. I can feel it. I sense he can too.
His tongue flickers over a nipple, a brief pause to draw it inside his mouth before letting it fall, slick and warm, from his lips.
My breath hitches. I don’t know if we’re even going to get to the good part before I lose it completely.
He flicks at the nipple again and I flinch.
He looks up at me with a smile. “Too much?”
“I’m just… sensitive,” I reply, my hands slowly pushing his head down.
He takes his time.
My ex-boyfriends were the complete opposite, too busy fumbling with their dicks to ever care about my pleasure, my satisfaction. But Bobby’s no ordinary lover. I feel it with every inch of my being.
He holds my legs apart, so close to my sex now. “Tell me what to do,” he says. “I want to hear you say it.”
Talking dirty has never been a strong suit of mine, but I manage to eke out, “Make me… come?”
He smiles at that, licking his lips. “With what, do tell?”
I’m having trouble vocalizing it. “Your… mouth?”
I don’t mean to phrase it as a question, but that’s how it comes out.
“You want my mouth, do you? Where? Where do you want it?”
I look down. “On me.”
“On your clit, your pussy?”
I swallow, my mouth dry. “Yes,” I breathe out.
All the things.
A wicked grin follows, his eyes mirrored balls.
I watch his hand move to the top of my skirt, slowly dragging it down. He maintains eye contact the whole time, never letting them stray.
He begins to tug my skirt away. I lift my butt to help him.
A few seconds later and my skirt’s gone completely, only my panties standing between him and the slippery channel of my sex.
He leans forward and kisses the soft fabric, his lips hot and wet, sucking at my clit.
My voice catches, my head falling from shoulder to shoulder because this, this is way beyond anything I’ve felt before.
He pulls away panting. “You’re wet, Ms. Cole.”
I’m so lost I can’t even summon a reply, not even when he hooks a finger into the elastic of my panties and draws them down my legs.
Satisfied, he places a hand on each thigh and spreads my legs wider, my nakedness open and exposed before him.
I’m so self-conscious I could scream, but the look on his face tells me I have nothing to worry about. Further below, his cock strains against the denim of his jeans.
He’s shaking his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“What?” I ask.
“You,” he replies, rocking forward, his hot breath against my wetness and my clit throbbing with fresh sensation.
God, I want him.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
But I don’t get to respond before he’s covered my sex completely with his mouth, a finger sliding into the hot seam of my pussy.
It’s enough to lever me from the counter, but a firm hand holds me down.
His tongue brushes over my clit and I buck again, panting and struggling to breathe.
He’s driving me fucking wild.
Bobby Bear Silver is breaking me in ways I never imagined.
I don’t know why, but I reach up and cup a breast, rolling a nipple between my fingers until it’s taut, my head bouncing between that and the way Bobby’s finger is slowly fucking me below.
He adds another finger and I can’t help but rock my hips in time, wanting so desperately more of that pressure against my clit his mouth provides, to come hard against his face and lips.
Deeper, I know an orgasm is rising to the surface, climbing to meet me—the first ever. My toes curl against the cupboard, my
head throbbing in time with my clit and the whole thing fast sending me into the stratosphere.
I close my eyes. “Oh, God,” I moan, “I’m going to… to…”
I’ve never come, yet I know this is what’s building, exactly where this is headed.
He pulls away just in time, his fingers still inside me. “Not yet,” he says. “I want to be inside you when you come, feel you lose control around my cock.”
And those words alone are almost enough to bring it home.
I blink my eyes, desperate for his touch, for anything. I look down and know immediately what to do.
I push off the counter, his fingers sliding out of me, and get down onto the floor on my knees, reaching for his jeans. He helps, his briefs and jeans pulled down his legs together until his cock springs.
But saying it’s a simple cock doesn’t do it justice.
It’s a god damn totem pole.
For a moment I simply stare at it, dumbfounded.
But it’s not just his Dumbo-sized cock, it’s the whole package. Yes, I’ve seen guys with good bodies before, but Bobby’s on a whole different level. I can’t even fathom how many planks and crunches it takes to get muscles like that.
I trace my fingers up his huge thighs, searching and finally finding the hard ridges of his cock. I wrap my hand around it and it looks almost comical. I’m surprised by how hot it is, the heat his shaft is giving off, the way it twitches in my grip like a wild animal.
I look up and see that hunger in his eyes again, the intensity of it.
I lightly start to pump his cock as best I can, starting at the base and moving upwards, applying extra pressure to the glans, still unable to wrap my head around the sheer size of the thing.
“Fuck,” he moans, a staccato exhale following.
But it’s when I take him into my mouth he comes close to losing it completely, a hand against the top of my head, his hips lightly rocking back and forward to fill me.
I lick and suck, can already taste the hint of cum on his slit.
He pulls my hair away from my face, moving his cock in and out of mouth and his gaze never leaving me. I know men are visual creatures and I’m sure this is just the show he’s been looking for.
I don’t want to disappoint.
My nipples strain against my chest as I lower my head and take more of him, drawing away to suck only on the tip. I moan around him, enjoying the way his body jerks forward in reply, each time adding just a little bit more, and even then only a small percentage of the whole.
“Fuck me,” he grunts, looking down. He pulls away. “I need to be inside you. Turn around,” he commands. “Hands on the counter.”
I’m more than happy to comply, standing there naked as the day I was born while I hear him walk down to the bedroom, the tell-tale tear of a condom wrapper behind me as he sheathes himself.
I go to turn around but he pushes me forward against the counter. “Eyes forward.”
Yes, sir.
A hand comes around my throat, the lightest pressure telling me to stay exactly where I am.
He comes against me from behind, a testing finger sliding easily into my wetness. He draws it away and brings his mouth to my ear.
My whole body has turned to Jell-O. If he wasn’t behind me I’d be slumping to the floor right now.
“I’m going to fuck you now and you’re going to come around my dick. Say it.”
In choppy words, I reply, “You’re going to fuck me… now, and I’m going to come… around… your dick.”
“That’s right,” he says, using the moment to reach down and take hold of his cock, kicking my legs apart. He places the head of himself at my entrance and pauses, a hand smoothing over my ass, a murmur of satisfaction in its wake.
I gasp when he presses into me, the way I stretch to accommodate him.
He stops. “Are you alright?”
He’s big, bigger than any man I’ve had before, but I’m also wetter than ever before, confident I can take him. No, certain I can take him.
“Keep going,” I reply. “Fill me.”
So he does. He slowly runs the length of his hot cock deep inside my pussy.
I exhale in a raspy, shaky breath at the sensation, the way he’s stretching and filling every space of my sex.
One hand at my hips, the other around my throat, he draws back and levers forward harder, my clit against the edge of the counter, the pressure growing as he repeats the action.
He gives me exactly what I want, what I need, fucking and pounding and hammering into me with everything he can muster.
But he also does it with caution, carefully feeding himself into my body, adding a little bit more with each heaving thrust.
All I can do is take it, caught between the counter and the stony wall of his body, his cock deep inside me and headed further fast.
It’s more than primal. It’s raw and rough and completely new.
“Harder,” I beg him, unable to believe I’m saying the word. “Please,” I beg, completely submissive to the hulking brute behind me.
Without warning he pulls away and spins me to face him, lifting me up under the ass and setting me back down once again on the solid shaft of his cock. Suspending in the air, my arms around his neck, I lock my ankles into his back and lever against him.
The angle the position offers is incredible. Each time I fall onto his cock a flare of pure pleasure lashes out between my legs until the words that spill from my mouth no longer make sense.
His fingers dig hard into my ass, his eyes watching me with such intent I’m not sure if he wants to fuck me or devour me completely.
It builds and spirals around inside me, that intensity, rising up until I know I won’t be able to take this much longer.
I kiss him, looking for a distraction and finding it at his lips, riding him harder and faster, finding the perfect place to grind my clit against his chest.
He lets go with one hand and slaps my ass, enough for the sound to echo around the room.
He spanks me again, holding me against him easily one-handed, like I weigh nothing at all.
Pinned to his body, I’m powerless.
But it’s when he lowers his mouth, drawing in a nipple and softly sinking his teeth into the delicate skin, I’m undone.
I don’t know what to expect, but I didn’t think it would hit me so hard.
It overwhelms me, clouding my vision and senses. My head is a jumble of emotion and I cannot take any more.
I bite down hard into his shoulder as my very first orgasm hits me with all the force of a hurricane.
It’s unmistakable, I know it instinctively—a deep and profound explosion of sensation.
He fucks me through it, turning and slamming us against the wall, that framed jersey clattering to the floor.
He grunts and finds his own release, fucking to the very end of me as I continue to convulse against him.
I release his shoulder, my head spinning and mouth slack.
Our foreheads come together and we pant hard into the no man’s land between us, his cock continuing to jerk inside me.
It’s done, I think.
I’ve climaxed for the first time in my life, finally experienced the big ‘O’.
I’ve been undone by the Devil himself.
And I want more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BOBBY
I’ve got a smile on my face. I’m pretty sure if my dick had a mouth it would be wearing one too after yesterday, and last night, and this morning… Sexual appetite doesn’t seem to be an issue for Gisele, which is fine by me. I was happy for the workout.
It’s far more than that, though. Things are moving fast toward uncharted territory. The weirdest thing is that for the first time I can see beyond tomorrow with her. In fact, I can see all the way to the nuptials, the honeymoon, even kids—the whole family kit and caboodle. Just a week ago such thoughts would have seemed pure evil. I would have washed them away with a nice bottle of whiskey.
But not today.
Gisele’s sitting in the passenger seat of the Ford, one foot up on the seat, the soft skin of her thigh on show, fine hairs caught in the sunlight coming through the passenger window. She’s smiling as well, a quiet kind of smirk that hasn’t left her face all morning. She’s beyond beautiful.
I pull the truck over to the side of the road, turning off the ignition.
Gisele looks around, confused. “I’m all for a random quickie, but you don’t think we’re kind of exposed out here?”
She’s right. It’s a busy road. I point to a telegraph pole on the other side. It’s more bent than the others, sort of leaning over like it’s sick of holding position. “That’s where it happened.”
She catches up, looking out the window. “The accident?”
One hand on top of the steering wheel, I nod to myself. “Yep.”
She looks at me but it’s not with pity or sympathy but simply curiosity. “Do you come here a lot?”
I nod my head out the front windscreen. “Sometimes I’ll set up a chair on that little hill there in the trees, just drink and watch that pole, that stupid fucking pole.”
“Have you ever thought about going to see him, your friend?”
I have. I think about him every damn day, even found out where he is a couple of years back, could easily make the drive. But I haven’t. I can’t bring myself to face him after all this time, that wall growing higher and higher until it seemed insurmountable. It was tough enough coming back to this town where memories are long and people slow to forgive. “Sometimes,” I reply, “but I can’t.”
“Why not?” And she does seem genuinely curious. She deserves the truth.
“Because he’d fucking kill me,” I laugh. “Wouldn’t you? Think about it. I fucked him up for life. I could apologize all I want, but it’s not going to make him magically walk again, is it? If I could do that, I’d already be dead from turning water to wine.”
She looks back out the window, turning back to me. “It’s okay to admit you’re scared, you know. Your balls aren’t going to suddenly drop off if you do.” Her cell starts to ring, but she silences it in her pocket, maintaining eye contact. “You don’t need to cover it up.”