by Natalie Wrye
A passion that won’t burn out.
Especially when Sevin lifts his hands up my skirt, exposing my half-naked ass.
A red flame fans down my skin as the ridiculously sexy baseball player drops to his knees. And me? I’m shaking on mine.
I’m barely able to keep standing as Sevin reaches for my high heels, removing each solitary one from my feet, his fingers sliding over my ankle.
I bite into my lip as his slightly rough palms rise first to my calves then to my knees. I’m wetter than I ever imagined when he puts each calloused hand on my thighs, positioning them against glass.
Prying them open for the view, his voice is a raspy caress. As tenderly rough as his touch, it brushes against the softness at my hip as he lifts my skirt.
He takes a bite of the exposed skin, and I swear I come, the combination of his voice and fingertip strokes driving me insane.
A sound I don’t recognize comes out of my mouth, my need turning my words to mush. I can barely speak as Sevin talks to me, showering my very skin with every tantalizing thought in his sexy mind.
He mutters between my thighs, soaking me further.
“There is no one but you, Emily. There will be no one but you. I need you to know that.” His deep voice rumbles across the cloth of my disheveled skirt. “Your awful music is the one I want to suffer through. Your loud laughter is the one I want to hear.”
His fingers reach my panties, revealing the emblem printed there. “It’s your Bugs Bunny underwear I want to put in my mouth, kitten. And only yours.”
He reaches his hands up to my bra, unclasping it. I lift my shoulders, watching the cotton and lace fall, and in seconds, I am nearly naked before Sevin’s touch, my nipples hard and red as I stare down at him, on his knees, his stare washing and worshiping over my body.
And I’ve never felt so sexy.
So wanted. So cared for.
“I wish you could feel what you do to me, kitten. I wish you could feel my hardness right now.” He pushes up farther on my skirt, unveiling more of my panties. “But right now I’ll settle for showing you how you make me feel.” He hesitates. “Poor Bugs Bunny.” He runs a finger over my wet slit. “Poor fucker never knew what he had coming the second I saw you in these.”
And then he plunges his tongue over it, taking the fabric and my sex into his mouth.
I explode right on the spot.
I should feel ashamed. Every ounce of me knows it.
But there’s no shame in Sevin’s ministrations, no slowing of his tongue’s strokes.
The man doesn’t know the meaning of embarrassment. And in seconds neither do I, as I thrust my palms against the wall’s glass, attempting to stay upright.
Sevin devours me through my underwear as if it weren’t even there, and I don’t hesitate to wonder what damage he could do if they weren’t.
His tongue is just as insistent, prodding through the thin cotton. His mouth moves with playful pressure, and in a matter of moments, I am reaching towards my peak again, ignoring the unbelievable amount of wetness visible through my panties.
I pull at Sevin’s hair, trying to get him to stop. I inexplicably fail as his fingers join the fray.
He dips them under the Bunny fabric before removing my underwear completely, flinging the tiny garment across the floor.
“I don’t believe I said I was done with you yet, kitten.” He removes his mouth, scolding me. “At least not yet. There’s plenty more orgasms where the first one came from, and if you don’t let me finish this second one, I can’t promise that I’ll be any kinder with the third or fourth.”
He chuckles as I shift on my feet, needing release.
“There won’t be a third or fourth orgasm,” I pant. “Not if I slip into a coma. I can barely stand while you’re doing that, and if you don’t get me off my feet, I am really going to give you a bad review on the MyNeighbor app.”
He glances up at me, his green eyes hard. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. I’d even get Mrs. Headley involved.”
“You mean that mean old neighbor who makes grandma’s cookies sound dirty?” He snorts. “Hell, ‘The Headley’ would probably be proud of you if you report this to the rest of the building. Sounds like the sort of sex that’s right up her alley.”
“Please.” I manage to laugh at last. “I’d rather not hear about anything that ‘goes up her alley.’ I’d be scarred for life.”
And Sevin chuckles.
Even in the midst of sex, he’s still the man I love to laugh with. And when he rises to his feet again, all dark hair and muscles and full, sensuous mouth, I almost beg him to drop to his knees again.
He’s a little less dangerous, kneeling below my level. But at this height, towering over me, tall enough to cover his entire body over mine, I’m overwhelmed by his sheer sex appeal, the effortlessly cool confidence that comes with being one of the most famous athletes in the world.
And he’s all mine.
At least for the foreseeable future.
He wraps his hands around to my bare ass, hoisting me up. Naked with the exception of my skirt-lined waist, I cling to every inch of Sevin, wrapping my legs around him.
The jokes are gone as we walk to the bedroom, and even in the near-dark, I can see the emotion in his pine-green eyes, the utter adulation as he spreads me on top of his cool thousand-thread sheets, his stare meeting mine.
He watches me for several long seconds, before reaching for his own clothes.
He removes his shirt, tossing it to the floor, and I marvel at his marble-like body, swallowing roughly as his jeans join the shirt along with his shoes.
I can barely keep myself from shaking, gazing at the erection underneath his perfectly fitted black boxer-briefs. I sink my nails into the sheets to regain control.
“Wow,” I breathe, knowing no other word for him.
“What?”
“You are perfect. Literally perfect. How are you not made out of clay?”
“A week and a half ago, I wasn’t made out of anything but ‘asshole and arrogance.’ I saw the public messages on the MyNeighbor app.”
I smirk. “You were spying on me?”
“I like to call it ‘doing research.’ I was trying to figure out why the woman I’d met in the elevator wouldn’t respond to my own messages. What I found was some pretty damning evidence…that I hadn’t tried hard enough to get in your Bugs Bunny panties.” He walks closer. “My apologies.”
My smile widens at he reaches the edge of his ginormous mattress, his green eyes fixing me to the spot. I sit up. “After that performance against the glass in your living room, trust me: You’re forgiven. Now, get over here, please.”
The plea is more than enough. Sevin doesn’t hesitate to join me on the bed.
But the pace at which he positions himself over my body is maddening, and I can’t stop squirming on the bed, eager to have all of him inside me as soon as possible.
My breath is heavy by the time he reaches me, his arms over mine, his handsome face close.
“Are you trying to drive me crazy at this rate? I’m having a little trouble here waiting.”
“Patience.” He smiles, reaching over to the nightstand. “Patience, my delectable little kitten. You’re worse than Charlie.”
“Always nice to be compared to an eight-year old.” I roll my eyes as his hand makes it to the top drawer. He opens it painstakingly slow.
“I’ve been waiting to make you mine for longer than I thought I can stand. I just want to relish in this moment for a little while longer, knowing that every minute was worth the wait.” He grabs a foil packet from inside. “I always knew you were worth it.”
The admission makes me melt. I finally fall silent.
No longer eager to have Sevin erase my anxiousness with hurried speed, I allow myself to enjoy this moment. To enjoy the addicting sensation of sealing a deal with Sevin in a very different way than I have with any client before.
We were going to make lo
ve. And it was going to mean something.
All the jerk-offs and Jason’s of the world had brought me to this moment, and I know with everything in my buzzing body, with every fiber of my sexually inexperienced being, that I am totally and wholeheartedly falling in love with this man.
An athlete. A neighbor. A client.
Maybe even a single father.
I’ve broken too many of my rules to give a damn. And though the thought brings tears to my eyes, I manage to hold them back just as my fingers find the edge of Sevin’s expensive boxer briefs, ready to sink my hands beneath.
I gaze up at him, my eyes questioning. Sevin only smiles back, his amused expression his answer to everything passing between us unsaid.
He lifts a dark eyebrow. “My, my, you turned out to be much more than just a cartoon freak after all, Miss Armand.”
“You have no idea.”
I pull at Sevin’s sexy underwear, and he helps me send them sailing across the room. Tearing at the foil packet with his teeth, he positions himself over my mostly naked body before sheathing himself.
He stares into my eyes, asking permission, and when I nod, he plunges into me, showering me with the sweetest ecstasy a noodle-loving, nineties-music head has ever known.
And I’m convinced: If Sevin Smith is chaos, then I’ve just become an anarchy convert.
I cling to his shoulders.
Chapter 23
SEVIN
Saturday night
I was right; no rock record I have on vinyl can compare to a night with Emily Armand.
And it’s not even close.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve “made love.” It’s been years.
Following in my fellow teammates’ footsteps, I had once lost myself to the destruction of life in the limelight. Used booze, baseball and women to forget the heartache that had plagued my soul the moment the woman I loved proved she didn’t want to be with me.
I was lost then.
I’ve been lost ever since.
But with just a week and a half with the gorgeous brunette, you could consider me found.
Taking the pretty little lawyer to bed was one thing. But the moments we shared, the private messages, the small touches and big revelations have only shown me that it was never just about conquering the woman in the elevator.
If anything…she had conquered me.
And even now splayed against my pristine white sheets, her body pressed beneath mine on the soft bed, I know, without a doubt in my mind, that she is still the one in control.
My guard is down again. With Charlie. With Emily. Completely.
And for once in my life, it’s not scary as hell anymore. In fact, it’s fucking invigorating.
Almost as invigorating as when I slide my hardened cock into the recesses of Emily’s tight body, sheathing myself in her soaking sex. She gasps the second her body gives way, fitting around me in a way so perfect it seems unreal.
I close my eyes from the sheer pleasure, loving nothing more than the sensation of being inside Emily’s pussy.
I kiss the edge of her neck as I stroke, hoping I haven’t hurt her. She’s so fucking tight.
“Fuck, kitten, are you okay?”
“I’m a lot of things…” she pants, as I pump. “But ‘just okay’ isn’t one of them.”
I bite her skin. “Is that good or bad?”
“Please. Don’t make me say it. Speaking…” she huffs, her eyes clenched in ecstasy. “Is very hard right now.” Her defenses break, and a whimper so needy falls from her full mouth that I can’t stop myself from capturing it. I kiss her lips.
“I’ll take that as a ‘very good.’” I smile as she nods her head emphatically.
Her dark hair is still in that tight sophisticated ponytail, remnants of her business side. I reach down to pull the ponytail tie loose when I have a better idea, lifting my body from hers mid-stroke.
A moan escapes off her tongue, and before I can break down and suck on its pink tip, I pull Emily up on the mattress, positioning her to flip on all fours.
Like the obedient kitten she’s suddenly become, she lets me, sighing as I situate myself behind her, my hand wrapped around her ponytail tightly enough to tug.
I kiss the middle of her back, wrapping the other hand around her middle, my cock poised at her soaking entrance.
“Hold on, kitten. This is going to be a different type of ride.”
And it is. From the moment I stroke into her.
Emily cries out loud, a sexy sound that’s more music to my ears than any Jim Morrison. Her pussy walls grip me.
I slide her bare ass back and over my cock, and as I pump her, pulling on that silky ponytail, I revel in the symphony of her moans.
Those little noises she makes when I hit the right spots. The guttural groans she gives when I swirl my hips.
God, she feels amazing.
And I don’t hesitate to tell her.
“I’ve never felt anything better than you, babe. God, Emily, you are so fucking amazing.”
She whimpers in response, a chorus of “Oh fuck’s” spinning off her tongue in hushed tones. My name is a prayer and a curse on her mouth.
“Sevin,” she breathes, as her face sinks towards the mattress. “You…Ohhh. God…”
I continue stroking, tugging harder on her hair, loving the feel of it between my fingers. “Careful, kitten. I might like being in the same breath as God a little too much.”
But she’s too busy moaning to respond, and through the strokes and tugging and teeth and tongue and love bites on the small of her back, I can feel Emily’s pussy tighten around me, clenching to signal her coming climax.
And just as she begins to come, I stroke a hand over her delectably tight backside, touching the pucker between her cheeks, and her orgasm hits us both with the intensity of a tidal wave, pulsing with an exquisite pressure that pulls my own climax out of me.
I come inside Emily seconds later, bringing my adorable brunette to tears. She slumps to the bed.
I’d join her. But I’m still hard.
Even after coming in the most intense orgasm of my life, just the sight of her spent on my mattress keeps my cock as rigid as chiseled stone.
Her hair is messy, all over her head, her business skirt still wrapped around her waist.
Her legs are slightly parted and the vision of the slick skin between them is enough to make me want to take her again.
Stalking over her, I press a chaste kiss to the back of her damp neck and she groans into the sheets, her skin humming as I hover over her sated form.
Her voice is muffled.
“I wasn’t prepared for that,” she comments. “Nothing could have prepared me for that.”
I grin. “I told you I wouldn’t be any kinder with the third orgasm.” I pull on her legs propping them up.
I shift back on my heels. “Now let me show you how unkind the fourth one can be.”
Emily can barely make out another word before I bury my face under her backside. Opening her pussy lips for my view, I take my time this go-around.
With no Bugs Bunny as a barrier, I show my little Emily the meaning of being a freak. Fortunately, for the both of us, the fur fits.
I plunge my tongue into her pussy, sucking to my heart’s delight until finally she falls asleep, entangled in my arms.
EMILY
Sunday morning
The morning light is bright when I wake up in Sevin’s arms.
I’ve never felt so warm and comfortable in my life, and though the man easily outweighs me by nearly a hundred pounds, I relish in the feel of waking up with his limbs draped over mine.
His pelvis is solid, pressed into my backside. And as I start to shift under the sheets, I catch the sexiest hint of his natural scent. That cedar-like smoky scent that emanates flawlessly from his skin, reminding me once again that the man is perfect.
But then again, so was the sex.
It’s on my mind from the second I open my eyes. But so i
s my post-coital “confession time” with Sevin last night, where we laid—well into the wee hours of the morning—in his gigantic King-sized bed discussing Kimmy, Finley, our careers and everything that led us to this point.
We bared it all.
It broke my heart to hear him recount their betrayal. It broke my heart to have been part of it.
Even last night, my Charlie-Finley secret was still scorching a scarlet “A” on my chest for being such an asshole.
And despite my guilt after everything, Sevin forgave me, offering me a peek at the sainted soul beneath the baseball jersey, opening himself up and unearthing the deepest parts of himself underneath his luxury bedroom sheets.
He shared the memories he’d once believed were best buried, the bad decisions that had tainted his youth.
Sevin was right…
Last night, he buried himself so deep inside of me that he had disappeared completely.
Mr. Elevator Man—the arguably self-centered, emotionally unsure, former playboy athlete I’d met inside those steel double doors—was dead.
And this morning, I wiggle awake to the completely new Sevin—the unsheathed and open one. The one who showed me how to trust again.
I wonder to myself if the reborn Sevin sleeping quietly beside me knows that he’s sexed me—the old me—back to life and love. But I don’t have to wonder for long.
I’m made aware of the answer to the question on my mind when I feel the sensation of circling around my nipples.
I look down to find his lengthy digits drawing spirals around my areolas, slow, tickling touches that make me wet all over again.
I don’t even turn to look at him when I speak, a smile creeping its way onto my face.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Mr. Smith.”
“Miss Armand.” His voice is sleepy and rough, raspy still from fading fatigue, and I wish I could see his face. “How are you this morning?”
“Fantastically sore.” I glance over my shoulder. “And loving it. I lost sensation in my legs that fifth go-around, but I really recovered some strength after the sixth.” I grin. “And how are you?” I gaze into his handsome face. “Morning treating you any better than the night?”