by Jayce Carter
He withdrew until only the tip of his shaft remained inside her, the pressure like a tease at her entrance, before he slipped back into her wet depths.
He took her with long, languid thrusts, ones that pulled back until he almost left her before taking her hard and deep again. They weren’t the frantic thrusts she’d experienced before, when Harry had jack-rabbited away on top of her and she’d winced each time. Harry had moved like he was in the running for a gold medal on fastest orgasm ever, a game Tara had always lost at.
Chris moved with purpose, as though he had all the time in the world, as if the act were more important than just getting off as fast as he could. Each time he plunged into her, his pelvic bone ground against her clit, sending more of those delicious sparks of pleasure coursing through her hypersensitive body.
“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair, his voice muffled by his position, his breathing hard. “Damn, you feel good.”
Tara rolled her hips up toward him and wrapped one leg around his hips. She clung to him, making it so his thrusts delved deeper, so he didn’t pull out as far. Fine by her. She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to lose the delicious fullness he gave her. Each retreat by him was like a loss, and her body wasn’t having any of it.
His thrusts quickened, losing their steady rhythm, their even pace. He snapped forward, fucking into her harder, faster, straining for something. It turned wild, untamed, as if his whole slow and careful rhythm of before couldn’t override how badly he needed her.
She got that, since she was reaching for the same release. Despite having already gotten off once, it wasn’t enough. Her first orgasm had been a tease, a taste, and she wanted to come again with him deep inside her. She wanted her pussy to squeeze down around his massive cock, to feel him still moving inside her as she came, as her pussy rippled around him. She met his thrusts with lifts of her own hips.
He sank his impossibly hard dick deeper into her than ever before, his body so tight against hers she could feel his heart hammering. A masculine groan left his lips, something that spoke volumes of the depth of his release. His cock seemed even thicker as he came, and the world slowed to a stop for that second.
Tara let herself go when another almost-there thrust of his hips caused him to stroke her erect clit, and she dug her nails into him when she let herself fall over the edge of bliss along with him.
Maybe this could be something real.
Chapter Six
Chris smiled as Tara ran her fingers over his chest. The touch was sweet, unsure, hesitant. The poor girl thought he was still asleep, thought she could get away with all but molesting him while he had no idea. Not that it shocked him, because she lacked confidence. He’d seen it the night before, when she’d wanted the lights off, and when she’d put herself down and how she’d do whatever she could to not be noticed. She used her humor as a shield she could hide behind. Yet, in the moments the night before, when their bodies had been tangled and he’d had her so distracted she couldn’t think about such trivial nonsense, she’d been lovely. Demanding and wanton and beautiful.
She traced his chest, her gaze intent. She hesitated around his nipple, then circled it without touching.
“You know, fondling me while I’m asleep is a strange kink.”
She jumped, yanking backward, the squeak of a caught animal leaving her when she toppled off the bed to hit the hard floor.
Before he could check on her, her head popped up over the side and apologies poured from her lips, as though she often fell out of bed. Maybe she did.
Instead of listening to that, he caught her wrist and pulled her hand back to his chest, tugging her until she rested beside him where she’d been before her less-than-graceful exit from the bed. “It’s fine. I give you permission to fondle me whenever the impulse strikes you.”
Once she was back beside him, when she relaxed and no longer seemed ready to bolt, he allowed himself the enjoyment of returning the gentle strokes.
Light came in through the sheer window covering, and even though a sheet rested over her, he still got more of a look than he had before. The fabric was thin, and it settled over her body so tightly that it revealed the basic shape, the way her hip rose up high, the sexy curve around her waist. He caressed her arm and down her side, each touch reminding him of the night before. His cock had already perked back up, ready to indulge in a repeat, to have a bit of fun. No better way to start the day off than morning sex.
Fine by Chris. Somehow, he doubted he’d tire of the unsure woman any time soon. If he had his way, he wanted to spread her out and bask in her until she saw what he saw. He wanted to lavish praise and affection on each curve of hers until she stopped worrying, until she stopped doubting herself. And if she never stopped? Well fuck, neither would he, and that seemed a pretty damned good way to go.
It made him wonder, and his words came out before he could second-guess them. “Harry seems like an asshole.”
“He is.”
“Figured as much. I mean, anyone who invites their ex to their wedding isn’t exactly a winner. That was even before I heard his little temper tantrum outside the bar. It makes me wonder, what did you see in him in the first place?”
Her sigh ran across his bare chest, warm and unhappy. “I don’t know. He was handsome, and he paid attention to me. I’m not exactly a woman who gets a lot of attention, so I put up with some things I shouldn’t have because I never figured I could do any better.”
His eyebrows pulled in. “You should have known better. Hell, Patrick should have known better.”
“Oh, he offered to geld the bastard a few times, but I kept thinking it was just how it was. Harry told me I was frigid, that I was fat, that I was lucky he was putting up with me. I guess I heard it all so much, I believed it. I figured that if I was that bad, I really was lucky he was even willing to deal with it.”
Chris forced his fingers to relax when he held her too tight, when his anger caused him to clutch. “Well, he’s an idiot. You clearly aren’t frigid, given last night. I’d bet he was just a lousy lay. And fat? That man doesn’t have any sense and didn’t have a clue how to deal with a woman. What finally ended things?”
She nuzzled his chest, her lips soft against heated skin. “I wish I could say I got sick of it, that I put my foot down, but I didn’t. He left me. He was cheating on me with the woman he’s marrying now, and he came home one day and said he was through. He kicked me out, moved her in and that was it. It was six months ago, and here we are.”
Chris ran his fingers through her long hair, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What an asshole. Think of it as a bonus, huh? At least he ripped the Band-Aid off, and you saw what he’s really like. You can do better, Tara, far better.”
She twisted to look at him, and her eyes were too damn cute when she grinned. “Well, you’re a pretty big step up.”
It took a moment to move past her adorable look and actually hear the words.
Wait. A step up? This isn’t anything serious. She knows that, right?
He went still, his mind rebelling against the idea of anything real. I’m not looking for a relationship. That’s why we did this. Last night was sex, nothing more. This was nice, and yeah, I wouldn’t mind a repeat or two, but it is not real.
Her smile fell slightly, as if she caught his hesitation. He could smile back, could play along. He could say whatever he had to, to get inside her again, but he wouldn’t. That wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t him. Maybe he wasn’t a forever sort of man, but he wasn’t dishonest, either.
“Tara, this was just sex. It was just fun for a night—you know that, don’t you?”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, especially since he doubted their truth. It felt like more than a one-night stand. He already wanted to take them back and return to her bed that night, and the next, and hell, the one after that.
Worse than the guilt he felt, though, was the way that open, trusting face snapped sh
ut.
It meant that her withdrawal, when she pulled away and took the sheet to keep herself covered and dress in the bathroom, hardly surprised him.
Damn, that wasn’t the sort of ending I hoped for.
* * * *
Tara sat at the shop, tapping her foot to ease her nerves.
And why was she nervous? The night before, Chris had seen her naked. Hell, he’d been inside her, but that had been in a moment of passion.
She hadn’t spoken to him directly since he’d left that morning while she was in the shower, after she’d dragged herself out of the bed, tail between her legs and sheet wrapped around her.
A text message exchange with Chris had left her at the small clothing shop, waiting for him to arrive.
No matter how she’d pushed it off, always saying she’d find something after a crash diet that never happened, she’d run out of time to find a dress for the wedding. Showing up, even with someone like Chris, wouldn’t mean anything if she walked in looking like a hot mess.
And while she’d have preferred going with Gena or one of her other female friends, they’d all been busy. It had left her sitting there waiting yet again for Chris.
The chime from the door opening drew her attention to where Chris walked in, looking as perfect as he always did.
This is a terrible idea. Yep, go shopping with the hottest man I’ve ever seen, because that’s a great plan. Let him see that nothing fits me. How many times had she thought that? Every single time she looked at him. She’d wanted a hot guy for the wedding, wanted someone who would make heads turn, but the difference between them made her question it.
She’d wanted people to be impressed she’d landed her date, not confused as to how the hell it had been possible, or worse, suspecting she’d hired a gigolo for the event.
Chris’ lips slid into that wide and charming smile when his gaze landed on her. “I know, I know. I’m late.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Time gets away from me.”
His easy affection flustered her. She’d never had a boyfriend who did that, who would touch her in public, who would want to kiss her and didn’t care who saw it. All her previous boyfriends had preferred the whole no PDA thing, like they could hide the fact they were actually together. She’d always been that dirty little secret they’d wanted to hide—not that hiding a girl her size was an easy feat.
But he wasn’t her boyfriend. He’d made that clear, hadn’t he? His words rang in her head, him telling her it was just sex.
Just sex. Nothing else.
At least he’d been clear about it, right? It wasn’t as if she could call him an asshole, or claim he’d led her on. He’d said from the start he wasn’t looking for anything, and the addition of a night of mind-blowing sex didn’t change that.
I should just be happy for what I can get.
Tara rose, keeping her gaze averted, not wanting him to see anything of the thoughts running through her head. Nope, she was tough Tara. Steady Tara. The even-headed snarky woman who didn’t get bothered by anything, and certainly not by being put in her place by a man far out of her league.
A saleswoman walked up, her smile wide and eyes locked on Chris like he was a snack she planned to devour. “My name is Mandy. How can I help you?” Clearly, the offer was to take him into a back room and do him, any way he wanted and for as long as he wanted.
If Chris noticed, he said nothing about the blatant come-on. He’s probably used to it. Instead, he nodded toward Tara. “We need a dress for a wedding on Saturday.”
“A wedding? So, we’re looking for understated?”
Chris shook his head. “No, we’re looking for show-stopper.”
Tara snorted, knowing damn well that wasn’t happening. Other women did show-stopping. At best, she could manage flattering on her.
The saleswoman smiled wider, then took Tara by the arm. “I think I understand exactly what you want. Take a seat right over there, and I’ll bring her out when we find something.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tara remembered why this was all a bad idea. She stared at herself in the mirror, the woman’s smiling face behind her. The woman looked proud after having maneuvered Tara into a violet dress that made her question both their sanity.
She’s blind, right? It was amazing the saleswoman had picked anything out, given her clear visual deficiency, because being blind was the only reasonable explanation for why she could have thought zipping Tara into that short, tight purple monstrosity of a dress was a good idea.
“It’s a little much,” Tara said, trying for tact.
The woman pulled at the shoulder strap, touching the dress and Tara like she’d never heard of personal space, as though Tara were just another mannequin in the store. She even cupped Tara’s chest and lifted, letting go a moment before Tara was ready to tell her that the girls weren’t going to get any higher without some surgery. “It’s perfect. Not too flashy, not too revealing, but make no mistakes, people will notice you in this.”
Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m worried about.
“Let’s go show your brother.”
Tara’s lips tipped down. “My brother?”
“The man you came in with. Friend?”
Tara opened her mouth to explain they were not just friends, but then she recalled the conversation from that morning. They were friends, at best. She nodded. “Yeah, friend. Chris.”
“Is he single?”
“Yep,” she said, far too quickly and cheerfully to fully pass off as nonchalance.
“How is a man like that single?” Mandy ran her hands over Tara’s hips, then straightened the hem. “Okay, let’s go show this off.”
Tara remained in the dressing room for another moment after the woman left, staring at herself in the mirror, letting her own insecurities creep in. She noted the way her thighs pressed together, no coveted thigh gap to be found. Her hips didn’t lie perfectly flat, and if she leaned forward, she knew the dress would pull and show off a roll or two.
The thought of walking into the wedding beside Chris, likely dressed to the nines, while she resembled yogurt stuffed into a purple dress just didn’t feel appealing.
A knock on the door made her realize she’d waited too long. She’d run out of leeway.
“It’s not right,” she said. “I can’t go out there wearing this.”
A press on the door had her unlatching the silver lock, ready for Mandy to walk in and explain again that the dress was perfect.
Instead, it was Chris who entered and closed the door behind him, his dark eyebrow lifted in question. “What’s wrong with it?”
She crossed an arm over her front and knew her feet pointed in slightly. “It’s too flashy.” And tight. And revealing. And it isn’t on a size two model. Take your pick!
Chris lifted a hand, finger pointing down, then did a circle with it.
Without thinking about it, Tara followed the unspoken command, spinning slowly.
“I think it looks amazing,” he whispered into her ear when she didn’t finish turning. It left her facing the mirror, his large body behind her.
And didn’t that just set off every worry she had? He was tall, muscular and perfect behind her. His strong jaw and dark eyes stood out in his stupidly-perfect chiseled face.
“This is a terrible idea,” Tara said.
His lips tipped down, then pulled into another grin, one full of mischief. He reached a hand around to grasp hers, then brought it up to slide around the back of his neck. It left her spread out in front of him, his body pressed tight to her back.
“What are you doing?” She failed to add the annoyance into the question it deserved, the censure she should have had, especially when he ran his fingers down her arm and over the curve of her breast. Instead it came out breathless, like a welcome sign to continue whatever he had planned.
“I wanted to show you what I think about the dress.” How did his voice hold such promise? Even saying something that, on the surface, was so innocent made her
think of everything they’d done the night before. She was still sore from it, felt it in her body when she moved.
“You’re crazy. We are in a dressing room.”
“And you worry too much.” Chris trailed his fingers across her bust line, teasing over her nipples but not stopping. It made her gulp as she wondered where exactly he was headed.
He didn’t keep her guessing long when he kept moving his fingers downward. “I’ve got to say, I have a thing for you in short dresses. They draw my gaze to your thighs, and to how badly I want to get between them.”
“It’s too short,” she whined on an unhappy exhale.
He teased the juncture of her legs, not dipping lower, not slipping beneath the hem just yet but content to toy with her over the dress. “Short is good. It’s easier to get around. Not to mention your ass looks amazing in short dresses.” He inched those fingers down to stroke along the hemline. “You can’t see it, you’ll have to just take my word for it.” A rock of his hips ground his hard cock against her lower back, as if that further proved his point.
Tara let her head fall against his shoulder and her eyes slide closed, but he nipped her ear.
“Eyes open,” he said. “I want you to see.”
She snapped open her eyes to watch how he moved his fingers beneath the short hem. His tan skin stood out against the purple of the dress, a lovely contrast.
He brushed her bare slit. “No underwear?” A smile rested in his voice.
“I didn’t want panty lines,” Tara complained, trying to explain it.
She expected him to slip those fingers into her, but instead, he pulled the dress up. The fabric moved over her thighs until it bunched above her hips, leaving her bare and on display in front of him and the mirror. His hand was large against her mound, his fingers curving down and between her thighs.
He caught her thigh with his other hand and lifted it, setting her foot on the small bench inside the dressing room. It spread her thighs wide and put her in a vulgar position that made her wetter. She could see everything, how the dress looked neat on the top half and yet how disheveled she looked below, her naked cunt held open by his strong fingers.