by Jo Raven
She slides her hand down, tries to touch my dick, but nah, no way. I grab her hands and plant them back beside her head, panting with need.
“Be good,” I say, and hiss when she tries to wrap her legs around me. “Oh shit.”
God, I want to take my time with her, but my hard-on has other ideas, twitching and leaking. I push it down, count back from twenty.
Think of England.
Think of the frigid expanses of outer space.
Down, Dick. Still unwrapping my present here.
Tugging her legs down, I fumble with her skirt, realize there is no zipper there, so I just drag the fabric down and off her.
Now we’re talking.
Her panties are lacy like her bra that’s hanging decadently under her tits as if offering them to me. Biting back a groan at the sight, I all but rip the damn panties off her, pulling them down her smooth thighs and calves.
Finally I spread her legs, and oh shit, she’s perfect. I mean, I knew it. I’d seen her yesterday before I went down on her but now… Jeez, girls are pretty, and she’s the prettiest I’ve seen by far.
I drag my fingers through her wetness, stroking her clit, pushing my thumb into her pussy, and she writhes. The scent of her arousal hits me hard, tightening my stomach, taking my breath, and I can’t take it any longer.
Grabbing my cock, I shove into her, through her slick folds, into the maddening fist of her body. She arches against me, knees folding up, cradling me, and I drag myself over her, planting my elbows by her head, sinking inside her all the way.
Groaning, I drop my head and kiss her to distract myself, even as my hips rock all on their own, causing us both to moan.
I can’t stop with her. I can’t slow down. I keep kissing her, fucking her. Her legs curl around my thighs, her body fitting right to mine, and she’s still wearing her boots, the heels digging into my ass. I rock into her, and she rocks with me, our mouths fused, our bodies moving as one.
It’s fast and frantic and it blows my mind. I want to stay like that, buried inside her, her sounds of pleasure against my lips, her pussy tight around my cock, I want her in my arms for good.
A jolt goes through me at the thought—but then she clenches around my dick and the strange little thought goes out like a candle before I can fully grasp it, and I’m swept under, balls tightening, dick jerking, my whole body seizing—inside her, her body tethering me like a string of heat to myself before I float away.
Chapter Twelve
Cosima
Oh God, yes, yes… I’m not sure I’m speaking the words or thinking them, not enough air left in my lungs as he literally pounds me into the mattress, giving it to me, giving me exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about, dreaming about.
What I need.
Heat streaks through me like current from a live wire, zapping along my nerve endings, too much to bear.
I can’t believe we’re doing this, that I’m on his bed, his heart pounding against mine, his tongue in my mouth. That he’s moving inside me, so deep, stretching me until I can’t take it but still wanting more.
He releases my mouth to draw a ragged breath, hips snapping, driving that thick length into me again and again, and I clutch at him, watching his handsome face twist.
Doing a kind of push-up over me, he changes the angle, forcing more sensation into me, making me bow off the bed, squirm. His cock is impossibly big inside me.
He thrusts once more, baring his teeth, jaw clenching, and his cock spasms. He’s coming, a low groan escaping him, his strong body trembling with tension, each beautiful muscle standing out.
“Cos,” he manages, a strangled sound.
That’s all it takes to tip me over the edge. The pleasure is sharp, the peak making me cry out and thrash, try to move away from it—from his cock, from the intensity of the pleasure—but I can’t, trapped underneath him, impaled on his cock that’s still hard, still fucking me.
And the next wave crashes over me, sweeter, deeper, bringing an unexpected sting of tears to my eyes.
Oh wow…
He lowers himself over me, still semi-hard, still filling me up, and I don’t want him to move, to leave. Wrapping my arms tightler around him, I tug, needing him to cover me again, keep me pressed to the wall of his chest.
“Hey, hey.” He grips my chin, lifts my face. His eyes are concerned. “Shit, you okay? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I try to shake my head and his grip relaxes a fraction.
“That why you’re crying?” I move my legs, and he groans like I’m killing him. “Fuck, you feel… so fucking good.”
He does, too, as if… “You can’t be hard again already.”
“No,” he rocks his hips, and I catch my breath, his cock stroking me inside where I’m still a bit raw from the sex we just had. “Wait… Okay, ready.”
I snicker, choke on the tears.
He stills, clear eyes darkening. “Dammit, girl. Talk to me.” He rolls off, taking me with him, cock still buried deep inside me, so we’re facing each other on our sides. “Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help.”
He’s so sweet, and I want so much to believe he means it, but I shouldn’t, it’s too soon, and…. I don’t know what’s up with me.
It’s ridiculous. I’m fine, more than fine. This was great sex, it was more than sex, it was almost like…
No.
Not making love.
That’s the problem, right there. Stop thinking like that, stop expecting more. Wanting more and setting yourself up for another disappointment. Besides… I’m fine. The sex was great, and exactly what Dr. Lin prescribed.
“Cos?” He’s stroking my face, his palm and finger pads rough with calluses, dark under his fingernails. Car oil, probably. College student, car mechanic, sex god and boy next door rolled into one.
“I have to go,” I mumble, and roll away before I embarrass myself anymore. “It’s late.”
He’s standing at the bathroom door as I wash my face, scrubbing the tears away. Useless, stupid tears over… what exactly?
Something I can’t have, something I keep hoping for that never happens, something I want so much it breaks my heart, but should stop reaching for.
Something in those pretty blue eyes of his as he screwed me into the mattress.
Yeah, I am that stupid sometimes.
Though I can’t ever remember being touched like this, held and kissed and taken like th—
“Was it something I said?” Merc stands at the bathroom door. Through the mirror, I can see him leaning against the doorjamb, buck naked, that perfectly sculpted body gleaming like a marble statue, flawless but for a long, faint scar on his forearm I hadn’t noticed earlier.
It had been hard to focus on such details as he’d nailed me to the bed over and over, that thick cock slipping in and out of me—
“No.” My cheeks are burning, my pussy clenching on nothing, pulsing pleasurably, hopefully, wanting more.
Why does he make me want more?
He nods. “So that’s it? You’re leaving.”
“Got to go home sometime.”
“Right. I just thought…”
“What?”
He doesn’t reply. He folds his arms over that muscular chest and looks away. So distracting, all those pretty muscles, the handsome face, the pale hair falling in his eyes.
That soft mouth, now pressed into a hard line.
“I, um. I need to feed the cat,” I whisper.
That brings his gaze back to me. “The cat.”
“Yeah.”
“You fucking with me?”
I lick my dry lips. “The cat is real.”
“And so is the fact you’re running away.”
“I’m not…” I turn around and pull my hair back, snap the elastic around it, fluff up my ponytail. Stalling techniques. “Not running.”
I didn’t run. Proof? I am still here, in St. Louis. In his apartment. At his door, true, but still on the inside.
He
’s staring at me.
“Look,” I say, “I barely know you.”
“And do you want to?”
“Want to what?”
“Get to know me?” His gaze has fallen to my mouth, eyes darkening, and when I look down, I see his hard cock lifting between his muscular legs to bob against his stomach.
I swallow hard, my core clenching again with desire, with want. Some of that must have shown on my face, because he steps forward, unfolds his arms and lifts a hand to my face.
“Cos…” he whispers.
“Let’s start,” I hear myself say, as if from a distance, “with that time you didn’t show up at the diner.”
“So this is what this is about?” His eyes darken. His hand drops to his side and I ache for that touch that never came.
No, that wasn’t why I’m leaving, but now I wait, curious about his reply. Curious and apprehensive, because running away is easy. Staying and hearing the truth quite another matter.
He rubs at his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Something came up that day. I was late. That’s all.”
I shake my head. That’s not good enough. What was that something that was more important than me?
But it’s as if he can see right through me. “It’s not like that.”
“Like what?” I demand to know.
“I just… couldn’t make it, Cos. Does it matter why?”
This is my previous relationships on repeat. Déjà vu in all its awful glory.
“Maybe it matters to me,” I manage, and push past him to grab my clothes. He lets me pass and doesn’t follow me to the bedroom where I yank on my skirt and sweater and jam my feet into my boots. I can’t locate my underwear and am too annoyed to look for it, so I grab my jacket from the floor and march out.
As I move toward the apartment door, I catch a glimpse of him, standing outside the bathroom. His cheeks are flushed, and I can’t tell if he looks more pissed or… something I can’t put my finger on.
I force myself to keep going. See? A little voice says gleefully in the back of my mind. Told you this was a bad idea. He’s no different from Steve and any other boy you’ve met before.
Pity you had to come back to town to discover it.
Though you did get a good fuck.
Yes, there’s that, and it doesn’t explain why my hand is trembling as I lift it to turn the door handle, or why I feel like crying all over again.
For Christ’s sake.
I turn the handle, pull the door open and prepare to walk out.
Faint footsteps sound behind me, bare feet on the floor. “Wait. Cos.” He grimaces. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“I don’t…” …trust men. I don’t trust myself, either. I shrug, angry at my thoughts. “I didn’t say that.”
“Did someone hurt you?” His eyes flash with anger as he says the words—anger on my behalf? He reaches for my hand, takes it. “Sit with me.”
His voice is firm, but also warm and inviting—and do I really want to leave?
I let him tug me back to the bedroom, sit me down on the edge of his bed. I don’t fight him. It doesn’t help that he’s still disconcertingly, beautifully naked, all rippling muscle and smooth skin.
Focus, Cos. I make myself look up, at his face. He’s studying me, a crease between his brows. His hand is still wrapped around mine.
He turns it over, so that mine is on top, and his thumbs strokes over my skin, sending shivers through me. “That afternoon I… overslept.”
I wait, but nothing more seems to be forthcoming. “Overslept. As in… a nap? You needed a nap so badly?”
A tinge of red rises to his cheekbones. “Something like that.”
“In winter?” The disbelieving note in my voice is plain to hear. “You were taking a nap?”
“Cos—”
I tug on my hand to free it, shaking my head. “I don’t want lies.”
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t lie to you, Cos. Dammit, wait.” He hangs on to my hand, not letting me get up and go. “I’m not normally an afternoon nap kind of guy, okay? You’re right.” He sighs. “It’s just that I hadn’t slept well the night before, and when I did fall asleep, I didn’t wake up until too fucking late.”
The tightness of his jaw, the bite of bitterness in his voice…
“Does that happen often?”
“Oversleeping?”
“Not sleeping at night.”
He shrugs, and those broad shoulders slump slightly. “Sometimes.”
Is he telling the truth? I look into his eyes and I think so. But we’re back to whether I trust myself to judge correctly—a hot guy, sitting naked beside me, all rational thought melting like chocolate in July.
Should I take a chance? Give this a chance?
It’s harder than I imagined. Despite the rule, Lin’s constant warnings, my own insistence to meet this hot guy, talk to him, fall into bed with him, I now hesitate.
Which is ridiculous. Heck, I already gave this a second chance. But maybe it wasn’t that, really. If I want to be honest with myself, I just wanted to curse him and kick at him and tell him what an asshole he is.
Throw at him all my fury and pain from all the previous assholes who hurt me.
And he’s just sitting there, gripping my hand, asking me to believe him. Not pushing me, not giving me elaborate lies or, like Steve, not bothering to pretend he had a reason not to meet me.
Is this right? Or am I crazy, and will Lin shoot me for my sins and hide my body in the woods?
So many doubts, so it’s a shock to hear myself say, “Good to know of your afternoon napping habits. You know… for future reference.”
His gaze brightens, his mouth quirks, and his cockiness returns. “Am I forgiven?”
“Merc…” I want to laugh.
But his eyes seem to darken, and when I look down, I find his cock hardening and rising against his flat stomach.
Oh boy. Familiar heat washes through me.
“Stay.” He lifts his other hand to my face, his thumb caressing my upper lip, then pressing into the lower one, gentle but also a reminder of his mouth on mine. “Listen. It’s raining. We could watch a movie, eat something.”
“I don’t know…”
He leans in, kisses me. “Stay.”
“I should get going…”
“Stay.” Then he’s deepening the kiss, his hand is cradling my jaw, his other hand sliding to the small of my back, hauling me against him, onto his lap.
How can you think straight like that? Not fair.
His cock pokes at me, rigid and huge between us, and everything else fades. I want it inside me again, I want him over me, his weight overpowering me. I want him.
Never wanted anyone like this before, so urgently, so continuously.
I kiss him back, my hands running over his naked chest and shoulders, the heat in my belly mounting as I map the contours of that masculine body.
He takes his time kissing me, his hard-on rubbing between our bodies, then he turns us and throws me down on the bed, climbing after me, tearing my clothes off as if they offend him.
In record time, he’s pushing inside me once more, filling me up, taking my breath away, holding me like I’m precious, and important, like I’m everything he wants, everything he needs.
Oh God, what am I going to do with this boy?
Chapter Thirteen
Merc
Why am I so hard for this skittish, pretty girl? She’s a contradiction in a sexy package, with those deep dark eyes and kiss-roughened mouth, those soft curves that fill my hands. When I hold her, it just feels right. When I’m near her, the voices in my head fall quiet.
When I’m inside her, the world rights itself, the maddening spin of dreams and images dropping away.
I still don’t know why she pretends to be her sister sometimes, but it’s not like we’ve talked, really talked.
Only fucked.
I’m not such an animal normally, such a sex-crazed brute. It’s as if she reaches i
nside me and lights me up.
We’re kissing, and her dark lashes lift. Those midnight eyes seem to see straight through me, right into my thoughts and fears, and I grunt and thrust inside her faster, harder, to shake that feeling.
The feeling she knows me more than she should be able to, just from the few things I’ve told her. That we have a connection, a link that seems to go back further in time than the few times we met.
No, that’s crazy. It’s just good sex. Hot, amazing sex. Her moans go straight to my dick, and I pant, trying to hold back, make it good for her. It shouldn’t be so difficult, so hard to last longer after coming already once, but…
She lifts a small hand to my cheek, fingertips smoothing over my scruffy jaw. “What is it?”
Fuck. If she noticed, then I’m not fucking her hard enough, and I can’t look in her eyes, in case she really can see…
Shit shit, I have to stop. My balls are rock-hard, my dick hurts. One more thrust and I’ll come. I pull out with a low groan, her slick pussy fluttering along the length of my dick.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, my control inexplicably shaky—as much over my body as over my thoughts.
“Merc?” She moans as my cock head drags over her clit. “Oh…”
Clenching my jaw, I grab and flip her on her stomach, surprising a yelp out of her. Her ass is perfect, a perfect heart, and I smooth my hands over its softness, parting the cheeks to spread her open, tease her opening.
Her moan comes broken. “Please…”
My heart pounding, I push back into her pussy and swallow a curse. So damn tight like this. It’s almost unbearable. Unbearably good. Her body is like a vise around my hard-on, squeezing and pulsing, driving me nuts.
It’s a fucking relief not to think.
Don’t think.
I move inside her, and she whimpers, hands scrabbling in my sheets, face turned to the side, mouth slightly open, eyes shut.
Beautiful. Damn hot.
I lay over her, bracing myself on my elbows, covering her silky back, sinking deeper into her. She gasps, arches up, or tries to. I press my lips to her cheek, groan when her pussy flutters along my dick. I lift my hips, drawing out a little only to shove back in.