by Lily Harlem
He kissed me, massaged my breasts and tweaked my nipples.
I explored his body, reminding myself of muscles and dents and contours that I already knew so well but always wanted to know better.
He groaned when I ran my hands down the gutter of his spine and onto his butt. I squeezed and explored as I let my rigid cock press against his. Everything about Dustin was hard and toned, his skin was firm and his body hair coarse. Yet despite this he had a delicate center. A heart that had been broken and a future that had once upon a time been shattered. But that was all changed now. Now I was his future. I’d mended his broken heart, so he’d told me, and I was about to fuck him into a place where only pleasure existed, pleasure I was in control of.
“Turn around,” I said a little sternly because I knew he’d like that. “And lean over the end of the bed. I want to see your ass.”
His eyes flashed and, with his lips wet from our kiss, he pulled in a deep breath. Much as Dustin liked to take control, I’d discovered more and more that he also liked being told what to do. It seemed he could shift the power and was willing to be obedient. Not submissive, I didn’t think he’d ever be that, but certainly he wasn’t opposed to doing as I instructed when it came to the bedroom. I’d tried it out with verbal instruction and shoving him into positions I wanted more than a few times.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said gruffly and moved away from me.
The sleigh bed had a wonderful smooth and rounded leather footer that I hoped would be the perfect height for Dustin to bend over and give me access to his ass.
“Sweet cheeks,” he said, before he went double, “be gentle with me. You’ve got a big cock there.”
“You can take it,” I said.
He hesitated. A flash of uncertainty crossed his face.
“But of course I’ll be gentle. I love you, this is only about pleasure.”
His nostrils flared as he ran his gaze down my body. “Fuck, I could come just looking at you like that.”
“You’ll come soon enough.” I lubed up my shaft and stepped up behind him, out of his view. For a moment I just stared at the acres of golden flesh on his back and the buried ridges of his vertebrae. He truly was exquisite. And I’d been right; the bed was perfect height for me to fuck him.
I let the head of my cock touch his buttocks and reached around to stroke his erection. I was gentle, featherlike, because the shiver that ghosted up his spine told me he was near the edge.
“You’ve got a hot ass,” I said, releasing his cock and stroking over the globes of his buttocks with both hands, stretching them apart and giving them a good squeeze. “It would be a sin for it never to be fucked.” I stroked down the cleft to the shadowed gulley holding my destination. “This will be cold.” I quickly applied more lube to my fingertips and then stroked it over the tight pucker of his anus.
He groaned, shifted away and then back toward me.
“Shh,” I said, “keep still.”
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“You okay?” I lifted my hand from him.
“Yeah, it’s just…”
“What?”
“This is so hot. But…”
“What?” Shit, was I doing something wrong? I’d barely gotten started. “Tell me.”
“Remember before, you slapped me.”
“Yes, you had a hand print on your ass for hours.”
He paused. “Do it again.”
Fuck, really? Damn, he took everything to extremes, but I knew that now. “Once or more than once?”
“As much as you want.”
I didn’t need asking twice. I wanted to see my mark on him. Stake my claim, announce my ownership. I brought my hand down in a stinging whack onto his right buttock.
He jerked and groaned, his body stiffening and then relaxing as the burn spread.
I attacked the other one. My own ass was tingling and my pussy trembling. I couldn’t imagine I could really hurt him, but his second groan told me he’d enjoyed the sensation.
“More of that in a minute,” I said, “now it’s time for this.” I placed the head of my cock at his asshole. I had to separate his cheeks to see where I was going but once I had purchase, I gripped his hips.
I’d never have thought in a million years that the big bad goaltender for the Vipers would bend over for me, but he had, he was. Already my clit was humming and my heart racing. This was our time.
“Relax,” I murmured, “let me in.” I pushed forward, a gentle glide that seated the dildo almost halfway.
“Ah, fucking hell,” he groaned, arching his back and reaching for his cock. “Jesus.”
“You want me to stop?” I was breathless with excitement, yet worried it wasn’t doing it for him. The last thing I wanted was to cause him pain.
“No, no way, fuck, give it to me. You know what I want.” He was jerking off, his right shoulder shifting as he saw to the need in his cock.
I gripped his hips tighter and slid to full depth, watching the lube collect and spread around his hole and onto the root of my cock. When I hit the max he moaned long and loud. My clit got a wedge of pressure against it and I rolled my hips into the sensation.
“Are you okay?” I asked breathlessly.
“Jesus, that’s so much,” he said. “But, yeah, fuck, fucking fuck me.”
I spanked his ass, twice, for telling me what to do when I was supposed to be in control. But then urgency overtook me and I pulled almost out and smoothed back in. Damn, it felt amazing. It looked amazing. He was writhing for more, pinking up where I’d hit him and taking the big, dark dildo so well.
“Tell me how you feel?” I demanded as I withdrew. “Tell me.”
“Yours, I feel like I’m yours, only yours. You have me.”
“I have and you’re loving it.” I pushed back in.
He panted as I hit full depth and then I gave another shunt, as though I couldn’t get deep enough. The reward on my clit had my head dropping back and my eyes shutting. “Ah, yeah.”
“Yeah, I’m loving it,” he said, “I love you.”
I pulled back, thwacked his ass and drove home again, faster this time. “And I love you.”
“Ah, ah, I’m gonna come.”
“Me too, me too.” I was pounding him now, a rampant rhythm that hit all of his hot spots and all of mine. Despite being so little next to him I felt so powerful and that was an aphrodisiac all in itself, but with that power came responsibility and although I would have loved to let go and forget all sense, I maintained a smidgen of control as an orgasm rushed through me, weakening my knees and stealing my breath. I had to hold him all the tighter just to stay upright.
“Come,” I managed as bliss pulsed through my wet pussy. “Come now, for me.”
A deep guttural groan burst up from his chest and then was buried in the covers on the bed. His knees gave way and his back flopped downward. He really had given himself over to me.
Quickly I reached around and caught his cock in my hand. He moved his fingers and let me take over. On and on I shunted into him, jacking his shaft and pressing up against his ass. His groan turned into a cry for more, then a hiss and a wail. At one point a sound that was more animal than human ripped from him.
A moment of absolute stillness, a tensing of every muscle in his back told me he’d reached the point of no return. Then it was there, a gut-rolling moan that culminated in him flooding my hand with cum.
“Yes, that’s it,” I said, my wrist aching but I didn’t care as I pumped him again and again, delighting in his throbbing cock against my palm. “That’s it, come for me.”
“Ah, ah, yeah…” he cried, the sound muffled by bedding. “Ah, ah, fuck… I’m done, so good.”
I slowed and eventually stopped.
He remained perfectly still except for the heaving of his ribs and the odd tremor over his shoulders.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Jesus, do you even need to ask?” He twisted his head to the side and gulped in air. “That was awesome.”
<
br /> Very carefully I pulled out. As I did so I already missed not being inside him. But my body was weary. I needed to lie down, hold and be held, so I slipped out of the strap-on, dumped it in the en suite’s sink and blasted it with hot, soapy water.
Dustin still had his slapped, pink ass presented upward over the end of the bed when I came back from the bathroom. I couldn’t help but admire the sight of him completely exposed and totally unapologetic for claiming his darkest desires.
I was proud to be the one to help him meet them.
I kissed his right buttock and then the left, trailing my lips over my mish-mashed handprints. “Come to bed,” I said against his hot skin.
He stood, slowly, as though a bit dazed and stiff and then turned and looked down at me. I handed him a cloth and he cleaned up the cum from his cock and the splashes on the base of the bed.
“You’ve worn me out,” he said, his eyes droopy, his smile lazy.
“You’re always ready for sleep after you’ve come,” I said, stroking his cheek.
“Lie down with me.”
He did as I’d asked, discarding the cloth on the floor as he hit the covers.
Within seconds we were a tangled mass of arms and legs. We knew how to lie together now, we were like a jigsaw that had been completed a million times.
“Did I get it right?” I asked.
“However you did it would be right, but as it happened it was fucking awesome.”
“Really?” Or was he just saying that?
“Yes, really, fuck, didn’t you hear anything? I felt like my body wasn’t mine, that release took me over. I could hear strange, wild noises and then realized they were coming from me. I had no control over them.”
“You did groan a lot.” I giggled.
He kissed the top of my head. “I think you’d groan a lot, too, in my position.”
I looked up at him. “Would I?”
A sinful smile tugged his lips, one that told me he was thinking dirty thoughts. Again.
“Yes,” he said, “let me have a little nap and then we’ll test out that theory. I want to hear you moan like you’ve lost control, too.”
I raised my eyebrows as a little quiver of interest fizzed in my pussy and my ass.
He laughed, a deep rumble of a sound that wobbled me within his embrace. “I’ve been fantasizing about getting between your sweet cheeks for quite some time and now that you’re here, living with me,” he lowered his voice, “with nowhere to run, it’s time to return the favor.”
THE END
Russian Heat
Hot Ice #7
By Lily Harlem
RUSSIAN HEAT. Back Cover Information
"One night stands should be exactly that, one wild night. Somebody should tell the sexy Russian."
I love working for an airline and traveling the world—it’s everything I’d ever hoped and more. I work hard and play hard and if I can have some sexy time with a hot guy, why not? I’m a free agent.
When my one-night stand is a hunk of a hockey player with a smooth Russian accent and an even smoother way of sweet talking me into his bed, not once but several times over, things definitely get complicated for my heart. I have no intention of having it broken again.
But will he be able to make it up to me? Has he even returned from his homeland? And what the hell is going to happen when engine failure makes my life flash before my eyes? Only one way to find out, and that’s to hang on for the ride.
RUSSIAN HEAT. Chapter One
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yes. They always come out of this door. Trust me.”
I looked at Harmony, wondering if this was worth my while. We only had a twenty-hour layover in Orlando and hanging around the back door of an ice rink wasn’t my idea of spending the time wisely. I’d much rather be perusing the malls and outlets for designer bargains. But she seemed obsessed with the Vipers, and one goaltender in particular.
“Jackson is just so sweet,” she was saying, twisting her hands together beneath her chin, her long fuchsia-pink nails tapping together. “I know he’s still a rookie, but wait ’til you meet him. He’s destined for great things, really he is. You can see it in his eyes.”
“Mmm, that’s nice.” Ice hockey wasn’t my specialty. As a native English girl working for an American airline US sport did this to me on occasion—threw me into an alternative universe that I didn’t quite understand.
“Nice,” she said. “Seriously, Samantha, you need to clue up on this kind of stuff. He’s so much more than nice.”
The heavy red door pushed open and a couple of huge guys with sports bags slung over their shoulders wandered out. One had jet-black hair with dense stubble tracking down his jawline and over his throat. The other was blond, the thick strands were just starting to form cherub-like curls that somehow didn’t match his enormous width and bulging biceps.
“Ladies,” the blond said with a grin and a wink.
“Hi,” Harmony simpered. “How’s it going?”
“Be better when I’ve been fed,” he replied with a laugh and continued to walk past us.
“That’s all you think about, Brick,” his teammate said in a gravelly voice. “Your damn stomach.”
“No, there’s another thing that plays on my mind regularly,” Brick replied, slapping the taller man on his shoulder and laughing again. “I’m sure you can guess what.”
“Yep, and no doubt she’s waiting for you at Ciao.”
They both chuckled in a sinful, rumbling kind of a way and headed into the lot.
I leaned back on the railings and watched them wander off—two seriously cute denim-clad butts that almost made it worth hanging around in the sun.
Almost.
“That was Brick,” Harmony whispered. “He’s so cute, and the other one, that’s the captain, Ramrod. Phew, I wouldn’t push him out of bed on a cold night.” She giggled. “Or on a hot one come to think of it.”
When her dirty laughter died down, I said, “They go for strange names, don’t they?”
“They’re not their real names,” Harmony replied, tutting. “Just nicknames, you know.”
“Mmm.” I watched as Brick climbed onto a large orange motorbike, shoved on a black helmet and revved the engine. The sound reverberated around the hot asphalt and a haze of sizzling air shot from the exhaust.
Harmony returned her attention to the door that had closed itself on a heavy spring. She pushed her long, dark curls behind her ears and licked her glossy pink lips. She’d really had got herself in a flutter about meeting this hockey player. I wondered what she hoped would happen with him. He’d probably just nod hello like the previous players then be on his way and that would be that.
Whatever, I just hoped he wouldn’t take too long about it. I was ready for a tall, cold drink. I shifted the strap of my purse on my sun-hot shoulder and crossed my ankles.
The door opened again.
Harmony perked up, puffing out her chest and cocking a hip.
A cleaner, carrying several swollen refuse bags, ambled past us. He was whistling a repetitive little tune and staring at his dirty sneakers.
“Duh, hurry up,” Harmony muttered at the door.
“Shall we just go?” I asked. “They’ve probably gone home already.”
“No, my inside source told me that they practice ’til three most days, it’s only just past that now.”
I held in a sigh and watched as the orange motorbike raced around a large black wagon then out of the lot. Either Brick was a speed junkie or he really was in a rush to get to whoever was waiting for him.
A slight rattle alerted me to the door being opened again.
As I turned, Harmony drew in a sharp little intake of breath.
Again two big guys walked out. One in gray sweats, the other in jeans. Both were carrying sports bags.
“G’day,” said the player with dark curly hair and wearing the sweats.
“Hey, Jackson,” Harmony said.
She pulle
d in a deep breath and her breasts barely stayed contained within the tight, red vest top she was wearing. We’d had to buy it on the way to the rink, especially for this moment, as it had a small Viper logo over the right nipple.
Jackson stopped in front of Harmony and pulled a pair of Ray-Bans from the v-neck of his t-shirt. He opened the slim arms and slid the shades on. Harmony’s reflection filled the black lenses
“Ah, so you know my name,” he said, “how about telling me yours, sugar? Even up the score.”
She twitched her eyebrows and a rosy flush crept over her cheeks. “It’s Harmony. Harmony Dale.”
“Harmony.” He grinned. “I’m sure you and I could make sweet, sweet music together.”
She shifted from foot to foot and seemed to puff out her chest even more. “And we’d be perfectly in tune.” She giggled and held up a pen. “Can I have your autograph, please? I’m a big Vipers fan.”
“I can tell.” He took the pen and used it to point at the logo on her top, hovering it just an inch away from her breasts. “And I’m always happy to oblige a big fan, especially such a pretty one.”
I held in a sigh and fiddled with the St. Christopher pendent I wore around my neck. I glanced at the other player. He had a half-smile on his face and was playing with a set of keys, spinning them around his big fingers and catching them intermittently in his palm. His hair was super-short and white blond. His eyes, a soft blue velvet-color, sported light brown lashes and his mouth was wide, a bit too wide for his face, but it looked soft and sensual. His neck was thick and led to colossal shoulders and arms with such protruding muscles it appeared impossible for his upper limbs to lie flush with his body.
Damn, and what a body. A little frisson of interest fluttered in my stomach. It had been a few months since I’d enjoyed company in my bed—a one-night stand, who’d turned out to be a damp squib when it came down to business. He just hadn’t kept up with me.
I licked my lips. I’d bet my best pair of Jimmy Choos that this guy would be the complete opposite to that non-starter and more than capable of matching my pace. I could almost smell the pheromones oozing from him and wow, those jeans sat nice on his hips—they hugged his groin in all the right places and held some interesting bulges and creases.