by Naima Simone
“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed, jerking his shirttails from his pants and smoothing her hands over his chest. Another of those soft sighs escaped her and feathered over his bare skin as she explored him. Tracing the line bisecting his pecs, sweeping her thumbs over his small, flat nipples, lightly raking her nails across his abdomen. Even dipping a fingertip into his navel.
He clenched his jaw, not interfering and subjugating the urge to take charge. But her light, butterfly caresses were driving him to the brink of his control. Teasing and torturing him.
“I used to dream of this,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek over his skin, then placing a kiss in the center of his chest.
When had she dreamed of it? For the last two nights? He frowned, but her lips closed around his nipple, and every thought but her hot mouth and lashing tongue fled his mind.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, thrusting both hands into her hair and gripping her head, pulling on the dark strands. He tipped his head back on his shoulders, unable to contain the punch of his hips forward. She didn’t try to avoid the grinding of his flesh against her belly but shifted closer to him. Her hands fell to his waist, holding on as her teeth grazed the bud of flesh she tormented. “Harder, sweetheart,” he half pleaded, half demanded. “Don’t be afraid of hurting me. Harder.”
Apparently taking him at his word, she closed the edges of her teeth around his nipple, worrying and tugging it, then soothing the sting with laps of her tongue. He growled, dropping a hand to her ass, cupping the gorgeous curve, kneading it. Each pull and graze over his flesh caused his hips to buck and roll. His balls tightened with every stroke and drag of his cock against her stomach. When she switched to his other nipple, he swore under his breath and hiked her up into his arms. She was going to kill him.
He strode into the living room and continued to the dining area. In spite of the dark lust that had replaced blood in his body, he gently set her on the edge of the long, oval table. That same tenderness didn’t extend to the chair he tore away and slung across the floor. As soon as he stepped back between her spread thighs, she latched her mouth back on his skin, flicking her tongue over the beaded tip. With rough hands, he jerked her ass closer to the edge of the table and notched his rigid flesh against hers. Both of them groaned, hers vibrating over him.
Damn, it was good. Even though clothes separated them, he swore her damp heat burned him. He pumped his length over her, and when her head tipped back on her shoulders, her loud gasps punctuating the air and each stroke, he worked her harder.
“Aiden.” Her lashes lifted, revealing a gaze bright like the heart of a flame. “Please.” She shuddered, and oh fuck, she was close. Jesus, she was so responsive, so sensitive, that a few thrusts through their pants had her nearing orgasm. How the hell had he gotten so lucky to have this woman in his arms?
“You want to come?” he rumbled, massaging her clit with the thicker, wider root of his dick. “Say it, sweetheart. Tell me you need me to make you come.”
“Yes,” she gasped, clutching at his shoulders, his arms. “Please let me come. Make me…” She loosed a low, keening whine as she writhed against him, begging with her words and her body.
God, she was gorgeous. Face flushed, eyes glazed, lips parted. No way could he deny her. Hell, he didn’t want to. With a growl, he surged harder, and on the down stroke, wedged his fingers between them and rubbed her clit. She slammed her hands on the table, arched her back, and undulated wilder, attempting to get closer. Grab more leverage. But she was at his mercy, under his control. What little he retained. She’d stripped him of most of it, and he couldn’t resent her for it. Not when he was allowed to witness her coming apart under his fingers, his dick. Before, control had been important; maintaining a certain distance had been vital. But not with Noelle. Her passion, her spirit, her lack of inhibition and reserve didn’t allow it. And he didn’t want it. He longed to be burned to cinders by her, razed to the fucking ground by her heat.
Gripping her hips, he rode her. Hard. And several seconds later, when she cried out and shook with orgasm, he continued to stroke her through it, hoarding each tremor and gasp as his. Satisfaction surged through him; he’d given her—this gorgeous, passionate, bold woman—pleasure.
On the tail of that thought, he grabbed the bottom of her turtleneck and ripped it over her head. Her pants and boots received the same frenzied removal, leaving her clad in only a nude-colored bra and panties. He placed a palm in the center of her chest and gently pressed her back. Her orgasm would have left her drenched, and he was starved to sample the evidence of her pleasure. Devour it.
“Wait.” Breathless, she sat, shoving her hair out of her face. The glaze of passion still hadn’t completely ebbed from her eyes, but they fixed on him. “Wait,” she repeated, scooting forward and shifting off the table. Automatically, he reached for her, his attention focused on the shadows of her nipples visible through her almost sheer bra. Now his mouth watered to taste the erect tips and her pussy. But a hand on the center of his chest halted him. “You said I didn’t have to ask for permission, to take what I wanted.” Slowly, she lowered to the floor, her palms resting above his belt. “So I’m doing that.”
Suddenly struck mute by the inked beauty kneeling before him, he could only stare as she loosened his belt, unfastened his pants, and lowered his zipper. When she reached inside and wrapped her fingers around his flesh, he rediscover his voice. “Noelle,” he rasped, pinching her chin and tilting her head back. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to—”
“You’re wrong,” she interrupted, squeezing him and temporarily cutting off his air supply. “I definitely have to.” She tugged his boxer briefs down, completely freeing him. Humming, she pumped her fist up his cock, pausing under the swollen, ruddy head before stroking down. “Show me,” she murmured, her hooded gaze studying his face as she delivered the erotic invitation. “Show me what you love. How to please you.”
God. Damn. Another first. He would be the only man to ever breach, to fuck, her mouth.
He shut his eyes for a long moment, desperately scrambling to locate any remnants of his tattered control. His muscles strained with the effort, and he ordered himself to breathe. To find restraint for her. Jesus. He lifted his lashes and refocused on her upturned face and the arousal that suffused it. Mixed in with the need was curiosity, excitement. What man with a working dick could resist this? And this woman was Noelle. Jesus could ride down in a chariot of fire right now, and he wouldn’t move.
“Stroke me again,” he said, his voice a hoarse version of itself. When she obeyed, he closed his hand over hers and brought them over the head, squeezing and twisting, before retracing the path down to the base. “Like that. Hard. Remember, you won’t hurt me.”
He released her, letting his arms fall beside him as she took to the task of jacking him off. Timid at first, she soon lost her uncertainty and pulled at his flesh with enough enthusiasm and skill to have the air bursting from his lungs like bullets ejected from a gun. Color flagged her cheekbones, and a glance down revealed her nipples, tight and beaded under her bra. He’d bet his left nut her panties were soaked. As if they had a mind of their own, his hips rocked into her healthy, long pumps.
Sliding his fingers into her hair, he cradled her head between his palms. “You ready?” he rasped, pleasure scouring his throat like sandpaper. “Ready to let me in that pretty mouth?”
Her answer was to part her lips, lean forward, and suck the tip of him into her wet, scorching heat. A growl reverberated in his chest, and he had to force himself not to drive himself toward the sweet tunnel of her throat. Especially when her tongue curled around him, urging him to fill her with more of his flesh. Surrendering to her siren’s call, he gave her more. Instinct seemed to guide her to the sensitive-as-hell spot directly under the rim of his cock head. She played with it, stabbed the tip of her tongue at it, and there was no way he could control the tight buck of his hips. Her moan vibrated over him, adding more sensation and threatening to o
verload him with the lust tearing at his gut, squeezing his balls.
He pulled back, thrust forward. “Open wide,” he instructed, pressing his thumb under her bottom lip. She complied, her lips forming a perfect “o.” He slid his erection along her flattened tongue until half of him was buried in her mouth. “Close, sweetheart. And suck. Hard. Don’t tease me.” She complied, her mouth like Saran Wrap around him. “Yes, like that. Just.” He drew back. “Like.” He plunged forward. “That.”
God, she was good. Better. She was perfect. No artifice. This might have been her first time at oral sex, but she erased every experience with other women from his head. None existed before her. Her eagerness, her arousal, her openness—shit, she was destroying him. He tried to be gentle, go slow, but the moans, the relentless drawing on his dick, the utter ecstasy wouldn’t allow him to ease up. Come churned in his balls. Electricity sizzled at the base of his spine…
On a muttered curse, he jerked free. She blinked up at him, her eyes hazy, dilated, her breath harsh and quick. Damn. Once more she looked on the verge of orgasm. From giving him head. The sight almost sent him spiraling headlong over the edge. But grinding his teeth together, he curled his fingers under her arms and brought her to her feet.
“You didn’t…finish,” she breathed, slicking the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. As if savoring the taste of him.
Groaning, he took her mouth. Broke away and pressed another kiss to her jaw. “The only thing better than coming in this beautiful mouth is coming inside you. Are you going to let me back in, sweetheart?” He cupped her between her legs. Hell yeah, just like he’d known. Drenched.
“Yes, please,” she said. “Now.” She shoved at the pants still hanging at his hips, and he loosed a low, dark chuckle.
Toeing off his shoes, he quickly shucked his socks, pants, and boxers, and shrugged out of his shirt. He didn’t bother removing her bra, but dragged the cups under her breasts so the material propped them up, offering her flesh to him like a sacrifice. One he took the time to feast on while skimming her panties down her legs.
Noelle clapped her hands to his head, arching into his caress. Releasing one nipple with a wet pop, he moved to the next and sucked it deep, coiling his tongue around the peak.
“Aiden, I need you,” she whispered, her voice cracking on “you.”
The need inherent in that word… It echoed the same gnawing hunger inside him. He’d had her mouth on him, and he’d tasted her flesh in return. But he was desperate for more. Wouldn’t be satisfied until he was seated so deep inside her, she felt him even when she was alone in her room or at the gallery. He’d brand her, mark her. Tattoo her as surely as the ink etching her skin.
Giving her nipple one last lick, he snatched his pants up, removed the wallet, and plucked a condom from the fold. Quickly, he sheathed himself and, setting her back on the dining table, positioned his cock head at her tiny entrance.
Yanking himself from the lure of her glistening, pink, swollen sex, he raised his gaze to her face. Needing to ascertain she was with him.
“Yes,” she said, as if reading his mind. She undulated her hips and wrapped her fingers around his rigid length. And guided him forward. Penetrating herself on him. She whimpered. “Yes,” she repeated on a small cry.
“Lean back on your hands,” he said, palming her thighs and spreading them wider. “Keep your eyes on us, sweetheart. Watch us.”
He did the same. Studied how her folds parted for him, how he stretched the tiny portal to her pussy. How she took him. Swallowed him. And the heat. Fuck. Her sex was like a furnace, burning him alive even while giving him life. She closed around him. Tighter than her hand, her mouth. Smooth muscles quivered around him, struggling to accommodate his size and width.
This. He fought to keep his eyes open. But this was heaven…and hell. Though no longer a virgin, her flesh still resisted his invasion. He paused, waited for her to relax around him. Waited for the telltale softening. He pulsed against her, neither fully withdrawing or pushing forward. Just small, restrained thrusts that didn’t give or relinquish the flesh he’d already conquered.
And then…oh fuck. There it was. The natural signal he’d been waiting for. Her walls fluttered, eased, allowed him to rock forward, deeper. This time when he withdrew, only his tip remained inside her, and then he buried himself inside her. Her sex surrounded, molded, and embraced every inch of him. Bathing him in liquid fire.
He was lost in her, drowning in her. Every heavy thrust pushed him farther under. Every milking of his cock stole more of his breath. Every sharp cry and low whimper pilfered more of his will. Here. He could stay here, fucking into her like a madman, forever.
His hips jacked back and forth like a hammer, pistoning inside her, driving, slamming, riding. Sweat rolled down his temple, slicked his chest, but he didn’t stop. Not when orgasm bore down on him like a freight train, threatening to run him over, knock him out. So close, so damn close…
Swearing, he thrust a hand between their bodies and swiped his thumb over her engorged clit. She screamed, bucking into the caress. But he didn’t let up, circling and rubbing it. Noelle twisted under him, as if her body didn’t know whether to get closer to him or squirm away. Yeah, he understood that kind of clawing pleasure. The kind that made you afraid to let go because you knew—you knew—you wouldn’t be the same on the other end. But he didn’t ease up, instead pinched the shiny, fluttering bud.
She exploded. Her pussy clamped down on him like a vise, sucking him farther inside her like a mouth. Her back arched high, thrusting her breasts into the air. Gritting his teeth, he fucked her through the orgasm, each ripple, each pulse dragging his seed closer to the head of his dick. Once her flesh loosened, he powered into her. One. Two. Three fucking strokes, and he was done.
Surrendering to the pleasure, he came on a hot burst of light and heat. Goddamn, it seemed never-ending, like he poured his soul and spirit into her body along with his seed. She weakened him. She strengthened him.
And most of all, she scared him.
Chapter Thirteen
“How long did it take for you to get this whole tattoo done?” Aiden traced a petal along her hip and then skipped to a branch that arced down her thigh. After their cataclysmic sex downstairs, they’d moved to her bedroom. The second time had been slower, longer, and just as explosive. He could’ve left for his room—should have—but he was content to stay here in the sex-scented sheets, staring at her bare body and beauty.
“Five hours for the first sitting, and then another three for the second.” Noelle curled her arm under her head and drew a small pattern over his pec and around his nipple. When the small, flat peak responded to her light caress, she smiled.
“It’s gorgeous,” he said, running the backs of his fingers over the inked mural. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful.”
In the low lamplight of her bedroom, he caught the faint color tinging her skin at his compliment. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” she asked, stroking his shoulder and arm. “I could see you with one.”
He loosed a bark of laughter. “Uh, hell no,” he said, folding an arm under his head.
“Hmm.” Noelle sat up, the sheets falling to her waist. Unbidden, he dropped his gaze to her breasts, momentarily distracted by the small but full flesh. “Hey.” She snapped her fingers. “Eyes up here. There’s a story here, and I want to know.”
Aiden grunted. “If you want to talk, you might consider covering up.”
Grumbling something about “men,” “thinking,” and “dicks,” she tugged the sheet up under her arms. “Now. Spill the details.”
Sighing, he shook his head, a reluctant smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “I hate needles,” he confessed.
Surprise flashed across her face. “What?”
“I hate needles,” he repeated, admitting just one of the secrets he’d never shared with anyone. Including his best friend, Lucas. “I have since I was a kid. D
uring doctor’s visits they would need to call at least two more nurses in to hold me down for a shot. You know when they show drug users on those TV documentaries like Intervention? I can’t even watch people shoot up.” He shuddered. “So the thought of sitting there and voluntarily allowing someone to drill me with one? Hell no.”
Noelle stared at him. Blinked. “Wow.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Go ahead and laugh. I can see your mouth twitching.”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “No. Nooo. I wouldn’t laugh at your…trauma.” She snickered. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“In my defense, it’s just that you’re so…big. And needles are so…tiny.” She held up her hands when he glared at her. “But, hey. We all have our issues. In high school, I knew a girl who was afraid of olives. No joke,” she insisted when he snorted. “When she was a kid her grandfather died in their house. She saw the body before the paramedics arrived, and his eyes were open. So olives reminded her of his green eyes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Which really sucks, because she’ll never know the joys of a stellar Greek salad.”
Aiden laughed, the burst of amusement catching him off guard. As did the surge of pure delight that warmed his chest. If someone had told him he could laugh with Noelle, enjoy talking to her, would confide one of his fears to her, he would’ve escorted that person to an extended stay at McLean Hospital, one of Boston’s finest asylums.
“It’s a shame,” Noelle murmured, stroking his shoulder. “You would be even more beautiful in ink.”
“Huh.” Aiden cocked his head, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “So you think I’m beautiful.”
Another of those adorable blushes stained her skin. “Please,” she scoffed, throwing back the cover and scrambling out of bed. “As if the scores of women fawning over you isn’t a big-ass clue,” she muttered.
He would’ve replied, but the sight of her bare body rendered him mute. Hell, his mouth and fingers had explored every inch of her, and his cock had been balls-deep inside her. He shouldn’t still be struck dumb by just a glimpse of her slender shoulders, painted back, perfect ass, and long legs. Noelle put every woman he’d been with to shame. No, that wasn’t true. She relegated them to the status of nameless and faceless.