by Kinsley Gibb
The urge to fan her hot face was strong but she refrained. Derek took his seat across from her at the peninsula counter.
“Cheers.”
She raised her glass and took a gulp of liquid courage.
“Here’s to uncharted territory.” Another gulp. Which uncharted territory did he mean? If he meant that virgin territory, she wasn’t sure if she was ready. That was strictly exit only in her book.
He must have read the anxiety in her expression and he chuckled, the sound rough and way to sexy for her state of mind.
“Here’s to hot and dirty sex.”
Oh, that territory. “Yes,” she said, seconding the notion, the sound more like a squeak than she wanted. Was this really happening? His gaze bore into hers, singing her so she took another gulp.
“Easy there, wild thing. Don’t want you getting sick.”
She nodded. She was fairly certain projectile vomiting would kill the mood. It would definitely kill her confidence and another five years would pass before she’d get the nerve for another experiment like this.
The experiment of epic proportion.
The experiment of getting laid, of having a male induced orgasm.
So yeah, she accepted a glass of water.
The fish and pasta were delicious, but she was too nervous to eat. She managed a few bites while they discussed the success of last night’s Halloween bash. Derek didn’t suffer from nerves so managed to finish his portion in record time. When he was almost done, she gave up the pretense of eating.
“I need to use your bathroom.”
He gave her an assessing look. “It’s in the alcove next to the bedroom.”
She made her escape, made her way past large scale sepia photographs of what looked to be the Emerald Palace, the Great Wall and possibly Saint Basil’s Cathedral. The bathroom mirror showed a woman with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. The woman was a stranger. Anabelle thrived on being perfect, organized, in control. This woman didn’t look remotely in control.
She wasn’t sure if she could go through with the experiment. What if the problem truly was with her? What if she was so bad at sex and had made Gavin gay like the rumors implied? If the experiment were a disaster, would she be able to face him? The longer she stayed in the room, the more she convinced herself this was a bad idea.
Very bad.
Anabelle splashed water on her cheeks, rinsed her teeth and popped a mint. She left the sanctuary of the bathroom and made her way back to the kitchen where Derek was cleaning up.
“Derek, I don’t think…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say. This was out of her realm of normal behavior.
With one look at her face, he turned off the faucet, wiped his hands and grasped her hands. “Hey now, don’t back out now.”
“No. It was a poorly thought out idea.”
“That’s fine, Anabelle. Relax. We don’t have to do anything. We’ll just dance…and relax. It’s been a long week and it’s a beautiful day so let’s enjoy the rest of the afternoon together.”
He pulled her into the unfinished living room, although calling it a room was incorrect. It was more like an enclosure contained by fabric.
“Sorry for the mess, the girls spent the night and we built tents.”
She nodded, seeing it from a child’s point of view. There were no walls, the space was mostly open and cream-colored fabrics were draped and suspended from the trusses. Derek had strung Halloween lights from the rafters and winded them along a vintage candelabrum turning it into a sparking chandelier. Carved, plastic pumpkins lit with battery-operated lights were scattered about. The effect was both whimsical and magical.
“You’re a nice uncle.”
He shrugged, not replying but she detected a hint of color on his cheeks. Anabelle stood by the lone, leather sofa while he walked to the carved wood console that held assorted electronic devices situated in front of a giant flat screen television. He grabbed a remote and selected through the apple TV menu. Moments later, the soulful voice of Etta James drifted from hidden speakers. Derek tugged her into his arms and she let him.
He linked hands with her, holding her loosely against him with the other. He moved slowly, swayed with her in his arms while Etta crooned about belonging at last. Minutes later it was only natural that she slid her free hand up his chest and sank into his embrace.
His big hands moved up and down her back, tracing along the bumps of her spine as if he had all the time in the world, as if she weren’t on the verge of running for the door.
But he was good that way.
Because before long, like a horse whisperer, he gentled her, he soothed her to the point that instead of running, he made her ache for more, yearn for more, more contact, more of whatever came next.
For him.
He was that good.
After Etta, Billie came on and between the soulful music, the gentle handling, and the liquid courage she’d consumed, she found herself floating in his embrace. They swayed as one, never traveling far from their starting position.
A perfect spot on his chest beckoned and she nuzzled close. He pressed her head more firmly against him. She inhaled the clean scent of man, musk and peppermint. She smiled; he must have snuck in a mint while she hid in the bathroom. She closed her eyes, wanting to savor the feel of his arms around her.
The rhythmic click of the ceiling fan accompanied a breeze. He must have opened the storm shutters because the faint sounds of street life drifted from below. She made out the masculine planes of his face and wondered how often he shaved. She detected a hint of stubble and wondered if she’d get to feel it against her body. She shivered, her nipples hard.
He pulled back and smiled at her, his smile wicked as if he was fully aware of her thoughts and wholeheartedly wanted the same thing.
It was really happening.
She shivered again and discovered that brushing her aching nipples against his chest felt really, really good. So she did it again, just to make sure she hadn’t imagined the sensation.
She hadn’t.
His big body shuddered against hers so she stopped and pulled back, no longer touching his chest. She didn’t want to hurt him, but could she do it? Could she go through with this experiment and let him seduce her, tutor her? Would she be able to satisfy him?
“Come here.” He pulled her closer, as if sensing her uncertainty again. “I can hear you thinking. Stop thinking.” He rubbed her back. “Relax,” he whispered in her ear.
The hot drift of his breath grazed her cheeks and left her shivering. Once more, the gentling of Anabelle began. Billie Holiday had taken a break and a French lady serenaded them with her smoky voice. Anabelle had no idea what she sang about, she could have sung about the chore of walking her dog and cleaning up poo. It didn’t matter because anything in French sounded sexy.
Anabelle sank deeper into his arms and pressed close against the hard evidence of his attraction.
Very nice.
Gavin had never reacted this way in close proximity. It was a novel sensation to feel a man’s desire so she brushed against him once more and watched the fabric of her dress get caught on the jut of his erection. His groan rumbled in his chest, sending an electric sensation down her spine.
Was this how men and women normally interacted?
His hand burned through her dress as if the fabric had disintegrated and left them skin-to-skin. She looked into his eyes and swallowed at the carnal intent she found there.
The idea both thrilled and terrified her. She shifted closer, her legs tangled with his. The desire to explore this very strange anomaly known to others as a male erection was strong so she pressed her lower body against his. The grinding motion was new but exciting.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “Easy, sweetheart.”
She smiled. Closing her eyes, she savored this new feeling. His obvious desire for her was heady and the last thing she wanted to do would be to take it easy. She’d never been wanted with such urgency and the feeling inspired
in her a frantic need to touch, to rub, to explore. Her hands couldn’t stay still.
“Be sure you know what you’re doing,” he warned. He sounded pained but she sensed he’d let her play, at least for a little while despite his grumbling. He had to know this was all new to her.
Derek lowered his head, brushed her hair back with his chin. The sharp stubble of his cheek rubbed against her neck with each breath he took.
“You smell good.” He inhaled deeply, as if he wanted to consume her and she groaned her head rolled back, inviting his pleasure. She felt the brush of his lips once, twice at a sensitive point where her neck and shoulders met. She shivered and clutched him closer.
“Derek,” she whispered, the tone of their dance had changed.
He didn’t reply. Instead he nibbled along her neck and sent the fine hairs along her arms to stand at attention.
Their movements had slowed to a barely noticeable sway. She raised slumberous eyes to his and watched while his heavy lidded gaze tracked her features. His hands stroked her face. One hand gripped her chin while the other tangled through her hair. He brought his mouth to hers and she fell into his kiss, clinging to his chest while their mouths mated, each seeking a better angle in which to inhale the other until at last, they fell apart, desperate for air.
They stared at the other without speaking, the harsh sound of their breathing mixed with Etta crooning once more. Derek tugged the button of her halter until the sundress loosened, making access to her nipple possible. His hands were rough but she gasped at the feel of his wet, warm mouth as he tugged, licked and sucked the hardened tip into submission.
“Jesus, Anabelle, I want you so much,” he muttered against her nipple, before attacking its twin. With urgent hands, he unzipped the dress, and tugged it until it puddled on the floor.
He backed her towards the couch and sat down. And while she teetered in high heels before him, he jerked her panties down. The sound of her panties ripping made him wince. “Sorry, babe. I’ll buy you more,” he said and urged her to step out of the ruined lingerie. “Come here.”
He pulled her forward to stand between his knees. He pressed hot kisses to her stomach, nuzzled, sucked and nibbled on her flesh, unmindful of the softness she abhorred. He progressed lower and inhaled. She pushed away, embarrassed at the evidence of her arousal and how wet she was. Gavin had once told her it was gross.
“No.” He widened his knees and pulled her forward, refusing to let her go. “Delicious,” he murmured. He inhaled deeply and nuzzled against her wet flesh.
“Oh God,” she muttered but there was no indication he’d heard as focused as he was. He parted the slippery folds and leaned in. Her knees felt weak, as if they would buckle and he seemed to sense it, urging her forward.
“Put one leg up here.” He patted the spot next to him and she obeyed. The position opened her up and he murmured his approval. “So pretty, Anabelle.”
Naked as the day she was born except for the sassy sandals she wore, she stood before him. Instead of embarrassment at the lewd position, the hunger in his voice enthralled her, made her feel powerful. With his big hands he held her thighs. He looked up to meet her gaze.
“You might want to hold on.”
She slid her fingers through his hair and before she could find a grip, he leveled his first assault on her delicate flesh. Her moan came from somewhere deep within her, somewhere she hadn’t known existed.
He was good.
Very good.
Stupendous.
Her head fell back as he devoured her hot flesh, moaning and savoring her as if he couldn’t get enough, as if the love juices she produced were honey. There was no quick peck and buss, the technique Gavin had employed. With his fingers, mouth and tongue, Derek consumed her while she trembled, panted and groaned.
“Ah fuck,” escaped her lips and he doubled his efforts as if the sound of her potty mouth inspired him. He was greedy for her and wasn’t satisfied until she shivered and moaned and screamed her pleasure so the neighbors could hear.
Only then did he let her rest. Only then did he allow her to collapse beside him, her body spent and shaking, her voice hoarse from the strain. Only then did he smooth away her involuntary spasms, murmuring, doing his Anabelle whispering thing he did so well, telling her how sweet she was, how much he wanted her, and how he knew she could take more.
He rearranged her on the leather sofa, kissed his way up her body, paused at her breast where he palmed them, took their measure before taking nuzzling her and taking her nipple into his mouth. The powerful suction along with the wet length of his tongue and the sharp sting of his teeth created an erotic combination that had her bucking against him spouting nonsense.
“Stop,” she whispered then hated when he obeyed. She pulled him back. “Don’t stop.” She felt his smile against her breast before he doubled his efforts. She moaned, her body twisting on the sofa, her back arched trying to find a better fit against him. “More…please.” She couldn’t believe the sound of her voice. It was throaty, seductive almost, completely opposite from the norm. But after her come to Jesus moment, she shouldn’t be surprised.
She grasped his head and wallowed in his considerable skills. Tomorrow, she’d repent in leisure but tonight…tonight was more than she’d expected. It was more than she’d had in her thirty-eight years. Whether her heart could stand the pleasure was debatable but she would try.
He moved onto her neck and scraped the length with his teeth. He nibbled and sucked until she was sure he left marks. Explaining them to Charlie would take creative sidestepping but, she didn’t care.
“Fuck me already.”
He chuckled at her demand but ignored her he was busy playing. He moved to where her neck and shoulder joined, intent on more torture but Anabelle rolled off the couch and fell to her knees in front of him. She tore at his button fly. The urgency made her fingers clumsy. It was frustrating but success came when he pushed her hand away and completed the task himself.
At last, he shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His thick cock sprang free. Have mercy. She sighed and sank between his thighs.
“Yes, please,” she said and nuzzled the hard steel as she’d longed to do for some time.
His chuckle morphed into a groan and he cut her playtime short, pulling her up. “Not this round, Anabelle.”
Her moue of displeasure changed when she heard a condom rip. Never had she been more grateful for his foresight because protection hadn’t occurred to her.
She watched him, his movements inherently graceful as he rolled on the latex. She bit her lip, as he pumped himself once, squeezing the tip for control.
Derek urged her over his lap. She placed a knee on either side of his hips and hovered, wanting to slide deep but waiting, because it had been a long time. He gripped her hips, rubbed his cock back and forth at her drenched entrance while spasms of pleasure shot through her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the play and he wasn’t yet inside her. The need to grind against him was instinctive. After what seemed like an eternity, he lowered her body onto his.
“Easy now.” He tightened his grip when she struggled to go deeper, faster. “I’m big and I don’t want to hurt you.”
She moaned at the invasion. The fullness. The delicious friction. “Oh my…Derek.”
At last he was in all the way and she felt him, really felt him which was strange because Gavin had never been this hard and she had never been so wet. It had never felt like this.
She wanted to move and had to bite back the need. She may have rocked forward once, maybe twice, because he groaned.
“You okay?” He gripped the back of her head and forced her gaze to his.
“I think so,” she said although if she were any more okay, he’d have to rush her to the emergency clinic. She shuddered, her nipples brushed against his chest and the sensation caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head again.
Whatever he saw in her expression must have appeased him b
ecause he thrust up and at the same time, he pulled her down. The force made her moan and he did it again, rolling his hips. He increased the pace, controlled the depth and angle of insertion while she matched each movement. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge, to that elusive moment that suspended before her.
His mouth sought hers. Together they licked, sucked and bit, each hungry for more while their bodies battled for pleasure. Anabelle pulled back and locked gazes with him. She took in his flared nostrils, the arousal that stained his cheekbones, and the intensity that burned in his gaze. The big, bad wolf was hungry and didn’t bother hiding it.
He tilted her so she fell on her side, sprawled on the leather. “I’ve got you.” With one leg anchored on the floor for leverage, he adjusted his angle and thrust harder, increasing their rhythm to a frantic pace.
“So good.” She moaned, twisted her body so she could find a grip to push back against him.
She gasped as he changed his angle. “Ahhh.” The pressure against her clit increased.
“Harder, don’t stop.”
And he didn’t. He didn’t stop until a shattering pleasure contracted from deep inside her, radiating from her core to her limbs and beyond. The hard, pulsing grasp of her inner muscles set off his orgasm and his groan rivaled hers. The convulsive spasms of his hips extended her pleasure and made her grind against him, setting off another round of pleasure.
At last, he put his head to hers. Sweat poured from him but she didn’t mind.
“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse, sexy and her girl parts clenched hard.
Fuck was right.
Anabelle Broussard had finally been well and truly fucked. And by a heterosexual male who desired her, who didn’t have to fantasize about another man and who knew how to give a woman pleasure.
Anabelle Broussard finally had a male induced orgasm.
Hot and dirty sex, indeed.
Happy Birthday to her.
Chapter 9
“Someone will be right with you, ma’am.” The hostess smiled, her lip ring sparkled in the morning sun, before she turned to leave.