by Louise Bay
I grinned and stepped toward her, pulling her into my arms again.
“That bodes well,” I said, snaking a finger under the sleeve of her dress and pushing it over her shoulder. I pressed a kiss to the exposed flesh.
“Do you think there’s a connection to what someone’s like as a kisser and what someone’s like in bed?” she asked, as if we were sitting across from each other in a coffee shop, discussing the weather.
“Shall we find out?” I said, slipping off the other sleeve and stepping back as her dress fell to the floor.
Her underwear was practical—pink and plain, the type that women wore under dresses to avoid lines showing through on the outside. It suited her. And it made me all the more curious to see what lay beneath.
I snaked my hand around her back and unsnapped her strapless bra. I took a breath as her breasts were freed. They were delicious. A perfect handful—firm and ripe—and her nipples jutted out as if they were sitting up and begging for my tongue.
I took one in my hand, kneading the flesh, walking her back to the bed. I needed to explore her, from the tip of her head to the bottom of her toes and everywhere in between.
I sat her on the bed, pulling off her underwear until she was completely naked. I stepped back as she leaned back on her elbows and I scanned her body.
“Are you just going to look at me?” she asked.
“Absolutely not,” I replied. “I’m deciding where to start.”
She hissed in a breath and twisted her delicious hips as if lust was pulling her one way and she was trying to resist.
As if she was ready to be more than looked at.
Well, we’d see about that.
“Open your legs,” I commanded.
She looked at me, as if deciding whether she should comply. Slowly, she separated her knees.
“Wider,” I said. I wanted her to be bold. To realize how fucking bewitching her pussy was. Pussy ruled the fucking world. She just needed to believe it. She hitched herself back a little on the bed and stretched out her legs.
Fucking perfect.
“Are you wet?” I asked, uncuffing my shirt and rolling up my sleeves.
She bit down on her lip and gave me a small nod.
I nearly groaned. Thank fucking God because I was hard as steel. But I wasn’t about to take her word for it.
I stepped forward, standing between her legs, and dipped my fingers into her folds. Thank God she wasn’t lying. I pushed my thumb over her bulging clit, rubbing it over and over. The strain on her face, as she tried not to cry out, was magnificent. It was like we were in a tug-of-war and she didn’t want to give away how difficult it was to keep her hands on the rope.
Well, she was going to lose that battle.
I slipped two fingers inside her and she cried out at the top of her voice.
“Careful there,” I said. “I’ll have to get you a pillow to put over your mouth.” Her hands reached overhead to pull a pillow from the top of the bed. She held it over her face as she cried out again. She was so tight and so wet and so fucking loud.
I pulled my hand away from her, took the pillow, and quickly stripped off my clothes. “Fuck, Madison, with a mouth that big, I’m looking forward to what else you can do with it.”
I’d barely touched her and already sweat clung to me as if I’d been fucking her for hours. I grabbed one of the three condoms and pressed her knees apart. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to have this woman. She was so turned on, so hot, so ready for me that lust was racing up my spine, urging me to claim what was right in front of me. Enough with the talking. Enough with my fingers. I needed to be inside her. I needed to fuck her.
She bent her knees as I rolled the condom over my straining cock.
“Ready?” I asked.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been ready a while.”
I wasn’t sure if lust or need had made her bold, but I liked it.
“You better behave if you want to get fucked.”
She placed her palms over her knees and pushed them further apart. “You want me to beg?” she asked.
I groaned. Her words. The slippery wetness of her pussy. The knowledge that it would be only seconds before I was going to be in her hot, slick, tight cunt. It was all perfect. She reached for my cock, pushing the tip over her clit. She writhed and sucked in a sharp breath.
Cheeky minx. Taking her pleasure just like that.
“Enough,” I snapped and pushed in. Right. To. The. Hilt.
Our moans collided, filling the room with the sonorous echoes of our relief and pleasure.
All I could think as I slid out and pounded back in, over and over, was thank fucking God.
I was grateful I’d been sitting next to her at this wedding.
Grateful she’d said yes to my proposition.
Grateful I was here with her now, feeling like there was nowhere else I was supposed to be. Feeling better than I had done in months.
Relief and gratitude. I couldn’t remember ever having that sensation when having sex with a woman. Pleasure—yes. Release—of course. But gratitude? Relief? As if I’d finally got to a destination I’d been trying to find my whole life.
She shifted her hips, and I slowed. “Don’t stop,” she said in breathy little huffs. “Don’t ever stop.”
If it was up to me, I’d exist in this room, doing exactly what I was doing, feeling exactly what I was feeling, for the rest of time. The beginnings of my orgasm rattled in the distance, warning me it was on its way. I wanted to tell it to take its time. I was happy here, fucking this beauty under me. Pushing into her slick heat. Making her moan.
She reached for me and pulled me down on her, taking a kiss and filling my lungs with the smell of summer.
My movements were smaller but somehow the intensity of the pleasure hiked up as I continued to push into her. Our kisses stuttered, punctuated by guttural cries and desperate pleas.
Madison’s nails bit into my shoulder as she arched into me, her sighs pushing out of her as if she were trying to find her next breath. She began to shake in the seconds before she tightened around me. I slowed but kept pushing and pushing, wanting her to ride the wave of her climax for as long as possible. Eventually, she collapsed back into the mattress, her hands covering her face.
But I still didn’t stop.
I wanted to see that again. To see that look of complete rapture I had created in her.
She twisted, almost as if she wanted to get away. “Wait,” she said. “It’s too much. I can’t take anymore.”
“You can,” I replied, and as she flipped over, I pulled her hips back to me.
“I can barely feel my thighs, Nathan.”
I’d make sure she’d feel every bit of her body. “Are you saying no?”
She looked over her shoulder at me and shook her head.
“Then trust me.” I placed one hand on her back, my fingers curled around her hip, and pushed in again.
Jesus, the change in angle, the way her hair scattered on her back—red against pale white. The pulsing in my veins. The squeeze of my cock. I was in sensory overload.
She was the spark to my gasoline.
When I stilled to collect myself, she pushed back, clearly having changed her mind about wanting to wait.
“So greedy,” I said.
She glanced back at me and grinned. “That’s your fault.”
I’d take that. I was happy to have made Madison greedy.
I wasn’t going to be able to hold back my climax when she came this time. There was no way. And if I didn’t get her there fast, I wasn’t sure I’d even last until she came all over my cock for the second time.
I leaned forward and found her clit with my fingers.
She caught my wrist. “If you do that, I’m going to—”
She gasped as I thrust into her, her entire body tensing like steel, her pussy contracting as I pushed in once more. Ribbons of white light tumbled across my vision, chased away by the climax that was circ
ling closer and closer and closer until it crashed over me, into me and through me in a crescendo of bliss and relief.
I collapsed to the side of her like I’d been punched by Mike Tyson. What the fuck had just happened?
I enjoyed sex. There was nothing better. But that? That was something I didn’t quite have a word for.
Exhausted and weak, we sounded like we were recovering from a marathon.
She took a deep breath and sighed. “If you think I can do that again—twice,” she snapped. “Well, you’ve got another thing coming. Pardon the pun.”
I chuckled. I really liked her fieriness. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh yeah,” she replied. “That was really all about me.”
“I didn’t say it was. But it was partly about you.”
“I’m exhausted,” she said, her voice softening. “And I think I might have bruises.”
Had I hurt her? I jolted up to a sitting position, trailing my gaze along her body. “Bruises? Where?”
She sighed, her hands flopping across her ribs. “Everywhere.”
She didn’t sound hurt. But then again, I didn’t know her very well. I’d hate to think that was the last time I was going to see her come tonight, but the last thing I wanted to do was cause any physical damage. “Sometimes I can get a bit rough. Sorry.” I pushed my hands through my hair. She had made me lose control—no, I’d just gotten lost in the moment.
She smoothed her hand up my arm and when I glanced at her, she was smiling. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. It was . . .” She lifted up a shoulder. “Great. But . . . you know, it was a lot. And you brought three condoms. I’m just a little concerned I might not survive three. But,” she said on a sigh. “What a way to go.”
I grinned at her. “Well, I completely understand if you can’t handle me.”
She shook her head, a smile curling at the edge of her lips. “Don’t try to manipulate me. You think that I like a challenge so you’re trying reverse psychology.” She tapped her temple. “I’m not stupid.”
“I know that.” She was a lot of things but dumb wasn’t one of them. She was sexy. And gorgeous. And she made me laugh. I found myself liking her and enjoying the talking almost as much as the sex. Before the end of the night, she might even change how I felt about weddings.
I dropped a kiss on her lips and when I pulled back, she slid her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me over her, claiming my mouth with such passion it took me by surprise. I was going to have to work to keep up with this woman.
Six
Madison
Paralyzed by sex. Was that even a thing? I made a mental note to Google it if I ever regained the ability to pick up my phone.
“Are you okay?” Nathan asked from beside me.
If I blinked twice would he know that meant yes? I was pretty sure I was incapable of forming actual words. And to think that I almost hadn’t slept with him. In that parallel universe I might have been able to move, but I would have gone my entire life without having sex like that. That was the kind of sex I’d heard about, read about, but never experienced.
“Madison?” he asked and pushed up on one arm. I bet my mascara was running down my face and my hair was standing up on end. Nathan on the other hand looked relaxed and sexy. But that seemed to be his permanent look. He definitely wasn’t suffering from sex paralysis. He was made even sexier by sex, if that was possible.
I managed a small nod and he chuckled.
“Shall I call an ambulance?” he asked, flopping back on the bed. “For both of us, I think.”
“You need to get out of here before you kill me,” I managed to say with a groan. He needed to leave so I could drag myself out of bed and into the bath. God knows what time it was, but I needed to soak my entire body in warm water if I had any chance of leading a normal life again. And the last thing I wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms and wake up with him gone. I didn’t want tonight to end with a disappointment. Not when it had been anything but so far.
“Meeting you made this hands down the best wedding I’ve ever been to. Full stop.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The muscles in his back bunched and released and I remembered the way they felt under my hands. I shivered and silently cursed my body. How could I still be reacting to him like this when I was so thoroughly exhausted?
“Seriously, get out of here.” He was dangerous and he needed to leave before I could want something he couldn’t give me. The languorous churn in my stomach and my tightening nipples were proof that if he stayed another ten minutes, I’d be straddling him again. And although my body clearly liked that idea, it wasn’t a good one.
He shot me a look from over his shoulder—that relaxed, sexy smirk that told me he could never imagine a woman would seriously want his naked self to leave her. And he had a point. Damn him.
Maybe just one final kiss.
At the thought, energy pulsed down my limbs, giving me a fresh surge of power. I sat up, circled my hands around his neck, and pulled him over me. My body instantly molded to his, to the weight of him above me, as if we’d been doing this for years and our bodies knew each other, knew how they fit together, how they worked, what they needed.
I swept my fingers over his cheeks, trying to commit him and those beautiful eyelashes to memory, trying to freeze this moment in time. I traced his lips with my thumb and then pulled his face closer, enjoying the sensation of his mouth meeting mine. Our tongues crashed into each other, almost as if we both knew we were running out of time, as if we had to make the most of each second.
I knew it was just physical, just sex. But the kissing felt like more than that. Tonight had been some kind of watershed; when I walked out of my hotel room after being with him, the world would be a slightly different place than it had been when I entered.
I smoothed my hands down his muscular back, savoring the feel of his skin, and he groaned against me. I had to put a stop to this or I’d want him to stay forever.
“Nathan,” I said, pulling away. “You really need to go.”
He pushed himself up, caging me with his arms. “That was a goodbye kiss?” I wasn’t sure if it was confusion or disappointment I saw on his face.
I smiled at him. “Yeah. It was a thank-you-for-making-this-the-best-wedding-I’ve-ever-been-to-now-get-out-of-here kiss.”
“That’s not the kind of kiss I was hoping for,” he replied, moving away and shifting off the bed. “But fair enough, you’re a woman of your word. And if I stayed . . .” He didn’t finish his thought. Part of me wanted him to and the other part of me needed him not to say anything that would make me want him to stay. “You’re a great kisser,” he said. “Great company.”
“Back at you,” I replied, getting up and heading to the bathroom. I didn’t like goodbyes.
I started to fill the bath and pressed my ear to the door, wondering if he’d left yet. The snap of the door closing told me he had.
I sighed and stumbled back, taking a seat on the edge of the bath. Nathan Cove had been the perfect distraction and now I had to focus on my future.
Seven
Madison
I pushed through the turnstile at the bottom of the pair of escalators in the lobby of the Post’s offices. This Monday was a little different from the last. Yes, I was still staring down the barrel of a clear desk. Article-less. But this Monday was different because it was the Monday after Saturday night. The Monday after Noah and Truly’s wedding, meeting Nathan Cove, and an untold number of orgasms.
But it wasn’t just the actual sex that had been so . . . invigorating.
It was the way I’d just walked away from that evening with no expectations. There’d been no, I’ll see you arounds, Maybe I’ll call yous or Fancy dinner on Saturdays. And it felt great. I’d had amazing sex with an amazing guy and that was enough.
Maybe it was because Nathan had been so intense. Focused. On me. Maybe it was because I’d just needed a good shag. Whatever it was, I felt more like myself
than I had done in a long time.
My boss’s assistant, Joan, appeared at my side before I’d even sat down. “Bernie wants to see you in his office ASAP.”
ASAP was Bernie’s favorite acronym from what I could tell.
“No problem,” I said, shrugging off my jacket. I picked up a pen, pad, and my phone, and followed Joan across the office. It was only just after half past eight, and there was only a smattering of people at their desks. I hoped this wasn’t the you’re sacked conversation. I was feeling so positive—this week was the start of something. I could feel it in my bones.
“Madison. Take a seat,” Bernie said as I arrived at the entrance to his cool, modern office overlooking Regent’s Canal.
I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me to pitch him my latest ideas. I’d come up with a few on the trip back to London yesterday, but nothing that I could present without a lot of further research.
He was scribbling something on some papers in front of him as he sat behind his desk. Then he handed them all to Joan and looked up. “I have an assignment for you.”
I was pretty sure I saw fireworks exploding from the top of his head and two girls in sequined bikinis and feathered headdresses unrolling a congratulatory banner.
Then again, I might have imagined it.
I freaking knew this was going to be a good week for me. Life after sex with Nathan Cove had started.
“It’s important,” he said. “And you’ve been requested especially.”
My heart lifted in my chest. Was I beginning to make a name for myself already? I couldn’t be. I was covering a maternity leave and hadn’t run a single article with a solo byline.
He scratched his chin. Bernie’s salt-and-pepper beard was a little too long. If he’d been twenty years younger, he would have been a hipster. If he’d been twenty years older, he would have been a hippy. But he was stuck in middle-aged no-man’s land, where the only acceptable beard was a very short one. Bernie was either holding on to his youth or nostalgia—I couldn’t tell which.