Deliciously Obedient

by Julia Kent

  Them.

  The joking, interfering man who’d appeared in Iceland weeks ago was now her lover, and a damn fine one at that. So unlike Mike, whose raw intensity fairly radiated out of him like an energy source, as if he were nuclear fusion itself, Jeremy’s entire being was more languid and fluid, his ability to relax and just hang out a treasured quality, because how many people could do that? In a world of stress and rush and worry and haste, Jeremy’s decidedly calm, mellow self—which was currently licking her navel as one hand traveled along her inner thigh—ignited something in her that simmered instead of bubbling over.

  The two men would have made a perfect complement to each other, and her mind wandered to her dream about Mike. Ah, to have both. At once. Was that a betrayal? With Jeremy at her service and her legs rubbing against his rigid cock, his hands gripping her breasts, the salty scent of him mingled with coffee and his spicy soap, she didn’t care. Blood rushed once more through her as he changed course, and soon, commanding hands parted her thighs and he gave her what she needed most, right here, right now.

  Release from her thoughts.

  The orgasm would be secondary, an afterthought, she surmised, mind racing with too many intrusions as his tongue sank deep into her folds, palms rasping against her full ass, sliding between her and the comforter to hike up her hips. The angle improved and he sighed, a sound of a man finding his way to pleasure.

  Heat pulsed through her as he took her in, so free with his own body and reveling in touching, tasting, teasing and cleaving with hers. This was what she had thought sex should be, the welding of mind, body, and soul, and as his words—I need you—flashed through her mind, she wondered if next she would hear the words she’d not been told in a very long time.

  I love you.

  Mike’s face replaced the vision, invading without provocation just as Jeremy’s tongue touched her clitoris with a whisper that made all her stray strands of thoughts whip into a centered core, like ribbons on a Maypole that suddenly wove around the post, leaving nothing left to be tossed in the wind.

  “Oh,” she groaned, the sound spurring him on, his unfailing rhythm and motion, the slow circle of his tongue a practiced movement designed to bring her to cries of joy. And he would.

  She needed him, too.

  Widening her legs, she reached down to open her lips to him, giving better access to what he sought with his tongue, his fingers now slick with her juices and using her own body’s proof of desire to elicit more. One, then two, fingers slipped in her, her muscled walls clinging to him for dear life. Fire poured through her now, her hips bucking against his mouth with controlled strokes, Jeremy meeting her every move.

  Each ragged breath only added to the cloud of intensity hovering over her, body dissipating into a mist of lust as she felt herself begin the journey to climax. An unexpected—and unarticulated—craving for his finger to play with her in new, recently explored territory made a bolt of flame fly through her, his mouth stroking her to ecstasy, fingers riding her and playing her from within, the alluring sense of being consumed utterly by this man—his sole focus—enough alone to make her cry out with release.

  And then—he read her mind, one finger teasing the tight muscle of her ass, slick with her own juices, his finger playing her perfectly. “Oh!” she gasped, shocked by how right it felt, how naughty and dirty and oh so wicked.

  Perfect.

  Frenzied and even wetter, she made a strangled sound as his mouth released her clit, the cool absence of his lips on her like some form of punishment. “Okay?” he asked, checking in.

  “More than okay,” she gasped.

  “Good,” he murmured in a deep voice that made her want to ride his mouth for the next century. The finger that explored her ass turned her breath from a gasp to a series of hitched cries, the feeling pushing her completely to overflowing, her body weeping with joy and struggling to let go of the monumental build-up inside her. Quaking, her limbs shivered, her clit pushing against his determined tongue, his motions matching hers like a hunter unwilling to let go of prey.

  “Jeremy!” she called out, his name the only word she could remember as his cheek scratched against her inner thigh, his lips suckled her clit, and his tongue went on, still knowing it was too much, his fingers now taking over the work of giving her as much as he could within the constraints of overwhelm.

  “Oh my God!” she screamed, aware that they were alone in an apartment where no one could hear them, and if anyone could it was no one she cared about. The campground, the hostels in Iceland—neither had afforded this range of abandon, and she let loose with a force that allowed her to scream, to let herself unleash completely, through her body, her fingers that gripped the bedspread as if it were a tether, and to call out until her throat was shredded, until her entire being had exploded with a pulse of rock-hard muscle and soft, mewling whimpering that made her go limp.

  And then he was gone.

  Barely able to focus, clouds of multicolored plumes behind her open eyes, she watched Jeremy’s bare ass as he walked into the attached bathroom. The rush of the sink, the rummaging in a cabinet. His return gave her a look at his cocky face, dark with desire, and playful. The look of a man who knew exactly what he was about to do.

  To you.

  In his hands he held a condom and a bottle of lube.

  “Both unopened,” he said, as if prematurely allaying her fears.

  Her entire body, from nipples to ankles, from breastbone to earlobe, throbbed with the waning of the earthquake he’d triggered in her. A cold wash of something animal made her shiver as he put the items on the nightstand and got back in bed next to her, sidling up, his arm over his head, thick pecs stretching his chest out like a muscle orgy that needed one more in there.

  Her finger.

  Tracing the outline of his nipple, she smiled without teeth, letting the pulse at her neck regulate, feeling the tingling in her lips and clit fade into a blurred warmth.

  He inhaled sharply as she nudged her hip against his rigid cock, which stood like an attentive soldier, awaiting orders. “Is that for what I think it’s for?” she said shyly, surprised by how the topic of anal play made her feel like a nervous teen. Why? He’d shown himself open to it, and even Krysta said she’d done it, which was like learning that your grandma knew how to use your new smart phone features better than you did.

  His eyes narrowed with a sharpness that told her he’d picked up on her nervousness. “It’s for whatever you want.”

  Broadening her palm, she remembered her grandmother, sick in bed, the hiss of the ventilator keeping her alive. The contrast between that image and of Jeremy’s vibrant, young body stretched out before her, naked and willing, in command and ready to test her boundaries, made her want this even more. You have to live while there’s still life in you, and what could be a greater affirmation of life than making love and exploring pleasure in all its forms?

  In other words, her conscience chimed in: You know you want to try it, so just do it.

  “I want you to pop my anal cherry.”

  He winced, then laughed, the booming sound carrying through the empty apartment. “And you say I’m the unromantic one?”

  With a face so red she was sure it matched her clit, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m…I don’t have a language for this, Jeremy.”

  Suddenly serious, he took a deep breath and claimed her hip with his big hand. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to. I’m curious. I’m tongue-tied and stumbling like an eighth grader hoping for her first kiss.”

  “We’ve sort of gone beyond that,” he said, pointedly looking at their naked bodies.

  She smacked him on the shoulder and then tweaked his nipple. Hard. “You know what I mean.”

  “I’d be honored to be your backdoor boyfriend.”

  “Oh, God.” The laughter made her breasts jiggle and he ogled her, catching one with the full of his hand and just staring at the flesh as it bounced.

&nbs
p; “I could watch this all day on an infinite loop,” he said.

  “That’s because you’re a man.”

  “Thank you for noticing, again.” With that, his mouth matched hers hungrily, making her head spin. Preliminaries aside, they both knew what they wanted, and Lydia found her body in a state of heightened arousal, the thrill of the forbidden and unknown setting her on edge.

  A good edge, one that made her skin pinprick and tingle as Jeremy let one hand slide over her ample ass, his fingers slick with lube, one finding her and sliding slowly around the entrance, the zing of nerve endings, untouched and unknown, so fine, she held her breath, unable to do anything but feel.

  “Why do you think people do this? Straight people, I mean,” she babbled, the words coming out in a rush of anxiety. Over-talking wasn’t one of her traits, but it came out under extreme stress. Especially during sex. “Women don’t need this. It’s just—”

  A demanding mouth against hers, tongue pressing in and circling through the soft flesh of her cheeks, riding between her teeth and lips, exploring with a firm steadiness that matched his finger at her ass. Make that two fingers now...

  “Lydia. Stop.”

  “Stop what?” Nervous laughter. “I just meant that it seems silly, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re overthinking.”

  “I am not!” But he was right. Chatter overtook her. “I’m just wondering about an important sexuality issue that—”

  Another kiss, this one making her head spin. And then:

  “Stop intellectualizing. Just feel everything. Let me help you feel. Let me make you scream my name like you did before. I want to be in you this time, pushing my name out of you, making you think of pleasure every time you say ‘Jeremy.’”

  And just like that, the chatter stopped.

  Positioning her on all fours, Jeremy took two pillows and put them under her, near her head. “You can tell me to stop any time,” he said.

  “Don’t stop.”

  Both of his hands were on her hips as she heard him behind her, the unfamiliarity of sex without being face to face both titillating and unnerving. His knees pressed into hers from behind, hands on her hips, and then the warm slick of lube around her ass. Her pussy clamped tight in response, sending a new wave of wetness through her.

  Dear God, what would this feel like?

  She was about to find out.

  A wall of muscle blanketed her back as Jeremy’s chest and torso brushed against her shoulder blades and back. Kissing her earlobe, he whispered, “You’re in control. Always.”

  Anticipation made her swell even more, blood engorging her, making her want what was about to happen with exquisite clarity. Exploring something so vulnerable, so raw and taboo with Jeremy felt so right. No judgment for wanting this. No “right” way to proceed. No forced expectation. She was Lydia and he was Jeremy and they were naked and seeing what felt good.

  Maybe it really was that simple.

  The tearing sound of the condom, then the sound of a bottle popping open, then closed, made her begin to tighten and relax in a pattern, as if her heartbeat had settled into her nether regions. The presence of his cock at the entrance of her anus made her shiver and close her eyes. A deep breath. A sigh, nipples tightening. The rasp of his groan as he seemed to stroke himself, his finger spreading lube around her liberally.

  A gentle tug combined with his other hand at her clit. A visceral pulse inward made her cry out, then a relaxing that allowed him to enter her, even for a second, before her body pushed him back out involuntarily.

  Slow, wet circles on her clit and the erratic heat of his breath on her back made her want this more, mind focused only on what he could give her body with the careful push of himself into her, the breach of her thick muscle a marathon of lube, time and love.

  As his fingers changed tempo on her swollen red nub, she found herself riding them, wanting the release, her throat closing as her ass pressed back into him, the shudder of climax allowing him to push in, the fullness mingling with the shattered release of her pent-up fire and making her so full, so complete, she could feel it in her ribs, her throat, all throughout her hips and legs, as if Jeremy himself had crawled inside her and inhabited her very soul.

  Barely in her, he held steady, giving her body time to accommodate him, her breath suspended between pain and pleasure, his fingers now just resting lightly against her hot folds, her breathing labored as waves she couldn’t control made her create friction inside her, his entry forced by her body’s involuntary movement.

  The hand moved, now sliding her long hair back from the curtain it formed around her face, the indentation of her teeth in her lower lip easily felt as she opened her mouth and ran her tongue around her lips, coming back to earth to find her body altered in unfathomable ways. Still in her, Jeremy’s slow breaths behind her, the heat of his pelvis against her ass, made her want to take him in all the way.

  To be as close as two people can possibly be.

  “How’s this?” he asked.

  “More,” was all she could answer, and he obliged, the movement so small she might have missed it had she not been so new, so—dare she think it?—virginal in this respect. The pain intensified but lessened as he waited, his hand out of her hair and now sliding, without a goal, up and down her inner thighs, as if calming a spooked animal.

  Which, in a way, she was.

  This path they forged together felt more real than any lovemaking she’d ever experienced, even that night with Mike in the office. Unleashed and unrestrained, Jeremy and Lydia were pushing against rigid expectations and finding what they wanted on their own terms.

  And then—one more thrust, so small yet looming so large, and she cried out. This time, it was her own hand that found her clit, wanting the explosion that let him enter deeper, claiming her own orgasm so she could exert, as Jeremy had said—

  Control.

  Encouraging him to go further, she slipped two fingers into her dripping self, finding the easy juices a welcome relief. You would think that there would be no more release left to unfurl, and yet there it was, at the ready as Lydia brought herself to well-practiced pleasure, knowing the exact formula to bring about a rock-hard clit, and understanding what her body needed to go the distance with Jeremy. Nudging back against his cock, she let him enter another quarter-inch.

  Pain.

  A loosening as her pussy walls contracted in opposite rhythm with her fingers, and then she let him push in more.

  “Oh, Lydia, this is amazing.” A kiss on her rib. “You’re amazing.”

  Fevered with her own fireball within, she heard his voice at a distance, the growing urgency inside her robbing her of words. Jeremy slipped back an inch or two, and then, with an agonizing pace, began to enter, then slide back, enter, then back, the glide making her so full that tremors overtook her, threatening to make her fall into a million tiny pieces and never reintegrate.

  And then he called out her name with a different sound, the gritted teeth and muscled tautness she knew when facing him something she could only guess when she was turned away, his hands grabbing her hips with a force that would leave marks the next day, as if fated mates had met and left a sign of their mark.

  Her name sounded just right against his lips as his guttural cry matched her hoarse scream, the mixture of her fingers stroking her to climax, his cock in her ass, and the knowledge that they’d partaken of the taboo fruit all making the being she called “Lydia” supernova into a tiny part of the larger consciousness that made up life, the universe and love.

  As he slumped over her, Jeremy’s chest rose and fell with decreasing intervals, her own face smooshed into the pile of pillows he’d generously placed before her, clearly anticipating this possible moment. Her breath filled her nose and face as it warmed the pillow, her ass aching and raw, Jeremy wilting inside her. Though there was no sound, as he pulled himself out of her it felt like a pop!, the difference between his being in her and out so great it left a hollow sense, o
ne that ached and burned, a branding she claimed with pride.

  This time, when he left for the bathroom, she didn’t watch, her face still pushed against the expensive cotton pillowcase, her ass in the air, her body frozen in child’s pose.

  This was all she wanted. Bliss.

  Forever.

  With a groan of exertion, not complaint, she righted herself, splaying out on the bed nude and slippery, covered in juice and lube and satiety. Completely relaxed, she rested with her arms out, legs at a V, staring straight up at the ceiling, experiencing only the inhale of a full-belly breath, the push of air out of her lungs, through her throat, over her tongue and between her lips. Hypnotic, really, like the rhythm of lovemaking without the heat and lust.

  A rush of water again in the bathroom made her smile. At some point, she needed to get up and shower. Reaching over the edge of the bed, she pawed for her pants, found them and checked her phone. No messages.

  Whew.

  A tiny blip of shame shot through her. Fucking Jeremy in his friend’s apartment while Madge was in ICU seemed so…crass. Yet Sandy would be back by now, and a quick shower and Lydia’s return was what mattered now. The doctors had shooed them out to give everyone a rest, so it wasn’t as if she’d abandoned her grandma. She just….

  “That was unreal,” Jeremy whispered against her neck as he cuddled up to her, completely unselfconscious about her body, which was now a wet roadmap of Naughtyland.

  A kiss on the lips she meant as a quick note of affection turned wild again, filling her with heat. So soon? Breathless, she pulled away and laughed. “That was all too real.” Shyness seeped in, surprising her. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” He pulled back, a questioning look on his face.

  “For being so open. For going places I’ve never gone with any man before.”

  He nipped at her neck, arms encircling her, her ass nudging up against his half-erect self. “Then thank you. For trusting me.”