by Lora Leigh
“Don’t bet your nose on it,” he grunted. “Get the hell out of here, Marlena, before I say something I’ll regret.”
“No doubt you will,” she sighed. “Really, John, you should do something about those nasty roots showing. Just because you come from hick stock doesn’t mean you have to live down to the name.”
“Beats living down to yours,” he informed her caustically. “Have fun with Gerard. Maybe he’ll like the ice-queen act.”
Her lips curled. “He didn’t have the ice queen, darling. I was there for fun. You were the responsibility.”
“Lucky him,” he drawled. “Now go ruin his perfect little life instead.”
Her tinkling laughter grated on his nerves as she turned and walked out the way she’d come. Damn. As relieved as he was that the engagement was over, the taste of betrayal was still thick in his mouth. His best fucking friend and fiancée. How classic was that? The cliché was enough to drag a mocking snort from him.
He stared at the whisky then poured another drink.
He’d no more than shot that one back when, son of a bitch, the door opened again. He was seriously going to have to collect the keys he had given to the penthouse. This was getting out of control.
The place was fucking Grand Central Station tonight, and he’d just about had his fill of it.
And there she was.
Imp.
The little demon sprite.
The torment of his life.
Too fucking young, but getting a head start on experience.
She’d been running with a promiscuous set of friends for years. Friends that had no problem bragging about the privileges she allowed.
He didn’t blame her for them. Hell, she was a beautiful woman. She was almost family. That was the problem. She was “almost” family. That tormented him, because he was damned for wanting exactly what she had gifted those other men with. He wanted that and more. So much more that he kept as far away from her as possible.
He didn’t hold it against her. Hell, he’d done worse in his sexual past, but it burned in his gut like a sore because he wasn’t one of the lucky ones. How fucking brutal was that?
“Go home, Sierra.” He was too drunk for this. He’d had his life nicely planned out, and as much as he felt relief that the engagement was over, still, it had been his plan, and she’d fucked it up. And he was just drunk enough that his logic capabilities weren’t at their strongest.
“I don’t want you to hate me.” She was braver than Marlena. She actually stepped into the main room and faced him boldly.
With her hard nipples.
With her lush lips and hungry slate gray eyes.
“Why the hell did you have to make it your business?” He growled.
The same reason he would have made it his business, of course. It was happening, it was wrong, and they were friends. Close. They hungered for each other, and they both fought it.
“Because I care about you,” she whispered. “You’re my friend, John. When Gerard asked me to the restaurant, I knew what he was doing because your mother had told me you and Marlena were supposed to be there tonight. They were going to stand and lie to your face. They were rubbing your nose in it, and I hated that.”
Her hands were clasped tightly together, sincerity and that damned hunger flickering in her eyes.
“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You’re not my fucking friend, Sierra. Friends gloat later, they don’t give a fuck if you make a mistake while you’re making it.”
He should know. Other than possibly Sierra, it was the only type of friend he’d ever had.
Her lips thinned. He liked the lush look better.
“Then marry her already,” she charged back in anger. “If you’re so pissed at me, get down on your knees and beg her back. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to watch you beg.”
“Fuck you, Sierra!” And only God knew how bad he wanted to fuck her.
His cock was pounding, hard and desperate. She always affected him like this, and now the alcohol was only intensifying it. He never drank around Sierra for a reason. It totally screwed with his self-control.
“Why did you even fucking care?” He couldn’t get it out of his mind. No one else would have told him, and he knew Gerard. Gerard hadn’t hidden it from anyone but John. And of all his so-called “friends,” only Sierra had dared to reveal the truth in a manner neither Marlena nor Gerard could deny it.
“Because I care about you, dummy,” she burst out in exasperation. “Do I have to beat that into your head?”
It was more. He’d seen it in her eyes at the restaurant and he saw it now.
He saw something he didn’t want to see. It went beyond a sensual awareness or hunger for him. It went beyond what he had wanted to see in the past.
“You’re jealous,” he accused her softly, the truth slapping him in the face. “You think you’re in love with me? Have you lost your mind, Sierra?”
Incredulity echoed in his voice even as it pulsed through his mind. He hadn’t seen it before. Why hadn’t he seen that emotion in her eyes before?
“I did that a long time ago.” Her voice was husky now, her eyes glittering with dampness. With tears. Fuck, she was not going to cry on him.
“Don’t you dare cry.” He moved to her, jerking her against him.
Big mistake, but there she was, against him. So fucking young and too damned tiny. And he was hungry for her. That hunger had pulsed inside him for too long, burned in his gut and tormented him. He didn’t want this, not with Sierra. With the only person in his life that he had counted on as a friend.
“I didn’t want this with you,” he snarled down at her. She was too soft for what he wanted and he knew it. Too vulnerable, even if she was experienced enough for it. But he was drunk. He was hard for her. And he’d fought it for too damned long.
“Why?” The vulnerability in that single word struck at his heart. As though he had just broken all her dreams, all her hopes. “Why not me, John?”
“Because damn you, I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He didn’t give her a chance to retort. His head lowered, his lips taking hers quickly, parting the lush curves as he slid one hand into the riotous curls that surrounded her face and gripped the soft strands to hold her to him.
The silken curls wrapped around his fingers as though hugging him to her. Like living strands of heat, they caressed his flesh, stroked it.
The taste of her, the adrenaline and hunger coursing through his veins, only made him drunker. Drunk on her. He’d known touching her would be hazardous, and how right he had been.
Growling at the surge of lust tearing through him, he dropped the empty glass to the floor and gripped the slender strap of her dress to drag it over her arm. It would only go so far. He couldn’t find the zipper. It wasn’t at her back. He didn’t want to look for it.
The sound of the material rending didn’t faze him; what it did do was give him entrance to the bodice of her dress and the swollen curves of her breasts, the tight, hard nipples topping them.
“John?” Pleasure and confusion filled her voice now. “Oh, God, John, what are you doing?”
What the hell did she think he was doing? Giving them both what they were hungering for.
His lips slid down her neck, moving for those tight little berries. The feel of them against his tongue sent a groan tearing from his chest.
Sucking one into his mouth, he laved it with his tongue and loved it with his mouth as he lowered his hand again, this time to his trousers.
If he didn’t release his cock, he was going to go insane. It pressed against the zipper of his pants, demanding to be set free. Like a ravenous beast, it throbbed and pulsed at the confinement, silently demanding attention.
Demanding her mouth, her fingers, the lush, hot folds of her wet pussy. He groaned at the thought of fucking her. Of pumping inside her, deep, hard, feeling the snug tissue rippling over his dick.
As he released her nipple, his lips pulled back.
<
br /> His hand tightened in her hair as his gaze centered on her lips and he pressed her downward.
God, he wanted her mouth on his dick. Her tongue licking over the bulbous crest, her lips covering it, her mouth sucking him inside.
He wanted it with a hunger he had never wanted anything with before. He’d lost all reason, all logic. Objectivity was simply a thing of the past. Nothing existed now but getting his cock in her mouth.
Sierra lost her breath at the silent demand in his face, his gaze, as he tugged her lower. She knew what he wanted. With one hand he gripped her fingers and dragged them to the heavy length of his cock as it speared from the opening of his trousers. Long, thick, the heavy crest dark and flushed. It throbbed, glistened with dampness, and caused her mouth to water at the thought of the taste of him. Her fingers wouldn’t wrap around the width of the pulsing flesh, like silk over iron, it heated her palm and made her ache for the feel of it.
She could feel her pussy growing wetter, hotter. The ache between her thighs, her hardened clit, pulsed with the need for touch in ways it had never done before.
“I’ve dreamed of you sucking my dick,” he groaned as she went slowly to her knees in front of him. “Nights of it, Sierra. So many nights spent sweating at the thought of having you.”
He had no idea what he was doing to her—he couldn’t. He had no clue she had never done this before; all he had were the rumors he believed of her wild ways. Rumors she knew he believed because he teased her over it. Always gently, always with affection but always with a glimmer of some darker emotion in his eyes.
He believed them though. How surprised would he be when he learned she was a virgin?
Kneeling in front of him, her fingers caressing his hard flesh, she swallowed tightly, fighting to keep her mind clear enough to please him. She wanted to go hungry on him though. She wanted to lose the overwhelming need to simply devour him.
“Give it to me, Sierra,” he demanded, his violet-blue eyes darker, glittering with intoxicated lust.
His lips were fuller, his face flushed beneath his darkened flesh, his eyes glittering. She had never seen such need, such arousal in a man before. It should frighten her, but this was John. This was the man she had ached for since she’d been old enough to realize what aching was.
She was shaking at the sight of the thick, demanding crest, her chest tightening with excitement and fear. She’d never, ever touched a man like this before. Could she actually do it?
Leaning forward, she touched the tip with her tongue, licking over the dampness that collected on the wide head. The salty, stormy taste of him exploded against her tongue, and she swore she was becoming as drunk as he was.
Her fingers caressed the thick shaft, and she rubbed her tongue over the head as she fought past her fear and inexperience. She wanted to memorize this moment in time. Every taste, every feeling, every sensation.
“Damn you, Sierra, suck me. Let me fuck your mouth before I die for it.”
Her lips parted for him, a moan slipping from her throat as he filled her mouth, sliding slowly inside to burn against her tongue.
She moaned again. Her lips tightening as she began sucking the iron-hard flesh, excitement and hunger rising inside her until she didn’t know herself any longer.
That hunger was loose now. She had no way to control it, no way to hold back the needs suddenly filling her, flooding her entire body.
She wanted this. She wanted him, until she felt as though she were dying for it.
“Ah, yes,” he groaned, pleasure filling his voice, his hands sliding into her hair as his hips began to move. “So fucking hot. I knew your mouth would be sweet and hot. Those pretty lips feel like silk.”
His fingers tightened in her hair as his cock began to shuttle back and forth between her lips, deep into her mouth, nearly to her throat, as she struggled to accept the heavy length.
“Relax, Sierra,” he grated, his voice harsh with lust. “Breathe easy, sweetheart. Take me deeper. Let me have you.”
She’d read about it. She’d even watched it. She could do this. This one time, with this man that she loved above all others. Breathing in through her nose, she struggled to take the wide crest to her throat, sucking on it, her tongue rubbing against the underside as he groaned in approval.
“Hell, yes.” She could hear the pleasure in his voice as the strokes in her mouth lightened, became shallower. “Look at me, Sierra.”
She struggled to stare up at him, her eyes tearing as his erection passed slowly through her lips this time. Pleasure pulsed through her veins, flooded her body. She was the woman she had always wanted to be. She was his woman. For this moment, this hunger, she was his woman.
“So fucking pretty,” he groaned. “I’ve dreamed of this, baby. Dreamed of fucking you. Watching your mouth take me. Feeling that wicked little tongue rubbing my cock.”
And she was rubbing against it, licking it. He tasted of midnight and man, and the effect on her senses was devastating.
As his gaze locked with hers, he reached down, gripped her hand as it clenched against his hard thigh, and moved her fingers to the taut sac between his thighs.
“Touch me there,” he demanded, his voice rough with hunger. “Let me feel your soft fingers, Sierra. Give me what I need.”
Her fingers trembled as she cupped the weight of his testicles before caressing them tentatively. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Finally, after so many years. But she knew it couldn’t last. She knew when morning came, whatever lapse he was having in self-control would be quickly repaired. John was nothing if not controlled. He had a plan for his life, and she had always sensed it. A plan that had never included her. Come morning, he would remember that plan. But Sierra would always have tonight.
She couldn’t help herself. She was desperate for him. So desperate that she wanted to create as many memories as possible.
Stroking the tight flesh she cupped, Sierra sucked at his erection, pulled back, and let her lips trail down the hard shaft as her tongue flickered against it. She moved lower, staring up at him, watching his violet-blue eyes darken further as her tongue began to lash lightly at his balls.
A harsh, tortured groan tore from his lips as he gripped her hair, lifted her head, and pushed his cock between her lips once more. Fucking her mouth harder, his strokes short and tight, he looked like a conqueror above her.
“I’m going to come,” he groaned. “Ah, hell, baby, give me your sweet mouth. Take my dick, Sierra. Suck it baby. Sweet and deep …” He fucked deeper, shuddered.
The feel of his cock throbbing, flexing, warned her. At first, the warning wasn’t clear, until his fingers tightened in her hair, then the heat and stormy taste of his semen erupting in the back of her mouth sent her senses clawing for each sensation.
The jetting spurts were hot against her tongue. His voice was harsh, low, as he growled her name when she swallowed the lush taste of him.
She wanted to relish it, to relive each second in time as it happened, but John was moving. Pulling back from her, he lifted her, pushed her against the couch, and went to his knees between her thighs.
Before she could react or even think to stop him, her dress was at her hips and his hands had torn her panties from her body. He didn’t hesitate once her flesh was revealed. His lips went straight to the sensitive, violently responsive flesh between her thighs.
Then he kissed her there. An intimate, hot kiss against the folds of her pussy, his tongue lashing at her clit, the wet velvet feel of him firing every nerve ending in her body. Lush, vibrant pinpoints of incredible sensation raked along her flesh, arching her body and drawing a strangled cry from her throat.
She’d never thought she could have this.
She’d never believed John would ever touch her like this.
It was nothing like she had ever imagined it would be. She’d fantasized, she’d dreamed of this with John, but she had never in her wildest imagination known how good it would be. That it would rain sensatio
n over every part of her body. She felt flush from her toes to the top of her head. She felt as though a fire was being stoked in her very womb.
Pleasure seared every nerve ending he touched. Riotous frissons of heat tore through her body. His lips and tongue caressed, licked, kissed. His tongue rubbed around her clit, stroking and caressing with silken hunger as it destroyed her balance and left her spiraling out of control.
She had to hold on to him. Sinking her fingers into his hair as he pushed her thighs farther apart, Sierra wanted to scream out his name. There was no breath to cry out, let alone to scream. There was barely enough oxygen to sustain her as pleasure rushed through her system like a fiery windstorm.
His tongue was wicked, destructive. His fingers pulled the folds of flesh apart as his tongue licked and stroked, blazing a path of ecstasy through her system as she strained to get closer.
His tongue flickered over her opening, a rumbling growl vibrating against her flesh as she cried out in pleasure.
“No. Don’t stop.” She gripped his hair as his head lifted, only to release him as he forced himself back.
“Is this what you want, Sierra?” His hand gripped his cock, tucking it against the swollen, wet folds of flesh as he stared back at her.
“Please.” She was shaking, the need was so great now.
“Please what, sugar? Please fuck you like the beautiful little troublemaker you are?” His words slurred just slightly, whether from the drink or the lust she wasn’t certain.
“Why, baby?” he whispered as he pressed closer. “Why are you even here?” There was a tortured, hollowed sound to his voice.
Sierra shook her head. “I love you, John. I’ve always loved you.”
His hips bucked, driving him inside her, the sharp burst of heat, pleasure, pain, washing through her at his entrance drawing a cry from her lips as he settled against her.
His head fell to her shoulder.
At first, Sierra wasn’t certain why. He hadn’t penetrated her fully, just enough to draw that sharp cry, to tear aside the veil of virginity she had possessed. Now, he was silent.