by Brynley Bush
I try, unsuccessfully, not to stare at his full, sensual lips.
“Someone sweet and sensitive. And safe,” I add with a whisper.
“Safe is overrated.” His voice is low and throaty.
And then he’s kissing me. His lips are velvet and steel, soft but firm as they meet mine. I sigh as I open to him, and as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, I taste beer and sheer masculinity. He doesn’t just kiss me. He literally possesses my mouth, his hands cupping my face and his lips crushing mine as his tongue plunders every recess of my open and willing mouth.
When he finally pulls away, I’m slightly out of breath. What the fuck was that?
“I…um…I should go.”
“Right.” He scoots his chair back and stands up, holding out a hand to me. I take it, and frissons of awareness dance across my skin at his touch. “I’ll drive you home.”
“You really don’t have to,” I protest. “I live close by.”
“Leila, I’m driving you home.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “It’s late, you’ve had a few beers, and that’s how I do things. Besides, you don’t want me to disappoint Rosie, do you?”
That makes me smile, but it does nothing to dissipate the sexual tension between us as we walk to his car. I’m hyper aware of the heat of his body next to me, the spark of awareness as he places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward the sleek, red, sports car parked along the curb.
He opens the door for me and waits for me to put my seatbelt on before pulling out of the parking lot. I’ve left my typical shyness somewhere back at the bar and I stare at him boldly, appreciating his sheer gorgeousness. Noticing his strong, capable hands on the steering wheel and the unmistakable bulge in his faded jeans, I’m inexplicably reminded of an article I wrote for Edge magazine called “Your Sex Bucket List: Thirty Moves to Make Before You’re Thirty.” Number five had been “give or receive a blow job while driving.”
Henry had appreciated the ratings the article had garnered, but had ridiculed it as “bourgeois and pathetic single-girl porn.” In a moment of clarity, I realize I’ve wasted years of my prime sexual discovery. I’m twenty-five. I only have five more years left. And probably twenty-nine things on the list I’ve never done.
Spurred on by the alcohol running through my veins and the fact that Knox is exactly the kind of guy who’d be up for anything and whom I’m never going to see again, I unbuckle my seatbelt, shrug out of my jacket, and quickly kneel sideways in the seat as I reach for the button of his jeans. I have his fly open and his hard cock in my hand before he can say a word.
“Leila!” His voice is strangled. “What are you doing?”
“Shh,” I say, leaning over and licking the tip of him. He groans and his cock pulses. His hand fists in my hair and he pulls me up so my eyes meet his. They’re hooded with desire, and I feel a surge of feminine satisfaction. In two years, Henry never looked at me the way Knox is looking at me now.
“I thought I wasn’t your type,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.
“You’re not,” I say breathlessly. “That’s why this is so perfect. I need a one-night stand. Help me get him out of my head, Knox, so I can move on.”
“This is a bad decision. For both of us.”
He feels thick and solid, and I slide my hand up and down unhurriedly, squeezing slightly. “Bad decisions make the best stories,” I remind him throatily.
“Fuck, Leila. I’m trying to be gentleman here, but you’re killing me.”
“Good. I don’t want a gentleman tonight.”
I lean back over him and close my lips over the velvety soft head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the broad knob and I’m dimly aware of him moving his seat back slightly, giving me more room. He tastes like dark debauchery, and I suck and lick enthusiastically, using both hands to stroke the length of him as I tease him with my tongue. When his cock is quivering and he’s struggling to stay still in the seat, I flatten my tongue and take him all the way into my mouth, licking the underside as I go down on him. He curses under his breath and I can taste the precum on his tip. His strong fingers thread in my hair, gripping tightly.
I’m dimly aware of the fact that we’re not in the city anymore, not headed toward my apartment after all, as we haven’t stopped at a light for a few miles. I can tell he’s having trouble focusing on the road now, and I briefly hope he doesn’t crash. It would be embarrassing to be found dead with a man’s dick in my mouth. On the other hand, there are worse ways to go, and he is oh so gloriously hard and throbbing in my mouth.
I redouble my efforts, and just when I think he’s about to come, he drags me up again by my hair.
“What the—?” I look at him in startled confusion.
“You’re going to make me come with that hot little mouth of yours,” he says tightly, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Yeah. That’s sort of the point. So?”
“So if you really want this…if you want the kind of sex that will guarantee you forget that asshole wussy ex-boyfriend of yours forever…then we’re going to take our time and make it last, so that when we’re done, there’ll be no doubt in your mind that you’ve been thoroughly and exquisitely fucked.”
Holy shit. Suddenly, there’s nothing I want more.
“You know what I’m going to do, Leila?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, and I shake my head mutely, completely mesmerized by what he’s about to say.
“I’m going to take you back to your apartment and strip you naked, slowly, for my enjoyment. Then I’m going to play with you and tease you and torture you and make you come with my fingers and my mouth until you’re begging me to stop. And then, when you’re out of control and wild with wanting, I’m going to slip my cock into your wet little pussy and come inside of you while you scream my name.”
Holy fuck. Sign me up.
Chapter Three
KNOX
My first realization when we finally stumble into Leila’s apartment, unable to keep our hands off of each other, is that she probably wears baggy overalls to avoid causing riots. Although at first glance she looks kind of like a nerdy librarian, she’s got a seriously hot body—the kind that centerfolds and fantasies are made of. I have her out of her jeans as soon as the front door is fully closed, exposing a pert, tight, little ass perfectly framed by a pair of black lace, almost-thong panties. Then I remind myself to slow the fuck down and stop acting like a teenager; we have all night, and I intend to make this last. I deliberately take my time with the rest of her clothes. She stands motionless in front of me as I grasp the hem of her soft, gray tank top and slowly ease it up, revealing twin mounds of tantalizing creamy flesh spilling lusciously over the top of a black, lace demi-bra that matches the scrap of fabric that passes for her panties. She lifts her arms wordlessly as I pull her top off, tossing it onto the sofa before I drink in the sight of her.
I run a finger reverently over the swell of her breast and her breath hitches.
“My God, you’re exquisite.” I cup her ass in my hands and pull her against me, squeezing roughly as my lips meet hers.
She opens readily, her tongue darting out to tangle with mine. God, the woman has a mouth to back up those luscious curves.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask throatily as we finally break apart.
“Positive,” she says breathlessly. “There’s just one thing…”
“What’s that?” Our faces are mere inches apart.
“You may be used to women screaming your name, but I don’t intend to be one of them. And, just so you know, I don’t beg.”
Her eyes are teasing, but her voice is low and provocative and laced with an unmistakable challenge. I realize I have totally underestimated this girl. Underneath that quietly intelligent, girl-next-door reserve lies a feisty and passionate woman just waiting to be bad, a good girl wanting to be taken and owned and put in her place, if only for a moment. And I’m just the man for the job. My cock feels like it’s going to b
urst through the zipper of my jeans I’m so hard for her.
“Is that so?” I tilt her chin up so she’s looking into my eyes. “Those are fighting words,” I drawl. “You sure you want to goad me into proving you wrong?”
“Oh, I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She laughs softly, a deep husky sound that makes my cock surge against the thick fly of my jeans.
Somewhere in the back of my mind my subconscious is sending out warning signals, but the devil on my shoulder is busily rationalizing my doubts away. What she’s offering is so tantalizing. So tempting. One night to peel back the layers of this gorgeous, reserved woman and expose the passion at her core. We’re both in transit, neither of us looking for anything beyond this moment of lust and desire.
But I’ve sworn off women.
Then she looks up at me from beneath sultry, long, dark lashes and utters those three little words I can’t resist. “I dare you.”
And I’m a fucking goner. I’ve never been able to turn down a dare, especially not one that looks and kisses like Leila Patton.
I thread my fingers in her hair and tug her head back, exposing her delicate white throat. I kiss the sweet hollow at the base softly, my lips curving up as I feel her pulse beat wildly in response. I work my way up the slim column of her neck and seal my mouth over hers, feasting on her soft moans of pleasure. She melts into the wet, luscious kiss, her body molding into mine as her back arches. I kiss her unhurriedly and thoroughly, taking all the time in the world as I make love to her mouth exactly how I intend to make love to her—slowly, erotically, and possessively.
When I finally pull away, reluctantly releasing her full lower lip from my teeth, her eyes are glazed. I unhook her bra and she stands motionless, watching me silently as it falls away. Now she’s naked, completely exposed to me. Her breasts are perfect. Smaller than I’m used to, but so exquisitely formed, the nipples so tight with arousal, that I’ve never wanted to touch or taste anything more. I cup a breast in each hand, rubbing my thumbs over the hardened points. She groans softly and I smile. Hot damn, she’s a responsive one. In one quick motion, I lift her off her feet and lay her on the sofa, kissing her again as her hands clutch at my shoulders, trying to pull me closer.
She seems to become suddenly aware of the fact that she’s completely naked while I’m still fully dressed, and she blushes self-consciously as her hands fumble at the button of my jeans. I catch her wrists in my hand and hold them effortlessly over her head as I bend forward to trail little kisses along her jawline. She shudders.
“My terms now.”
She looks up at me with uncertainty in those big blue eyes. “I— “
“Shh. You said you didn’t want a gentleman tonight. You’re not going to get one.” I suck on her lower lip again as my fingers find one protruding nipple and tug on it gently. She struggles slightly but I hold her wrists fast. Heat flares in her eyes as she realizes I mean to restrain her and there’s nothing she can do about it. “Just let go, Leila. Let me fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her eyes dilating at the carnal rawness of my words.
My mouth closes over the tip of her breast and she arches into me. I suck gently until she’s squirming. Deliberately and oh-so-slowly, I caress her body with my free hand, stroking every inch of her soft, silken skin with my fingertips. When my hand pushes against her silky inner thighs, her legs fall open shamelessly. Her eyes flutter closed as I part her with my fingers.
“You’re already wet for me,” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer, but she sighs as I slide one finger carefully into her. She’s impossibly tight, and her pussy involuntarily clenches around me as I move my finger inside of her. I pull out and sink gently back into her wet heat several times, building up the speed and intensity until I establish a steady rhythm. Soon her hips are churning, pushing up to meet me thrust for thrust. She’s hot and needy; it’s not going to take much to send her over the edge the first time. I pull out and slide back in with two fingers this time. She gasps, but she doesn’t break her stride. Her hips seem to be moving of their own volition, carrying her steadily toward the release that is obviously long overdue.
“That’s it, baby,” I murmur encouragingly.
She grinds her pelvis against the heel of my palm as I finger fuck her relentlessly until she’s writhing. As I feel her sex begin to ripple around my finger, I stop.
I glance down at her sweet naked body spread out so wantonly to me. My lips curl up. I’m going to enjoy every damn second of this.
“Leila. Look at me.” It’s a command, and she obeys immediately and instinctively, her blue-eyed gaze meeting mine. “I intend to make you come over and over again until you’re a shuddering, limp, spent mess, begging me to stop. And then I’m going to do it again.”
She shakes her head wildly, making a half-hearted show of trying to squirm away, but with my fingers still buried in her, she’s not fooling either one of us. “I don’t beg,” she maintains stubbornly. I press against her G-spot and she bites her lip, determined not to prove herself wrong already. That’s okay. The longer she holds out, the more fun I’ll have teasing her, and the bigger her orgasm will be when she finally yields to the pleasure I’m determined to give her.
I smile and bend my head to take one diamond-hard nipple between my teeth, biting down lightly as I tug. Her moan is louder this time. Her fingers grip the arm of the sofa above her head as I resume pumping into her rhythmically, her pelvis shamelessly undulating in an attempt to drive my fingers deeper, harder, faster.
Her movements become wilder, and she struggles to move her arms but I hold them firmly. Her helplessness clearly turns her on even more, and I can feel her body stiffen with the impending orgasm. My thumb brushes over her clit, making tiny circles as I drive my fingers back into her. “Give it up to me, Leila. Give me your orgasm. Come for me.”
Hips pumping, thighs clenching, stomach contracting, and her sweet cunt pulsing, she comes fast and hard on my fingers.
I’m breathing faster too, my cock impossibly hard. I let go of her wrists to skim my fingers over her cheek. Fuck, but she’s exquisite. Her eyes open slowly, her gaze focused on mine.
“I, uh…”
“You’re a shameless beggar,” I tease. “You’re all talk.” I cup her breasts and squeeze. They’re a perfect handful. I lean forward and brush my lips lightly over hers. “That took you all of thirty seconds.”
“It’s um…been awhile,” she says, her face turning scarlet.
“Good.” I take a nipple between each of my thumbs and forefingers and pinch. She jolts. I roll both of her taut nipples languidly in tandem, enjoying how her body bows into my touch. “Because we’re just getting started.”
Releasing her nipples, which are hard, rosy pebbles now, I hook her legs over my shoulders and lean forward, covering her deliciously bare mound with my mouth. She struggles to sit up as her fingers grip my hair and tug, trying to pull me off of her.
“Stop,” she gasps. “I can’t.”
I lift my head and our gazes lock. “Oh, you can, Leila. And you will. Let me show you, baby.”
Her pussy is pink and swollen now, and glistening with her arousal. I part her lips with my thumbs and blow a stream of air directly on her clit. She moans and falls back against the cushions, surrendering to whatever I want to do to her. I rim her clit, flicking and teasing it with the tip of my tongue until she’s squirming. This time, instead of holding her wrists, I pin her hips with a firm grip, holding her just as still and helpless as the first time while I torment her pussy and clitoris with my mouth. I alternate between lightly licking the hard little nub and circling it unremittingly, feasting on her juices that flow onto my tongue. I’ve been with more women than I can count, but none of them have been as unapologetically responsive as Leila, or tasted as sweet.
Her head is thrown back, her breath coming faster, a rosy glow suffusing her naked body as she loses herself to my touch. At my mercy, her
legs spread open and wide for me, she’s mine. I spear my tongue into her several times and then return to her clit, sucking it gently until I know she’s close to another climax. Her gorgeous ass is wiggling against the leather cushion of the couch, her pussy dripping and hungry for more.
I stop and blow on her clit again, knowing that this time it simply makes her desperate for more.
“Don’t stop, Knox. For the love of God, please don’t stop.”
I flick her clit a few times. Her thighs clench. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What was that?”
Another flick. Then a nip, my teeth marking her tender inner thighs.
“Dammit, Knox. Please! You fucking son of a bitch.”
When she’s desperate to come, my reserved little librarian cusses like a sailor. With a small chuckle, I give her what she wants, driving my tongue into her hard a few times and then biting her clit gently. This time, she screams as the orgasm crashes over her, her entire body shuddering with the force of it.
She takes big, gasping pulls of air, but I don’t intend to give her time to recover. I want to destroy her reserve completely; I want to watch Leila Patton come undone. I slip two fingers back inside her, finding her g-spot again. With the palm of my hand resting against her probably now too-sensitive-to-touch-directly clit, I stroke faster and faster, moving my hand so I’m putting pressure on her clit at the same time I’m massaging her sweet spot. I speed up the motion, faster and faster, pressing even more firmly. She’s lost in some vortex of intense sensation now, her head thrashing and her hands balled into fists. Then, with a little cry she comes again, harder than before judging by the way her pussy continues to spasm around me. I keep moving inside her.
“Ohmygodstop.” Just uttering the words seems to take all of her effort, and she’s panting. “Please. I’m begging you. Stop.” She gulps in air. Closes her eyes. Opens them again. “You win.”
“Yeah? What’s my prize?” I nip at her bottom lip.
“Bragging rights? No…Forget it. You already brag enough.” Even breathless and spent, she still has enough spunk to tease me.