“Stone, please, I need to come.”
There they were, the golden words. I sucked her clit into my mouth, closed my teeth behind it, so gently, but so precariously, building up the intensity for her. A couple of harder strokes with my fingers, and she was there, thighs tightening, hips trying to lift, and the rewarding grab of her pussy. She screamed, unintelligible stuff that may have cursed me. Her heel beat against my back as I continued sucking her, licking long, devouring the sweetest honey that ran from her until she released me, her hands loosening, her leg dropping away.
I eased back, taking her leg from my shoulder and pushing to my feet.
There was something adorable about a half-naked girl fresh from having her pussy eaten. With her head bowed, her chest heaving, she looked as though she’d just sprint-finished a marathon.
“I think you broke me,” she murmured.
“I’ll save that for my cock.”
Her smile was coy. “That was amazing. I don’t recall that kiss being on the list.”
“I’m creative like that, Poppins. I told you that list was for amateurs.” Our mouths met again, and she ground her naked hips into me. She was zealous, with all the enthusiasm of a recent convert, leaving me fucking overjoyed to be her witness.
This feeling was so new it scared the shit out of me. I might have been with less-experienced girls in my youth, but back then, I was too selfish and inexperienced myself to notice.
In recent years, most girls I fucked had carefully honed skills. Others had a performance bordering on jaded, as if I were just another name to add to their celebrity list. That didn’t bother me one bit. There was an appreciation of the temporary aspect that existed in a hookup, and it was easy to recognize the girls who understood. It was there in the moment neither of you glanced away when your eyes met in a challenge across a bar, on a dance floor, or in an airport lounge. Two people in it for the fuck—no emotional connection, no names, no complications.
Not one of them had Katrina’s genuine innocence. None of them had, like Katrina, reached inside me and touched something I would have sworn didn’t exist.
But the look Katrina gave me now? Yeah, I’d seen that before. She wanted more.
16
Katrina
Stone broke our kiss and tugged on my hand. In seconds, we were in the bedroom. The stunning bedroom in the type of suite I’d only seen on television. I still drifted on a post-orgasmic cloud, the size of which you’d find in a newsworthy weather event.
I tried to gather my thoughts while Stone slipped the buttons of my blouse, released the hooks on my bra, and left me naked. He stepped back to admire his work. I went to cover myself—I felt so exposed—but Stone growled his disapproval.
“Let me look at you. Turn around. God, you’re gorgeous.”
Words like that had never been spoken to me, and I knocked back the little voice that suggested he was ‘just saying that’ to get me into bed. There was a shift in him, a change, and even though he still teased, something deeper lurked. A connection.
Snippets of scenes I’d read in his books came to mind along with the idea that everything he wrote described a previous performance.
He stripped. T-shirt off, belt buckle open, fly unzipped, boxers hitting the floor with his jeans. His urgency empowered me, but his cock. Oh, hell. His cock was immense, and pulsing, and it didn’t matter that I’d had little experience. I could just tell that it was obnoxiously large.
All I could do was stare. I had an idea of the shape of his body. I’d watched him work out and I’d had my arms around him, but nothing prepared me for the entire package. Muscles, tone, the V! Everything about his shape drew my gaze to his cock. My mouth went dry, and my entire body heated. I glanced at his face.
“It’s big,” I announced.
He almost smirked.
When he stepped toward me, I backed up. That thing was a weapon, and I needed another look before we became acquainted. With the next step, the backs of my legs hit the bed, and I tumbled to my back.
“Scoot up,” Stone said, following me, straddling my hips, the heavy weight of his balls resting on my lower stomach like a warning, his cock, the threat.
I swallowed. “I’m not sure that will fit.”
“Trust me, Poppins, it will fit.”
His hands swept up my sides, cradling my breasts. I’d given up trying to suck my stomach in or squeeze my breasts together. He’d seen me naked, at my worst, losing control and crying out his name. And if his cock that stood hard against his belly was an indication of how he felt about me, I don’t think he minded my extra flesh at all.
No matter that there had been no declaration of a future for us or that he’d mentioned the time limitation on the train. I was prepared to seize this moment and keep it as one crazy weekend I could look back on in my ordinary life. Even though I was certain I’d end up split in two.
His thumbs across my nipples made me shiver, but when he seized one in his mouth, his lips sealing over it, his tongue doing the same devilish things it had done to my clit, I moaned. I don’t know when I’d become this person who made strange animal noises, but Stone reciprocated with the same sort of noise, muffled by my breast. He rocked against me, his cock pressed into my stomach. When he lifted to attend to my other breast, I felt the coolness of the damp evidence of his own desire he’d left on my flesh.
He suckled, and I squirmed. It was almost too much, yet not quite enough. My body wanted more, priming itself for his final assault. He pushed a hand between us, between my thighs, and rolled my clit in his fingers. Beneath him, I was nothing more than a mewling, writhing mess. I gave everything up. I was so close to coming. His cock pulsed against my flesh, and I’d gone from wary to a sense of desperation that I’d somehow break apart if he didn’t shove it into me soon.
“Fuck me, Stone. I want you to fuck me.”
His mouth came off my nipple with a pop. “You only had to ask, Poppins.”
He grabbed a condom, sheathing himself in a flash. Lifting my legs, he slipped his hand through the wetness to my hole, fucking me with his fingers while he watched my face, then watched his hand.
I was bare, vulnerable, exposed to him, and he saw everything—the way I was wet for him, the way my body responded to his touch. He slid his hand out and I watched, fascinated, as he painted his cock with my juices. Then he came over me, his body filling my field of vision so that now, it was only Stone in my world. His nudge, strong and determined against my entrance, made me whimper.
“Nervous?” he asked, one hand gently stroking my cheek.
I nodded, incapable of speaking.
“Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.” His other hand worked his cock, rubbing the head along the wet valley of my pussy, up to my clit and back to my entrance, until he stopped, the pressure growing. This is it.
“Relax here,” he said, nudging himself inside.
I drew my legs up, resting my heels in the dip of his back as he slowly filled me, stretched me, his face screwed as if in agony.
The long slide in was sweet and overwhelming until finally, I was impaled in a way that left me gasping. I couldn’t move. Our eyes locked, and Stone smiled the sweetest, most gentle and satisfied smile I’d ever witnessed.
“You are so fucking tight, and hot, and wet, and perfect.”
I squeezed him, feeling his length.
“Fuck, Poppins, did I mention perfect?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” He took a couple of breaths as if securing some sort of control. “Ready to fuck?”
“Sure, what are you waiting for?” I teased with way more confidence than I felt.
The long drag out had me biting my lip. The slow drive back in made me cry out.
“So. Very. Perfect,” Stone rasped, pulling out faster this time. He took hold of my legs, pushing them up, watching as his thickness disappeared into me and drew back out. “Oh, fuck, you should see your pussy all stretched like that around my cock.”
&nb
sp; No words would come, just whimpers and gasps, and he began to thrust with greater speed as my pussy accommodated him, adjusting to his size. Stone filled every inch of me in a way I’d never experienced. Our breathing was harsh and loud, punctuated with expletives and groans.
I clung to him, the only way I could stay centered in this insane mix of sensation and sweat and heat. His gentle kisses became nips and bites, escalating my body’s response in a way I never knew existed.
Pleasure coiled low in my belly, thickening and swelling with every thrust. I met him, lifting my hips, grinding myself shamelessly against his flesh, chasing down the orgasm I was so desperate for.
“You’re close, Poppins. Gonna come with my cock buried in you, huh? This hot, tight pussy of yours is going to squeeze every drop of cum from me.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“That’s it, right there.” He’d pulled out so that just the head of his cock was nestled in my entrance, and with small stabs, everything gathered, ready to explode.
“Oh, you fucking like this. I can feel your pussy grabbing at me, wanting more.” In a quick move, he withdrew his cock and flipped me to my stomach. With his hands on my hips, he pulled me to my knees.
“This will feel better,” he said, thrusting back into me.
The different angle was a shock. “God, Stone.”
“Your ass is gorgeous. Here...” he put his hand between my legs, a finger circling my clit. The other hand gripped the flesh of my ass, his fingers digging in. There’d be bruises there, Stone’s mark in five blue points.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I begged. Inside, I felt abused and raw, but I wanted it harder, wanted to still be able to feel every part of his cock when this was over.
“No intention of stopping,” he grunted. “I want to fuck you like this for hours, feel your hungry pussy hanging onto me whenever I pull out.”
Every filthy word he used heightened my pleasure. This wasn’t the quiet, hidden sex you pretended to have. It was a real and basic drive to a momentous end. Pressure grew everywhere, in my thighs, my stomach, and my chest, where my heart fought for space and air. My knees shifted on the bed with every thrust, and I dug my elbows in, trying to push back and meet Stone’s strokes. Fuck, it was going to happen. My first orgasm with a cock buried all the way inside me.
“There. Come for me, Poppins. Do it.”
That did it for me. His entire hand covered my pussy, squeezing me, holding me against him as he fucked me deeply. I screamed his name, and all the tension that had curled inside me unraveled in a devastating explosion.
His hold on me stayed strong, possessive, as his thrusts became short, hard stabs.
“Mine,” he panted. “All mine.”
He continued to thrust as he came, his cock pulsing inside me, his words a declaration of some kind of ownership continuing to fall from his mouth.
My knees collapsed as my strength gave way. Stone came down with me, holding me to him, his mouth pressed to my neck, his breath still covering me like a hot fog.
“I’ve died,” I murmured.
“In the best way. Fuck, you’re perfect. Did I tell you that?”
“I think you did.”
“Good...good, gonna tell you that every day.”
His words, though post-orgasmic and therefore meaningless, warmed me. I would let myself believe that for a while, I was perfect.
He stayed inside me, his hand cradling my breast. I closed my eyes, recovering, wanting to sleep, but wanting a chance to study Stone, his body, and his beautiful, clever hands. When he slipped out of me, he rolled me to face him.
“You’re brilliant, Poppins,” he said, tracing my face with his fingertip. He tapped my eyelids closed. “Sleep. Half an hour, then we can do it all again.”
We slept, showered, had sex in the shower, then washed each other. Later, we walked to a restaurant, where the staff greeted Stone like an old friend. He introduced me, all the while keeping us connected with his touch. I felt invigorated, conscious of every part of my body, the little twinges and aches as I sat, and my mouth, which still felt swollen after so much kissing.
We were in a busy Asian-fusion place which had been written up everywhere and was clearly the place to be. The food was delicious, small servings artistically plated and designed for sharing. The fresh taste of coriander, chili and mint permeated the dishes, and Stone helped me tackle the chopsticks. I’d always gone for the fork option when eating Asian because using two thin sticks usually meant I wore more food than I consumed. With only a few accidents, I managed to easily eat my share.
Of course, Stone fed me little samples of things I was reluctant to try, waving pieces of charred octopus in front of me, threatening to call the attention of the entire restaurant to be my audience if I didn’t open my mouth. I enjoyed the taste, but not so much the texture.
“So, what’s on the menu for tomorrow? More sex?” I asked. I wanted more. This weekend would probably be my only opportunity to be like this with Stone, and I was willing to make the most of it.
“An insatiable woman, my favorite. We’ll definitely be able to fit in more around the outing I have planned.”
I was hoping he was planning to out me as his new girlfriend, but I pushed the idea aside when I noticed three gorgeous, sexy, barely dressed girls around my age approaching the table. They wore a basic uniform that showed their assets, their amazing legs and breasts, off to full advantage. Not one of them had frizzy hair issues or less than perfect teeth, lips, cheekbones or eyes. It was like the pretty girl factory was up the road and it had delivered fully-formed and perfect product directly to the restaurant.
“Stone, it is you,” one of them squealed.
Stone glanced at them, looked at me, and pulled a face. “Sorry, fans,” he mouthed before turning to them. “Ladies, good evening.”
“We’re huge fans,” another one said, her voice breathy with excitement.
The one with disturbingly long, dark hair that reached her ass actually dragged a spare chair over from a table close by and sat. Stone looked as alarmed as I felt. Another, this one with platinum locks tumbling down her back in perfectly formed curls, snatched a napkin and thrust it at Stone. “Can I have your autograph?”
The third one giggled. “Dee, that’s so tame.”
Yeah, tame, Dee, now why don’t you all buzz off?
The giggler went on to tug away the scrap of material barely covering her breasts. “You can sign your autograph right here...and I’ll never wash again.”
Gag.
The manager hurried to the table. “Ladies, please, Mr. Logan and his guest are eating.”
Blonde-ringlets pouted.
“It’s okay,” Stone said. “If you could just lend me your pen, and do you have some paper? I’ll give them their autographs, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to continue with their evening.”
There was a flurry of signing and blatant offers of partying and sex. This was his world, and it drew from me all the insecurities my mother had neatly planted. These girls were like a super-boost for the seeds of doubt that sat inside me, dormant until the right conditions caused them to sprout.
Now the sharp, tangy food soured my mouth that had somehow managed to smile throughout the encounter. I was thankful the manager hovered, ready to ensure the girls departed once they had their signatures.
Stone took a sip of his wine. “Sorry about that, Poppins.”
“It’s not your fault.” I kept my focus on the peanut I chased around my plate with my chopsticks. “Does it bother you, being approached by strangers like that?”
“When I’m trying to dine in private, a little. But it comes with the territory. If I blow them off, they’re on social media by the time they reach the street, telling the world that I’m a sanctimonious asshole.”
“Except, they probably don’t use ‘sanctimonious’.”
Stone laughed. “Did it bother you?”
“No,” I said, way too quickly.
“It did. And you’ve got nothing to be worried about. I’d choose you over a room full of girls like that any day.”
Even if he didn’t mean it, his words comforted me.
“But,” he continued, “I have to do that stuff. Be available for the fans, sign autographs, have a joke with them, and make it look as though they made my day. Once you’ve put yourself out there, you don’t get to switch it off.”
“Do you ever wish you hadn’t created such a powerful and sexy persona as the author of your filthy stories?”
“I’d be lying if I said yes. I fucking loved it and lived it for a long time. Now, I’m not so sure. But there are others coming up the ranks, ready to knock me off my throne. It won’t last.”
I didn’t believe that. Stone had the sort of personality a type of woman would always find attractive, and if he ever settled down, the woman he chose would have to be comfortable with that or it would destroy her.
17
Stone
I was a ship, foundering on the rocks. I had no idea what to do with Katrina beyond keeping her in my bed and fucking her. I wanted to imprison her in my room and lock us up together where no world would come for us, wanting to know our business, wanting a book from me, a signature, my time, or wanting to ruin whatever the fuck it was we’d created.
But, you couldn’t hide. We’d fester and poison each other in weeks.
“Strip, Poppins, and lie down on the bed. I want to worship you.”
She giggled and chewed her lip. Still shy, still cautious. Wise girl. I didn’t want to hurt her, though I was happy to ruin her for any other man. To be the one she never forgot. That was a fuck yeah to my ego, and I intended to make good on that. I wanted to be the memory behind the wistful sigh for the rest of her life.
I challenged her with my stare, and she did this coy striptease that was unbearably sexy. As her panties made it free, the spell was cast, and I’d live within its power until we stepped back on the train on Sunday. After that was a mystery.
Breaking Stone: Bad Boy Romance Novel Page 13