I shook my head into her soft skin and waited for another guess, kissing a line down to her jeans. She raised her head from the pillow and looked down the length of her body at me, smiling.
“Or maybe . . . my biting skills?”
God yeah, I nodded into her belly, that for sure. That wasn’t all, though, and I needed her to know it, so I pulled my mouth away. “It’s that you seem like a pretty good girl.” Straddling her on my knees, I lowered some of my weight onto her hips. “But I really don’t think you are.”
She swatted my chest. “I am a good girl,” she said, all sass and sin, giggling and shimmying underneath me.
“The hell you are.” When I got her shirt up above her bra, I scooped her left breast in my hand and pulled it free from the lacy cup. Christ. Even her fucking nipples were gorgeous. Running my finger over the left one made it tighten up. It was small, well defined. Too pretty not to pinch. So that’s exactly what I did, softly at first. Looking her in the eye, I rolled it between thumb and forefinger, harder and harder until I felt her body buck underneath me.
When she’d stopped with her moans and Oh Gods she said, “I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket. Never even been pulled over.”
Of course she hadn’t. But if she was as sweet as apple pie, it would be one straight out of the oven. Smelled good, looked better, but molten hot inside. I took her hard nipple in my teeth. She lifted her head from the pillow to watch me until pleasure overtook her and she lay back down and snuggled in deep. It was a rush, seeing her skin against my sheets, seeing her in my world. Taking a break from her nipple, still pinched into the shape of my bite, I undid her jeans and pulled them off her. Peeling them off was like unwrapping the prettiest present on the planet. Underneath I found a pair of hot-pink panties. The lacy waistband was rolled down along the curve of her hip.
Using one hand I undid the clasp at the front of her bra, and her breasts came free.
“You’ve got all the moves.”
She had no fucking idea at all. I was a professional lock picker; if there was one thing I knew about myself—knew it for sure—it was that I was good with my hands. “Just you wait.”
“God.”
I kissed all along the places where her jeans had dug into her stomach, those faint angry red lines that cut into her soft and pure curves. I wanted to ruin her, but I also wanted to keep her whole, safe, and laughing. Inside me was an instinctive and sudden desire to protect this beautiful woman for as long as she was with me. With her panties still on, I licked her clit and teased her the same way she had through my jeans. Even though I wanted to, I didn’t use my teeth. My cock was one thing; I wasn’t about to abuse this soft, pink slice of heaven.
Yet.
I slid my hand up to her nipple again and gave it a pinch, while with my tongue I moved her panties aside to get to her wetness. God, was she wet. Wet, salty, and sweet. I pulled my mouth away from her pussy long enough to give her the update. “Caramel apples have fuckall on this.”
She laughed at the ceiling, but I stole the breath back from her with my tongue on her clit finally. I went softly at first—only assholes approach the clitoris like an elevator button. I’d always thought of it more like a flower. Georgia O’Keeffe, like that. A masterpiece. A jewel.
It was a full pussy-dive that made me forget everything except her. Every time she writhed, I fell in further. It was catalyst and reaction, action and consequence. She slapped the sheets, and her back came up a few inches off the bed. I took the opportunity to place my hands underneath those perfect ass cheeks, so I was palming them when she came back down.
How long I stayed there, I don’t fucking know. I could’ve eaten that pussy of hers for hours. For days. For a year, no breaks at all. But when I felt her start to pant and paw more intensely, when she started shuddering, I slowed down. Because I was gonna make this night last as long as possible.
I pulled back from her, the scent of her so intoxicating, so mind-blowing, that it sent a jolt up my cock. Straddling her again, I pulled her T-shirt off, then stood by the bed. With two fingers, I drew a line down her body, from her throat to her clit. She really was so gorgeous, especially when she was flushed and sweaty. I took my cock in my hand and stroked it as I traced her breastbone, along the curve of her waist, to her belly button and down to her pussy again. I didn’t go right for her clit, though, not this time. Instead I made a V with two fingers to part her lips and let the cool air from the air-conditioning tease her. With her open in my hand, I fucking beheld her. Bright pink inside, the lips slightly darker. I got back on top of her and kissed her again, deep and hard, to make sure she got a hit of her sweet self on my stubble.
Enveloping her body with mine, I tucked my head close in against hers and pressed a long kiss to her collarbone. She gently rubbed her cheek against mine; I felt the rhythm of her breathing, and I let her feel me hard between her legs. Then I held her close and rolled us over so that she was on top.
She giggled softly and tucked her feet up so she was straddling me. I reached down and positioned my cock between us, making sure it was pressing against her clit. “Feel that?”
She swallowed and even blushed. “Yeah.”
Very slowly I rubbed myself against her, feeling her wetness warm and slick all over me. Her wetness would’ve put Astroglide out of business. I placed my hand to her heart and pushed her up to sitting, until her weight was on my hips. Again I parted her lips with two fingers and pressed my shaft against that hot-pink glory. With small circles of my hips, I worked on her like that. I kept teasing her, and I watched her get more and more into it. Every time she pressed her hand to the underside of my cock, my balls tightened and throbbed.
Jesus, I had her already and I wanted her even more. I wanted to be inside her, all over her. Everything, everywhere, right now. “For the record, I want to get inside you bareback. Just like this.”
Her eyes flashed at me. “Is that so?”
“I don’t wanna fuck around with condoms, but to protect this gorgeous pussy of yours, I will,” I said with another thrust of my shaft along her clit.
Using one fingertip, she traced a line from one of my tattoos to the next. I didn’t think about them much, and following her movements between them made me see them with new eyes. “Bareback . . .” she said. “I wish.”
Yeah, see . . . that word on her lips. Bareback. The thought of her thinking it made my balls ache even more. Tangled up in that, though, once again, was the desire to protect her and look after her. “Protect the pussy. Words to live by.” I reached over to open my bedside drawer, where I had an unopened box of condoms. I slipped open the lid and held it out to her.
She tore a condom off the strip and let the remainder fall to the floor. “I think we should get Protect the Pussy on a hoodie.”
“Gimme your address and I’ll have it there before you know it.”
There was that laugh. Giggling, she bit the top of the condom wrapper and ripped off the foil edge. She tried to spit it aside, but it got caught on her lip. I pulled it off for her, trying to stay serious. We were about to fuck. I couldn’t start laughing. But it was hard as hell not to; her happiness was contagious. So was her desire, though, and her smile disappeared as she brought the still-rolled condom down to my cock. Her fingertips brushed against my shaft, and the latex cut the air with its familiar smell. She was awkward about the condom—she had it wrong side up. For as naughty as she was, she also had an innocence that was as surprising as it was adorable. I reached out and flipped it over for her. “That way.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “It’s been a little while.”
Fuuuuuck. “You’re kidding me. I imagine guys throwing condoms at you as you pass like confetti at a parade.”
A snort snuck up on her, and she snickered and blushed. “Hardly,” she replied, getting serious again as she rolled the condom down my cock.
Her fingers brushed my balls, sending a pulse straight through me. I resisted the very real urge to fuck her
so hard we snapped the condom, busted the bed, and broke the floorboards. But at the same time, I wanted to enjoy her. I wanted to take her slow. “So I’m not your usual Friday night?” I asked her as I took my cock in my hand, put the tip at her opening, and began to push into her. Her eyes met mine, a hard and serious stare—unflinching and focused. I eased her down onto me and pushed into her slowly from below. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her eyebrows raised as if in surprise—a slow, delightful surprise. A surrender even.
“Definitely not,” she said, hoarse and greedy as she took me inch by inch. “Deffffffinitely not.”
She felt so good that halfway in, I had to stop. I needed every second to count. Gripping her hips, I kept her steady. For a second, I savored the feel of her warm, perfect pussy. The way her stomach rose and fell as she breathed. The way she bit her goddamned lip when she looked at me.
I liked her on top. But this time, the first time, I needed to show her who was boss. So with my cock still inside her, I flipped her again. When I had her on her back, I took her wrists in my hand and pinned them back on the bed above her head as I drove into her. “I wanted to take you slow,” I said, our eyes just inches apart. “But you feel too fucking good for that.”
9
STELLA
His thrusts were so forceful that they sent ripples through my entire body. Waves of both pleasure and physical force made my hips, tummy, boobs, and eyes tremble. In the midst of it all, I had the light-bulb moment to beat all light-bulb moments: I’ve never had sex with a real man until now.
Again and again he drove into me, and I was astounded to feel a flicker of what felt like an impending orgasm from the inside out. That was like El Dorado, as far as I was concerned. But he was doing it to me, driving into me straight into the Lost City of Orgasm Gold.
“Oh my God, Nick,” I said. Instantly, he slowed down, looking me in the eye, like he was checking on me. His hands, which had been digging into my ass, possessive like I belonged to him, slid up my back. He pressed his forehead to mine. “Oh yeah?” He’d slowed his thrusts, but he was still hitting . . . the spot.
The spot. The G-spot. G, as in OMG. G for glorious. G for growl. G for great. G for . . .
“Come for me, Stella. Come on this cock. Own this fucking cock.”
Honest to Jesus it was like being in a movie. It was like being in a dream. It was like somehow, I had conjured up the man I’d always wanted to find and poof, here he was. And now he was about to make me . . .
“I’ve got you,” he said, working his hips in a slow undulation. “Just let go.”
But I was into my head too far, and as quickly as I’d felt it happening, it faded away. I’d psyched myself right out. I knew it was nerves, but I couldn’t help that. In the sex intramurals, he was varsity and I felt like I was trying out for JV. The Lost City of Gold was out there, but I didn’t know how to actually get to it. Not yet.
Maybe it was my hesitation, or maybe he read my mind, but in response he flipped me over again, fast and ruthless without a moment for me to squeal or laugh. I was on top and taking all of him. With my tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth I made a noise so primal, it didn’t sound like it had come from me at all. He gripped my waist in his big hands and held me still as he powered into me from underneath.
“Let me watch you,” he said. “Make yourself come. I’ll fuck you straight through it.” He moved my hair off to one side, gentle yet unpracticed, so that I felt the pinch of a hair or two getting pulled.
And that did it. That little bit of pain distracted me and got me out of my head far enough to surrender; I growled and started to fall down into it. I put my fingers to my clit and began doing exactly what I loved, exactly what I needed to do.
“Fuck yeah,” he said, his eyes locked on what I was doing, followed by a slow, nearly silent whistle. “How’d you get so goddamned sexy?”
I knew nothing about hotness right then. I was just a girl on the edge of . . . “Nick. You’re going to make me . . .”
“Fucking do it.”
“Loud, I’m . . . llll . . .” Oh God, it was starting to happen. The trapdoor had sprung open, and I was on my way down.
“Roar for me, beautiful. Make the neighbors hate us. Do it.”
The pleasure made me start to lose track of time, of everything, except him and me together. And his eyes. And his hands. And how much I wanted to give myself to him. “I’m going to . . .”
“Now?” he asked. “Right now?”
“Yes . . . Right . . .” It was like falling into the ocean off a dock.
His thrusts changed. The rhythm intensified, and the shudders of pleasure seemed to shift inside me, from front to back, to everywhere. I knew then, this wasn’t going to be the sort of orgasm I gave myself with my Magic Wand and my subscription to Lucie Blush. This was going to be . . .
His grip tightened. His face got serious and aggressive. His grunts changed to deep guttural growls. Animalistic. Relentless. “Look me in the fucking eye, and come with me, Stella. Come. With. Me.”
Oh.
My.
God.
We fell asleep in a sweaty, warm heap. The last thing I remember was his lips pressed to the side of my head and him saying, “Holy, holy shit,” as I drifted off to a lovely happy place with his arms around me, his body behind me, and Irish Spring all around.
But when I woke, he was gone. I patted the bed where he’d been lying and squinted against the light of the lamp. It was dark out and it felt late, but Nick was nowhere to be seen.
I sat up with the sheet over my boobs like I was doing a love scene for a soap opera. This wasn’t exactly how I’d planned on this ending—Ubering home from a guy’s house in the dark of night. A midnight skedaddle of shame. There were no icky feelings associated with that at all.
I got control of my wake-up thoughts and carefully scanned the room. His boots were still there, in a pile with his pants, my jeans, my T-shirt, and all the rest of our stuff tangled up together. And now there he was too, standing in the doorway. Buck naked and smiling. Gulp. Hello.
“There she is,” he said, coming into the bedroom. In one hand, he held the bags with our caramel apples.
Helllloooooo.
In the other hand he had two wineglasses upside down, the stems between his fingers, and he carried a bottle of wine under his arm. He set it all down on the bedside table, and I couldn’t help but admire the way his abs curled as he bent over. He belonged on a two-story billboard, not in bed with me.
Turning to me, he handed me the bottle and a corkscrew. Admittedly, not the suavest thing, but I was all for division of labor. Equal rights and all, maybe? Still, though, it was a bit odd. “Full-service operation you’re running here,” I said as I began to strip the foil with the end of the corkscrew.
He leveled me with a fake glare. Or maybe it was a real glare. “That’s so you know I haven’t slipped you a mickey.”
I wasn’t the kind of girl who needed protecting. But a little part of me kind of . . . loved it. “Well, that’s very nice of you.”
He winked, clicked his tongue, and gave my thigh a little squeeze. “Just want you to know you’re safe with me, sweetie.”
10
NICK
She fell asleep on my chest, with a smudge of caramel on her lip. I touched her bangs gently, halfway hoping it would wake her up, because honest to God, I was having so much fun talking to her in bed, I didn’t want the night to end. But instead of her eyes fluttering open when I touched her and softly said her name, she started snoring, a small honk from one nostril.
Such a cutie.
Very carefully, I took her half-finished glass of wine from her hand and placed it on the nightstand. I wet my thumb in my mouth and cleaned the caramel off her lip to make sure it didn’t get her hair sticky, and then I made sure the pillow was under her head. Once I had slipped out of bed, I pulled the blanket up on her side to keep her warm. I gathered up the glasses, the apples, and the wine and headed for the kitchen,
lit only by the small bulb under the microwave. I made it exactly two steps before I stubbed the living shit out of my toe on something.
Somehow I managed to stop myself from roaring, “Motherfuck it!” at the top of my lungs and instead managed to whisper-yell it at the microwave. Once I was reasonably sure I wasn’t going to pass out from the pain, I set down everything on the counter as carefully as I could and tried to figure out what the hell I’d run into.
It was her purse.
When I went to put it back where it had been before I jammed my toes into it, I found the bag wasn’t just full. It wasn’t just heavy. It was unbelievable. Picking it up by the shoulder strap, I gauged its weight like I was curling a dumbbell. The thing had to weigh fifteen pounds. I gave it a shake, expecting to hear I-didn’t-even-know-what . . . clanging bottles from a full six-pack or something. A whole shitload of lead shot rolling around. But nope. Nothing more than some soft rattles, like maybe lipstick, and the sound of some keys. Again, I did a biceps curl with it. Maybe twenty pounds. Jesus. It fascinated me. It was like an optical illusion. I had no idea at all how something so small, and made out of white leather, could weigh so much . . . It was like a hundred-pound chicken or some shit. Fucking boggled my mind.
Purely out of curiosity, I put one hand on the bottom of the bag. The whole base was rigid, and something came up the sides all around it. Reminded me of a Tupperware container my grandma had.
I felt along the ridge and the corners. I tapped it on the sides. There was something solid in there, not plastic. Metal maybe. Like a metal box, hidden in the bottom of her purse. My best guess, given what I’d seen today, was some type of portable safe.
I had to know more about her. I fucking had to.
I slid my hand inside her purse, all the while keeping an eye on the bedroom to make sure she was still asleep. At the base of the bag, I felt something metal. It didn’t feel like a portable safe, though; no matte powder coat, no sharp edges. It felt smooth, and like there was some sort of decoration on top. The problem was, in order to see it, I was going to have to dump all the shit out of her bag. And that was a serious proposition, likely to cause one hell of a racket. But as long as I had her purse open, I might as well figure out a thing or two while I was there.
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