Fantasized by You

by Steph Nuss

  He laughed against my lips, soothing away some of my embarrassment with a kiss. He pulled away and tilted his head to the side looking amused. “Never?” he asked, smiling in disbelief.

  I shook my head.

  “Well then, challenge accepted!” he said, with a glint in his eye and a smile. He grabbed my face and pressed his lips into mine passionately. “What about when you masturbate?”

  I sighed and smiled back at him, surprised at how well he was taking this. I’d kind of expected him to jump out of bed and run away from me. “I can when I’m … when I masturbate,” I said, totally not a fan of that word. “Just not when I’m with someone.”

  “Okay,” he said gently. He took my hands, relaxing his body into mine, our legs tangling together with the sheets. With a clear look of determination, he captured my mouth with his again for another sweet kiss, and any embarrassment I felt quickly drifted away as the weight of my issue no longer plagued my thoughts. “Well, baby, I’m a trainer. Enhancing physical fitness is what I do. I’m gonna make it happen for us.”

  I smiled excitedly, writhing underneath him. “I like the sound of that.”

  He grinned mischievously, shaking his head, and then rolled off me.

  Where is he going?

  “What are you doing?” I asked, already missing the warmth from his body.

  He lay beside me propped up on his elbow, his head resting in his hand. “We’re gonna talk about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” After telling him about my issue, I didn’t really feel like lying in bed and discussing it any further.

  “Well,” he said, skimming his fingers over my belly. “For starters, you could tell me what you like and don’t like in the bedroom. You could tell me what you think about when you’re alone.”

  I stared back at him, amazed. When he touched me like that, running his fingers over me like I was a prized piece of art, he lowered my inhibitions. I’d tell him whatever he wanted. “I don’t really know what I like and dislike. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not all that experienced when it comes to sex.”

  “Okay, so tell me one of your fantasies,” he said, resting his hand on my hip.

  “Really?” I asked incredulously, raising my eyebrows.

  “Yes, really,” he encouraged.

  “I don’t know …”

  “I’ll go first,” he said, smiling down at me.

  “You’re gonna tell me one of your fantasies?”

  “Yes, and then you’re gonna tell me yours.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.” I smiled, completely mesmerized by the idea. Just knowing he had fantasies made me all gooey inside.

  “Hmm, all right, let’s see,” he said, dipping his fingers into the waistband of my panties. “Since the day we met in my office, I keep having this fantasy where you walk into my office and lock the door. You’re wearing high heels and a long coat, but underneath, all you have on is this lace.”

  Ooh!

  “You shed the coat, and then walk over to where I’m sitting at my desk and run your hands all over me. Then you sit on top of my desk and I move in between your legs and remove your panties, and then I taste you. All of you.”

  “Ohmigawd,” I breathed. Listening to him tell the tale of his sexual fantasy was so unbelievably hot; I was blushing.

  He stopped toying with the waistband of my panties and cupped my cheek with his hand. “Your turn, baby.”

  “How often to do you fantasize about that?” I asked, eager to know more about these fantasies of his.

  “Every time I’m alone in my office,” he growled, leaning in to kiss my neck. “Now, tell me something.”

  I bit my bottom lip nervously, feeling my flush deepen. “I read somewhere once that women have a better chance of orgasming when they’re on top. So, I have this fantasy of us having sex and I’m on top. Your hands are on my hips, guiding me and holding me, but I’m in control, and just as I’m getting close, you reach between us and touch that special spot, and I explode in a way I’ve never experienced.” I caressed his face, running my fingers across his sexy scruff, loving how focused and attentive he stayed as I rambled on. “I’ve never been on top, so I don’t know what it’s really like, but that’s how I imagine it with you.”

  “That sounded perfect,” he said, kissing the inside of my palm.

  “Yeah,” I said, coyly, smiling up at him. Talking about this wasn’t so bad after all. I felt my confidence building the more we revealed our desires to one another. It was a different kind of foreplay, but incredibly affective. “What else do you fantasize about?”

  “Chocolate sex.” Trailing his fingers from the hollow of my throat down the middle of my chest and over my belly, he elaborated. “I’ve fantasized about having you spread out on my dining room table, completely naked, and then smearing chocolate syrup all over this gorgeous body of yours and licking every bit of it off.” Hovering over me, he ran his tongue up my stomach and over the swell of my breasts, causing a mass of goosebumps to prickle over my skin. Good god, he has a great tongue.

  “Then, once all the chocolate was gone, I’d take you right there on top of the table where we ate our first meal together,” he said, in a deep voice that made me squirm underneath him. He said things and acted with such conviction, I had no doubt he would master the challenge of giving me an orgasm. That’s just the kind of man he was. It was in his blood to work hard for what he wanted, and he wanted me.

  And I loved him for that.

  He nuzzled my neck, and the sweet burn from his stubble had me pulling him on top of me. I couldn’t have him lying beside me any longer. I anchored my legs around his hips, and stroked his muscular back. He continued to kiss up my neck, then he sucked on the sensitive patch of skin right below my ear, making me moan.

  “Tell me more,” he urged, propping himself up on his elbows. Excitement sparkled in his eyes as he gazed down at me and his dick throbbed against my leg, reminding me just how turned on he was by all of this.

  Relaxing back, I traced the tattoos on his arms with my fingertips and sighed. “I don’t have fantasies about being tied up or blindfolded or spanked—or any of that playroom Fifty Shades of Grey crap. I don’t want to be dominated.”

  “Good, because I don’t want any of that either,” he interjected.

  I smiled and continued. “I mostly fantasize about doing it in different places. Like the shower or my studio. I also like the idea of your office and the kitchen. But recently, I’ve been having this recurring fantasy where you come over and find me in my studio sketching a design. You toss my sketchbook out of the way and then do me right there on top of the table because you need me that bad. Then, once we’re done with our sexcapade, you let me draw a nude sketch of you.”

  “You wanna draw me?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice. “Like Jack draws Rose in Titanic?”

  I laughed at his comparison, but nodded. “Well, I won’t make you wear a necklace or lie on an ugly couch, but yeah, I want to sketch you.” I ran a hand down his strong chest, through the dusting of hair trailing into his boxers, and brushed my other hand over the chiseled features of his face. “Every masculine thing about you is exquisite, and I want to capture it on paper.”

  “And then what will you do with it?” he asked.

  I looked around at the walls of my room and smiled up at him. “Frame it and hang it in my room for our eyes only.”

  “Okay,” he said, brushing a sweet kiss across my lips. “You can draw me.”

  Surprise had my fingers itching for my sketchbook. “You’d really let me sketch you?”

  “Hell yeah. That’s why we’ve been talking about all of this,” he said, grinning naughtily. “I plan on us doing everything we’ve talked about tonight and more. You haven’t orgasmed during sex, not because there’s something wrong with you, but because your needs haven’t been met. Now, we have an idea of what we want and need from each other, and I plan on making it happen. But, most importantly, I promise
I’ll never leave you hanging. I’ll never take without giving, and I want you to promise me that you’ll never fake it. I don’t ever want you to fake it with me.”

  “I promise,” I said, my eyes glistening with happy tears. I didn’t think opening up to him like this would be so emotional, but it was. He tore open a part of me tonight that I didn’t even know existed, clearing away all of my anxieties about having sex with him.

  He kissed me and then reached over and turned off the lamp. Rolling onto his back, he took me with him, and I felt completely relieved as he ran his fingers through my hair and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Tonight, we’re gonna sleep, but tomorrow, I’m gonna make love to you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Harper

  The next night, after I finished showering and primping for my night with Maverick, I stood in my closet, in my black kimono robe, packing for my trip to Paris. Maverick wasn’t home yet, and I had my mom on speakerphone as she babbled about her social events while I folded clothes and placed them into my suitcase. Max and I were leaving tomorrow morning on my private plane, and I’d put off packing long enough. He had press junkets to do for his film the day before the premiere, and I planned on visiting some designer friends. I was excited about the trip but, at the same time, I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay here with Maverick.

  “So, are you all packed for Paris?” Mom asked.

  “I’m actually packing right now,” I said, zipping up my bag of toiletries.

  “Aren’t you guys leaving tomorrow? Why did you wait until the last minute to pack? Now you’re probably going to forget something.”

  “I won’t forget anything,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. I waited until the last minute because I really didn’t want to go. I wanted to be there for Max, I did, because I truly was proud of him. Plus, he’d always been there for me, so I knew I couldn’t bail on him. However, I knew going anywhere with him now meant being hounded by the paparazzi nonstop, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “So, how are things going with Maxton?” Mom questioned. She still hadn’t given up on the idea of Max and me becoming a couple. Ever since she met him years ago, she’d been mesmerized by his charm and caught up in all the stories the media spewed about our relationship. She also insisted on calling him by his full name.

  It was beyond annoying.

  I sighed and threw a couple of pairs of socks into my suitcase. “Mom, Max and I are just friends. We will never be anything else. Plus, I told you, I’m with Maverick.”

  “I know, but I don’t know anything about this Maverick boy,” she said. “I know Maxton, and he’s a great guy with a great career ahead of him. His movie topped the box office within the first week, Harper. He’s going places.”

  I knew Lucy Jennings meant well when she acted like this—always wanting the best for her children—but it had gotten old a long time ago. When I told her about Maverick earlier, and how he went to Columbia and owned Jones Jym and opened up a health clinic, she still wasn’t impressed. She acted like he was just some dumb jock who owned a gym. She made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want me to be with Maverick, and I knew it was because she still had hopes of Max and me ending up together.

  But that is never going to happen!

  “I think once you get to know Maverick, you’ll really like him,” I said, putting more clothes in my suitcase.

  She sighed, and I imagined her shaking her head at me. “But if you gave Maxton a chance, you’d see how perfect you two are together.”

  With that, I picked up my phone, furious at her for always meddling in our lives. Why couldn’t she just be happy for me? Any other mother would be thrilled if her daughter was with a guy like Maverick, but no, not Lucy Fucking Jennings. If she could arrange marriages for us, she would. She didn’t give a damn about our feelings, and that pissed me off. She didn’t like Elly for Carter at first, either, but I thought when she’d come around to her, she’d changed; obviously, I was wrong.

  “Max and I are never going to happen!” I said, shouting into the speaker. I hung up on her before she could reply and threw my phone onto the nearby chair.

  God, she pisses me off! Maverick was better than great, and it hurt that she couldn’t hear how happy he made me when I spoke about him. She meant well, but it never came across that way.

  Maverick cleared his throat behind me and I turned to find him leaning against the doorway of my walk-in closet. “Well, somebody is clearly on Team Max.”

  I laughed, thankful for his good humor, and walked over to him. As I got closer, I could tell he’d just gotten out of the shower. His hair was still a little damp, and I could smell the crisp, sexy scent of his shower gel.

  “Or should I say, Team Maxton?” he said, smiling.

  I wrapped my arms around his bare shoulders and leaned flush against him. “Forget her. I’m on Team Maverick, and that’s what matters.” I kissed him, soft and slow, parting my lips for him and tasting the mint from his toothpaste as his tongue greeted mine.

  He started to back out of the closet, walking us toward the bed, which was already turned down, and the lighting was dimmed to perfection. His hands moved to the front of my robe and pulled at the sash. The silk opened easily, and when he realized I was naked underneath, he brushed the material off of my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

  “My god, woman,” he said, completely captivated by my nakedness.

  I smirked and pushed him back onto the bed, and then pulled off his athletic shorts. He’d gone commando underneath, and when I freed him, he was hard and ready for me. I crawled onto the bed, carrying with me a kind of confidence I’d never had. Ever since our talk last night, I felt sexually invincible because of him. He scooted us up to the pillows and grasped the back of my head, kissing me and flipping me onto my back.

  His lean body covered mine, and he started pressing kisses down my chest. When he got to my breasts, he stared at me like a beast ready to ravage his prey before wrapping his lips around my nipple and kneading my other breast with his hand. He drove me mad with the way he sucked and teased, tugged and pinched, causing a riot of sensations.

  “Ohmigawd,” I cried, arching into him for more. I wanted more, so much more. I never knew sex could be so wanton. He elicited sounds from me that I’d never heard before. Needy moans crept from my throat, begging for more. “I need you, Mav.”

  “You’ll get me, baby,” he said, moving to the other breast. He continued working his magic, the burn from his scruff sizzling through my veins, intensifying the throbbing ache between my legs. I couldn’t wait any longer. After last night, all this foreplay wasn’t really necessary right now.

  I felt him, hard against my leg, and I grabbed his head and made him look at me. “No. I need you now.”

  He reached up and brushed his lips over mine, and I sighed into him. He was perfect in every way. I had no doubt that my needs would be met tonight because of his skill, but I didn’t want to waste any more time. I hadn’t had sex in what seemed like forever, so just a simple touch from him had me wired and ready to go.

  I just hoped I detonated this time.

  He grabbed my hips and quickly rolled onto his back, taking me with him, and I marveled at the way his taut, naked body looked beneath me. It was as if I had an inked-up, Greek God lying before me, with all of his glorious muscles on display, ready and willing to take me to places I’d never been before. I lifted my hips and he positioned himself at my center, but before I took him in, our eyes connected, and the emotions lingering between us made my heart swell inside my chest.

  I loved him. I was in love with him and the way he understood everything about me. I loved how my past and present didn’t scare him away. I loved that he didn’t care about my money or my fame. He cared about me, and only me.

  “Take me,” he said in a deep, determined voice, gripping my hips tight.

  I lowered myself onto him, gasping loudly as he filled me to the brink. I rolled my hips and we instantly found a rh
ythm, with him matching each of my movements with precision. Digging my nails into his chest, I quickened our pace and, soon, I felt it: the tension burning down my spine. It sizzled through me like a fuse ignited, searing closer and closer toward explosion. He reached between my legs, found that magical detonator with his thumb, and then rubbed until a burst of pleasure erupted inside of me and I came apart.

  Tossing my head back, I screamed his name as my orgasm pulsed through me. I didn’t think it would be this intense, this powerful, but it was. The way the sensations blew through me again and again was so fierce that all I saw was black. I couldn’t even see Maverick through my orgasm-induced haze, but I heard him grunt my name and then felt his release inside me.

  When the haze cleared, I collapsed onto his chest and joined him in gasping for air, our lungs inflating and deflating in unison.

  “Holy fuck,” he breathed, caressing his hands down my back.

  I knew exactly what he meant. Out of all the times I’d done it myself, nothing compared to this, to being with him. I gazed at him lazily and nodded. “Yeah, that was a hundred times better than I ever imagined.”

  He grinned and grabbed my face for a rough kiss. “Well, you better get used to it because it’s happening again in like ten to fifteen minutes.”

  Beaming, I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together. “Oh, I could definitely get use to this.”

  *

  After a couple more rounds of mind-blowing sex, Maverick and I lay in bed, completely spent. He’d kept his promise of never taking without giving. He gave and gave until I reached my peak and then let go with me. Now I knew what Bayler meant when she went on and on about having amazing sex. Maverick was beyond amazing, and he already knew my body better than I did.

  Tangled up in the sheets, I rested my head on his shoulder and yawned.

  “You should get some sleep,” he said, running his hand down my back. “You leave tomorrow morning, right?”