Once Should Be Enough

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Once Should Be Enough Page 7

by Nikky Kaye


  His arms still around my waist, he straightened. “You mean now? That would be pretty fucking impressive if I got you off from kissing you,” he preened.

  “I mean this morning.”

  Will paused, a solemn expression on his face. “You mean… during the act of vaginal intercourse?”

  “Don’t make fun of me!” I head-butted his chest, which was shaking again.

  “Sorry, baby. I’m sorry. But seriously? You didn’t—” He broke off, the comprehension of his failure a serious downer. “Shit, really?”

  “No.”

  He pursed his lips and huffed, then let go of me in order to drag his hand through his hair. “Were you at least close?”

  I thought about it. “Maybe? I’m not sure.”

  “If you’re not sure, then you weren’t.” He looked so sad. I almost felt bad for telling him. “But you did last night?” he asked hopefully.

  “Oh yeah. I think we can definitely put last night in the win category.”

  His hands tightened around me again, and he bent down to my ear. “What made you the hottest?” he asked in a low voice.

  My throat was so dry; my swallowing almost hurt my throat. “Your fingers.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “On your clit?”

  “Yes.”

  “In your pussy?”

  “Yes.”

  “In your ass?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  He gave me a tender kiss. “Yeah, that was hot,” he agreed. “I guess that surprised you?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And that makes you feel…?”

  “Weird? Slutty?” His chest became very fascinating to me.

  He tilted my chin up, clucking at me. “You shouldn’t. It’s very common. Aside from the number of nerve endings, the taboo nature of it stimulates the—”

  Now it was my turn to kiss him silent. After a few minutes of distracted making out, he stepped back and stripped off his shirt.

  “I want a do-over.”

  Cassie

  “A do-over?” I asked as he stalked toward me. “You mean, like, now?” My sweater muffled my words as he pulled it over my head.

  “Right now.”

  Will was deadly serious about this. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “It’s not a test.”

  “The fuck it’s not,” he scoffed, kneeling in front of me. “I said I would make you scream—“

  “And you did!” Sort of.

  He smoothed his hands over the curves of my hips, his gaze skidding over my body. “It doesn’t count.”

  “Why not? Because I didn’t come on your dick?” I folded my arms over my chest, which just pushed my boobs further up.

  “Exactly.” He looked up at me with a stubborn expression and did a double take at my boobs. Then he proceeded to pull my stretchy skirt down to the floor. I stepped out of it, my mouth gaping open.

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  Sitting back on his heels, he took in my lacy purple bra and matching almost-panties. “This was underneath the whole time we’ve been talking? What a waste of fucking time.”

  “Will!” He was not listening to me. His masculine pride was drowning out anything I was trying to say to him.

  “So goddamn sexy…”

  Okay, so reason had gone out the window. Clearly he felt he’d been issued a caveman challenge—must make Cassie come on cock. Grunt grunt. On one level, this was probably exactly what I was hoping for when I decided to come here. Why else would I wear sexy underwear?

  “You don’t have to—”

  “The fuck I don’t.”

  He rose, looping his arms behind my knees and neck and sweeping me off my feet. Luckily, my head didn’t get slammed into the wall of the short hallway to his bedroom.

  When he dropped me on the unmade bed, a waft of his scent swirled around me. The sheets smelled like him, which had an immediate effect on me. I felt my muscles getting softer and warmth spreading through my lower body. I lay back on two askew pillows, reminding myself to relax.

  Maybe relaxation wasn’t the right word. I needed to accept, to embrace. The thought of accepting and embracing Will made my nipples tighten almost painfully. A week, even twenty-four hours ago, I would have said I was just cold, but now I knew better. I was turned on.

  And he knew it. His heavy-lidded eyes darkened as he gazed down at me. Idly, he scratched his stomach, catching my attention. My gaze followed the crisp trail of hair under his navel down into his scrubs. They hung off his narrow hips, only fastened with a drawstring. And they sure didn’t hide much.

  I could see his erection building before me, tenting out the thin material. It made my stomach twist that I could do that to him. I was enough to make him twitch and bob and grow thicker and harder and longer. Tension lodged in my chest, making my heartbeat echo in my ears.

  “You’re really hot,” I told him with a shy smile.

  He grinned, but little spots of color flared in his cheeks. He was a cocky son-of-a-bitch, but it didn’t mean that compliments went unnoticed.

  “Pot. Kettle.”

  It occurred to me that a critical part of arousal, sex, or passion—whatever you wanted to call it—was admiration. It was the knowledge that a mutual physical attraction existed, at the very least. I’d seen enough drunken idiots at parties for whom the concept of intellectual attraction was like a class for which they did not have the prerequisite.

  Beyond that, I realized that there should be pleasure in acknowledging this admiration and attraction—not blushing and belittling. When I blew off his appreciation, I was blowing off his judgment and telling him that I thought he was full of shit. Who wanted to hear that in the bedroom?

  He kneeled on the edge of the bed and crawled toward me. I might have thought he looked silly if he wasn’t crawling towards me with salacious intent in his eyes. Maybe I wasn’t aroused enough if I could think of things like “salacious intent”.

  When his hand closed around my ankle, my breath caught and all thoughts of intent flew out the window. It was time to stop thinking and start feeling. Time to let go of my stupid assumptions and preconceived ideas of what was right or wrong.

  “You think too hard,” Will said as he watched his own hands slide up my calves. It would have been erotic if he hadn’t been taking my fluffy socks off. Oh hell, it still was. He could be undoing his own sock suspenders and make it sexy. The timbre of his voice alone was causing vibrations in my lower belly.

  “I know.” I thought so, too.

  “Stop thinking.”

  Easier said than done. My eyelashes fluttered. “Make me.” I attempted a coy smile, like ones I’d seen on other girls.

  He paused, frowning. “Stop it,” he said, reaching up to smooth his thumb across my mouth as if to wipe my flirting off. “Just be you. You don’t have to be anything else for me.”

  Turning his attention back to my legs, he mapped out a path from the arch of my feet up to my upper thighs, and began a diligent exploration of the journey.

  “This is part of your problem, Cassie. Yes, a lot of having fun with sex is mental. But it shouldn’t make you mental. You feel guilty, don’t you?”

  “Kind of!” I gasped as his tongue followed behind the meandering route of his hands.

  “Stop. It’s a wasted emotion. What do you feel guilty about? Wanting me?”

  Oh! I didn’t want him to feel insulted. “No! Just, well, wanting…”

  “This?” He licked the back of my knee, making me squirm. Then with a clamped hand over my hip and one driving up between my legs with a shocking suddenness, he flipped me over.

  “Ooof!” My face was smushed into his pillow until I turned my head and tried to look back over my shoulder at him.

  “You look pretty sexy like that.” He caressed the dampness at my opening until I wanted to squeeze my thighs together—with his hand trapped inside.

  I felt even more exposed than befo
re, knowing that I couldn’t hide in this position. I literally had my back turned on him but was completely open to his gaze, his hands, and his mouth.

  All of them were making their way over my upper thigh and cresting over my backside. The divots above my cheeks were his next targets. Then he centered his lips over the base of my spine and nibbled his way down to the crease of my ass.

  “You feel guilty about wanting this.” One of his fingers gently circled the flinching rosebud buried there, while the other hand coaxed more of my juices out of my pussy.

  “God!” I tensed. Yes, damn it!

  He shifted to straddle my knees, pinning me down. My back arched, brushing my stiff and tender nipples against his sheets. Leaning over to almost blanket me, he reached into the drawer in his bedside table and retrieved two condoms and a small bottle.

  “What is that?”

  “Lube,” he murmured in my ear as he retreated.

  “Why do you have—”

  He rocked his erection against my ass. “Better than hand lotion.”

  Oh. If I had eyes in the back of my head, I would probably see him smirking. Then again, if my eyes kept rolling up with every stroke of his fingers, they’d be at the back of my head soon enough.

  “Did you know,” he asked, “that forty percent of women between the ages of twenty to twenty-four have tried anal sex?” I heard him flick the cap of the bottle open.

  My breathing quickened. “What? No way. Where did you hear that?”

  “Cosmopolitan.”

  “You read Cosmo?” I flinched as he drizzled a little lubricant between my cheeks. Oh god, was I going to let him do this? And why did that make me so fucking hot?

  “I have an older sister. A lot of her magazines ended up under my bed in high school.”

  Yeah, I bet.

  “You are dripping,” he observed, two of his fingers leisurely pumping in and out of my vagina. “You know, more than half of pornos feature anal,” he added. “In my high school, there were a lot of girls who did anal so they could say they were still virgins.”

  I did not want to know that. Gah! Okay, I wanted to know. “Anyone you knew, uh, well?”

  He chuckled. “Not that well.” Curling his index finger, he dragged the back of his knuckle through my crease, spreading the silicone around. My sphincter reacted, grasping reflexively. He replaced the fingers in my pussy with just his broad thumb. His other fingers reached under me to rub my hardening clit. Again my back arched, pushing my ass closer to him.

  “Admit you want this.”

  I moaned, squirming, but my legs were still immobilized. “I did already.”

  “Say it.” His thumb rolled around my entrance, distracting me from the tip of his other finger pressing against my ass.

  “I want it.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to touch me everywhere,” I panted.

  He hummed and shifted backwards off my calves, removing his hands. Disoriented by his sudden absence, I was a bit startled when he pulled my hips and my knees popped up underneath me.

  Fuck. Now my head rested on the pillow while I knelt on the bed, my legs spread a little and my lower body arched and on display for him.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered. Then he spun around and lay underneath me, swiping his tongue through my sopping folds. “Mmmm.” My spine bowed and my pelvis twerked back and forth to meet the demands of his mouth.

  “More!”

  “Patience.” Then I heard him mutter, “God knows I’ve had to be.”

  He added his fingers again, one at a time, until my walls were trying to close around four of them twined together, I think. I couldn’t actually see what he was doing, which was the most titillating part.

  “You have such a needy little kitty,” he crooned. I gushed a little more, dripping into his hands and mouth.

  After a minute or two of me writhing at his dirty cooing, he slid to the bottom of the bed and hopped off. I heard him pull off his pants and then the telltale crinkle of the condom wrapper. When he rejoined me, it was to bend over my back, his thighs rubbing against mine.

  “Up you get.”

  He wrapped his arms around me in an intimate hug and tugged me up on my hands. My face was blazing, no longer pressed against the cool pillow. Kneeling behind me, I could feel the hard length of his cock against me. One of his hands was gripping my hip, and the other one reached around my waist to palm my stomach.

  “One day I’m going to make love to you, Cass,” he promised. “Make no mistake about it; that’s where we’re headed, where I want to go. But right now, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you slowly and carefully and I’m going to make you come around my cock.”

  Yes! Okay! My insides pinged at his words, little waves rippling through me in warning.

  “This is my do-over,” he growled. “You forgot something about me.”

  I did?

  My head was spinning as I kept trying to swivel to see the determination and lust on his face. Neck aching, I gave up and blearily stared at the leather-upholstered headboard in front of me.

  He lined his cock up at my dripping center and plunged in. “I’m an overachiever.”

  “Fuck!”

  He pushed my breath out of me until it fell onto the pillow under my hands, along with any resistance I still had. I felt fuller than this morning; maybe it was the position. Every one of my nerve endings was frayed, like stripped wires being touched together in hazardous electrical experiments.

  He withdrew slightly then drove all the way back in, his hips flush against my ass. My head drooped, and I looked underneath to watch his cock enter me. Deeply and with deliberation, he kept his promise and fucked me.

  With some thrusts, he curved his belly protectively over my back, and with others I worried he’d leave fingerprint bruises on my hips. He varied his pace and his depth until I was disorientated with desire. I didn’t know which end was up, other than my ass.

  Through it all he whispered lovely, dirty, secret things to me. Promises and threats, making me whimper, each one an arrow straight to my quivering womb. This time I recognized the torsion tightening in my belly, like it twisted last night. My pussy fluttered around him as he focused every movement on me and how I responded.

  Gone was the self-absorbed, slightly out-of-control Will of this morning. The horny college boy vanished and left in his place was a methodically generous lover who invaded my mind and body and turned it inside out. Goddamn pre-med. He did indeed know things about my body that even I, as the owner of it for twenty-one years, didn’t know.

  “Tell me when you’re going to come,” I told him, praying I could meet him there.

  “Oh no. You first.”

  What? He pushed me further out on the ledge, teetering there alone.

  His hands swarmed over me—up my spine, over the curves of my ass, tickling my belly, around my thighs, between our joined bodies. They lingered in hot spots like the crease of my pelvis. He sharply smacked the top of my butt cheek until I cried out in protest and then pleaded for more.

  Will was fucking me, and fucking me well. And well I knew it.

  My moans became louder and more guttural as he wrung every possible sensation out of me—trembling, fizzling, burning, pulsating, splintering and spiraling over the side of a welcome cliff.

  I shattered as I hit the bottom, coming hard on his cock. My head sagged, but he held up my body, denying me a lull. My walls were still throbbing as he pulled out, still hard, and thumbed open the lube bottle again.

  “Now you need to relax.”

  Relax? I felt boneless, and only his hands were propping me up! I still pulsed in the aftershocks of my orgasm as he began toying with my rear end again. He dipped and nudged and orbited with his fingers until I was dizzy with shameful need.

  “Please, Will.” My voice cracked.

  “Please what?” He wasn’t going to give me an out this time.

  “Please… fuck my ass. I really want you to.”
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  “I know, Cass. Don’t worry.”

  He encouraged me and soothed me as his heavy cock pressed into me, a fraction at a time. I hissed at the foreign intrusion at first, part of me panicking. But he held me still, and entered me slowly and carefully. I thought he simply wasn’t going to fit, wasn’t supposed to be there, until he passed a certain point and I gulped with relief.

  “You okay?” he asked me.

  My answering sigh was shaky. “Yes. Oh god. Keep going.”

  It took a moment of heavy breathing in the silence to get accustomed to feeling so oddly full. Then he began gently rocking against me. The minute movements were uncomfortable at first, and then they became more pleasurable. Frissons of need hollowed me out as another orgasm began swelling deep within me.

  “Will, I’m going to come again.” I could hear the shocked glee in my voice.

  “Yeah?” His hips jerked in fractions of inches as he held me close. “You like me in your ass, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I hissed. My face burned and my arms shook from the effort of staying up, but I was otherwise frozen. He began moving a little faster, his breath harsh in my ear.

  “One day I’ll come in you bare,” he vowed. “You’ll feel me shooting into you. You’ll drip from every hole.” He then groaned at his own words, his hips bumping against me in short, turgid thrusts as I pushed back just a little. “Fuck, I’m close, Cass. I’m going to come in your ass.” He was breathless and sounded reverent, like he couldn’t believe his own luck.

  The awe in his voice thrilled me deeply.

  “Oh my god, I’m coming!” I cried, almost sobbing at the profound waves of pleasure rolling over me, slamming me against the reality of what we were doing.

  We were, without a doubt, fucking. But the trust and the connection there was so intense that I had no doubt all his promises would come true one day. That should have freaked me out, but instead I felt a calmness come over me. Every time I’d fallen so far, he’d caught me. The answer wasn’t to avoid tripping; it was to trust in his rescue.

  When we slowed to a stop, our trembling became all the more obvious. He slipped out of me, making me grimace a little, and patted my backside.

 

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