Body Talk

by Cara Bristol

  All the shoulds crumbled when she parted her lips, and with a groan, he deepened the intimacy. Her moist heat and honey bewitched him, and he kissed her slowly, caressingly, exploring her with gentle flicks of his tongue. She emitted a little hitching sound, a luscious melody of submission, and planted her lips firmly against his. Their breaths mingled.

  Lip to lip wasn’t enough. He pulled her over the console and snug against his chest. He combed his fingers through the short strands of her silky hair. She fit in his arms perfectly. Just as he’d known she would. She’d fit his cock even better, but it was too soon for that. He could hold back that much. For now. Next time, all bets were off.

  She sucked his tongue, stroked the side of his face with a fingertip. Her lips grazed his. “You don’t play fair,” she whispered.

  He played to win, because there was nothing fair about the way she’d captivated him, the softness and vulnerability she tried to hide wrapping around his chest like a band of steel. He settled her hand against his thundering heart. “I’m only a man. I need every advantage I can get.”

  * * * *

  Men were born with every advantage, but that ceased to matter when this man inflamed her body with his touch, his sexy voice, his smell—oh Gloria, his taste. One kiss wasn’t enough.

  She inched closer, resting her hip on the console hump, and he tightened his embrace. The strength inherent in the bulge of his biceps, the muscled contours of his chest, revealed he didn’t spend all his time behind a desk.

  She’d never been with a man as over-the-top masculine as he was. It was kind of hot.

  Kind of?

  He held the side of her head, and her scalp tingled. Her breasts ached, and she had the sneaking suspicion the crotch of her jeans was damp. He roamed a hand over her back, stirring awareness with every stroke, then warmed her rib cage before covering her breast. It swelled.

  Her erect nipple hardened further when he rubbed his palm in maddeningly slow circles over the taut tip. She needed—she ached—she whimpered as he unexpectedly pinched it hard, and pain and pleasure winged like an arrow.

  He scraped his jaw over her cheek, his whiskers rasping her face in a delicious way, then nuzzled the sensitive skin of her neck. She lolled her head back in sensual delight while he kissed her throat, her ear, nibbling and licking, all the while continuing to palm and pinch her breast.

  She didn’t sleep around. Quite the opposite. She’d had very few lovers. Mark was wrong for her, but oh Gloria, he turned her on. And on and on. If she called a halt, she’d return home frustrated and achy.

  Maybe a simple, uncommitted sexual interlude—a zipless fuck, as her other idol, feminist author Erica Jong, had coined it—would remedy not only her current lust but also her ongoing tension and stress. Men had sex for sex’s sake. Why shouldn’t she do the same? Practice what she preached. She’d advised women to take control of their sexuality, watch out for themselves, because if they didn’t, no one else would. Why shouldn’t she use this man for her sexual pleasure?

  She was powerful. A female warrior who required a man only for mating. Like an Amazon. She stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?” Mark sought her gaze, stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  “Nothing.” She licked the corner of his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

  She pushed her palm against his chest, curled her fingers into hard muscles, so different from her own softer form.

  Take control. She ventured lower and palmed his fly. Hard as stone, he strained his jeans. Trailing his length, she faltered at his size, but her wanton pussy insisted she proceed.

  He stilled her hand but didn’t push her away. “Do that, and you’ll get more than you bargained for.”

  She gulped but caught his earlobe between her teeth. “I hope so.”

  He crushed her mouth in a searing kiss that curled her toes. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Go someplace comfortable.”

  She shook her head and tugged on his belt buckle. “No. Here. Now. Like this,” she said in a throaty voice. Thank goodness it was dark so he couldn’t see her blush. She couldn’t believe the tone coming out of her mouth.

  “Stephanie…I don’t have a condom with me.”

  “I do.” All WAN staff and volunteers carried them, distributed them like colorful party favors to encourage women to protect themselves.

  “Well, then, I never argue with a lady.”

  Once she got his belt undone, the snap of his jeans popped open, and she slid down the zipper to reveal the head of his cock poking out of the waistband of his briefs. She slipped her hand inside his shorts. Stone shouldn’t be so warm. She marveled at the capability of man’s body to create something so substantial through simple hydraulics.

  “Now doesn’t that feel better?” She kissed his neck. Seducing him like this excited her. She’d never acted so impulsively, had sex in a car outside a bar catering to a kinky clientele, but it might prove to be what she needed to quiet the wayward urges so she could get on track with her regularly scheduled life.

  She squeezed his erection.

  He sucked in a hiss of air through his teeth, then made short work of her buttons and pushed her shirt off her shoulder. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Cream and lace.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth through the fabric of her bra while he deftly unhooked the catch. Molten sweetness bubbled through her when he shoved the bra aside, leaving nothing between her and his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Her gold necklace dangled between her breasts, the chill of metal calling attention to her toplessness. He pressed the heel of his hand against her mons, then rubbed her sex through the denim, setting her clit on fire with delicious friction. She moaned, moved her hips, and stroked him. Under her fingers, his cock blazed with heat.

  She braced an elbow on the door. The console dug into her hip, and the steering wheel poked her spine. He was right; the car wasn’t comfortable, but that only enhanced the thrill. She released his erection to pull at the fastening of her jeans. Damn her button fly.

  He chuckled but rendered assistance in undoing her pants. Twisting like a pretzel, she got her boots off, and together they shoved her denim down her legs. Note to self: the next time you intend to have sex in a car, wear a skirt. Second note to self: buy a skirt.

  He slipped his fingers under her lace panties to home in on her wet center, and she stopped taking notes. He stroked her clit with the skill of a master, then slid along slickened folds to her pussy. He didn’t plunge inside but teased gently, slowly, as if he enjoyed the journey as much as he anticipated arriving at his ultimate destination. At last he buried a finger deep inside. She contracted her muscles with satisfaction and sought his cock again, enthralled by his thickness, his hardness. Her judgmental side tsked. They’d only just met, and they were groping each other’s genitals in a bar parking lot. Her libido yelled at her judgmental side to mind its own fucking business.

  He eased his finger out of her to tug at her panties.

  She hadn’t finished kicking them off when he returned to her sex, this time inserting two fingers, a delicious pressure that had her rocking. “You’re so tight,” he murmured.

  Tighter than he knew. It had been ages since she’d slept with a man. But he was a one-night stand and didn’t need to know. It wasn’t like she would ever see him again.

  “You have big hands,” she said.

  “True, but you still have a tight pussy.”

  The feminist in her should have been outraged by his comment, yet her clit pulsed. His crude words seemed not nasty but right. As did her position—stretched out nude while a nearly fully clothed man toyed with her private parts. She’d often railed against the obvious power differential in movies when the male remained dressed while the female was naked. Yet here she was. Screw it, she thought. No, screw me. She smothered a giggle.

  The only thing Mark had exposed was his cock, which was weeping copiously as she stroked.

  “Where’s that condom?” he asked.

  “I’ll get it,” she s
aid. Twisting her body, she stretched a leg backward to hook the strap of her purse on her foot. Carefully she hauled it up on her toe.

  “You’re very limber,” he commented.

  She giggled. “Yoga. Three times a week.” She sensed his eyes on her as she tore open the wrapper. Pinching the tip of the rubber, she rolled on the condom. Gloria, he was big.

  The seat had been moved as far as it would go to accommodate his long legs, but he lowered the back to a near recline. “Ride me,” he said. His clipped command should have set her teeth on edge; instead it caused her stomach to flutter, her core to turn achy and hot.

  After more yoga-esque contortions, she straddled his lap. She sought his gaze but was unable to read his expression in the dark. She grasped his shaft and lowered herself. Too big. Or she was too tight. Biting her lip, she hunkered down. She’d force him in if she had to.

  He gripped her hips, halting her. “Easy. Easy, kitten,” he murmured.

  “My name’s not kitten!” To show him, she impaled herself.

  * * * *

  Stephanie cried out in pain, and Mark had a mind to pull her off him, turn her over the console, and spank her sexy ass. If they’d been further along in their relationship, he would have. Obstinate woman. What was she trying to prove? He’d ascertained from her extreme tightness she hadn’t been with a man in a long while. Everyone assumed having a big dick enhanced sexual pleasure when in fact it hindered, because a woman had to be exceedingly ready, or penetration caused discomfort. He didn’t have a problem with the judicial application of a little pain for behavior modification or pleasure enhancement, but judicial was the operative word. He’d intended his first time with Stephanie to be memorable in a good way. He had planned to savor her body, teach her not every encounter between a man and woman was a battle to be fought.

  Not that he disliked a friendly contest of wills. On the contrary. Even after he mastered her, she would never totally surrender, and that excited him.

  He held her immobile when she would have moved, and even in the darkness he could see her eyes flash with angry frustration. She didn’t know whether to slap him or fuck him. He throbbed with the urge to thrust, but he kept her still.

  “All right,” he said after her muscles relaxed.

  “Oh, now I can fuck you?” She huffed but moved on his cock, sending pleasure shooting through his body.

  He grinned. “You can fuck me anytime.” He released her hips to cup her breasts, so tantalizingly close.

  Hunched to avoid bumping her head on the ceiling, she had one hand braced on the car window, the other against the passenger seat as she rocked, her cunt squeezing him so strongly, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders,” he said.

  She complied without argument. Her tits swung over his face, and he caught a nipple in his mouth. Her hitch of pleasure increased the pressure in his groin. He tugged on the bud with his mouth, gradually increasing suction to learn her tolerance. Quite a bit, he found. She liked it a little punishing. He sucked hard, and she pressed her breast more firmly into his mouth. He nipped, and she gasped. As he drew on one and pinched the other hard, her pussy contracted.

  He should have insisted they go to his house or hers, where movement wouldn’t be hindered, where he could treat her how she deserved. Where he could take his time and lose himself in her now that he found her. He wedged a hand between their bodies to apply direct stimulation to her clit. Lifting his hips, he thrust into her, adding force to her downward movement.

  “Oh…oh,” she moaned.

  He rubbed his chin over one wet, erect nipple, using his stubble to rasp the bud. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, her face contorting in concentration.

  He wished he could see her better, catch the nuances of expression when she exploded in his arms. The next time he fucked her, it would be in full light.

  Her body stiffened. Her pussy tightened more.

  “Yes…kitten…that’s it.” He watched her face.

  “Mark…Mark!” The frantic cry of his name coming from her lips was enough to undo him even without the contracting ripples squeezing him. Her ecstasy triggered his. Heat flashed. He grabbed her hips and emptied himself.

  * * * *

  After much twisting, wiggling, and avoidance of eye contact, Stephanie had gotten dressed. She reached for the door and grazed the bridge of his nose with a glance. “It was, uh, nice to meet you. Thank you for the drink.”

  Ah, kitten, you’re gonna have to do much better than that to brush me off. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “That’s not necessary. It’s right over there.” She ignored him and tugged the handle.

  He shoved open his door and rounded the vehicle before she could exit. He’d snagged the butt glass from the backseat while she had wrestled into her clothing, and he slapped it against his thigh. He was sorely tempted to swat her hard on the behind. Instead he took her arm, helped her out, and, gripping her elbow, escorted her to her car. She had her keys readied, and he pried them from her stubborn fingers and unlocked her door.

  “Well, thanks again,” she said. Under the streetlight, her lips appeared swollen from his kisses, her chin a little pink. He suspected her nipples were red and sore. They were still erect, tenting her shirt because she’d shoved her bra in her purse. In her haste to dress, she’d missed a buttonhole, and her shirt fit crookedly. The formerly sleek cap of her hair was spiked from his roving fingers.

  “You’re going straight home?”

  “Yes, of course.” The brusqueness of her tone was softened by a beseeching glint in her eyes. Until she settled the battle within herself, any further overture on his part would be rebuffed. He’d give her the space she needed. For now.

  “Be sure you do.” Anyone who spotted her would know she’d been soundly fucked. He enjoyed the view, but no one else damn sure better.

  When she was buckled up, he bent and kissed her hard on the mouth, sealing his claim. “I’ll pick you up at seven p.m. on Saturday night.” He tucked the glass into her hands. “A souvenir to remember our date.”

  She narrowed her eyes like she intended to chuck it at him. “This wasn’t a date.”

  He grinned. “No, that’s Saturday.” He shut the door and tapped the roof. “Drive safely.”

  Mark waited until she fishtailed out of the parking lot and her taillights disappeared into the night before sauntering to his car, chuckling all the way.

  * * * *

  Body Politics Description

  Feminist Stephanie Gordon knows the instant she meets blind date Mark DeLuca it’s not going to work. Sure the deputy chief of police is criminally sexy, but he’s arrogant, domineering and sexist. Thank goodness after the evening ends, she’ll never have to see him again.

  A member of the Rod and Cane Society, an organization of men who spank, Mark DeLuca is attracted to Stephanie like a paddle to a well-rounded bottom. He sees beneath the shield of feminist militancy to the soft, sensitive woman she tries to hide. When she storms away in a snit, the chase is on. Can a spanko convince a diehard feminist her true strength lies in submission?

  The Goddess’s Curse

  Genre: Fantasy Romance

  Goddess’s Curse was inspired by the Greek myth of the female warriors, the Amazons. According to myth, after the Amazons mated and gave birth, they kept the daughters and either gave the infant sons to the men to raise or killed them. In Goddess’s Curse, Garat of the Lahon (the men’s tribe) seeks revenge against the Sharona because one of their women killed his son. He runs across Reena, the Sharona queen’s daughter, and plans to use her as a pawn. However, Garat finds himself attracted to her, and she to him. One thing leads to another…

  Garat pulled the tunic up and over Reena’s head and placed her gently on the bed. Leave. Walk away. This is a bad idea.

  Or good one? What was the harm in partaking of the pleasures of the flesh while she was here? At least, she couldn’t become pregnant. Nothing to worry a
bout.

  He eyed her body, so different from the other Sharona he’d seen. Where they were lush and rounded with full hips, thighs, and breasts, this half-starved little one had few curves at all, her breasts mere bumps on her chest, her hips as slim as a Lahon’s, arms and legs like twigs. Unattractively skinny, if he were to be objective about it.

  Breathtakingly beautiful.

  He yearned for the coupling, ached to feel her smooth skin, the sensuous skein of her hair, the tight sheath of her body. And to hear her cry out in genuine need for him, and not because an involuntary, hormone-induced passion demanded her compliance.

  When he’d mated with her cousin all those years ago, he’d tried to fight the rapture but couldn’t. With Reena, he could walk away, but didn’t want to.

  He desired her. Her body. Her smile. Her spirit. He admired the strength that had enabled her to withstand her cousin’s evil, respected her attempt to escape from him. Even if he couldn’t allow her to succeed. Yes, he lusted for her. Even though she was his hostage. Even though she was his enemy.

  Which made her all the more dangerous.

  Walk away now.

  Garat stripped off his clothing, and she swept her gaze over his body, lingered on his tumescence. She lifted her eyes to his face and licked her lips. Heat burned through him. Was it possible for hunger to drive one insane? Woe to me if she does come into fever. I will be unable to deny her anything.

  He slipped into bed.

  Awkwardness ensued as unfamiliarity caused limbs to bump and tangle, until he stretched an arm beneath her head, pulled her close, and kissed her. He stroked her cheek with a lingering touch. After tracing her collarbone, he fondled the small mound of a breast and thumbed the protruding nipple. Her moan of enjoyment shot straight to his throbbing cock.