by Ava Lore
When at last I was spent, Kent gently placed me on the floor, then helped me to my feet and led me through the suite and to the bed where we had spent our past few chaste nights. Well, no longer.
Again his mouth found mine as he backed me into the mattress, and when I had no choice but to collapse onto it he followed, grinning wickedly as his tall body arched over mine, his long legs insinuating themselves between my thighs.
God, he was tall. And big. And I wanted to feel him, all of him.
Reaching out, I pulled his t-shirt off over his head, and he helped me, throwing it to the floor as my fingers fumbled at the button on his jeans. Frantically I shoved his jeans over his hips, delighted to find he was commando again, and as he crawled up over me, every inch of him dominating my supine form, I shuddered with desire. My hands found his cock and gave it a quick, hungry stroke, and he grunted as he bucked into my hand.
Our mouths found each other again, and he laid his body over mine, the heat of him searing my skin and setting my insides on fire, contrasting with the coolness of the sheets beneath my back. I moaned into him as his hands roamed over me, dipping and teasing, stroking and pinching, until I was breathless and ready to fuck. I felt small next to him, pale beside his intensity, but I tried to match him anyway. That was what working for Kent had taught me—to try to match the challenges I faced. I didn't do so well sometimes, but at least I was trying now. At least I knew that trying was an option. And he was here to teach me more.
I hooked my legs around his waist and felt the hot, rock-hard flesh of his erection nestling against my core, the soft head bent down into the sheets. Groaning, I pushed my hips up into him, begging him to take me. I ran my hands over his back, feeling the magnificent contours of his painted body. Smoothing my palms down into the little valley at the small of his back, just before the swell of his ass, I thought I could stay in that bed forever, just touching him. I wouldn't need to eat. I wouldn't need to sleep. Just these moments would sustain me...
To my dismay, the moment ended all too soon when Kent pulled away, rearing back onto his knees. One hand dipped between my legs to play with me—tender strokes with his rough fingers—while the other hand reached into the bedside table and pulled out a condom. He kept his eyes on mine, and I had the sudden feeling that he was trying to memorize me, too. I felt his gaze burn through me wherever it roamed, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
His hand retreated from between my legs as he ripped open the gold foil packet and rolled the condom down over his cock, and when at last he settled himself over me I closed my eyes and clung to him. Angling my hips upwards, I felt the huge head of his erection press against my entrance, and I bit my lip.
Slowly he lowered his weight down onto me, pressing me into the mattress, entering my throbbing core with an achingly slow stroke that sent spasms of pleasure down my legs, ending in curled toes. I hiked my legs up over his waist and let my soles rest on his ass, and when he began to flex deep inside me I felt it through my whole body.
His pace picked up almost immediately, and I strove to match him, my body stretching out to accommodate him, and I imagined I could feel every vein and ridge of him moving inside me, over my inner walls. A soft moan escaped from between my lips as his pace went faster and faster, my breasts smashed against his warm chest, his undulating belly flexing against mine, all that hardness against my softness. Overwhelmed, I clung to him for dear life as another orgasm began to tighten and build deep inside me.
Before it could crest, however, he pulled out. “Turn over,” he murmured to me.
Swallowing, I did so, and when he grabbed my hips and hiked them up I gasped, my upper body scraping across the sheets. When he pressed into me from behind, I could hardly contain the groan of ecstasy. Pressing, pushing, he entered me, then pushed my hips back down into the bed until I was lying face down and he was buried deep inside me.
Oh, please, yes, I thought as he pulled out, pulling my body along with him, and when he picked up his pace again I bit into the mattress and tried not to scream.
Faster and faster he went, carrying me away on a wave of delight, high and swift. My whole world vanished as I closed my eyes—all the pain, the humiliation, the bitter past—evaporating like a puddle in the middle of a forest raging with fire. Nothing was real except Kent. I felt as though I were blurring at the edges, bleeding into him, melting into the bed, reduced to nothing but nerves and flesh.
His body plumbed mine, and my orgasm built again, a slow and steady rise. My clit was sandwiched between my thighs and each plunge of his erection hit just the right spots inside me to make me see stars behind my lids. The wet sounds of our coupling filled the room, and each grunt dragged up from deep in Kent's throat stoked the blaze inside me.
My hands fisted in the sheets as I raced towards completion, his lean, strong body expending all his power within me, and when at last I couldn't stand it any longer, I mercifully came. The tiny world of the two of us exploded inside me, and I thrashed, unable to control myself, my cries ringing in my ears as Kent moaned my name over and over again.
He kept going and the pleasure stretched out, until I thought I couldn't take it any more, that surely there was only so much delight the human body could take before it came apart at the seams, and then at last he yelled his release, my name on his lips as he came, harsh and swift, deep inside me.
I realized that sweat slicked both our bodies when he collapsed on top of me, holding his full weight off only with his elbows. Our breath matched pace, and then, tenderly, he planted a kiss on my shoulder. A sweet kiss. A hello kiss.
My heart twisted, wrung out like a rag, and then he reached down and eased himself out of me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from turning around and tackling him again.
Kent slipped off the bed and I heard him remove the condom and drop it in the trash can. My limbs were as limp as noodles, but I somehow managed to drag myself into a sitting position and crawl over to the pillows where I collapsed gratefully, watching as Kent crossed the floor, his blue-green eyes studying me, a soft expression on his face.
Wordlessly he lay down beside me and pulled me to him, and I placed my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.
*
I woke up in the early hours of the morning, realizing that Kent was not with me in the bed. For a moment I had the horrible thought that it had all been a dream, but then I heard the toilet flush and I relaxed.
Kent came back and slid between the covers, his arms slipping around me. He was so warm. I just wanted to curl up on him and purr like a cat. I wasn't going to, obviously, because that would be weird, but damn if it wasn't tempting.
“Feeling better?” he asked me.
I grinned into his shoulder. “I've been worse,” I told him.
He laughed at that. “I bet you have.” Lazily, he lifted one hand and began to smooth his palm over my back. Warmth spread out over me where he touched me, and his naked body entwined with mine was pulling me ever more insistently out of sleep. I sighed and stretched, unfurling from the tips of my toes all the way up to the ends of my fingers high above my head. I felt the last vestiges of tension trickle away. Finally, thoroughly relaxed, I laid back and let Kent wrap himself around me.
I stared up at the ceiling, light and dark in unfamiliar patterns. There was a cobweb up in the corner that someone had missed in the last maid service. I watched it rise and fall gently with the shifting air currents in the room.
Then I frowned. “I'm feeling weird,” I said.
“Weird?” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me. “What do you mean, weird? Like sick?”
I shook my head. “Nooooo,” I said. “I just mean, I was lying here looking at the ceiling, and there's a spider web up there.” Now that I was saying it out loud it seemed kind of stupid, but I'd started so I plunged ahead. “And...I don't feel any need to clean it up.”
I shut my mouth and pressed my lips together. God. Was I a we
irdo or what? I risked a glance at Kent and he was staring at me as though I'd just suggested we put bananas in our ears.
“And that's... bad?” he asked.
“I didn't say bad, I said weird.” I wrinkled my nose. “It's not bothering me that it's there. It's weird.”
He started to laugh.
I shoved him. “Don't laugh at me!”
He shook his head. “I can't help it,” he said, stifling his laughter into snorts. “Only you would think it was weird that you didn't want to clean something.”
“But it is weird for me to not want to clean something!” I said. “I looked at it and I thought, 'oh, spiderweb,' not, 'I should get a duster.'” This was actually beginning to seriously stress me out. I'd always been a neat freak. Always. I frowned. “Did your cock heal me of my OCD?” I asked him, suspicious.
“That would be a neat superpower,” he said, but then he sobered up and moved toward me. Gently he tipped me onto my back and pulled himself over me. One hand reached up and began to play with my hair, and I idly ran my hands over his tattooed biceps. “Rebecca,” he said, “have you ever asked yourself why you think you have to purge the world?”
I scowled at him. “That makes me sound like Hitler.”
“You know what I mean.”
I shrugged. I was getting distracted by his biceps. “Well, you know. It just makes things easier, especially when things are going crazy around me. I can control it. A place for everything, everything in its place, right?”
Damn. He had really really nice biceps.
“Well then don't you think that's why you don't feel the need to destroy that poor spider's nest?” he said, interrupting my musings on biceps.
I frowned harder. “What do you mean?”
He leaned down and trailed a soft kiss over my lips. “I mean, there's a place for you, and you're in your place.”
I felt my brow smooth. “Whoah,” I said. “I'd never thought of it like that before.”
“I hope it's not gone for good,” he said. “If you go on a cleaning binge it makes it easy to tell if I'm fucking up.”
“I'd rather we were just fucking,” I said.
I saw him smile in the dimness. “Well,” he said. “I think I can manage that.” He leaned down and claimed my lips again, and as he folded his arms around me I knew he was right. A peace I'd never really known spread through me.
Everything was finally exactly as it should be.
* * *
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Don’t miss Carter’s story in the full-length novel Hard Rock Remix, coming August 1st, 2013!
About the Author
Ava Lore was raised by okapis and lives to corrupt the innocent. When she's not writing romance, she spends her time thinking about writing romance and drinking enough iced coffee to kill a musk ox.
You can email Ava Lore at [email protected], follow her on twitter (@authoravalore) or visit her at authoravalore.com. She yearns for your approval and always loves to hear from fans.
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