She slid her hand over the denim of Norris’s jeans. Mmmhmmm . . . the biggest package she’d ever received. “I see some things haven’t changed.” Norris was exceptionally well-endowed, exquisitely so, to the point that her entire sex clenched and flared with the memory of his cock pulsing deep inside her body. Hard. Long. Thick. She closed her eyes and pure unabashed want spiraled through her.
Mmm, yes, unsatisfying sex definitely hadn’t been the reason for their breakup.
Norris pressed her backward onto the giant wrought-iron bed. She’d take it, every bit of the pleasure he would provide. Not only was her body turned on, aching for Norris, but she also felt a warmth, a happiness, a rekindling of the deeper feelings she’d had for him.
He had her clothes off in an instant. His gaze ate up her naked flesh. His hair was in disarray on his head. Once his eyes had roamed up over her sex and breasts to lock with hers, a smile spread over his lips. “Even better than I remember.”
Oh yes, it was grand to be better than a memory. Norris yanked his sweater over his head and scrabbled out of his jeans.
Damn, for a writer this man was in shape. Runner, swimmer, weight lifter . . . Norris was fit. His muscles were long and lean, his belly taut. He even had those luscious muscular handles near his hips that made women do crazy, wicked things.
Norris’s body had made Clarissa do crazy, wicked things. Getting naked in her childhood bedroom while Mrs. Claus and Santa watched from the corner was but a minor addition to the fabulous sex life they’d shared. Let ’em watch. She hoped to give them quite a show.
Norris’s cock had a tiny little bend that curved toward her right. She leaned forward and took his thick sex into her hands. The breath from Norris’s lungs exited his body in a guttural growl.
That noise, so rough and base, turned her on. She grasped Norris firmly and stroked down his cock. Yes, heat rushed through her as this man, who she’d desperately loved, panted and nearly gasped for breath while her hand clasped him.
She opened her mouth and rubbed her lips down the head, as though sucking in a lollipop.
Norris trembled.
This was true power. She took him all the way into her mouth, pressing her lips down the length of his shaft, her hand stroking behind her lips. Clarissa cupped his ball sack with her other hand as her tongue danced across the tip of his cock and her lips suctioned just below the head.
“Sweet Jesus.” Norris wove his fingertips through her hair.
He’d always enjoyed a good ball-sack cupping. Not all men did, but Norris had been fond of her gentle grasp.
Again her mouth followed her hand. She took Norris deep into her mouth, all the way down his shaft and then back up, her hand stroking a long firm pull behind her mouth. Again, a third time.
“Fuck, Clarissa! I’m going to fucking come.”
She accelerated her pace. She wanted him to come. To feel his hot release jet into her mouth and down her throat. She wanted to make him lose his restraint.
A roar ripped through him and the vein in his cock bulged. His body tightened as a spurt of salty liquid slipped across her tongue. She pulled him deeper into her mouth and squeezed his ball sack. An explosion. She swallowed the hot come and stroked his cock, milking every drop from him until he fell forward, one hand on either side of her. Slowly, very slowly, she withdrew him from her mouth, ending with a tiny little lick over the head of his cock.
“What the fuck? No one has ever given me head like that.”
“It’s good to be the best.” She’d take the compliment. There was something powerful about giving good head. She’d figured that one out early in her life.
“Seriously, Clarissa, you’ve always been the best for me.” He crawled over her and lay beside her on the bed. “I can only strive to be half as good.” He smiled. “But I do enjoy a good challenge.”
Mmmhmmm. Let him rise to it then.
He positioned himself above her now, leaning forward to pull her nipple into his mouth. Hot. Wet. Tendrils of desire snaked through her body.
Her hips arched upward. His hand moved over her belly to the soft sweet flesh between her legs. He pulled his lips from her nipple and glanced down her body. “I see we’ve gone with the landing strip, eh?”
Clarissa laughed. Yes, when they’d first been fucking, she’d been completely bare, her sex waxed hairless in the current L.A. fashion. But then one day, she’d stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror, and her waxed pussy had sickened her. No, she didn’t want to look like a preadolescent girl. There was something wrong about that. She didn’t ever again want to be with a man who needed her to be without hair.
His fingers danced over her clit and plunged deep into her sex.
“I’ve always been a bit of a naturalist where muff is concerned. Never wanted to mention it before. You seemed quite content with your bare bits.”
He pressed the tip of one finger, slick with her juices now, to her clit.
“Aaaah!” She pulled her bottom lip beneath her top teeth.
“But manicured and well-trimmed is always appreciated.”
Oh the writers, always with the words. Even while he was finger-fucking her, making her body roll with pleasure, Norris had funny things to say.
His lips stopped forming syllables and descended on her other nipple. His fingers pulsed deep inside her and his thumb brushed lightly over her clit, sending a sensation akin to an earthquake rumbling through her body.
Cock. How badly did she want the huge throbbing cock she’d just sucked pounding into her?
So. Very. Badly.
Her hips rolled upward, seeking the hot thick missile of pleasure she wanted between her legs, but alas, found only finger-fucking and fingertips.
Norris’s lips pulled away from her breast. “A bit greedy, are we?” He trailed his lips across her belly.
Greedy? Fuck yes. Sex was like air, and she needed to breathe.
His lips rounded over her belly. Yeah, baby. There was a fabulous hotspot where Norris’s talented tongue needed to go. Her hips hitched upward, so he knew exactly where she wanted him to place that tongue. Clarissa was happy to be helpful that way . . . at least where her own pleasure was concerned.
He kept tormenting her with fingers and thumb as his mouth moved lower. Fuck, she could come any second, the pleasure was so intense. She surrendered to the heat coursing through her body, the desire making her hips undulate. Too long since she’d fucked anyone worth fucking. And Norris had always been worth fucking.
He paused, his head finally beneath her thighs. Thank fucking God. Relief please, my God. The heat thrilled through her like a volcano. He spread her legs and buried his face deep in her pussy. His fingers pulled out and his tongue, my God his tongue, circled her sex and then thrust deep into her hot core. He gently caressed her clit with one finger while his tongue pulsed in and out and in and out.
Yes, her breath came in quick bursts. She grasped the hair on his head. He pulled his tongue from her center and clamped his mouth onto her sex. Sucking her clit deep into the hot sultry wetness. And what Norris could do with his tongue? Was it the alphabet or the “Star-Spangled Banner”? It could have been “Angels We Have Heard on High.” But whatever the hell his tongue spelled out across the throbbing nub of her clit, it made her entire body rocket through space.
She rode that wave of pleasure, her hips thrusting up. Norris put a hand on her hip to still her, and why not? His face was riding a bucking bronco.
A moan, a low and outrageous sound, like a feral cat howling though the darkness, tore from her mouth, but she didn’t fucking care, because everything felt so good. The release, the sweet release from the ministrations of Norris’s mouth. Her entire body shattered, quivered. She fell over the edge and tumbled into an abyss of warm languid pleasure.
Her eyelids fluttered open. Oh, yes. He’d given it to her. Machismo and adrenaline coursed through Norris. He’d pleasured her. He’d made her come. He’d even made her shriek and howl like a cat in
heat. An ape-man barbarian pride that must have been inscribed on male DNA when cavemen were still thumping women over the head with clubs caused him to feel quite pleased with himself.
“We’re not finished yet, are we?” she sighed.
“Finished? Oh, no, no, no. Mr. Wentlock is most proudly awake.” Awake and waiting to penetrate Clarissa’s willing body.
“You still call him Mr. Wentlock?”
Norris leaned forward and drew her nipple into his mouth. Pink rosebud nipple, taut and gorgeous. He rolled it around in his mouth, not answering. What a man decided to call his own cock was his business. It didn’t deserve a response. He touched a finger to her still-engorged clit, just to prove he was still the puppet master, with Clarissa on the strings.
He got a wonderfully loud moan in response. “Make fun of my cock’s name, will you?” He whispered into her ear, a sultry smile on his lips.
“No, no,” she panted. “I—” Her hips spasmed. She bit her bottom lip as he continued to lightly circle her ultra-sensitive, swollen clit. “I love Mr. Wentlock.”
He pressed his lips to her neck. “And he is quite fond of you.”
He leaned over her and reached for his wallet in his jeans. The condom rolled on easily, guided by Clarissa’s eager fingers, almost making him lose his breath. Just her quick touch rubbing over his cock made him nearly come. She’d always had that effect on him, but he’d forgotten how trigger-happy Mr. Wentlock became when Clarissa was naked and near. Like a fourteen-year-old boy with a bottle of lotion, a gym sock, and a Penthouse magazine.
His lips possessed hers. Her hands grasped his cock. Fuck, yes. He rolled over and supported himself above her. This woman—fuck, he wanted her. He wanted to fuck her from now until the end of time. He’d wanted that years ago as well. But now wasn’t the time to think of the past. Now was the time to appreciate the present. Clarissa’s gorgeously round breasts, the sweep of her full hips. The lovely curve of her belly. That gorgeous thick black hair spread out across her pillow.
Oh yes, she was exactly what he’d always wanted. He’d forgotten how perfect Clarissa was for him, how badly he’d wanted to make her his until the end of their lives. The head of his cock nudged her still-slick sex. She thrust up to meet him, her mouth dropping open with a throaty gasp, her eyelids closing with ecstasy.
Yes, he slid in soft and slow, teasing her even though her hips rolled up and back demandingly. “Tight, you’re so tight for me.”
A smile spread over her face.
“Open your eyes.”
Her hips stopped thrusting. “What?”
“Open your eyes,” Norris ordered. He wouldn’t be fucking Clarissa while she kept her eyes closed. No. He wouldn’t let her ignore this connection between them. To pretend their mutual desire was just physical would be cheap misstatement of his feelings and hers. He knew her too well to allow her to act otherwise. No, this connection between them went far deeper than the physical, no matter how fucktastic the sex was. He’d allowed her to escape once before by believing that there was nothing but sex between them. He wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.
“Open your eyes.” He pulled his hips back, the tip of his cock just barely in the entrance of her sex. It took every bit of fucking male discipline he had to make that move, an intimated threat that this pleasure palace would close should she fail to obey his command.
Clarissa’s eyes flew open. Their gaze locked.
The heat. The connection. My God. All of it flew straight to his balls and he couldn’t—he could barely contain it. She quivered and his male discipline, if it had even existed, fled. He thrust his cock deep into her.
He could see into her soul through those dark, gorgeous eyes. The ragged breath, the moan, her teeth biting into her lip spurred him on. He pulled out and thrust forward again. Her legs wrapped around him.
“Faster,” she whispered.
He needed no more prodding. His restraint was lost. His cock thrust deeper and deeper, needing the warmth of her, the sheathing of her body around him.
“Norris,” she breathed. Her sex tight around him, pulling him deeper and deeper. “Norris, I’m going to come!”
He was lost. All semblance of control gone. Her nails dug deep into the flesh of his ass. That tiny bite of pain only propelled him harder and deeper into her body. His muscles pulled tight to bone. A tingle started in the soles of his feet and tightened in his back. His balls drew up close to his body. His flesh slapped against hers as tiny gasps flew from the fucking beautiful mouth that had been wrapped around his cock.
Fuck. Yes.
“Norris!” she shrieked. “I’m going to come, Norris, my God, Norris—”
“Come for me, Clarissa, come for me!”
Her eyes open, her body tightened and she trembled with an outrageous contraction deep in her core. Her head pressed back against the pillow. “Fuck! I love you, Norris! Oh my God, I love you.”
White hot heat surged from his balls, a lightning force that shot from his cock. The pleasure on her face, the love in her eyes pushed him over the edge of climax as he thrust one more time, deep into the woman he still loved.
Norris was a happy man.
6
“We should have clothes on if we’re going to be down here.” Norris wore a St. Nicholas bathrobe he’d found in the guest bathroom. Clarissa had on an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. She rummaged through the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl with aluminum foil on the top.
“We most definitely should, but we don’t.” Clarissa shrugged. She set the ceramic bowl on the counter. “Voila!” She pulled the foil from the top. “Cold fried chicken. Mother is definitely excellent about keeping the refrigerator stocked with goodies during the holidays.”
Clarissa turned, ducked her head back into the refrigerator, and pulled out a box. “Oh yes, and cannoli.” She waved one in front of Norris and he took a bite.
She stepped forward and licked her lip. Fuck. That tongue, those lips, the scent of her. Mr. Wentlock hardened again. Norris reached around, grabbed her ass, and pulled her forward.
“Forget the fucking food.” He pulled her finger into his mouth and sucked. Her eyes widened.
She slid her hand between the folds of his St. Nicholas robe and grasped his cock. Indeed, Norris was most definitely a jolly old elf. Clarissa’s hand around his cock was all he needed. Harder than stone. Completely at attention, he seized Clarissa and lifted her onto the counter. Thank God he was a tall man. Height was essential in this moment, but leverage—fuck, he had no leverage. He climbed up and lay her back. Cold marble met his knees and palms.
“Is this okay?”
“My God, yes.” Clarissa scooted down.
His cock slid deep into her. He was fucking her on the kitchen counter at her parents’ home. How fabulous. How awful. How un-fucking-believably amazing. She pulled his tongue into her mouth and he thrust deep. This would go fast. The illicit thrill, the possibility of getting caught, the—
The rattle of the key in the front door.
“Fuck, they’re home!”
“Finish!” Clarissa panted, clamping her legs around Norris. “Finish first!”
Fuck.
Muffled voices on the front porch. Fucking focus. The rattle of the glass in the front door pane. Clarissa’s tight pussy. Yes, his eyes rolled back into his head. Her hips pushed upward. Her nails dug into his shoulders. A deep kiss. His balls pulled up tight. He thrust hard and her body arched toward him.
“Yes, fuck yes,” she whispered and he pressed deep into her. Come shot from his cock in white-lightning release. He dropped his head and kissed her again.
“Piglet? We’re home!”
She pushed him off of her. “Up the back stairs,” she whispered. She grabbed the bowl of chicken and pattered through the doorway into the kitchen staircase just as the light came on in the kitchen hallway.
“You are very bad,” Norris said, once they’d gotten back to Clarissa’s room. He pulled on his jeans and hi
s sweater, then sat at her desk. She sat on her bed, the bowl of chicken on her lap and a greasy grin on her lips.
“So bad I’m good.”
“I’ve always known your badness was a gift.” Norris leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Clarissa’s lips. The tiniest hint of something other than sheer satisfaction flashed through her eyes. Not sadness, but a hint of . . . was it melancholy? That wasn’t in Clarissa’s nature. While she often overthought events, even in the best of times, melancholy wasn’t usually part of her nature.
“I’m going downstairs. Perhaps you should dress before you join us?”
“Don’t think I’ll go down. I’ve had quite enough of Mother for one day.”
“Well, I’m a house guest, so I should—”
“Clarissa?” The sound of Mrs. McGovern’s voice drifted up the stairs.
“Is she trying? She’s using your real name.”
Clarissa shook her head. “She’s doing that so she doesn’t look bad in front of you and Kevin. Especially after I spoke to her about it. Believe me, once you leave or Kevin marries in, she won’t be calling me Clarissa any longer.”
“Clarissa?” The voice grew louder as Mrs. McGovern pushed open Clarissa’s bedroom door without knocking. “Have you seen Norr—Oh, well!” Mrs. McGovern’s gaze flew from half-naked Clarissa to fully dressed Norris.
Her eyes filled with questions, but her lips merely formed a puckered “oh.” With Norris dressed and innocent-looking, sitting on Clarissa’s desk chair, it would be hard to make accusations of any kind. Plus, what kind of accusations would she make? Clarissa was a grown woman closing in on thirty . . . did Mrs. McGovern believe, at this late stage in the chronological age game, that her daughters had never had sex?
“How is your breathing, Norris?”
“Quite well now. Got a little short, there for a bit, but, Clarissa was able to help me relieve some of the pressure. Amazing what she can do.”
Again that beautiful greasy grin on Clarissa’s face.
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 35