by Megyn Ward
“I know,” he says, pressing a soft kiss against the back of my neck. “Sorry about your bed.” His lips brush against my nape when he says it and I melt a little. Tucking an arm under the pillow we’re sharing, his other arm circles my waist, his hand cupped around my ribcage. I lay there for a moment, my breathing shallow. His cock presses against my backside, reminding me of Saturday night. How he waited for me in the dark. The things he did to me. The things I did to myself because he told me to. No, that’s not fair. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. Patrick doesn’t have to make me do anything. All he has to do it say the words and I’m more than willing to comply.
“It’s your bed,” I whisper, pressing my thighs together to try to back off some of the heat building between them. “I’m just borrowing it.”
“You’re the reason I bought this bed.” The hand on my ribcage shifts, his thumb brushing across my breast, my nipple stiffening under his touch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you into it,” he says softly, his breath warm against my skin. “The things I’d do to you once I did.”
The pad of his thumb skates across my nipple again. The feather-light pressure of it tingles against my clit and I’m instantly soaked. “Show me.” I say, breathless, waiting for him to touch me. Wanting him to.
“I am,” he says, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer, holding me against him. His chest moves against my back, his breathing slow and even. His mouth a fraction of an inch from the back of my neck. His thumb curved around the swell of my breast. Rain batters the roof and windows, the beating of it furious and wild—completely at odds with the slow and steady drum of his heart, keeping time with mine.
Forty-seven
Patrick
For the second time this morning, I wake up to rain. The torrent of water sloshing against the skylight above the bed, a fast, steady drum. The rhythm of it holds me in a trance. Half-asleep, I can feel Cari pressed against me. The rise and fall of her chest beneath my arm, her hand settled on top of mine. The swell of her hips, her ass pressed against me. For a second, I think it’s a dream. The kind I’ve had almost every night since she moved in. The kind that has me waking up hard, frustrated and alone.
I’m throbbing, so stiff and swollen it’s almost painful and I flex my hips, instinctively trying to relieve the pressure. The ache gives way to pleasure and I realize this isn’t a dream. I’m in Cari’s bed. She’s pressed against me, shifting in her sleep at the feel of my cock against her ass. I do it again, half-aware that if I don’t stop, I’m going to come all over her sheets like a teenager. Right now, I don’t care. I do it again. And again.
Cari stirs, a soft, breathless moan escaping her mouth as she rocks her hips against me. The hand resting on top of mine reaches back, her fingers digging into my ass, holding me against her, meeting my thrusts.
With a groan, I back off, putting space between her hips and mine even as the hand on her ribs searches for the hem of her T-shirt. She moans again, the sound of it tinged with disappointment.
“Shhh…” Finding the hem of her shirt, I slip my hand under it, my fingers skimming along her belly until it closes over her breast. “No games,” I whisper into the curve of her neck. “Not today.” Her nipple is already stiff, so sensitive her breath catches in her throat when the rough skin of my palm brushes against her tender flesh. I caress her, my mouth on the back of her neck. Teeth scraping along the slope of her shoulder, Tongue tracing along the shell of her ear. “I’m going to fuck you,” I say softly against her flushed skin, pressing my lips to the tender spot behind her earlobe. “Come inside you.”
“Yes…” Her fingers, still gripping my ass, dig in deeper, trying to pull me close again. “Patrick, please…”
I almost give in. I almost jerk her panties down and move her thighs apart so I can slip my bare cock between them. So I can pound myself into her wet, swollen pussy from behind. Fill her up with my cum. Instead I move over her, turning her onto her back, spreading her thighs so I can kneel between them.
I look at her, my throat going dry at the picture she makes beneath me. Her blue eyes are dark, heavy-lidded with desire. Lush mouth slightly open, lower lip caught between her teeth. Hair, a honey-colored tangle around flushed cheeks. Her T-shirt rides high on her ribcage, exposing the underside of her tits. “Jesus, Cari…” , I use both of my hands to push it up even farther until it’s bunched under her arms, banded softly across her chest, her nipples stiffening and swelling beneath my gaze. I cup them, squeezing their hard peaks until she cries out. Leaning over her, I tongue her nipples, sucking them into my mouth, my hips flexing against hers, rubbing my cock along the crotch of her boy shorts. “I want to fuck you so bad…”
She moans again, arching into my mouth as my hand trail down the soft skin of her belly, to skim along the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips from the bed so I can peel them off, the seam of her bare pussy grazing against the head of my cock. I groan and sit up, pressing her back against the bed, the gesture pulling a frustrated moan from her throat. “You said no more games.” She sounds desperate, her tone edgy and breathless. “You said…”
Her thighs are covered in paint. Layered stripes where she swiped her brush against them. For some reason, it’s hot as fuck and I grip her thighs, spreading her wide, holding her to the bed while I trace the pad of my thumb up the glossy length of her slit. “No games,” I tell her, the feel of how wet she is for me going straight to my dick. “I’m putting my cock in you…” I rub her arousal across the top of her thigh, so wet it smears the stripes of dried paint together. I do it again, liking the way the colors bleed together on her skin.
“Then do it,” she says, the demanding, needy tone of her voice putting a grin on my face. “Quit teasing me and put your—” her words break away on a shuttering moan when I press my paint-smeared thumb against her clit.
“I’m not playing games… I’m putting my cock inside you, Cari.” My thumb skims along the seam of her pussy again, trailing color in their wake. “But not yet.” I lean over to press an almost chaste kiss against her belly. “Because if I do, I’m going to fuck you and I won’t be able to stop…” I dip my head, trailing my tongue along the sensitive place where the inside of her thigh meets her pelvis. “And I plan on taking my time with you.” My head dips even farther, my hands tightening their grip on her thighs as I press my tongue against the bottom of her, pushing it inside before dragging it up the length of slit.
“Oh, my god.”
The taste of her pussy, the slightly astringent paint mixed with the achingly sweet juices of her arousal, snaps my self-control. A growl, long and low, erupts from my chest, the taste of her turning me into something savage. Something wild. Shifting my hold on her, I slide my arms under her, wrapping them around the backs of her thighs until my hands are gripping her from behind. Spreading her even wider, my shoulders pressing into the cradle of her hips so hard, I’m afraid I’m going to break her. I can’t stop. I fuck her with my tongue, My mouth. Sucking her clit. Nipping it with my teeth, my thumbs hooked into her folds, opening her so I can taste every part of her. Claim every last inch.
She’s close to coming, her thighs quivering in my grip, her breath coming in short violent bursts. I look up, aiming my gaze up the length of her body, watching her undulate under the unrelenting pressure of my mouth. She closes a hand over her breast, her fingers squeezing and rolling her swollen nipple when her other hand cups the back of my head, holding me against her like she’s afraid I’m going to pull away.
“Can I come, Patrick?”
She’s asking for permission to come and the question shoots straight down my spine, gripping my cock like a fist. I press my hips flat against the bed, my own orgasm suddenly so fucking close I have to dig my elbows into the bed to keep myself from lunging up to bury my cock inside her.
“Patrick, please…” She’s begging me now, her plea coming between soft little pants. “Please, can I—”
I can’t
answer her, not without taking my mouth off her and if I do that, there’s no way I’m not fucking her with my cock. Instead I latch my mouth around her clit and suck.
“Come.”
She screams the word, her legs braking free of my grip to slam closed around my head as she arches herself off the bed, her fingers tightening their grip on my hair, her hand alternating between pressing me close and pulling my mouth away from her. She’s sobbing, coming apart underneath me while I lap and suck every last drop of sweetness from her throbbing pussy.
She screams again and I ease the pressure of my mouth, feathering her swollen center with gentle kisses and soft strokes of my tongue until she’s quiet and content.
We lay here for a while, listening to the rain outside, while I lick and stroke her until she’s writhing and panting under my mouth again and my balls are so tight and swollen I can barely breathe.
“Patrick...” She reaches for me, her fingers wrapped around my shoulder, trying to pull me to her.
I grin up at her from between her legs. “I’ll be right back,” I say, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh before levering my shoulders off the bed.
Her fingers tighten around my arm holding me in place. “Where are you going,” she says, eyes narrowed on my face, so suspicious I have to laugh.
“I have to get a condom,” I tell her pulling out of her grip but instead of moving off the bed, I stretch out beside her and she turns onto her side so she can look at me. Running a hand over her hip, I trace my fingertips along the inside of her thigh, my throbbing cock pressed against her hip. “Unless you’ve got one handy…”
She sighs, the breath of it shuttering across my skin. “I don’t.” She shifts beneath my hand, the movement pressing it higher, into the juncture of her thighs. “It’s okay,” she says, shaping her hand around mine to cup it against her, pushing my fingers past her entrance and I groan at the feel of her, soft and wet against my hand.
“Christ.” I bury my face in her neck, stroking two of my fingers deep inside her and she cries out. I’m about ready to lose it, my dick straining and twitching against her hip like it’s trying to find its way inside her on its own. “Cari—”
Her fingers close over the length of me, her thumb sweeping over the head of my cock, smearing the pre-cum that’s leaking from it at a steady drip. Her fist glides from tip to base and I almost swallow my tongue, while I stoke my fingers inside her again and again, my hips flexing against her grip, pumping my cock inside her hand. I’ve touched her so many times over the past four days, had my mouth and my hands and my cock on every inch of her but this is the first time she’s touched me. It’s the first time I’ve let her touch me.
The realization almost has me coming in her hand.
I grab her by the wrist to stop her hand from pushing me over the edge. It doesn’t help. “If I don’t get a condom right now, I’m not going to make it.” It’s an embarrassing thing to say, that I’m so worked up that I can’t touch her without coming but it’s true. That’s how crazy she makes me. How far she’s worked herself under my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting off the orgasm that’s spiraling up my cock. “Cari, we can’t—”
“Yes, we can.” She says it against my mouth, rocking her hips against the hand behind her thighs, my fingers sliding in and out of her pussy. “I want to.”
I’m trying to force myself to concentrate on what she’s saying. What it means. But all I can think about is her hand on my dick and the feel of her fucking herself on my fingers. “What?” Jesus Christ, she’s going to fucking kill me.
“I want you bare inside me.” She whispers it against my mouth and my cock jerks in her grip. “I want to feel you…”
“No games, Cari.” I groan, tightening my grip on her wrist, trying to pull away. She’s playing with me. “We said no games. Not today.”
“No games…” she presses her mouth against mine, the hand on my cock, easing up enough for me to comprehend what she’s saying. “I haven’t been with anyone else since I moved in. Just you, Patrick.” She kisses me, her lips soft and slightly parted. Braking out of my grasp, her hand slides down the length of my erection to cup my balls. “Have you…”
There’s been no one. Not in months. Not since I broke up with Sara, a few months after Cari moved in. There’s been no one and she knows it. “You know I haven’t.”
“Then it’s okay to fuck me bare,” she whispers it in my ear like we’re sharing a dirty little secret, no one else needs to know. “I want you to.”
I know she’s on the pill. She keeps them in our medicine cabinet. I’ve seen her take them. “I’ve never done it before,” I tell her, not because I’m reluctant but because I want her to know that it means something to me.
“Neither have I.”
Neither have I.
I move over her, into the cradle of her thighs, the head of my cock throbbing against her. “No one else.” It’s not a question but she breathes her answer out on a sigh.
No one else.
I slide my bare cock inside her on a long, slow stroke that turns her words into a soft, shuttering moan. Her knees come up, her ankles locked around my hips, hers raised off the bed so I can fuck her deep, plunging in and out her pussy with slow, languid thrusts that pulls soft mewling cries from her open mouth. Braced above her on one elbow, my hips flexing and pumping against hers, I reach down to press my fingers against her throbbing clit, stroking her most sensitive spot, keeping a steady rhythm that slowly drives us both to the brink.
“Patrick…” my name tears out of her throat on a sob. “Please…” her hips rock against my cock and my hand. “Can I—”
I shift my elbow, clamping my hand over her mouth before she can say it. “Don’t,” I drop my head into the crook of her neck, pumping and plunging my cock into her faster and faster. “If you say it I’ll come and I’m not ready. Not yet.”
She moans against my palm, her short, blunt fingernails digging into my shoulders but she nods her head. I move, my hand sliding it off her mouth as I pull myself up until I’m kneeling between her legs again. Turning her over, I pull her hips off the bed and palm her ass cheeks, spreading her pussy wide for my cock. “Touch yourself,” I say gruffly, watching while she slides her hand between her legs, her fingers going straight for her clit. I give her short, shallow thrusts, my balls feeling like they’re on fire. If I fuck her like this, I’m not going to last long but I can’t seem to stop. “Tell me how good it feels.”
“So good,” she moans softly. I can feel her fingers brushing against the base of my cock every time she rolls them over the swollen bundle of nerves at the center of her. “Your bare cock feels so good inside me.”
Fuck. I reach up to clamp a hand over her shoulder, pushing her into the bed so I can take her deeper, so I can bottom out on every stroke. I pound into her, my hips smacking against her ass, my engorged balls slapping against her wet slit. She’s moaning, face turned to the side, eyes half-closed, her thighs and ass shaking uncontrollable while she fights off the orgasm that’s barreling down on her.
“Come for me, Cari,” I tell her and she immediately stiffens under me, moaning while her pussy clamps down on my cock like a vice, shuttering and flexing around it while I fuck her through her orgasm.
Suddenly, I can’t hold out anymore. “Shit. I’m gonna come in your pussy.” The words come out low and guttural. “I’m going to fill this tight little pussy up with my cum.” I have no idea where it comes from. Before Cari, I’ve never would’ve said something like that out loud. Even now, not angry, not trying to punish her, I can’t seem to stop myself from saying filthy things to her.
“Yes,” she pants softly between thrusts. “Come in me.”
I groan, my orgasm blowing through me, rocketing and spiraling up the length of my cock. I keep fucking her, my hips pistoning against her ass while I fill her up with my cum. My deep, hard thrusts trigger another release for her and she gasps, pushing back against me, milking me of mine.
She stiffens beneath me, like she’s waiting for me to play my part. Be the same asshole I’ve been for the past four days. Outside, the rain is still pouring down. Rivers of water flood down the skylight, the sky beyond it a bruised and battered gray.
“It’s still raining,” I say, taking my hand off her shoulder to smooth its wide palm down the length of her spine and she smiles, relaxing under my touch.
It’s still raining. No games. Not today.
Still buried inside her, still kneeling between her thighs, I brace my hands against her lower back and turn he over. I could stay inside her forever. Just the thought gets me hard again and she moans, her hips flexing under my hands. I look down at where we’re joined and smile. “I made a mess,” I tell her, brushing my thumb across her cum-covered thigh, smearing and mixing it with the remnants of the paint that’s still dried there.
She laughs, the sound of it squeezing around my heart. It’s been too long since I’ve made her laugh. “I don’t mind,” she tells me, laughing again when I swat the side her ass.
No games. Not today.
I stretch out along the length of her, propping myself up on my elbows so I don’t crush her. “Are you hungry?” I say, brushing the tangle of her hair away from her face.
She looks up at me and nods, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“Great,” I kiss the tip of her nose. “You shower while I cook.”
She rolls her eyes. “You can’t cook, Patrick.”
Still inside her, I give her a single, slow thrust before I force myself to pull away from her. “I can do a lot of things you don’t know about Ms. Faraday. You’d be surprised,” I tell her as I move off the bed and through the door.