“Okay?”
“First, are you clean? Like, have you been tested recently?”
“Yes.”
“Good, me too.” She gnawed on her lower lip, hesitating. “And second…um. How’s your refractory period?”
I smirked at this question. “Well, it tends to vary. But with you, I’d guess pretty goddamn short.” I reached out and caressed her breast. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to do…well, everything with you. And I need to know how long it’ll take you to get hard again so I know where to start.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “It’s like being at an all-you-can-eat buffet, huh? Don’t know where to start?”
“Precisely.”
I twiddled her nipple until she wriggled and her breath caught. “Put it this way, babe—you make me come, I’ll be ready to go by the time I’ve given you your first orgasm.”
Her eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. “Good answer.”
“So, Izz…where are you gonna…” I trailed off as she slithered under the sleeping bag. “Oh.”
She grasped me in both hands, and then I felt her wet warm mouth on me.
“Ohhhhh,” I murmured. “Okay.”
I hadn’t been expecting it the last time she did this, and it was no less shocking in its intensity this time. I gasped as she plunged her mouth around me, hands gliding slowly up and down around my base.
“Ohhh fuck, Izz,” I groaned. “So fucking good.”
She didn’t reply—at least not verbally. She did redouble her efforts, as if her singular focus was to see how fast she could make me come. Or how hard. Or, more likely, both—how hard could she make me come in the shortest amount of time possible.
I didn’t fight it, didn’t try to hold back. It was futile, for one thing, and I had no interest in playing games. At least, not this time around.
She felt me beginning to thrust against her mouth, and slowed the strokes of her hand, letting me fall out of her mouth. I lifted the sleeping bag and grinned down at her.
“Okay down there?”
She smiled, an eager, pleased little grin. “Excuse me, I’m busy, here,” she sassed, grabbing the fabric and yanking it back down.
I laughed, and the laugh turned into a moan as she cupped my balls in one hand, tilted my cock away from my body with the other, and slid me into her mouth once more. This time, she wasn’t just trying to stimulate me, she was…I don’t even know. Taking it to a whole ’nother level, you might say. I felt her mouth around my glans, and then past it, and then she tilted me farther away and I heard her make a soft sound in her throat as she took more and more of me.
“Izzy, you don’t have to—” She gave me a soft but sharp warning nip. “Okay, okay. Shutting up.”
I was rewarded for correctly interpreting her meaning with a swirl of her tongue that had my eyes rolling into the back of my head and my hips flexing, an involuntary groan escaping. God, she had so much of me, I couldn’t believe it. The sensation was divine, gloriously erotic. My brain was shorting out, my lungs empty. The center of my entire existence was Izzy’s mouth on my cock, the swirl of her tongue and the slow wet suction and the sucking slide as she pulled back, the gentle cradling massage of her palm around my sac, the slow sweep of her fist down my shaft; her strategy wasn’t hard and fast, but rather slow and intense. And holy fuck was it working. I wanted to gasp, needed to groan, but I had no breath in my lungs for either. My spine arched, and then my hips flexed to push upward, and I heard Izzy gasp for breath, swallowing hard, and then her lips suctioned around me again and rippled downward.
“Ohh fuck—” I grated through gritted teeth, sucking in a breath of cool oxygen. “Izzy, fuck—Izzy—”
Finally, she sped up—something about the ragged way I’d gasped her name had created urgency. I couldn’t stop my hips from moving, from thrusting. Izzy didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she pulled at me, encouraging me.
I gave her what she wanted—more. She was sucking and gulping greedily, stroking me faster and faster, and I was groaning nonstop, nonverbal grunts, curses, and whispers of her name. Again and again, as I felt myself rising to the edge.
I was moments from reaching climax when I remembered her fantasy—her doing this, and then me stopping to take her.
I pulled away just in time, scrambling out from underneath her—she protested, squeaking in surprise and then rustling under the sleeping bag and burrowing up toward the light. I ripped a condom off the strip, clenched the packet in my teeth and ripped it open, tugging the circle of latex out and rolling it on as Izzy crawled out from under the sleeping bag, blinking and looking pissed.
“What the fuck, Ram? I wanted—”
I cut her off, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her to me. I was sitting on my shins, and I hauled her onto my thighs, pulling her up against me.
“Ram—”
I kissed her. Hard, and thorough. Tongue delving into her mouth, slashing against her lips and teeth, demanding her tongue in return. She gasped, and then groaned, her hands tangling in my hair and pulling me closer, her mouth softening and opening, her warm, silk-soft body pressing up against mine. Her breasts crushed against my chest, and she had to pause to catch her breath.
“Jesus, Ram—”
I grinned, and then tipped forward so she landed on her back on top of the sleeping bags. “Get on your hands and knees, Izz.”
“I—”
“Hands and knees,” I repeated.
Her grin was eager and hungry and desperate as she moved to comply, going to her hands and knees, facing away from me, looking at me over her shoulder.
And holy mother of fucks, that beautiful round ass of hers all spread out for me? I throbbed, ached—I’d been a split-second from coming when I pulled away from her.
I slid two fingers between her thighs and found her slit, hot and wet and slick. I met her fingers—she was reaching back for me, and I angled my cock toward her; she grasped me, guided me to her entrance.
Her eyes met mine over her shoulder. “Ram?”
“You know how long I’ve waited for this, Izz?” I whispered.
“About as long as I have,” she answered.
The head of my cock was nestled just barely inside her slit, a wicked, delicious, diabolical tease. She smiled back at me, bit her lip, and then drove her ass back against me, delving me inside her wild wet warmth.
I slid inside her, and in that moment, buried deep inside Isadora Styles, her soft ass pressed against my hips, her smile bright, her eyes wanting me, her whole body trembling as I filled her, I knew…
I was the one fucked.
I knew, in that moment, I would never, ever, for as long I live ever want another woman the way I wanted, needed, craved, and desired her.
10
Izzy
Dear sweet Jesus—if I hadn’t been breathless with anticipation, I would have actually cried with joy when he slid in to fill me. I’d been aching for him, and now I was aching from him. Throbbing with fullness. Burning, stretched open to accommodate his unbelievable size.
Yes, memory held true. He really was exactly that well-endowed.
My jaw ached from him.
I tasted him—precum, salt, musk, man.
I felt him—everywhere.
He was behind me, above me, all around me. Inside me—Ramsey Badd was inside me in a more than physical way. Not just impaled deep inside my trembling pussy, but inside my heart, inside my mind. Dare I say…inside my soul?
He knelt behind me, and, as I grasped his erection and slid him inside me again, I watched his expression just…melt. The patina of strength, of hardness, of toughness—the rough-and-tumble man who’d grown up roughshod in the Oklahoma boonies without a mother and a father who counted, the Boy Scout who became a smokejumper, the survivalist, the outdoorsman…all that melted away, and all that was left was Ramsey, the essence of the man himself. Tender but strong, rough but sweet, no formal education beyond a high school diploma,
yet so smart, well-read, and insightful.
Sexy.
Powerful.
Beautiful.
I couldn’t help the smile, and didn’t try—I was beyond trying to pretend this wasn’t something unique, something once in a lifetime, something truly worth smiling about. I met his eyes as he slid deep inside me, and I couldn’t breathe. His hips dimpled against my ass, and I felt him within me, thick and hard and soft and warm, and I ached to clench around him, to feel him drive, move, thrust, fuck, lose control.
My hair was loose and wild, my lungs burning, a whimper building inside me. My whole being was trembling already, and we’d only just begun.
“Ram…” I gasped.
He growled, his hands clawing into my buttocks with an iron grip, dimpling the flesh so hard I knew I’d probably have marks later—my skin was so pale and fair and fragile that I bruised if you looked at me the wrong way, and he was gripping so hard I squeaked. Not from pain but from excitement. Anticipation.
“I want to be gentle, Izzy,” he murmured. “But I don’t know if I’m capable.”
I rocked forward, arching my spine down to lift my ass up, and slammed backward into him. “Don’t,” I bit out. “Please…don’t be.”
“Don’t?”
“If I wanted gentle, I wouldn’t be out here in the middle of nowhere with a man like you,” I said, locking eyes with him. “If I wanted gentle, I’d be on my back right now, gazing up at you adoringly.”
“Izz—”
I growled wordlessly, rocking backward again, taking him deep once more. “I don’t want gentle, Ramsey.” I rolled my hips slowly, taking him in soft, shallow thrusts. “I want you. I want this—you and me, nothing held back.”
His response was to drop his head forward, chin to his chest, a rough exhale of relief escaping his lips. His hands released my ass, and he smoothed his palms over where I assumed there were pink fingerprints that would later turn to bluish shadows.
“I bruise easily,” I murmured.
“Is that a license to mark you?” he asked.
I nodded, gasping. “Yes, god yes. Bruise me, Ram.”
He pulled back, thick shaft sliding out for an eternity, and then he paused, nearly falling out. His left hand gripped my hipbone, and his right hand palmed my ass cheek. I watched over my shoulder, fingers digging into the soft earth under the thin skin of the tent floor—his brows furrowed, his jaw tensed, and I could tell he was riding the knife-edge already. Testament to how close he’d gotten before pulling away from my mouth. Which I’d been pissed about, initially—I had been looking forward to feeling him lose control, to milking his cock for all the cum he had until he was gasping and whimpering and bleating.
Instead, he’d yanked away at the last possible second and ordered me to my hands and knees...
And I’d nearly orgasmed just from that. I was a dominant personality, I tended to take charge, take no shit, and take no orders from anyone, men especially.
In the worst clichéd stereotype ever, though, deep down, I’ve always secretly longed for a man who could give me orders I wanted to obey—without cringing at the word “obey.”
“Ram—move. Please move.”
He slid into me with shuddering slowness, with exquisite control. “You had me there the moment you put that sweet hot mouth of yours on me, Izz,” he snarled. “Being inside you? I don’t stand a fucking chance.”
I rolled backward into his slow, controlled thrust. “Good. Show me.”
He growled. “Serious, babe. If I don’t take a minute to get control, this’ll be over in thirty goddamned seconds.”
I grinned at him over my shoulder, rolling my hips to slide my pussy around his cock in short, shallow movements. “Good. I want it hard and fast.”
His left hand released my hipbone, and now he palmed both cheeks, spreading them apart as he pushed in. He filled me so deeply my breath caught on a sob, and I shook, shuddered, and drove helplessly back into him. He grunted as I did so, and the grunt turned into a groan.
“Goddamn, Izz,” he moaned, drawling the curse with that cute, sexy Oklahoma accent that came and went with his moods.
He pulled back, slowly and gently…held it for a second, a sultry, erotic smirk creeping across his mouth…and slammed into me, driving a shrill scream out of me.
Another—slow withdrawal…a pause…slam.
His hips slapped hard into my ass, his cock drove into me, filling me, stretching me, and I screamed again, the scream morphing into a wail of ecstasy as he withdrew and fucked me without pause and, as he thrust into me, his left hand cracked across my ass. His right hand roughly clutched a handful of my ass cheek, and his left hand spanked me harder and harder as his thrusts grew more ragged. Then he switched hands, his right spanking and his left clawing into the meat of my ass. With each thrust, each spank, my cries grew louder and more shrill, more desperate.
I fell forward, face down, ass up as I’d dreamed of being with him so many times—and the reality was far better, far wilder, and far more erotic than I could ever have even fantasized.
He growled my name on a chant— “Izzy, Izzy, Izzy…” my name tumbling from his lips each time he drove into my pulsating core, each time his palm cracked across my stinging, burning ass.
I joined him, chanting his name each time he filled me, spanked me. “Ram—Ram—Ram!”
It was like a plea; as if just by saying his name I was begging him to fuck me more, fuck me harder.
I reached two fingers between my legs and pressed them to my clit, and immediately began spasming, my chant devolving into wordless cries of near-feral release, my first orgasm barreling through me without warning. And then, as I rocked backward into him, my core clenching spasmodically around his shaft, I felt him change his technique—he gripped my ass in both hands, spread the cheeks apart, and thrust in hard but slow, flicking upward at the last second, and something about this sent me to the fucking moon, that last little flick of his hips driving his cock up into my G-spot and knocking me screaming and gasping and whimpering and crying over the edge a second time within thirty seconds.
Sobs, screams, gasps, whimpers—they were all one sound, now, driven out of me in nonstop succession as he found his rhythm. He clutched me and yanked me backward by my hips, and then his hands raked over my back and clawed down my spine, as if desperately seeking a new handhold with which to pull me harder, pull me closer, pull me deeper around him.
“Hair—” I snarled.
He knew. No other words were necessary. He wrapped my long loose hair around his fist and tugged my head backward, and I cried out at the tingle in my scalp, the burn in my core as he fucked me faster and faster, using my hair as leverage to drive deeper and deeper.
I felt him reach his limit, then. I felt his thick hot cock throbbing inside me, pulsing. He slowed, then, his thrusts going ragged, hard but slow, pounding in with loud slaps of flesh on flesh, his groans raw and hoarse.
He pounded in one last time and held there, tipping forward over my back, gasping for breath. He groaned, lying bent over me, thrust deep, one hand massaging my breast. And then he straightened, gasping for breath, and thrust in again, and then I felt him release, felt the blast of heat and felt him drive in, pushing deeper, harder, thrusting like that—pushing deep and trying to fuck deeper instead of pulling out. Rush after rush, groan after groan—how long would he come? God, it was amazing, a wild rush of adrenaline at the feel of this mighty man brought to such raw, ragged, helpless moans of total vulnerability.
Finally, he slowed and stopped, panting, that one hand still clutched around my breast.
I fell forward and rolled to my back immediately, staring up at him. “Ram, that was…”
He collapsed onto the sleeping bag beside me—in another fit of insanity, I did something I’d never, ever done before, not once, not with anyone, not for any reason, not even for a split second…
I slid my arm under his head and pulled him to me—he shimmied up close to me and res
ted his head on my chest. I cradled his head between my breasts, caressing his hair with my fingers.
Talk about intimate vulnerability?
My heart hurt. Ached. It felt swollen to bursting with something hot and shaky and wild.
I shuddered beneath him.
“Izz…” he breathed. “Your heartbeat…”
He took my hand and pressed my index and middle to his throat—I could feel my own pulse hammering, and I felt what he meant: our pulses were synched.
I laughed. “That’s crazy!”
He nuzzled his head against me, sighing. “I’ve never listened to anyone’s heartbeat like this before.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never let anyone do this, either,” I murmured.
“It’s…soothing.”
I laughed, but it was ragged. “God, Ramsey. What the hell are we doing? What’s happening?”
He lifted up on an elbow and stared down at me. “I don’t even know.”
“At least you don’t know any more than I do.”
He shook his head. “On the surface of it, what we just did was straight up hard and fast fucking, but…”
“But it wasn’t just that,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “Was it?”
“No.” He bent down, and his lips ghosted over mine. “No, it wasn’t.”
I blinked at the tenderness in the swift soft kiss. “Fucking hell, Ramsey.”
He flopped to his back and then sat up, moved to his knees, unzipped the tent, and reached out to fish around in an outside pocket of his pack, which was right outside the door of the tent. He came back in with the kind of small white plastic bag you get your groceries in at the supermarket, stripped off the condom and tossed it in the bag, twisted it up, and set it in a corner. This done, he lay back down beside me; we lay side by side, naked, staring sideways at each other.
“Why’d you stop me?” I asked, eventually.
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to waste the moment by coming in your mouth. I wanted…this.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Truth, Ram.”
Badd Medicine Page 19