by Laura Wright
My boot nearly collides with her bra. It’s the bright pink one, no lace, all satin, and I instantly reach over and turn the oven off. Oh hell yeah, we can eat much later.
My eyes flip up and catch her nearly at the door of my bedroom. Completely naked from the waist up, that compass rose I inked between her shoulder blades looking all sexy on her perfect back. She glances over her shoulder at me and gives me a smile. I go after her, panting dog that I am, and catch her up in my arms just inside my bedroom. She squeals, but quickly sinks into me when I press her back against the door and kiss her. God damn, her skin feels like hot satin under my fingertips. I run them up her spine and groan when she shivers. I feel the heat off her pussy against my waist, and I want her. Now. Just get her in my bed and keep her there till we’re both drunk on each other. But that’s not the game we’re playing. And I’m kinda dying to see her alone on the king size, legs spread, fingers doing what my aching dick wants to be doing.
With a pissed-off, hungry-as-fuck groan I release her and walk away, head for the chair near the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting, Ads. I’m in no goddamn mood to wait.”
Standing there in nothing but her tight jeans, her small waist v-ing upward to two handfuls of utter heaven, her eyes go kinda wide with surprise. Like maybe she didn’t expect me to follow through on what I told her would happen when we got home. Like maybe she thinks I don’t have the control. Shit, baby, I barely do.
“You want to see all of me, Rush?” she asks as she unbuttons, unzips and steps out of her jeans, nice and slow. I stare. Like the pig that I am. Her body’s a fucking wonderland. Yeah, I know the song is bullshit, but it applies here. It applies to her. My baby. She’s just all creamy skin, and dangerous curves my fingers are dying to wrap around and manipulate. But ultimately, it’s the thong, that scrap of pink fabric she’s removing as I stare with my fucking tongue hanging out of my head, that really makes my dick weep.
The thing is soaking wet.
My mouth waters and I lean forward in my chair. She’s naked now. Just the way I like her. Well, naked and on top of me, or under me, or straddling my face.
“Lie down, baby.” My voice is pretty gruff, but I’m running on fumes here. Don’t know if I can make it through the entire peep show without coming in my pants. But hell, I’m going to try.
“All alone?” she asks, puffing out her lower lip enticingly.
I nod. “And all the way back to the pillows. But your eyes stay on me, yeah?”
“Always.” She smiles at me. Sexy and sorta innocent too. She climbs onto the bed, and very slowly starts crawling on all fours toward the pillows.
My cock screams at me. I don’t know how but the thing can see her, can see her ass and the pink, glistening lips of her pussy. It’s torture. The sweetest kind around. When she turns and lies back against the pillows, her nipples are as hard as my dick, and my mouth is fucking begging me to just shut this stupid game down already. Fly at her and bury my head between her legs until tomorrow. Instead, I rip at the button of my jeans and yank my zipper down.
Her eyes drop, and when she catches sight of my cock she licks her lips. Damn girl, why you gotta do that?
“Now what?” she asks, knowing full well how insane she’s making me, and loving it.
“Spread your legs, baby.” My nostrils flare as I try to smell her. “Yeah, that’s right. Let your knees fall to the side. Let me see you.”
She does everything I ask, her eyes never leaving mine. She’s bold, this girl. It’s one of the many things that drive me wild about her. She’s got balls, no fear, no embarrassment with me about her body or going as far as either of us want to.
“I want your tight, pink tits in my mouth, Addison,” I say, letting my dick spring free, knowing come is leaking from the head and not giving a shit. “Show me. Use your fingers and show me what my tongue would do to you.”
She groans as she brings her hands to her breasts, squeezing, massaging, then pulling back to pinch the tips. Fuck, I’m dying here. I’m trying to act cool, like a badass, but all I want to do is devour her.
“Now take one hand,” I tell her a little roughly. “And slide it down between your legs. Put two lucky fingers inside yourself and feel how wet you are.”
Her eyes close as she runs her hand down her flat belly to her shaved pussy. Christ. I lick my bottom lip, bite the fucker, anything to keep myself in check. I’m going to be having motherfucking wet dreams for months after this. I don’t want to be sitting here. I want to be licking at her, sucking on that swollen clit she’s showing off.
I watch as her middle and index fingers slide between her wet lips, then disappear into her sex. She moans and not only spreads her legs wider, but lifts her knees to her chest.
“Fuck, Ads,” I breathe.
She opens her eyes and pins me to my chair with the hottest, hungriest look ever. My heart is jacking against my chest, pre-come all over the head of my dick.
I growl out the words. “Now taste.”
She stops, her fingers so deep inside of her, it’s nothing but knuckles. “What?” she asks breathlessly.
“You heard me.” I stand up, cock out, and move to the edge of the bed. “Take your fingers out of your pussy and put them in your mouth.”
I watch, insane, as she does exactly what I say. But when her fingers leave her pussy and head for her mouth, when her juices coat the rim of her hungry, waiting lips, I’m done. I rip my clothes off, toss my boots at the wall so goddamn hard I’m pretty sure they make a mark. Then I lean across the bed, grab Addison by the hips and yank her to me. I’m on my knees just as her tight, hot pussy reaches my face. I use my thumbs to spread her wide, then lap her up like ice cream. She tastes like fucking sunshine and I devour her. I know it might be too fast or too hungry, but I can’t help myself. As she writhes and humps my mouth, I suck on her clit, then flick it with my tongue. When I feel her tense, feel her getting close to coming, I ease up a little, flatten my tongue against her ridge, and just let her ride me.
And motherfucker, she does. Crying out, crying my name, she bucks and rubs herself against my mouth and chin, and comes.
“Rush!”
“Already here, baby.” I’m up and over her, pushing us both back on the bed. My thigh spreads her knees wider, and I slide into her tight, wet pussy and groan. She’s still coming and my dick swells with the extra attention.
Positioned deep inside of her, I balance on my elbows for a sec and look down into her sick beautiful face. Those eyes…the green one that nearly matches my own—the one that belongs to me. Seriously, this girl is mine. She’s gotta be. There’s no going back. Just forward.
“I love you, Ads. You know that right?”
Her eyes shift between heat and softness, and she nods. “Course I do.”
“You happy here? With me?”
“Yeah. Always.”
Something stabs me in the heart, some kind of warning or fear. I don’t like the two-word answers. It’s so not her. Why isn’t she telling me she loves me back? Again, not her. And why does she look all uncomfortable answering my questions? What the fuck…
I groan because she’s moving beneath me now, stealing my brain, bitch-slapping my concern. And well, shit, I’m only human. And a dude. And her body is my goddamn wonderland.
“God, you feel so good,” she utters hoarsely, raking her nails up my back. “You make me feel so good, so happy.”
It’s enough for me. It’s something. And when she wraps her legs around my waist, I kiss her, hard and deep. Just like my thrusts. My hands get tangled in her hair, and for minutes, hours, who the fuck knows, we just pump each other and say naughty shit that makes us laugh, but gets us off, too. It goes on like that until we both come. Then, like always, we wrap ourselves around each other and stop talking altogether. Cause it’s off to dreamland, folks.
Addison
I’m completely disoriented when I wake up. At first I think I’m back in my apartment in Santa Barbara. Then my eyes adjust to t
he weak morning light filtering in through the windows, and my skin registers the warm, hard muscle against me. I shift in his arms, careful not to wake him, and rest my cheek and chin on my palm. This is kind of my thing, lying here in the morning and staring at him while he sleeps. Seriously, I know. I have issues. But he’s so beautiful. Lying on his back, covers off, and I get to inspect every inch of him. From his feet, his hard calves and lean thighs, which are lightly sprinkled with hair, to his cock, which is at that halfway point to hardness I love so much. My mouth waters as I contemplate waking him up the old-fashioned way.
He stirs, and my gaze drifts to his hip bones. They rock my world, so bitable, so perfect to grip when I’m doing that old-fashioned wake-up thing. His stomach is truly six-pack heaven, covered in tongue-tracing ink, but not in a bodybuilder way. Just deliciously lean. And then, you know, there’s the face. The face that caught me back when we were idiot kids, and the face that never left my memory bank when I fucked up and he bolted. Now it just makes me equally love him and hate him because I can never get enough of it.
Maybe I’ll kiss him first. Just once. Those lips are calling to me. Then I’ll head south. My gaze drops once again, but this time, instead of seeing where we are in the woody department, it comes to a halt on his right hand. At first I’m not sure I’m seeing correctly. Or maybe I’m still asleep. My heart swells inside my chest a little as I follow the line work down his thumb. He’s inked my name in his skin. He’s inked my name into his skin? How didn’t I see that yesterday?
Oh, I don’t know, my brain razzes me. Maybe because you were acting like a lunatic. A sex-crazed lunatic who was desperately afraid her man would bolt if he knew how far over the moon for him she was.
Needing a moment to process, I slip out of bed and put on one of Rush’s t-shirts. The sun is starting to rise for real now as I walk into the kitchen, and I stop for a second to bask in a particularly warm pool of it near the table. I love this room. It has killer light, and a view that makes you want to stare out the glass for hours. I check out things in the fridge, then follow an amazing scent to the oven. Ahhh, he had dinner waiting on us last night. Well, we’re just a few hours late. No worries.
I start pulling stuff out and placing it on the already-set table. It’s a pretty fancy to-do with all the crystal and copper and silver, and I feel kind of bad we didn’t get to experience it with the moonlight streaking in, and that breeze he gets here.
He inked my name into his skin.
I hold on to the back of the chair and just say that again in my mind. And he told me he loved me. Clearly he wants me in his life for longer than a hot minute. So what’s my problem? What’s my fear?
Strong arms encircle my waist, and hard cock through thin cotton boxer briefs presses against my barely-covered ass. “Don’t do me like that, Ads.”
His breath on my neck sends tiny shards of heat straight to my well-worked-over bits.
“I have to wake up without you all week long. It fucking sucks.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He chuckles softly against my neck. “No apology needed, baby. Just a promise, all right? And you know I’ll make it worth your while.”
I smile, and those shards of heat turn all electric inside my pussy. I glance down, see his right hand splayed on my stomach. See my name there. For good. For always. The thing screams up at me. The dude loves you, idiot. Stop with the cold play and tell him how you feel. Tell him just how crazy he makes you. How weak and vulnerable you feel when you guys aren’t together.
I sink back into him, gently grind my ass against his dick.
“Awwww, damn,” he says on a quick intake of breath. “Can’t. Fucking want to so bad. But can’t.” He turns me around and kisses me hard and hungry. When he pulls back, he looks like a sullen teenager. “I have a short day today at the shop, but I have to go in early.”
I give him my most seductive look, which is really just a sort of pout-plus-eyelash-batting thing. I’m pretty sure it’s not very effective. “You sure?”
He kisses my nose. “We have a guest artist. She’s booked all day, and I need to open up and do the owner thing.”
“Does she do tats?”
“Piercings.”
“Oh. I might like that. Maybe my nose or my eyebrow.”
For a second, I swear I see a flicker of panic cross his features, but then I blink and it’s gone. I chew my lip thoughtfully. “Course I do need to go on interviews after graduation. Maybe I should wait.”
He nods. “You should always think through any changes to the body.” His brows lift a fraction and he whispers, “Especially your body.”
I reach down for his hand, the right one, and lift it up for us both to see. “Did you think this through, Rush?”
He doesn’t look at it—his hand or my name. His eyes are locked to mine, and they’re pretty heavy with affection. “Every damn day you weren’t with me, baby.”
This is it. The perfect moment, if that even exists. To tell him. Right now, while we’re stuck together and our stomachs are making strange-ass noises because we haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. But I don’t want to rush things either. I know he’s got to go. But—and this is really inside my head now—I also know he’s coming back.
His hand still in mine, I lead him over to the table. “Sit down. You gotta eat before you go.”
“Fine.” He watches as I fill up his plate, then grabs a fork. But when he notices I don’t take the seat beside him, he frowns. “Aren’t you hungry, baby?”
I nod. “Starving.”
“Then come.”
As he stuffs a piece of naan into his mouth, I pull my t-shirt up over my head, then toss it somewhere behind me. Fork in hand, Rush stares at me, watches me as I walk over to his chair and kneel down in front of him.
“The only one coming this morning is you,” I say, slipping my fingers into the waistband of his black boxers and easing them down just enough so that I can take care of business.
As I wrap my fingers around his cock, I glance up at him. His nostrils are flared, and the veins in his neck, even under all that ink, are popping. But he’s still holding the fork. I lean in and run my tongue from thick base to wet tip.
“Think you can do two things at once, Merrick?” I ask, then take him slow and deep into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he groans as metal fork hits hardwood floor. “No.”
Rush
Erica Day is like a cross between Kat Von D and Scarlett O’Fucking Hara, and once upon a time I thought she might be the girl for me. We had a ton in common, same biz, same taste in music, good for a laugh. I even opened up to her a little. Told her about the girl who had owned me once upon a time, then shattered my heart. Told her about the vanilla asshole, the Campbells, the dance and how I ran off afterward. But instead of letting me just vent and offering a few ‘She missed outs’ Erica talked about it all the damn time. Questions, questions, questions. It drove me nuts. It drove me away. So needless to say, even though it’s been three years, I’m thinking that keeping her and Ads apart might be a good idea.
“I’m rocking a nipple piercing in five, ya’ll,” Erica twangs. “And no, Vincent, you can’t go in and ‘check that shit out.’”
Hanging out behind the front desk, I glance up from the books. V, Janie and Erica are all chill in the reception area. I got one more canvas and then I’m outie, off to be with my girl. Right now, Addison is driving around in one of my cars, picking up food for tonight. Said she wants to cook me dinner before she leaves, and I’m thinking that’s going to be the perfect time to slip her my extra key and ask her if she’ll move here and use it on a daily basis. I’m nervous as fuck she’ll say no. She’s got that whole life back in Cali. A place, a best friend, maybe even a job hook-up. Will she be cool about starting over—no, starting fresh—here with me?
“Hey, Miss Day.” V gets up from the couch and hustles over to me. He rolls his eyes. “I just offered to help. Sometimes a girl can use an extra pair of
hands.”
“True,” Erica concedes, giving Janie a quick wink.
How such different chicks bonded so quickly, I’ll never know. Janie is a hard-ass ink master with a 1950s style and legs completely covered in tats. Erica, on the other hand, is soft spoken, free of ink, a natural blond, and dresses like a conservative Southern belle, though we all know she’s got about ten piercings underneath.
“And by the way, Miss Day,” Vincent calls out to Erica, elbowing me in the ribs like he thinks he doesn’t have my complete attention. “If it’s possible, you’re even hotter now than back when you were banging Rush.”
Janie purses her ruby-red lips at him. “You’re such a heathen, Vincent.”
He nods, smirks. “Thanks.”
“Oh, Vincent, you haven’t changed,” Erica says, then slides her brown gaze to me. “But what about our friend here? Rush Merrick. The tall, handsome, tatted-up and not-very-chatty owner of Wicked Ink. Has he changed since all that banging occurred?”
Vincent laughs. “Fuck yeah, he has.”
Her pale brows drift up. “Really? How?”
“Dude’s got a serious girlfriend.”
Her casual back and forth gives way to a moment of actual interest. “Is that right, Rush?”
I nod.
“So true love has finally bitten you in the ass.”
Her southern drawl is kind of grating on the old eardrums. Never noticed that before. “Not the ass, no.”
Her eyes remain locked with mine. “Good. Glad to hear it, doll. You deserve it after that mess way back when.” She winks. “See. I don’t forget, honey.”
“Forget what?” Vincent asks, looking from one of us to the other. “What mess?”
“V, you’re drooling on the desk,” Janie says, smoothing down that elaborate pin-up girl hairstyle she loves so much.