Naughty Bits

by Lacy Danes

  The dirty words and the nip of her nails stoked through me, increasing the fireball of tension mounting in my lower back and drawing my balls painfully snug.

  Holding firm to my control, I teased the bottle’s head inside her folds a half inch. She spread her thighs wider and her labia parted, so open, so pink, so wet for me.

  “Now!” she ordered. “Give it to me now!”

  “Christ, I want to.” The words sailed out of me like a curse. So damned badly I wanted to fill her pretty pussy up with my aching cock. Wanted to bring my mouth back tight to hers and never let up.

  Instead I gave her the bottle, filling her engorged sex with gin while I pumped the short head inside her and ground the beveled edge against her clit.

  Carinna’s breathing turned ragged. Cream and liquor trickled in rivulets along her inner thighs. Her hips went from thrusting to slowly gyrating, and then she was gripping my shoulders hard and letting out a rapturous scream of release that I felt all the way to my balls.

  My breathing coming in erratic fits and starts, I set the bottle aside, fitted my mouth to her opening, and gave in to my urge to sink my tongue deep inside.

  My heart skipped a beat. My cock leapt.

  Hell, yes. Like the woman herself, Carinna’s taste was sweet, sexy and sinful all at once.

  Savoring her salty juices underlain with the flavor of gin, I brushed my mustache across the pearl of her clit, while I used my tongue to take her ever higher.

  Almost before the shock waves of her first orgasm were finished, a second climax began coursing through her. Her thighs tightened around my head, her nails sank into my shoulders, and her pussy delivered the sweetest of juices onto my tongue.

  I licked at her come for long lazy seconds, relishing her taste and giving both our hearts a chance to slow. Then I grinned against her sex with the knowledge that the fast, hasty screwing was done and it was time for the slow, thorough loving of my fantasies to begin.

  Carinna

  How had we put off sleeping together for so long? And how would I ever move past Jack’s mind-bending style of screwing come tomorrow?

  They were the only thoughts I could manage in my post-orgasmic state.

  Then I managed one more, as he lifted me off the counter, wrapped my legs around his waist, and started down the hallway to my bedroom.

  He wasn’t done.

  My pussy swelled with fresh excitement. My heart started back into a thunderous tempo. Each step he took was bittersweet torture as my sex rubbed against the hard ridge of his cock through his clothing. Finally he reached my bedroom, my bed.

  Jack was many things, including graceful. But the way he lifted me off his body and tossed me back onto the bed was pure caveman.

  I scuttled back against the headboard and faked a glare. “Big oaf.”

  His grin was pure arrogance. “You liked it.”

  “Loved it,” I admitted, returning his grin.

  He stepped back from the bed a foot and his fingers started in on the buttons of his dress shirt. With each new inch of skin that came into view, I remembered how much I loved Jack’s body as well. I’d never seen him completely naked, but I’d seen him shirtless plenty and the developed muscles of his chest, arms and abs were the makings of every woman’s fantasy. They were the reason those firefighter calendars sold so well. The reason my so recently satisfied clit was again tingling for relief.

  The shirt came down his arms and then off. He didn’t go right to work on his pants, and that was just wrong.

  “Take it off!” I chanted strip-show style. “Take it off! Take it off!”

  He laughed out loud. “Whatever happened to slow and easy the second time?”

  “You can do me slow and easy—just get to the merchandise fast.”

  “Merchandise coming up.” His arrogant smile fell into place, growing a little with each new piece of clothing he removed—probably because I was eyeing him like he was a human Popsicle and I wanted to lick, suck and nibble him from head to toe.

  Then it was my turn for arrogance, as I latched onto the sight of his thick shaft bobbing toward me, pre-cum oozing generously from the plump head. “And you thought this was a bad idea,” I said smugly.

  His smile lost some of its confidence, but he only said, “Just call me dumb-ass.”

  “Dumb-ass. Speaking of asses, get yours over here, so I can smack it.”

  He moved, but not toward the bed. Rather, he took his cock in hand and slowly pumped. Veins corded in his hand and shaft in succession. His blue-green eyes turned predatory and knowing as they met mine. “You want to suck it, don’t you?”

  “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  Laughter rumbled from his lips as I crawled to the end of the bed and rocked back on my haunches. I reached out an impatient hand and he came forward, just far enough to allow my fingers to join his.

  Much as I ached with the need, I didn’t touch his hard, steely flesh. I brought my fingers to his stomach instead, trailing them reverently along his lusciously defined abs, down the long, lean lines of his hips and around to his ass. I gave one taut cheek a swat. His breath drew in sharply and his stomach muscles tightened reflexively.

  The rhythm of his fingers along his shaft slowed to near stopping. A drop of cum pearled at the tip of his cock. Another joined almost immediately. A glance up at his face revealed his features tight, his neck corded with delicious muscle. He was close to losing it. I was just as primed to come. I could take him into my mouth and bring him to a fast finish, knowing I would climax as well from that act of pleasure alone.

  But I didn’t believe in giving second-rate head, particularly to my best friend. And I was too far gone with anticipation to do the job any better.

  I brought my hand back around and threaded my fingers through his black pubic hair, fondling the base of his cock and his scrotum before finally joining my hand with his. Together, we glided our fingers along his hard sex, gazes locked and our breathing steadily increasing with each pump, until a moan slipped from his lips.

  I couldn’t sit back and not taste a second longer.

  Bringing my mouth to the tip of his cock, I intended to take a single lick of salty fluid. But his pre-cum tasted too damned good to not want more. I took more, a dozen more greedy licks that turned to ravenous sucks.

  “Fuck, Carinna!” Jack’s fingers pushed into my hair with his savage growl. “Keep that up and you won’t need to worry about slow and easy.”

  From what I’d seen so far and had heard the many times we’d shared sex tales, I had faith he could get hard again fast if he came now. That made it damned tempting to forget about giving my best blow job ever and settle for my best one tonight. Only his hold on my mass of unmanageable curls stopped me from doing so.

  His look was pure shock as I released his cock and sank back on my heels, so I explained, “My hair’s the equivalent of a Venus flytrap for fingers. Get them in too deep and you’ll never see them again.”

  Back to grinning, he sank his fingers in even deeper and squatted far enough to brush my mouth with a far too gentle kiss. “I love your hair.”

  His tone, normally so deep and rough, was also too damned gentle. Anxiety attempted to rear its head over his tenderness, and I risked the pain of jerking my curls from his hands and scooted back up the bed.

  With my back to the headboard, I wriggled out of my thong and spread my legs, centering all of his attention where it should be—on the need throbbing in my core and leaking out as cream from my pussy. “I love your body—”

  “Race you to the first orgasm.” His words cut me off as he dove onto the end of the bed and crawled up and over my body.

  The wet tip of his shaft nudged my inner thigh, inches from my weeping sex, and I whimpered before pointing out, “You’re a little late for that. And I thought we were going slow and easy?”

  “I meant the first orgasm we give each other.”

  “Mmm…my kind of challenge.” Licking my lips, I glanced do
wn and took his erection in hand. “My kind of cock. Before I stick it in me, contracted syphilis lately?”

  “You know I’m clean.”

  “Me, too. And protected. So let’s get to the fucking.”

  Between the rearing of his hips and wickedly wolfish smile, I expected him to pull his shaft from my hand and thrust it inside me. I was partially right. He pulled it out of my hand. Then he brought his own hands to my waist and jerked me down the bed, until I fell back onto the mattress.

  “You have a great ass.” His voice was back to rough, raspy as he reverted to caveman. Jerking me over onto my hands and knees, he stroked his rough palm across my butt cheeks. “I owe you a swat.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I gasped, even as I waggled my butt and panted for that very thing.

  “I would.” He lifted his hand away. “And you’d love it.”

  I didn’t bother to respond, just tightened my cheeks and waited to feel his swat. Waited while my sex throbbed, then leaked juices down my thighs in expectation of his touch.

  It never came.

  “What the hell are you doing, Jack?”

  “Making you come,” he said, sounding equally smug and amused.

  “It’s not working.”

  “Sure it is. Or is your pussy not aching for me to fill it up? Is your ass not tingling to feel my hand against it? Is your clit not on fire for release?”

  Okay, so maybe it was working. Maybe he knew me too damned well that he could voice my body’s desires with such clarity. Maybe taking this thing slow and easy was a damned bad idea. “Fuck me. I lose the race—just make me come already.”

  “Always so greedy.” But he came over me, pressed the virile hardness of his chest to my back and brought his arms around mine.

  Supporting his weight with his palms against the mattress, he surged his hips back and, in the next instant, shoved his cock gloriously deep inside me. I panted out a hard breath with the intensity of the rapid entry, and heard Jack do the same. Then his breathing became harsh in my ears as he set a reckless pace.

  Speed and angle worked in tandem to bring my body screaming to the edge of orgasm in seconds. So fast. I’d always wanted to come so fast with Jack.

  I didn’t think about what that meant—didn’t even want to consider it—just concentrated on making him climax equally as fast with the pump of my ass against his balls and the squeeze of my feminine muscles around his shaft.

  “Slow down,” he warned, his voice strung tight.

  “No. You come first.” I’d already thrown in the towel on our challenge, but still I didn’t want to come again before he did. I was a greedy lover, but I didn’t have to be that greedy, not with Jack.

  “Not going to happen.”

  A husky laugh slipped from my lips at his cockiness. “How do you plan to stop it from happening, Einstein?”

  “Like this.” One of his hands left the bed to move between my legs and capture my clit between thumb and forefinger.

  I knew with the first tug that he was right. I was going to come first. When he altered from tugging to squeezing, I was a goner. And then I was wrong once again. I didn’t come first.

  He came with me, impaling me as far as I could take him, emptying his hot seed into my sheath. Shouting his climax as loudly as I shouted my own while I erupted around his cock.

  My orgasm was stronger than I’d ever experienced, stringing my body tight, flooding it with heat. Stealing all trace of strength from my muscles. Leaving me feeling stripped raw, open. Needy for Jack to support us both.

  He did.

  Like the best friend he’d been for over two decades, he was my staying point, not letting me fall as I grappled to breathe normally again. Even when I found my breath and my strength, he stayed with me. Even as I attempted to get away from him by rolling to the other side of the bed, he followed me, burying his nose in my hair as he dragged my back tight up against his front and whispered so goddamned compassionately, “I wish I could bring your father back. I hate to see you hurting.”

  Already I was feeling so vulnerable, so raw, and he had to go and say that?

  My tears from the funeral home resurfaced, stinging my eyes with salty water. I fought off the urge to sniffle, wanting to call him a thousand kinds of bastard for making me cry again. Instead, I managed a terse “You just helped me forget about his being gone. Don’t be a jerk and ruin that.”

  Obviously, I didn’t speak tersely enough to dissuade him. One of his hands came up to my cheek, urging me to look at him, to reveal what I’d tried to hide. I did so out of defiance, glaring past my blurred vision.

  He didn’t say a word. Didn’t offer further sympathies. Just ran his mouth along my cheek, caressing with his lips. His tongue joined in, sliding out to capture my tears, licking them away. Licking his way to the corner of my mouth. Licking his way inside.

  I shifted in his arms, and he turned me to face him fully. His kiss softened and his body hardened, and he gave me the slow and easy sex I’d always expected from my lovers in the past, and yet tonight, with Jack, I feared it.

  I feared the way his tender handling tore at my emotions. I feared how much I loved the comfort of his big body. And I feared just how much this felt like honest-to-God lovemaking.

  Shutting out my fears, I closed my eyes and allowed myself only to experience the pleasure. The feel of my best friend bringing me to climax for the fourth time tonight. The feel of him helping me to forget the pain of the last days. And the feel of his hot fluid coming into me as we surrendered to ecstasy.

  Long after the sex ended, he held onto me, his softening shaft inside of me, his mouth nuzzling my ear. “Carinna—”

  The emotion in that one word was as raw as my own, and I stopped him from saying more with the press of my lips against his. I rolled from him then, from his warmth and solidarity and comfort, to curl up beneath the sheet on the far side of the bed.

  I willed him not to say anything more. Not to follow me across the bed and pull me back into his arms. He remained silent, still. I rewarded him for that, looking over and smiling appreciatively.

  After a few seconds he smiled back, enough of the cocky edge in place to grant me hope that everything would be okay. That the tenderness of the last loving was truly nothing more than his trying to help me to move past thoughts of my father, to make me feel whole again. “Thanks for making tonight bearable, Jack.”

  His lips twitched a little, like his smile might falter, like that wasn’t what his intention had been. But then he just said, “G’night, Carinna.”

  Jack

  “Fuck.” Sitting on the edge of Carinna’s bed in the predawn hours, I buried my head in my hands and grunted the word a second time.

  I’d seriously screwed up last night. Let her talk me into becoming her one-night lover with little more than a handful of words, a lone martini, and a scanty bra and silk thong.

  Worse, though, far worse, I’d let myself sink into the fantasy of making love to her. I’d let my mind become as involved as my body. I’d let myself stop loving her as a lifelong friend and start loving her as the woman I wanted to wake up to for the rest of my life.

  Hating myself for that weakness—not being strong enough to keep from giving my heart away when I knew damned well Carinna wanted nothing to do with relationships, and I wouldn’t enter into one until my days of laying my life on the line for the sake of my job were over—I stood from the bed. Quickly I gathered my discarded clothes, refusing to remember the pleasure I had taken in removing them while she ravenously eyed my body. Refusing to think about the carnal bliss I had found first in her arms and then while sinking into her warm, wet, welcoming body.

  Refusing to even look back at her, curled up and sound asleep on the far side of the bed, as I left her room.

  I had screwed up, but I’d get over it. I’d get over this ache to take her back into my arms and never let go. I would forget that I loved her beyond friendship.

  At least until I found another line
of work. And then I would do everything in my power to convince her that she was the relationship kind, and it was me she wanted, forever.

  Carinna

  As if sleeping with him had somehow merged our thoughts, I knew the instant Jack rolled from the bed. I woke up in that moment, but I chose to keep my eyes closed. I could hear him moving almost soundlessly around my apartment—no doubt he’d taken his clothes into the living room and was dressing en route to the front door.

  Don’t go.

  I wanted to shout the words. But I couldn’t. Not just because there was a very good chance it was his pager that had pulled him from bed, notifying him he was needed at the firehouse, even though it was his day off. And not just because I was damned tired of acting so emotional and needy.

  I kept my eyes closed and my mouth shut because both my mind and the repercussions of sleeping with Jack were suddenly crystal clear. It seemed we’d skated around those consequences. It seemed by his smile last night that, despite his warning a night of sex would ruin our friendship, I still had Jack as my friend.

  If I asked him to stay, to crawl back into my bed and love me again in a way that tore at my every emotion, my every desire, it would be at the risk of him thinking I was after more than just one night.

  I didn’t want more. Couldn’t want more. Not after all the two-timing sleazebags I’d encountered on a daily basis while cocktailing at the tequila bar. And not after hearing my father’s firsthand accounts of the way commitment had ruined every one of his relationships and ultimately made my mother leave us.

  I had just wanted this one night as lovers. And every day after this as friends.

  I clung to those thoughts, and the smell of Jack on my sheets and skin, as I listened to my front door shut and the lock snick into place. And then I drifted back to sleep, for one night my mind free of sorrow and my body free of ache.

  Tokyo Rendezvous

  JINA BACARR

  I LAY ON MY BACK, MY HEAD RESTING ON A BLACK satin pillow shaped like an oversized boxing glove. Comfy, cozy. And naked. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, spreading my legs and exposing the tender lips of my pussy, hot and moist.