by Taryn Quinn
“Oh yeah,” he gritted out, his mouth twisting as she scooped up more and painted her lips. “Put me all over you.”
She did, closing her eyes as she reveled in his salty essence, his choppy breathing, even the smell of spent sex. Leaning forward, he blew lightly against her skin, sending a cascade of warm air over her hard nipples, heating the liquid coating them.
She shuddered. “God. That feels incredible.”
The combination of sensations made her back bow. He cleaned her up with the edge of the towel, then got her wet all over again by sliding his mouth over her breasts. This time he wasn’t gentle or careful. As she cried out, he slid his finger inside her pussy. “So fucking tight. You’re going to snap my knuckle when you come, aren’t you?”
Before she could answer, he added a second finger and began to fuck her with both, focused on a singular goal.
Making her come. Hard.
One careless flick of his thumb on her clit, and she fulfilled his wish. She orgasmed in powerful, drenching waves, her keening moans filling the room. She wrenched her head back and forth on the bed while he drew out her climax, his tongue lapping at her nipple in time with the fingers pumping in and out of her.
When he finally drew his hand away, he pulled her close and pressed his face into her neck. “I love making you come.”
She reached up and stroked his face, surprised by the sudden tenderness welling up inside her. She’d never considered herself overly emotional, but something about Brad softened her in unexpected ways. “Next time, you’ll be inside me.” Her eyes were already closing.
“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll finish cleaning you up, don’t worry.”
She wasn’t worried. Even with the renewed soreness in her back, the pressure in her sinuses, and her newly raw throat, she still smiled as she gave in to exhaustion.
Maybe being a so-called cougar wasn’t so bad.
Chapter Five
“Are you awake?”
She was dreaming. Had to be. That wasn’t hot breath she felt against her ear, ruffling the hair clinging to her cheek after a fitful afternoon’s sleep. She’d been in bed for the last couple of days, too tired to do much of anything but doze in between bouts of watching bad daytime TV and eating whatever she could scrounge up in the kitchen.
It was evening, judging from the triangle of moonlight on the floor when she opened her eyes. And there was definitely someone in bed with her, his broad hand cupping her breast as if she were already his. As if he knew she’d wake up wet and straining for his fingers or his tongue or his cock.
She hated that he was right.
“Brad,” she whispered. Even his name dampened her panties.
The panties she wasn’t wearing.
“I know you’re sick.” Warm lips roamed her cheek, finally covering her mouth in a hungry kiss.
She didn’t mind waking up this way. Ever.
After a couple minutes, Brad rested his cheek against hers. “I tried to talk myself out of coming in here, but I couldn’t. God, I need you, baby.”
With those words, she was shaking. Trembling like an innocent begging to be corrupted, even if she hadn’t been innocent in what felt like a lifetime. This was all new.
She rolled over as he threaded his fingers through her hair. “I wondered if you’d come back.”
“You did not.” He gave a short laugh. “You’ve been asleep every time I checked on you the past couple of days.”
“Between naps,” she admitted before she started to cough. Her throat was so dry.
He retrieved her glass of water off the nightstand and tipped it up to her lips. “Okay?” he asked after she’d emptied the glass.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“How are you feeling?”
Far from perfect, but much better than she’d been. The bout of sort-of sex had sapped the last of her strength for days but it had been worth it. She’d happily relive those moments in the shower and on this bed for the rest of her life.
And now there would be new moments, new memories. Best of all, she’d regained enough energy to do more than mainly watch.
“I think I’m okay. Semi-human even.”
“You’re not sneezing.”
“Not at the moment, no.” She leaned up and licked his stubbled throat, inordinately pleased at his soft groan. “Where’s Kim?”
“Down the hall.” He sighed. “Despite my repeated attempts to shoo her out.”
“It is her place.”
“Mine too. And I want to hear you scream.” He tucked her hair back and nibbled her earlobe, shifting his body over hers. His long, firm, naked body.
“Guess you thought you’d be getting lucky.” She ran her hand down his back, finally cupping one tight ass cheek. Her pussy tingled at just the feel of his taut muscles. God, he turned her on.
“Wishful undressing,” he said, kissing her neck in a way that would leave marks. Maybe that was his intention. He’d force her to wear turtlenecks until she consented to flaunt their relationship like the wanton hussy he’d convinced her to become.
And speaking of hussies…
“I want your mouth on me again,” she said. “While my mouth is on you.”
“Your command, my wish.” He licked the curve of her ear, dipping inside so that his breath tickled her. She shivered and laughed, scrunching her shoulder. “You’re sensitive all over, aren’t you? Your clit especially. I can’t wait to taste it again.”
Just like that the playfulness faded. “It’d been a while. That’s probably why,” she said, trying to sound casual.
“Hmm. You think?” Without hesitation, he slipped down the bed. He nudged up her nightgown—a silky number rather than her cotton monstrosity from earlier in the week—and pried her thighs apart, inhaling deeply. Her face heated an instant before he arrowed his tongue along her cleft, slipping inside to tantalize and tease. “This time I’m not stopping at one,” he whispered, and dove down to prove his point.
“Wait.” She fisted his silky hair. “You owe me something too.”
“Fuck yeah. I’m happy to share and share alike.” He shifted positions so his feet were near her head. Crooking his knees open, lifting his hips. Moving in such a way that the moonlight filtering through the window highlighted his erection, making it even more impressive in the dark.
She swallowed, feeling very much like the predator she’d been afraid to become. Because his cock was going in her mouth, and she wouldn’t let up until she had his release in her throat.
Though he didn’t cease his activities between her legs, his hand encircled his shaft, offering it silently. He kept it steady as she lowered her head, her breath streaming over him before she darted out her tongue for her first taste. His body jerked, his fingers going slack before he shored up his hold. She flicked again, scooping up a dab of his salty precome. Another replaced it, and another. She blew lightly, borrowing his trick, and reached down to grasp his warm, soft sac, cupping it gently. As she slid her lips over the crown, her lips curving at the new wetness slickening the tip, he pushed up her leg, curving it away from her body so her pussy was on display. Then he spread open her folds, giving her only a second to wonder what he’d do before he plunged his tongue into her. In and out, swirling, caressing. One finger rubbing her clit, another stroking the nerve-filled area between her slit and her ass.
She tried to concentrate on the hard length she was sucking with everything she had, but dear God, she was already climbing. Her knees locked and she bore down against the pleasure, wanting to prolong it as long as possible. She loved taking him deep, hearing his grunts and groans and tormented sighs. His balls tightened, and she massaged them gently before searching for that secret spot behind them that would aid in her mission. When she located it, he bolted up from his feast, cursing and yanking her head back down to finish the job.
“You’re going to pay for making me come first,” he warned, and the erotic excitement those words provoked sent a new flood of arousal into his waiting
mouth. He swallowed it greedily, pressing his lips over her clit, sucking with enough pressure to make her nipples throb. His thumb circled the hole between her ass cheeks, inching inside while she quaked and drew more forcefully on his shaft. It pulsed as she gave his ass the same treatment he was giving hers, a hint of thumb. A little more.
Another curse, and his hips rocketed upward, driving his length between her swollen lips. She absorbed the tremor that coursed through him, knowing what would follow. Moaning at the spray against the back of her throat and the thrust and retreat of his cock while she drank him down.
“Fuck, woman,” he groaned, his body twitching through the afterglow. “You milked me dry.”
Chuckling, she licked up every drop. There were a lot of them, slipping down his still partially hard cock like melting ice cream. “Normally I’m a tidy eater. But don’t worry. I always clean my plate,” she breathed, swallowing him again as he shuddered like an addict in the throes of detox. She eased back and licked the underside, continuing over his balls to collect the rest that had escaped. Each jerk of his muscles rewarded her, but she didn’t get to gloat for long.
“I’m about to eat mine.” He buried his face between her thighs and resumed devouring her, spearing into her with tongue and fingers. No finesse, no patience. Just rough, wild fingerfucking that set a match to her kindling orgasm and blew it sky high.
She bit his thigh to keep from crying out, and his moan rumbled over her quaking flesh. He rubbed his nose over her clit while he coaxed her up again, pressing inside her, seeking the area that would send her into orbit and keep her there. Aftershocks rocked her simply from his touch. He shoved up her legs, bending her back, opening her up. Wide. Wider. The burn in her lower back couldn’t lessen the thrill of his lips finding her again, of his greedy tongue flicking over her and tumbling her into another climax.
“Brad,” she whispered, half-blind. And half-mute too. Holy shit. “Fuck me. God, now.”
He was already on his knees and tugging her boneless lower half up on his thighs. “I need a condom. I brought one, but I think it fell off the bed.”
“Nightstand. Top drawer.” She was panting so hard she could barely speak. “Hurry.”
Dragging her with him, he swore and fumbled for the drawer, making her laugh. Making her whimper when he shut her up with an abrupt twist of her nipple. “Remember that making you pay thing? I’m about to.”
“So sorry for letting you come in my mouth.” She still couldn’t breathe, and seeing him stroking that magnificent, newly hardening dick into performance condition didn’t help. Praise the Lord for young cocks. Was there a patron saint for them? If not, there should be. “It won’t happen again.”
“The hell it won’t,” he growled, practically slapping her thighs apart. “Just wait—”
A scream punctuated his statement, the sound cutting through the humid, sex-scented air in her bedroom. They stared at each other for one frightened, fragmented moment, then another cry sounded from downstairs.
Kim. Oh God.
They pushed at each other, scrambling to untangle their limbs. Damp, slick flesh rubbed together and caused a new flurry of groans. Was this their punishment for fucking in the dark—trying to fuck, finally—like a pair of desperate teenagers?
Somehow she managed to get up and toss Brad the clothes she found pooled on the floor. He hopped around, trying to force on his pants, muttering something about holes and blue balls. She didn’t understand what, because she was already hurrying to throw open the door. Once in the hall, she called Kim’s name, her sweaty hand sliding along the banister as she scrambled down the stairs.
At the bottom she saw her best friend, clutching her ankle and crying. Guilt cascaded over her like a tsunami, erasing her earlier arousal. Brad collided against her back and Kim stared up at them, her chin wobbling. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you both. I tripped.” She pointed at a loose hank of carpet. “Stupid rug. I don’t think my ankle’s broken.”
Kim looked from Brad to Sara and back again. “Boy, you two got down the stairs at almost exactly the same time. Were you guys watching TV or something?”
Or something. Sara held her breath, hoping Brad wouldn’t say anything. When his silence made it clear he was waiting for her to speak, she nodded. “Yeah. TV. That’s what we were doing. Uh, I mean watching. A good show on PBS.”
“Brad hates PBS. Everything except Antiques Roadshow.”
Shit. She hadn’t known that. “Yeah.” Sara nodded, hating the heat she could feel blooming across her cheeks. “That’s what we were watching. In his, uh, room.” Why had she said that? She couldn’t even be honest about what room they’d been in, for cripes sake? Too late now. “He has the better TV,” she added.
Kim rubbed her injured leg, grimacing. “His TV’s the same size as yours.”
“Oh yeah, but he’s got a nicer…screen. And fluffy pillows. Mine are all ratty.” Sara fought not to groan. Oh God. Could I be any more pathetic? Or less believable?
Her friend gave her an odd look and didn’t say anything further. Brad’s eyes, however, were doing enough talking for both of them. And what they were saying would’ve involved a lot of swear words, she would wager, had there been an audio soundtrack.
Brad eased around Sara and helped Kim to her feet with the innate tenderness that attracted her almost as much as his Defcon-level sex appeal. “Can you put weight on your ankle?”
Kim tried and shook her head. “Ouch, no. Hurts.”
“Okay.” He focused on his sister while Sara took Kim’s other arm. “Guess we’re headed for the hospital.”
Spending the night in the ER with his sister and his almost-lover was not how Brad had expected the evening to go.
Like the trooper she was, Kim waited without complaint for two hours for them to attend to her sprained ankle and barely even moaned in the backseat of his truck as they ventured to the all-night pharmacy to fill her prescription for pain meds. Once they were back home, they set her up on the couch with ice cream and a stack of novels, along with the TV remote. The sprain was bad enough she’d get a day or two off from work and wouldn’t be getting off the couch often for the foreseeable future. Which meant any nocturnal activities would either need to be kept to a minimum, or they’d have to invest in some gags, since he’d recently learned Sara was a screamer.
Hell, if he didn’t get to have all of Sara soon, he’d be a screamer too.
She kept shooting him wry looks, as if she knew he’d sported a hard-on for the first hour they’d been at the hospital. Hearing people hacking up lungs and seeing them shuffling along hallways dragging IV poles had killed the last of his desire, but now that he was following Sara up the stairs, her heart-shaped behind twitching with each movement, he had to give praise for his cock’s resiliency. It sure was bouncing back.
At the top of the stairs, she turned and held out a hand. He looked down at it and then up at her, unsure what she was offering. Sex? Companionship? Some kinky brew of the two?
His expression must’ve revealed his confusion, because she stepped closer to touch his chest. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Let’s,” he agreed, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. She laughed.
Her other distinguished boyfriend-types probably would’ve said something like, “Let me find my smoking jacket.” He wasn’t distinguished, and he wasn’t her boyfriend—yet—though he was about to start his campaign for that title. Why pretend he only wanted a few furtive clutches with her when he already longed for so much more?
At the threshold of her bedroom, she gave him what he considered her doctor face. “Just to sleep, okay? Kim will probably be up all night, and I don’t want to press our luck.”
He pushed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and tried to control his temper. “Why are we doing this again?”
Playfully she walked her fingers up his abs. “Have you forgotten already?”
“Not that.” He snatched her hand and pressed his lips to the center
of her palm. “I mean the whole lying thing. Do you really think my sister’s that much of an ogre that she’d begrudge us a little happiness? Or do you think it’s hotter to run around in secret?”
Hurt flashed in Sara’s big brown eyes, and he wished he could snatch the words back. “Look—”
“I’m not sure what sort of impression I’ve given you. Obviously not a very good one if you think I’d create artificial drama to make things ‘hot’. I told you, I like it here.” She opened her mouth as if she intended to say more, then shook her head and walked into her bedroom. And started to strip.
Yeah, that would definitely help his concentration.
To assist his synapses in functioning, he focused on the small cluster of watercolor paintings on the wall opposite her bed. The artwork featured different birds at the sanctuary, and their colorful plumage offered a bright spot in the room. Almost as bright as Telly’s equally gorgeous feathers, currently fluttering as he charged around his cage.
Something had set him off, probably their edgy voices. Sara had told him her bird hated arguments. So did he, unless he saw a good reason to fight. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t have one.
Brad waited until Sara rounded the bed to walk toward her closet before he wandered over to Telly’s cage. He’d stayed in the living room for the last few days while Sara was sick, but now that she was feeling better, she’d insisted on bringing him back. Brad slipped his finger between the bars, and as usual, Telly barely spared him a glance. He ignored everyone but Sara.
Since his mistress had just slipped back into her nightgown from earlier—that happened to be silky, blue, and short—Brad definitely understood Telly’s fascination.
After spending a long moment gulping down the sight of Sara’s attire, Brad resolutely faced Telly again. “I know you like it here,” he said in his most conciliatory voice. “We like having you too. Us being together has nothing to do with that.”