It Wasn't Me

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  I had a feeling I just might based solely on the way his suitcase looked right then.

  When I’d gotten a glimpse of his packing job this morning, it’d made me smile.

  Now, with him standing next to it and it being not with sleepy eyes, I saw that he had literally everything wadded up with no organization to it whatsoever.

  I put my hands on my hips, bringing his attention once again to my lower half.

  “You have beautiful thighs,” he said. “And calves. And an ass.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “Take the top off,” he breathed.

  I didn’t wait for him to repeat himself. Instead, I pulled first one arm out, then the other, before slipping the shirt off of my head without once turning it inside out.

  His mouth twitched.

  “The way you so nicely took all of your clothes off and then folded them up before setting them in your suitcase?” he teased. “I can’t even tell which ones are worn.”

  That was the entire point, at least for me.

  There was no reason that a place should be untidy. At least, not a good enough reason for me to ever do it myself.

  “Your pants,” he said. “They’re folded like they would be at a department store. And your shirt? I’ve never seen anyone fold a shirt like that. You even folded your socks.”

  I felt my belly tighten at his utter intenseness.

  He missed nothing.

  “My sister was really messy when we were growing up,” I told him. “It drove me insane, so I controlled my half of the space as well as I could.”

  He grunted something that had me glancing up at his eyes.

  “What?” I asked him to repeat it. “What did you say?”

  “I said that your body is like a goddamn dream,” he said. “And I was being serious earlier. You don’t look like you don’t do arms. Everything is toned and beautiful, and I want to run my mouth over every square inch of your skin.”

  I licked my lips. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He took his time crossing the room, and as he did, he too stripped himself of his clothes.

  By the time he reached me, the only thing he had left covering his body was a pair of boxer briefs.

  A pair of boxer briefs that were doing too well of a job confining his massive erection.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he came to a stop in front of me. Close enough to touch, but too far away to feel his heat.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should play nice,” he admitted.

  I felt my belly start to tickle.

  “What does ‘playing nice’ mean?” I asked.

  “Well,” he said softly. “Playing nice means that I’ll kiss you. Fuck you. Press my mouth to yours.”

  I didn’t see anything wrong with that at all.

  “What does playing dirty mean?” I pushed.

  “Playing dirty is kind of like playing nice,” he admitted. “Only, it’s a lot more fun.”

  My lips curved up into a small smile.

  “I don’t know,” I said softly. “I’ve never been known as a ‘nice girl.’”

  His lips twitched. “No?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ve been known as a wild child since my feet touched the ground.”

  He took a step toward me, and my heart started to jackhammer against my chest.

  “Take your bra off, Piper,” he ordered. “And lose the panties.”

  This time I wasn’t nearly as careful about the state of my bra or panties when I took them off. Later, it’d bother me that I’d taken my underwear off inside out. It’d also bother me that both had hit the floor.

  But with those words coming out of Jonah’s raspy mouth, I stood no chance.

  I was highly attracted to my husband.

  I craved order.

  And, I was finding out, I loved getting orders from my husband.

  My bra slipped off easily enough.

  My panties hung at my thighs and started doing that rolling into themselves thing.

  Something that would’ve likely driven me insane had Jonah not been looking at me like he was ready to devour me.

  I shivered when I finally stood in front of him nude.

  Then it was Jonah’s turn.

  When he placed his hands on the waistband of his boxer briefs and began peeling them down his legs, I was practically panting.

  He walked to the edge of the bed, directly across from where I was standing, and took a seat on the edge.

  Then he opened his legs a little wider, letting his swollen cock and balls fall between his legs to rest on the comforter.

  His cock was big.

  So big, in fact, that the weight of it caused his rock-hard cock to droop slightly and not stand as straight as a man much smaller in size would have.

  I licked my lips and shifted my legs, loving the way that they rubbed together and caused a much-needed friction at certain spots.

  “Come ‘ere,” he rumbled, gesturing to me with his hands.

  I did, all the while admiring his gorgeous body as I moved.

  Even sitting down, Jonah was magnificent.

  He had strong, powerful thighs. Defined, muscular calves. His feet were large, and even his knees were sexy.

  He had a tattoo on his calf of a dagger. It started right below his knee and traveled straight down until the point was right above his ankle bone. The hilt and the blade had intricate swirls that decorated it, and the words ‘Endure and Survive’ were written in Old English lettering along the side of the blade.

  That was the only tattoos he had on his lower body.

  His upper body, however, had a smattering of tattoos.

  His upper body was also much sexier to look at than his lower half.

  At least, most of it, except for one certain appendage that I was avoiding looking at seeing as I wanted to look my fill of his body since I hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.

  “Like what you see?” he wondered.

  I licked my lips and allowed my eyes to take in his belly.

  He had abs. He had side abs. He had lower abs. He had the V. He had every possible ‘abdominal’ that you could have, as well as every muscle beside those abdominals that you could have.

  Honestly, he could easily make it onto one of my book’s covers, and the authors would likely salivate over who got to use him first.

  “What’s this tattoo mean?” I asked, pressing the tip of one finger against his rib, just below his left pectoral.

  It started at his armpit and ran straight down his left side until it came to a rest just above his hip bone.

  “Roman numerals of a date,” he said.

  “What’s the significance of the date?” I pushed.

  He licked his lips and trailed the tips of his fingers up the outside curve of one hip.

  “It’s the day that I decided to stop trying to please everyone and start trying to please only myself,” he said. “I was fifteen.”

  “Your parents let a fifteen-year-old get a tattoo?” I asked.

  He snorted with laughter.

  “My parents didn’t let me do anything at that point in time,” he said. “Mom was lucky if I even came home. I…I’ve never been the most easy-going of kids. I grew up by the time I turned sixteen. All innocence was lost on me. At seventeen, after I graduated, I joined the military and didn’t look back.”

  I trailed my finger down the tattoo until I couldn’t reach anymore without bending over.

  I would’ve followed the line of it down, but I didn’t want to put my breast in front of Jonah’s face.

  I knew what he would do if that happened. His eyes were hungry, and his hands were practically twitching to pull me into him.

  But I had more questions.

  “What about this one?” I asked, pressing my hand against his muscular shoulder. His well-defined, they feel rock hard under my hand, shoulder.

  “My favorite plane,” he
said. “They don’t build them like that anymore.”

  It was a bomber plane, an old World War II one, dropping bombs all the way down his arm.

  It was cool.

  I liked it a lot.

  It was also so, totally him.

  The final tattoo started at his left shoulder and trailed down his back.

  I’d seen it this morning as he’d gotten dressed, and I could picture it in my mind.

  I trailed my fingers along his trapezius muscle, at the very top of his shoulder where only the heads of two pistons could be seen.

  “And this?” I dragged my nails down the length of his shoulder, starting at his neck, and working my way down.

  “Old engine,” he said. “Three-fifty. First motor that I rebuilt.”

  I licked my lips at the rasp in his voice.

  “It’s cool,” I said.

  His hands once again started to move, this time trailing his fingers along the lower curve of my ass.

  That was when I looked down at his cock.

  It was still hard as a rock, and now it was leaking a clear, milky fluid that I wanted nothing more than to drop down to my knees and suck off of him.

  He saw my intention, too, and tightened his hands along my thighs.

  They spanned from the outside curve of my ass cheeks to the inside curve.

  Both of his middle fingers were resting on the outside lips of my sex.

  When he dug in his fingers to keep me from dropping down, the lips of my sex spread deliciously apart, making me clench.

  “Don’t,” he murmured. “If you do that, I’m going to come inside your mouth, and that’s for another time and day.”

  I once again locked my knees, the idea of him coming inside my mouth a delicious idea that took root in my brain.

  “I can see that the idea doesn’t bother you,” he grinned. “But for now, I want to do other things.”

  “What other things?” I wondered.

  He leaned back on the bed, going down onto one elbow, and pulled me with him.

  I went, going down to my hands and knees beside him.

  The new position put my breast in his face, and he took advantage of the situation, leaning up and biting down lightly on one nipple.

  So lightly, in fact, that nothing else touched but his teeth.

  Then he pulled away, allowing my nipple to stretch until it popped free of his mouth.

  I dropped down lower onto him, feeling the brush of his cock head against my sex.

  I looked down to see the drop of his pre-cum now decorating my clit.

  I licked my lips and looked away, unsure if I wanted to reach down and rub it in, or swipe it free of my clit and bring it to my tongue to taste.

  “Walk up here and straddle my face,” he urged, placing one hand on my ass and pressing forward.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Jonah…”

  My hesitancy must’ve shown on my face because he grinned and pushed harder.

  “Come on, baby,” he ordered. “I want to taste you.”

  I bit my lip and decided to give him what he wanted.

  I was very intrigued by the idea, and even more, I wanted to see what it felt like to have his tongue on my clit. In my pussy.

  Tasting me. Devouring me.

  I climbed up his body, and with his help, situated myself until I was hovering over his face.

  “Come closer.” He pulled on my hips.

  I dropped down more and more until I could feel his breath against my sex.

  “More,” he ordered again.

  I dropped down more.

  “You’re not going to hurt me,” he teased. “Sit on my face.”

  I lowered down until my pussy was practically pressed directly on his mouth, and he groaned.

  One slow lash of his tongue had me jolting.

  The next lick circled my clit. Then my entrance before delving deep inside.

  My fingers clutched onto my thighs.

  His arms encircled my hips and his hands spanned my rib cage on both sides, pulling me down even further until I felt like I was smothering him.

  He groaned.

  I cried out in surprise when he buried his face into my pussy. His tongue going deeply once again inside of me, and his nose pressing against my aching clit.

  The way that his beard felt against the sensitive folds of my sex felt utterly divine, too.

  He did this for long minutes.

  Each time I would get close to the edge, he’d pull back, allowing me to once again regain control of myself before delving back in. Over and over he did this until finally I latched onto his hair and pulled him into me.

  Instead of allowing him to pull away, I rode his face and ground myself into him, practically riding his tongue and lips as I chased my orgasm.

  And when it finally hit me, I came all over his face.

  I cried out and rode his tongue like I’d done it a hundred times before.

  It wasn’t until I was coming down from my orgasm that I realized what I’d done and remembered to be embarrassed and cautious.

  Thinking to pull away, I went to move.

  But he stopped me, pulling me back down to his tongue.

  “Nuh-uh.” He shook his head, still licking me. “I want to lick up your release.”

  My face flamed and I unclenched my fingers.

  When I did, his head went back to the bed, but my hips came down as he pulled me closer.

  And he was true to his words.

  He didn’t stop until I was cleaned of my release, and I was once again throbbing for him.

  “Delicious,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

  When he finally released my hips, I scrambled off of him.

  But I didn’t get far.

  I made it to my feet between his splayed thighs before he caught me.

  He was once again sitting on the bed, only this time, I found myself facing away from him and staring at the wall.

  Or, more accurately, the mirror that I used to get dressed in front of this morning. It was floor to ceiling and the entire width of the bed. I could clearly see everything that there was to see.

  The way my legs were splayed. I could see the way his cock poked out between my splayed legs.

  I could also see that my nipples were insanely hard, and my thighs were wet with desire.

  “Widen your legs, then straddle my waist. Fold your knees up behind you next to my hips and sit down,” he ordered.

  I followed his instructions, watching the way my legs spread wide on each side of his hips. All the while he kept his big hands on my hips to keep me steady.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Lower yourself onto my cock.”

  He watched me watch us in the mirror, his eyes trained on where we were almost joined.

  I lowered myself down, inch by inch, heart pounding.

  I wasn’t sure what this feeling was.

  Glee. Excitement. Possibly both.

  I didn’t know.

  What I did know was that I was on the verge of coming and the man wasn’t even inside of me yet. Hell, all he was doing at this point was kissing my entrance.

  The shivering was there, and he clenched my hips with his big hands and said, “Shhh, baby. Lower yourself down.”

  I looked away from where we were almost joined and caught his eyes with mine.

  He wasn’t staring at where we were joined anymore. He was staring directly into my eyes, practically willing me to take him.

  He could’ve helped me. He could have pushed my hips down and urged me to take him.

  Yet he was letting me lead. For now, anyway.

  I lowered myself down and felt his cock head breach my entrance.

  I hadn’t realized until right then that I was sore.

  Sore enough that when he started to slide in, a slight wince crossed over my features and he stilled my hips.

  “You okay?”

  His
worried words had me grinning.

  “Seems like I’m a little sore,” I admitted, then wiggled my hips. “But it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

  He grinned and loosened his grip on my hips, allowing me to continue my progress of falling down his shaft.

  This time, I looked back at the show we were putting on.

  “If I were more crazy, I’d ask you to record this,” I whispered, pulling him out this time instead of sinking back down.

  He growled when I once again barely had his cock inside of me.

  This time when I went back down, I took at least half of him in before following the same course. Up and down. Up and down. I repeated it over and over again until finally I had all of him inside of me.

  “God, you fit me so perfect,” he growled, pushing my legs wider with his.

  I took everything in.

  His cock split me so wide that it almost looked indecent. The skin around my entrance looked like it was stretched painfully, but all I really felt was an intense fullness.

  Then there were the juices that were running down his shaft to gather at the base of his cock and leak down his balls. Balls that were resting on the red sheets.

  His testicles were a slightly darker shade than the rest of him, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching down and gathering them into my hand.

  He growled when my hand met them.

  I gently swirled them around in my hand, fondling them for a few long seconds before I once again started to ride him.

  The way he had my thighs splayed so wide made it hard, so he began helping me by lifting me by the hips.

  Only he was pulling me down harder than I was taking him before on my own, and each time that he pulled me into the saddle of his hips, his cock got just a little bit deeper.

  I didn’t know where to look at that point.

  There was the erotic scene going on between my legs. There was the way my breasts were bouncing.

  And then there was Jonah’s eyes. He was watching me, staring into my eyes, instead of watching the show.

  “You’re not watching us,” I panted, letting his balls go.

  He grunted out a ‘yeah’ and continued to stare.

  I caught my breasts and pinched my nipples, and his cock jerked.

  I grinned and closed my eyes, allowing my hands to roam over my belly and chest.

  When they wandered back down again, instead of reaching for his balls, I splayed the lips of my sex wider so that I could see even better. Then I reached down to where we were joined and gathered some wetness.