Bad Habit: Downey Brothers Series

by Mara Leigh

  I was going to come. “Faith,” I groaned into her mouth.

  “Mac,” she sighed back into mine.

  I pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  She was panting, lips swollen and wet, eyes full of lust, and she kept hold of my ass and rubbed herself against my dick.

  “If we don’t slow down”—I groaned, my entire body shaking—”I’m going to come.”

  Her eyes widened. “Ejaculate?”

  I nodded, trying to catch my breath I lowered my forehead to rest against hers.

  Uncertainty flashed across her face, then she kissed me again, driving her tongue into my mouth, and I could no longer fight what my body needed—I no longer wanted to. Why had I ever tried to deny it?

  Her back arched, rubbing her soft belly against my hardness, and my hips thrust against the pressure as I dry-humped Faith against the Vegas strip window, two layers of robe creating friction between us and barely tempering the heat.

  My one hand behind her neck—both to protect her and keep her mouth where I wanted—I leaned my other against the window as my orgasm invaded, a full-on assault that made my hips buck violently—angrily—angry I hadn’t let my dick get where every part of me wanted it to be.

  With a shout delivered into her lips, I shot my load into the fabric separating our bodies, my back spasming to wrest every last moment of pleasure. Then I slumped against the window, against Faith, as I panted, coming down from the intense high.

  Slowly, rational thought returned, and I backed up a few inches and took her face in my hands. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but her eyes told a different story.

  “Shit. I’m so sorry.” I cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead, becoming aware of the damp mess on my robe, hers too.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said softly. “It was just…” She drew a long breath. “It was so unexpected, that’s all. Was that… Did we have sex?”

  “Depends on how you define it.”

  “Fornication?”

  I shook my head. “Pretty sure that technically requires actual penetration.”

  “And you didn’t… Of course you didn’t.” She shook her head. “That felt good, though. Is fornication even better?”

  “Baby, there are lots of things besides full-on intercourse that feel good.”

  She pulled in a ragged breath. “Really?”

  “You bet.” I kissed her softly. “I should get cleaned up.”

  “We’re done?” The disappointment in her voice was clear.

  “We can do whatever you want, baby. This is for you.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, and the pink on her cheeks grew darker. “The problem is, I don’t… I don’t exactly know what I want. I need you to show me, to teach me.”

  A huge breath filled my lungs as an equally huge grin took over my face. “Well, as your official sin consultant, I do have a few suggestions.”

  Smiling shyly, she smiled. “What happened before…” She touched the damp fabric of her robe. “What you just… The ejaculation. Do women feel something like that, too?”

  I traced my fingers between her throat and chin as I considered how to answer. “Not being a woman, I don’t know exactly. But I’m pretty sure it can be just as great. Maybe better. You want to find out?”

  She nodded, slowly. “Yes. Please.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  She nodded. Then glanced down. “Are we going to… to fornicate now?”

  I smiled, trying to be reassuring. “Let’s build up to that. Better if I give my di—that part of my body a rest for now.”

  “Then what will we do?”

  “Oh, baby, you have no idea. If you let me, I’m going to make you feel so good. I’ll make you feel like you’re on fire.”

  Her chest heaved as her breaths came harder and faster, and I hoped I could live up to the promise. If this was how turned on she got from anticipation, I couldn’t wait to make her come.

  “Okay if I touch you?” I asked.

  “You are touching me.” She sighed as my hand roamed her throat and I kissed her cheek.

  “I mean, can I touch you—in other places? Anywhere I want?”

  Her breath caught. “Yes. But…” Her hand gathered the fabric of the robe at her chest. “I feel silly, but I’m shy. No one’s ever seen me…”

  “You can leave the robe on. And remember. Anytime you want. Stop me.”

  She nodded and I kissed her again, more slowly, more thoughtfully this time, and I loved how her body responded, arching against me as a low moan erupted from her chest. I longed to explore her naked body like she’d explored mine, to see and touch every part of her, but I had to take this slow. The visuals could wait.

  One hand cupping her head as we continued to kiss, my other one roamed, caressing her throat, her neck, then venturing under the edges of the robe to explore her collarbones, her shoulders, the delicate places high on her chest.

  Slowly but surely she relaxed into my touch, and at each subtle release of her tension, I allowed myself to delve farther until my fingers were skirting the tops of her tits. Taking her lips in a passionate kiss, I traced her breast with my fingers, circling its edges. She moaned and so I pressed my palm up, cupping the weight of her soft mound in my hand.

  Her kissing became more passionate, more urgent, her teeth scraping along my plunging tongue. My damn dick was getting hard again. So hard. So soon. This woman… My cock would not rest until it had what it wanted. What we both wanted, I hoped.

  Still cupping her breast, I slid my thumb over her nipple, back and forth as it formed a stiff point, and her spine responded, moving her body like fluid in my hands. The sexiest thing I’d ever experienced. I transferred my attention to her other nipple and was similarly rewarded as it hardened instantly, her body undulating, her kisses growing more passionate.

  Emboldened, I took her nipple between two fingers and gave a light squeeze.

  She sighed into my mouth, and so I continued this way, kissing her, fondling her tits until I sensed even more changes in her body, further yielding, but increased urgency, too. She was squirming under my touch, rubbing her legs together, clearly trying to stimulate herself whether she knew it or not. And fuck, it turned me on.

  Breaking our kiss, I bent and took one of her nipples into my mouth as my hand firmly cupped her other boob.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. Her head tipped back against the window, eyes closed. The top half of her robe had fallen open at some point and slipped off one shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps she hadn’t noticed, and as much as I wanted to take this slowly, to make it a positive experience for her, no part of me wanted to pull the robe up.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Her hands threaded through my hair. “Can you do that again? Please?”

  I stifled a chuckle and then sucked her nipple into my mouth, tugging harder and flicking the hard bud with my tongue as I squeezed her other breast in my hand.

  She moaned as her fingers slid through my hair, and so I continued, going back and forth, sucking her hard nipples, massaging her firm tits, losing myself in giving Faith pleasure and imagining what would happen when I moved my mouth to her clit.

  One of my hands slipped down over her ass, and her muscles tightened, then relaxed as I kneaded her flesh there. I was desperate with need, but wanted her dripping wet before I went anywhere near her pussy.

  The robe was too big for her slight body—it almost wrapped around twice—but I found the opening and tucked my hand under—only one layer of robe now between my hand and her lovely ass. I coaxed her leg up and slid my hand down her thigh, stroking her bent leg and tugging the edge of the robe toward the front of her body. She’d belted the thing like she’d been guarding treasure against thieves.

  With an inner smile, I realized she literally had been. I was a thief, a pirate, a Viking here to steal and plunder—to take what I wanted—but also to give.

  But she’d set up goo
d defenses, and the robe refused to fall open in front, so I edged it up her thigh, loving how soft her skin felt when I finally got underneath. Then, like I’d been dared, I let my hand slide up the back of her thigh to her naked ass. She gasped through her kisses as I reached my target.

  My mouth continued to work her breasts as my hand caressed the soft skin of her ass and upper thigh, and although I kept a few inches away for the time being, I could sense the heat and wetness between her legs.

  Her fingers tugged on my hair as my teeth scraped along one of her nipples. My index finger grazed the back edge of her sex, and her whole body pulsed in response. I moved up to claim her lips as she claimed mine right back.

  Any other woman, I’d be pounding my cock into her so hard we’d break the window and fall forty stories to our blissful deaths.

  Eight

  Faith

  I was floating, drifting, so awash in all the things Mac’s hands and body and mouth were making me feel. Long ago, I’d lost track of what he was doing, what part of him was touching which part of me. I’d lost all sense of right or wrong or sin or modesty, giving myself over to pleasure—only pleasure. I could sort everything else out later.

  Somehow his hand had found its way under my robe, and his large palm and fingers caressed my bottom—something I’d never imagined letting anyone do, but it felt so good that I lacked the will to stop him.

  The place between my legs had gone way beyond buzzing and now felt on fire. On fire but wet. Who knew those two things were possible together? I couldn’t keep still, could barely keep my feet on the ground, then with only a tiny bit of shame, I realized one of my legs had actually lifted and was hooked around Mac’s back. I was wanton, wild, and definitely enjoying our sinning.

  If all sins felt this good, no wonder priests and nuns spent so much time trying to stop parishioners from committing them.

  Mac’s lips left mine.

  I instantly missed them but tipped my head back against the window, eyes closed, hoping he planned to return his lips to my breasts. The things he’d done there, to my nipples… and when he’d kneaded my flesh, I’d felt it through my entire body.

  Answering my prayers, he kissed his way down my throat and chest. His hungry mouth traveled to one breast, then the other, kissing and nipping and sucking, as his one hand continued to massage my bottom and thighs, waking up dormant nerves, nerves I didn’t know existed, and making my body feel newly discovered. Discovered by him—and by me.

  His lips drifted lower and his tongue lapped my skin, tracing down toward my waist where the belt was nearly strangling my stomach. I reached to tug at the knot, but I’d tied it so tight Mac might need a knife to release me. At this point, I’d be happy if he used an axe if it gave his hands access to more of my skin.

  He dropped to one knee, and his hands moved to the outsides of my hips. One underneath the robe, one above it. He must be planning to study the knot to better untie it.

  “Oh!” I looked down. What was he doing?

  “Relax,” he said deeply. “Lean back.”

  I did what he said. At that moment I’d have jumped out the window if that’s what he’d asked.

  As I leaned back against the glass, his hands slid up my legs, starting at the ankles and massaging me as they rose. Gently, he guided my feet farther apart, and as his hands roamed above my knees, I realized he was pulling the hem of the robe up as he went. It was now bunched near my hips.

  His hands—and his face!—were getting so close to my most private area, the area so full of heat and dampness and shame. If the robe rose two or three more inches, he’d see everything.

  I felt mortified, but couldn’t find the strength to stop him. I didn’t want to, even though I felt that I should.

  Just as he was about to expose me in the most intimate way, he rose to kiss me. I sighed my relief into his lips. It hadn’t seemed decent for him to see me down there. He must have realized that, too.

  Absorbed in our kissing, I barely realized that the robe was still lifted up to my waist and that his hand stroked at the very top of my thighs.

  I gasped as his hand drifted across my lower belly, so low he must have brushed my private hair.

  My body tensed, but he cupped my head with the hand not on my belly and kissed me deeply as he caressed my stomach, tracing circles that rose up toward my belly button and down again to graze my hair.

  I should feel ashamed, but at this point I only felt shame when I reminded myself. Too many other sensations had invaded. My body was fluid, on fire. I was molten lava tracing long hot rivers down the side of a recently woken volcano, wending their way to invade every groove of the landscape incinerating everything in its path.

  “Move your legs wider,” he said against my lips.

  I shifted my stance, terrified but excited about what would come next. Wasn’t I supposed to be lying down when he pushed his penis inside me? I braced for the pain.

  But no pain arrived. Instead, I felt so much pleasure I gasped and then almost bit down on Mac’s tongue. His fingers stroked my pubic hair below my belly with a teasing touch—like a tickle but more tormenting—and each stroke grew more delicious than the last until I realized the exploration range of his fingers had continued to expand.

  His fingers slid over my upper thighs, traced along the place where my legs met my torso, and then teased the hair covering my opening down there. He was touching parts of me even I had never touched.

  I banished my inner voice that told me to stop him. No part of my body wanted to stop him. Neither did my mind. Not really. I’d be insane to ever want this feeling to end.

  Gradually his touch became more demanding, not just brushing over my hair, but sliding against the actual flesh down there and parting my protective folds.

  “You okay?” he asked in a short break from the kissing.

  “Yes.” I heaved a few shallow breaths.

  Now that my lips were free, I was shocked at how out of breath I’d become, like I’d been running. My legs were weak, too, like jelly. I grabbed onto Mac’s shoulders and panted into his upper chest, burying my face as his fingers continued to stroke and slide through wetness that seemed to increase exponentially with each stroke.

  Was this it? Was my wetness the equivalent of Mac’s ejaculation? It had to be. It was the best feeling I’d experienced in my life. Better than anything I could have imagined.

  His finger pressed in a particularly sensitive place; I was pretty sure it was right where I opened. His finger circled that spot, and my hips bucked as if they wanted to join in on the action. This feeling was topping the last. How much better could it get?

  “That’s it, baby,” Mac cooed next to my ear. “Does that feel good?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m going to push my finger inside you,” he said. “Ready?”

  “Oh,” was all I could sigh, as he stroked the full length of my sex again, then returned to circle the sensitive opening, pressing harder this time.

  The pressure increased and turned to something unexpected and close to pain for a second as the girth of his fingertip pushed inside me.

  He held it there. “You okay?”

  I nodded against his chest, not sure how this was supposed to feel, but the longer his finger stayed inside me, the more I enjoyed it, and the more I wanted it to stay. Would his penis feel the same or—even better?

  He slid his finger farther in, then pulled back, slowly gliding against the opening that seemed more sensitive than any part of the human body should be.

  “Ah…” A noise escaped my lips, and I felt my internal body tighten around his finger, and still he pressed, driving deeper with each push, and I couldn’t believe how good it felt.

  His thumb joined the action, stroking along my wet folds in front of his finger’s penetration. It grazed near the front of my sex, and the pleasure lifted me up off my toes. I opened my eyes. “Oh.”

  He was smiling softly, his eyes focused on my face, his skin flushed.


  “That’s your clit, baby.” He circled the magical place with his thumb.

  The heat and pleasure was so strong as he rubbed. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed his thumb had been replaced by something on fire.

  His other hand moved down to replace the thumb as his finger began to pump faster inside me, plunging in and out of me at a furious pace, and it was so much to feel that I had to close my eyes to block out at least one of my senses. But even then, my vision refused to shut off and lights danced on my eyelids in time with his digits, one of them driving inside me and one rubbing that glorious place he’d called my clit.

  My legs shook so hard I wondered whether they’d continue to hold me. My hands slammed back against the window, the impact sending shockwaves through the glass and into my body. I couldn’t believe I’d wasted so many years of my life without having Mac’s finger inside me.

  “That’s it,” he said softly. “Now, relax, let it happen.”

  I had no idea what I was supposed to let happen, or how I could possibly relax given all I was feeling, but I planned to try.

  The finger in front flicked, circled then squeezed that super-sensitive place, and I bit back a scream. “Oh, Mac, I…” My voice was tight, strangled, but my hips moved beyond my control, thrusting, circling as if they wanted to draw his whole hand inside of my body.

  A light show projected onto the backs of my eyelids, one so dramatic it was like I’d turned to face the Las Vegas streets below us. How could anything in the world feel better than I felt right now? My body was on fire, my mind fully consumed in the pleasure. I’d lost track of how long his finger had been pushing inside me, how long I’d been lost in the bliss—hours, days, weeks?—and had no idea how I’d ever survive this.

  Then just when I was sure it couldn’t get better, that I couldn’t take the pleasure any longer, the sensations crested higher. A wave started from where he touched me and then expanded to rise through my belly, my chest, my throat, like a pleasure bomb had exploded inside me.