by Gynger Fyer
Instead, the tables had been turned on him.
She sat across from him sucking on the tail of a Cajun boiled crawfish. With every drag of her lips, his cock jumped in response. Yes, he was in hell and she was his ice water. He reached over with a napkin and wiped some juice off her chin. She already had one Hurricane drink in a long bong-like plastic container and that was all he would allow. There was no way in hell he was letting her get drunk tonight. He wanted her relaxed, but sober and coherent for the loving he planned to put on her.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she warned between sucks.
“Then stop sucking like that.”
“What? You mean like this?” She picked up a big, juicy crawfish, separated the torso from the tail and played with the steaming meat with her tongue before sucking it long and deep. The meat came out with a pop and she slowly chewed the succulent, spicy, crimson flesh. She licked her fingers one by one. He couldn’t take it. He’d already started sweating and his cock was about to explode. She put her right index finger between her sexy lips and started licking the juice from it.
“Brett, look.”
She slowly moved to the next one but this time she did a trick the waitress showed her. She took the body of the crawfish, pulled the head, squeezed its sides and took a long lusty drag ending in a wicked, fleshy-sounding pop. They called it “sucking the head” and the dirty analogy was not wasted on him.
“Don’t I suck good head?” She grinned at the raunchiness of her own remark.
He could only stare at her and wonder what the hell had they put in that drink.
Grace reached for another crawfish from the tiny mountain before her. She cracked it open in sexy abandon, ready to suck the head again, raising one eyebrow in challenge as if to say, ‘what are you going to do about it’.
He knew damn well what he was going to do about it. He was going to take her back to the hotel and fuck every single one of her dirty, overactive brain cells out. Before she could bring the briny treat to her mouth, he growled. Her big brown eyes widened in surprise.
“Grace, if you don’t want to get fucked in this restaurant I suggest you get up now.” He was on his feet, not caring if the entire restaurant saw the bulge in his pants. The waitress was by his side immediately.
“Don’t tell me you guys are ready to go that fast. You just sat down.”
Brett took out his wallet and pushed a large bill into her hand, not saying anything. Grace looked from him to the waitress with apparent sympathy as she wiped her hands, grabbed her purse and shuffled out of the booth.
Smiling halfheartedly, she chimed in, “The crawfish was terrific, but we are, um, late for something. Thanks for the great service.” Brett pulled on her hand, put her in front of him and moved them swiftly towards the entrance, leaving the stunned waitress behind. Yes, he was coming off as an asshole and he was sure Grace would lay into him later but the hard-on he was sporting was cutting off the blood to his brain, making conversation difficult. They were near the door when a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties with white hair pulled on his arm.
“Sir, I don’t mean to bother you but, are you Brett “The Wolf” McAllister?”
Fuck, this was no time for fans. He had been out of the business for nearly three years now. He honestly didn’t know what to say. His dick was throbbing and all he could think of were the four letter words he was going to have Grace shouting when they got back to the room. As if she could read his thoughts. Grace again spoke up.
“Yes, ma’am, he’s ‘The Wolf.’”
The woman’s eyes swung from him to Grace. As if seeing an ally in Grace, she directed her next question to her.
“Can you take a picture of us together? My grandson was a big fan of ‘The Wolf.’ He was heartbroken when he retired.”
Grace looked to him briefly as if to say snap out of it and say something to this lady. Seeing he was unwilling or incapable of cooperating, she said, “I would love to take a picture of you two. Where is your camera?”
“It’s in my purse; give me just a moment.”
She took a few steps to a nearby table where the rest of her dinner party smiled and waved at him. He nodded his head to them. Grace smiled and turned towards him talking to him through her teeth.
“Brett, baby, take off your jacket and drape it over your arm in front of you. That way you won’t scare the hell out of this woman with that hard-on you’re sporting and so you won’t scare her poor grandson when he get this picture. She already thinks you are crazy.”
Grace was a flurry around him fixing his collar and dusting her hands down his chest. Her hands felt incredible through his cornflower blue button-down shirt, removing his jacket and putting it in his hands.
“One photo, Grace, then we leave,” he growled. He hated he could not pull out of caveman-mode, but shit, it was what it was at this point.
She shook her head in understanding, never breaking eye contact with him. He saw the shallowness of her breathing as her beautiful breasts moved up and down and the way the vein pulsed at the side of her neck. She shivered under his sexual gaze. She felt it too. Good girl.
The woman came back to them, handing the camera to Grace. She fidgeted with it, trying to show Grace how it worked. They finally got it together and the woman came to stand next to him, holding on to his arm. She had a remarkably strong grip for someone who looked so frail.
“Say cheese.” Grace’s sing-song voice floated to them.
He was able to manage a half smile. He was sure he looked crazy but who the fuck cared. He had been waiting nearly three years for Grace to let him into her bed. Granted, he had dated during that time, but none of them held a candle to her and it had been nearly a year since his last sexual encounter.
When Grace’s dad took ill, he’d left all other women alone and focused solely on comforting her and being available to her. There had been several close calls between them but things never got too far along. What they did on the balcony earlier had only whetted his starved appetite. He wanted his woman, and he wanted her now. The woman must have said something funny because Grace smiled and laughed. The woman hugged her, gave him a sympathetic look, then waved goodbye to him.
He again nodded his head. He wasn’t even sure of how it happened, one moment they were in the restaurant and the next moment, he had her firmly stashed behind him as he navigated the busy streets of the French Quarter. It was as if the revelers could sense he was in no mood for nonsense and scrambled to get out of his way. His cock throbbed with every step.
He hadn’t looked at Grace once, but he knew she was with him. He could feel the nails of her supple fingers digging for purchase in his lower back as she grasped his shirt; trying to keep up with him. If he looked at her, he was liable to pull her into an alley and fuck her against the wall. Her nails were already doing a number on him.
She was going to get fucked so well tonight all thoughts of a bucket list would be erased from her mind.
They finally reached the hotel. Two of the three elevators dinged, he maneuvered around the three people waiting and pulled her towards the first one. As they stepped into the elevator, Brett quickly pressed the button to close the door and told the other people waiting to catch the next one. Yes, he was being a prick but he didn’t give a shit. He was not going to wait another damn second to be with Grace and unless they wanted a show, it was best if they caught the next elevator.
“Brett! That was a rude thing to do,” Grace began.
Brett slightly unleashed his passion so she could see he was not dealing with a full deck. He pulled her to him and ravished her eager mouth…and she responded to his roughness by yielding to him one moment, then taking the lead the next. It was sexy as hell. She met him move for move, like a game of oral chess.
Moans, groans and growls filled the elevator. Brett didn’t know if they came from Grace or him. After several floors, the elevator stopped and he went to exit, but Grace didn’t move. She was trembling, despite a fi
rm hold of the railing along the wall. He went to her, picked her up, carried her to their door and then inside.
Chapter Seven
Frantic…desperate…crazed…that was how she felt. Brett McAllister made her feel that way. Lord, this man knew how to touch a woman. She’d felt the tension in him at the restaurant and tried to harness it to turn him on, but she quickly realized there was no harnessing Brett’s raw sexual power.
She’d had a devil of a time explaining his behavior to Maggie, the little old lady at the restaurant who’d wanted to take a picture with Brett. She finally settled on telling her they were just getting into town and although Brett was very tired, she’d brow-beat him into taking her out. The lady had laughed and said she understood. Her own husband could get surly when she dragged him all over the place like that. She was very sweet.
Now here she was, being thoroughly ravished and loving every bit of it. Her skin felt like it was on fire again just like earlier, it was not a fluke that Brett could literally bring the heat. Were all his sexual encounters like this? No wonder the groupies used to duke it out over him.
Somehow, though, she knew that this kind of effect, this kind of raw, heartfelt connection, was not business as usual; it came from a much deeper place. A place she didn’t want to name for fear she would wake up and realized she had been dreaming.
Their clothes had been shed at the door. Each of them was so frantic to be skin-to-skin they’d taken off their own clothes. Then they collided; warm hard skin to tender soft skin. Their eyes searching flesh, trying to take mental snap shots to develop later when things cooled down. Would they cool down? She hoped the hell not. His mouth was on hers, spicy and just a little salty from the crawfish. His big, strong hands stroked her back and down to her butt where he squeezed and kneaded each cocoa mound in his hands.
Thank the Lord for her ass. She always wanted it to be bigger, less…flat, but when he smacked it and immediately felt the stinging connect directly to her core, she realized size didn’t matter; a smack was a smack. It felt damn good. She never knew it could be like this, so elemental. He made her that way.
Brett lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing the folds of her wet pussy along his length. She moved her hips up and down, pressing into it until she was shaking.
“Damn, baby, you keep that up and I am going to explode on both of us.”
He laid her down on the bed. She wasn’t even sure how they got there. He unraveled her legs and moved down to her breast, taking one dark berry into his hot mouth. His lips covered her entire areola. Grace’s back arched and she ran her fingers through his hair.
“Yes, Brett…ohhh…”
He released the hardened nipple with a pop and blew air over it. Goose bumps broke out over her entire body. He mercifully moved to the other, giving it the same focused licks and sucks as his hand drifted down her body. He moved to the side and looked down at her pussy. They both watched as his fingers slid right in. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the pillow. He began to work her as he suckled her breast. Her orgasm took her by surprise when he hooked his fingers inside her.
Eyes open, she screamed his name as she pumped her hips and clutched the bed with one hand and reached down to grip his long shaft with her other hand. She pumped him hard. She heard him growl as he pumped his hips in her hand for a few strokes, eyes closed.
He quickly pulled out of her grasp. In one swift move, he was no longer beside her but on his knees between her legs. She was spread open for him to see, his cock mere inches from her saturated sheath. And from the way he licked his lips, he liked what he saw.
“Are you on the pill or do you want me to use protection?”
Shit, she had gotten so worked up, she had forgotten to even think about protection. Thank goodness she was on the pill but she wasn’t sure about Brett. She didn’t think he would put her at risk but protection was a best practice.
“Use protection, for now.”
Her breathing was choppy and uneven. She thought he would pout or try to talk her out of it like her last boyfriend but he didn’t miss a beat. He leaned down, kissed her passionately, then got up quickly, located his wallet and pulled out a condom. He stroked himself as he rolled it on. Damn, his cock was a thing of beauty. He was back on top of her and pushing inside of her trembling body in a heartbeat.
“Lord, have mercy!” He grunted as he pushed fully into her.
She could feel his body trembling. Shoulders bunched and strained as he pulled out and pushed back in with such force, she had to put her hands against the head board to stop from hitting her head against it. He hissed through his teeth and then leaned down and captured her mouth in a blazing kiss that left her breathless.
Brett alternated between deep thrusts and several shallow thrusts that kept her on the cusp of her third orgasm of the day. Her body squeezed his girth. She wanted more of him. She moved her hands to his shoulders as she moved her hips to meet his, thrust for thrust.
“Fuck! Your pussy feels so good,” Brett grunted as he pulled out a little and grabbed her ankles.
He held her legs straight up in the air in a V and slammed into her with such force she literally saw stars. She placed one palm on his stomach, feeling his taut abs flex with each thrust.
“Come on, baby, come for me,” Brett commanded in a raspy voice that sent chills down her spine.
She never believed women could come on command, but apparently her pussy had a mind of its own and understood the request perfectly because it coiled up and constricted with such force she went deaf for a moment. This was incredible. She felt like she was leaving her body and experiencing it as an observer hovering above them. She saw her face frozen on a silent scream, short fingernails deeply embedded in his butt cheeks, as if she had poked holes in marshmallows. Her legs were damn near touching her head as he thrust in what seemed like slow motion once, then twice, and then he threw his head back, shouting her name with a mixture of triumph and exultation. She continued to hover above the lovely, passionate scene wishing she could take a picture of the raw surreal-ness of it all.
A crack like a gun shot went off and she was back in her body looking into his beautifully contorted face, feeling his hot seed flood the condom, warming her womb like a compress against the spasms of her inner walls. He grunted, and her world seemed to be tilted on its axis. Their sweaty bodies clung to each other and he held her in a tight embrace, breathing heavily against her neck.
“That was amazing. I feel like I’m off balance, like everything’s upside down, you know.” His big body chuckled and shook above her. She opened one eye and pushed him off her a little so she could look at him.
“What’s so funny?” she smirked, wanting in on the inside joke.
“See for yourself.” He moved off her with an odd, struggling motion. That’s when she noticed it, too.
“Shit!” She exclaimed, looking down at the foot of the bed which now lay on the floor.
They had broken the bed.
She started laughing with Brett who was now in tears, face red. After a while they settled into silence.
“Oooh, you are in trouble!” she snickered as they again started laughing.
Chapter Eight
Brett had never climaxed so hard in his life. His dick actually hurt, he came so hard. It was crazy. When he realized they broke the bed, it became comical.
He’d reluctantly called guest services and explained about the broken bed, then moved to the adjoining room which would have been his anyway if she’d declined his advances. Thank God the hotel was discreet enough not to make a big deal about it.
He took Grace again, more gently in the new bed, but had come with the same gut-wrenching force as the first time. Now he lay in her arms as she caressed his back and hair, murmuring to him things his befuddled mind could not begin to comprehend. It felt so good being in her arms, peaceful and comforting. He finally gained enough strength to roll over on his back, taking her with him.
“You tried to kill me!” he accused, stroking her hip and thigh.
“Me! You were the one trying to fold me like a napkin. I think I’ve lost feeling in three of my toes.” She chuckled and nipped his nipple. He stiffened and swatted her ass.
“Cut that out! A man can only take so much. I would hate to have to make another call down to the front desk for breaking another bed.”
“Now I understand why the groupies were camped outside your room every night.”
Brett stilled. It was time for him to set some things straight once and for all. Taking her chin in his hand he brought her face up to his so she could look him in his eyes.
“Grace Hughes, from this day forward you are my woman. I don’t give a fuck about groupies. You got that? Say yes so I know you got it.”
She looked sheepish, but her eyes never left his.
“Yes. I got that.”
Brett continued. “We both have a past but it’s just that, the past. I don’t want you to ever think that what you experienced today is the norm for me, because it’s not. I love you, Grace, can’t you see that? I’ve been in love with you.”
Grace’s eyes became glassy just before a tear fell from the corner of one. She whispered her love to him as she pulled his head down for an electrifying kiss. She was amazing, and she was all his. His heart swelled with pride. Grace pulled back, looking at him with a crooked grin.
“You know we only crossed off six things on my list.” He groaned as she moved to get said list out of her purse sitting on the night stand. Snuggling back into his arms, she read them off.
“Go to Mardi Gras, check. Eat crawfish, double check.” He swatted her bottom as she rubbed up against him licking her lips suggestively.
“Get drunk off of Hurricane drinks. Well, technically, I didn’t get drunk.”
“You got close enough.” Brett’s tone told her it was not up for debate.
“Okay, Hurricane, check. Show tits for beads.” They both laughed at that one.