“You smell good,” he said inhaling deeply.
I tilted my head so he could have easier access to my neck. His lips skated down the column and landed on my shoulder. His erection thrust against my stomach.
“Let’s take this off,” he said and whipped my top off faster than I thought possible since I was lying down, but he was so big and strong, he could do things like that to me. And I loved it.
"I promised to do something about this earlier,” I said and pushed a hand against his chest. He fell back easily and spread his arms wide.
I straddled him, wearing only my underwear, but I didn't feel an ounce of discomfort. His eyes were so intensely admiring, there was no room to feel inadequate. I reached down and began to undress him as he had me.
The clank of the metal of his buckle sounded like a loud bell in the quiet. His breathing was still steady, but the muscles in his torso were tense in anticipation. I unzipped him and found his thick erection folded awkwardly down his left leg. "This looks uncomfortable," I commented, pulling it upright and admiring the long length of it.
"You have no idea," he said, sounding strangled.
As I held him in my hands, it seemed to grow longer, wider. "Is it me, or are you getting longer?"
"Baby, he's never been subject to such an amazing inspection. I think he's showing off for you."
"I like that."
"He likes you. It's a mutual admiration society. He'd really like it if you squeezed him—hard."
"Like this?" I fisted him in my hand and squeezed.
"Ahhh, harder."
"Will I hurt you?" I felt like I had a pretty sturdy grip.
"Not gonna happen." He placed his hand around mine and pressed twice as hard as I would've ever imagined he would like and then began moving my hand up and down in rough, hard strokes.
"This is what you like?" I said, mimicking his action. I wondered if I could do it as well as him. My hands were so much smaller, my touch so much more tentative.
"Yes, like that." I twisted my hand slightly, and he hissed. "Just like that. God, your hand feels good. So much better than my own."
"How about this?" I bent down and licked the top. His hips came off the ground. Guess he liked that too. He helped me push his jeans down and then reached behind his back with one hand and ripped his T-shirt off.
"You're an evil tease," he said roughly. "But I like it."
I licked him over my fingers, still stroking him as he showed me. The turgid veins felt prominent against my tongue, so I traced those all over—the front, the underside, to the mushroom-shaped cap. Then I took him in as far as I could go, which, to my dismay, wasn't very far. His hand came up to tangle in my hair and cup the backside of my head. But he didn't push—rather he followed my movements, pulling my hair out of my face, probably so he could watch. But I was watching too. Through my eyelashes, I looked upward at his face, which had grown more starkly beautiful. The skin pulled tightly across his cheekbones, and the flush of arousal painted high angry red streaks across his face. He looked like a warrior even though I was doing the claiming.
He tasted wonderful—clean, salty, and fully male. It wasn't a taste that could be replicated or bottled. You could only get it at the source. I felt addicted, as if I would never be able to get enough of him.
"You look like you're loving this," he groaned, raising himself to rest on his elbows. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, making him appear even stronger and harder.
"I am." I grinned because while I loved his taste, I loved the glazed look of pleasure on his face more. He looked worshipful. I bent down and applied my own version of reverence. I sucked on the tip and used my hands to cover the area I couldn't get into my mouth.
"Your mouth," Finn choked out, "feels so damn good."
He panted and made more low rumbly sounds as I licked and stroked him until his thighs tensed. He tugged on my hair.
"Gotta stop, baby. I'm going to come."
I ignored him, and his hand tightened in my hair. He thrust into my mouth, lost in his own excitement. His careful touches and his watchful gazes were gone, replaced by a wild, uncontrollable response. His mouth fell open, and then he came, flooding my tongue with his warm seed. I swallowed as he pulsed against my tongue, and he cursed, repeatedly, desperately.
"Baby, baby," he croaked. He pulled me up and tongued me deeply. His body was heated, his chest sweaty, and I felt warm all the way through. "You didn't have to do that."
He wiped a finger along the corner of my mouth. In the moonlight, his sapphire eyes looked black under his ridiculously long lashes.
"I wanted to." My tongue darted out to lick his thumb, and the corresponding groan he released shook his frame. I loved the noises he made—deep, low, gravelly. They made me feel powerful. I took and he gave, and it was different than we'd had before.
"It's my turn now." He rolled off the bed and lifted me in his arms. While I clung to him, he stripped off the navy coverlet and threw me on the bed. He knelt between my legs and pulled my panties off.
I trembled with excitement. This time he was ready to take.
And I wanted that.
#
FINN
The days following my dad's funeral flashed through my mind. A series of ill-advised hookups with random girls I didn't know. Waking up next to a complete stranger. Then came Winter, and my foundation shifted. As I knelt between her legs, having been the recipient of the best blow job ever given, I wanted to give back to her—not just an orgasm that blew her mind but something more. A certainty that this was different for me, that it meant something.
I took my time. I kissed her delicate ankles and stroked her firm calves and slender thighs. I avoided the one place I knew she desperately wanted touched. Her bare mound glistened from her earlier enjoyment. I hadn’t even realized how much I liked the waxed look until I’d tore down her panties and found it like a hidden treasure.
It was as if she presented me with a fetish I hadn't known I wanted. I'd come to the conclusion, though, that she was the fetish. I wanted her a hundred times a day, a thousand different ways.
I made my way to her outer hip and then rolled her over so I could kiss the single tattoo she had on her body. It was a heart with her parents’ names—Gary and Rhonda—inscribed inside. The design was intentionally jagged, as if a kid had cut it into the side of a tree.
I placed my lips on it and then rolled her back.
"Why is it a tattoo artist has only one tattoo?" I teased huskily, moving up to nibble on her stomach and then higher. She was small but perfectly shaped, with fat brown nipples and wide areolae that covered a good portion of her breasts’ golden skin. Her tits looked like sin and tasted better—sweet as candy.
"Tattoos are permanent. They have to mean something."
Her hands gripped my hair and held me tightly to her chest. I'd learned her nipples were very sensitive. Not every girl’s were, but I suspected I could get her off just sucking on them. I gave one a pinch, and she surged against me. I wanted to see her.
"Can I turn the light on?" I asked.
"Why?"
"Because you're hot, and I'm a visual guy." I rubbed my hand down her front, from sternum to pussy and then up again. She jerked and pressed into my palm. I wanted to see her flushed skin and the glitter in her dark brown eyes when she came.
"Can it be low?"
"It can." I reached over and covered her eyes and then flicked on my lamp, cycling through the three settings until the bulb turned dim. Her skin was the color of a golden oak or the ochre of leaves at the first turn of fall—beautiful, warm, and breathtaking. Some of it was from the sun, but some her natural coloring. Her black hair splayed across my white pillowcase. I took a mental picture: Winter on my snow-white sheets with her black hair, warm skin flushed pink and rosy. Her lips, reddened by my mouth, were parted slightly, and the coal black lashes fringing her eyes lay like lace on her cheeks.
I reached down and palmed her breasts. Her perky tits begg
ed to be sucked, and I obliged, taking each into my mouth until it was hard as a nail. She arched against the sheets, wanting more pressure, more tongue, more biting. More of everything, and I was thrilled as fuck to give it to her.
I hardened and then took myself in hand and rubbed the head of my throbbing dick over her smooth skin. Her eyes fluttered open and then fell shut again as I spread the moisture from her sopping pussy to her little clit. It was a dangerous risk I was taking, but the slick feel of her arousal on the sensitive head of my cock was too good. Just one second more, I told myself. One more pass. I wanted to sink in—balls deep—without a barrier, which I'd never done before. Always wrap it before you tap it had been my motto since I punched my v-card. Miraculously, some oxygen made it through to my big head, and I fumbled through the nightstand and covered myself with a rubber.
"You ready?" My voice sounded like I'd swallowed sandpaper.
"Yes, oh yes, Finn."
The thready sound of her desire vibrating through my name sawed at the chords of my self-control. "Hold on, sweetness." I pressed forward, and the slick channel of the hottest part of her volcano-hot body sucked me in. We both groaned as I entered. "You have the tightest pussy in all of mankind."
She choked out some response, but the thundering in my head made it hard to understand her. I only knew the clutch of her body as she welcomed me. I fell forward, bracing myself with a hand on either side of her head. "I'm sorry," I muttered into the damp skin of her neck. "I'm not going to last."
"Isokay," she slurred out and then wrapped her legs around me.
I lost it when her small heels dug into the small of my back, urging me forward. I thrust hard and repeatedly. In my head, I started reciting the alphabet backwards in a desperate attempt to stave off my own orgasm until she came. Under my body, she writhed and gasped, and everything she did only made me crazier.
I swiveled my hips, looking for the right motion, the right pressure to make her detonate. Her lips latched onto my neck, and she hung from my frame, grinding as hard against me as I was pounding into her. She met my thrusts with her own surges, and then, when she cried against my neck, I knew I'd found the right spot. She was wetter than before; hotter than before. So hot and so wet, I thought I would explode.
With relentless precision, I stroked her. Her hands rose to grip my wrists, and her head dropped back onto the pillow, unable to kiss me and concentrate on the feeling of the pleasure I was building between her legs. I started whispering to her, filthy things that made her eyes go wide but her grip tensed.
And finally she tightened around me, her whole body growing taut like Adam's guitar strings. Her fingers were going to leave marks, but I didn't care. I only cared that her sweet orgasm was shaking her body, taking over her entire being, until she cried out a long, sweet, low sound of utter pleasure. I let go and let the climax I'd been holding off roar through me. I came so hard my entire body shook.
We were both panting like we'd run a marathon, but while she was catching her breath, I was trying to pull my tongue out of the back of my throat.
"That was so fucking beautiful, Winter," I said, stroking her gently, enjoying those tiny ripples of aftershock.
"Those were some dirty things you said to me," she said with a tired smile.
"You liked it though."
"I did.”
“Stay the night?" I asked. I tried to make my invitation as light as possible, but it was late and I had no desire to drive her back into town. I wanted to fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up to her smiling face.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I gave her a swift kiss and tossed her my discarded T-shirt to put on while I went to the bathroom to take care of the condom. When I returned, she'd donned the shirt and was straightening the covers.
"Sorry," she blushed. "I like my blankets all orderly and smooth."
"No problem." I picked up another pillow and helped her spread the comforter out.
When everything was situated to her satisfaction, I lifted the comforter and sheet and gestured for her to climb in. She did, flashing a little ass and a lot of leg. I sighed in appreciation. I could get used to that sight.
Crawling in beside her, I settled on my back and slid an arm underneath her so I could draw her close to my body. I heard her sniff.
"Need a Kleenex?" I moved to exit the bed, but she stopped me.
"No. I was smelling your T-shirt. I think I'm going to take a dozen home with me and set up a kiosk at the mall where I'd sell boyfriend T-shirts."
"Don't women think we men stink all the time?"
"No." She inhaled deeply. "It smells…I don't know. Comforting? Sexy? All of the above?"
"I am pretty awesome," I joked. She pinched me lightly above my nipple in response. I grabbed her hand and brought it to my lips. "Hey, don't damage the goods," I scolded. She settled into my embrace, and like everything else with Winter, it felt right.
"You're the first girl to spend the night here," I said absently.
"Really? How is that possible?"
I stroked a hand down her arm, enjoying the feel of her soft tits pressing into my side and the light pressure of her leg as it rested on top of mine. "You have overnights in your parents' house often?"
"No, never," she admitted.
"Dad told me my mom wouldn't approve and that every kid had to make out in the basement. It was a rite of passage."
"I've only slept overnight with Hugh, and even then only a few times. Hugh liked his space."
I grunted. "I think we’ve established Hugh was an idiot, but that's a good thing. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"Good point." She snuggled closer.
"What department would mine be in?" I was referring to the boyfriend shirt shop.
"Yours are behind the counter and for display only. I'm not giving them up."
"I like that." I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "But there's more where those come from, so long as you stick around."
"You're going to have to scrape me off like ice on a windshield."
•••
Predictably, I woke up with morning wood. We'd moved into the spoon position in the middle of the night, and my hard-on was nestled right in the crease of her ass. The big guy liked it there, but after kissing Winter's shoulders for a few minutes and getting no response, I figured the decent thing to do was to let her sleep. There'd be plenty of time for action later, I scolded my dick and went to take a cold shower.
It was only four in the morning, but I'd always woken before the sun. My dad and I would often grab breakfast at our favorite greasy spoon, and be back before Mom rolled out of bed. It was a habit I couldn't break even in college, much to my roommate and occasional overnight guest's dismay.
On the counter in the kitchen was a bowl of apples. I snagged a few and went outside to put the horses on the electronic walker. The four nickered with excitement when I held up their treats.
"Going to introduce you to my girl," I told them as I rubbed their velvety noses. I hooked a lead rope onto each of their halters and led them out one by one to the walker. Dad and I had installed the walker the summer before I left for college when the number of horses in the barn went from eight to four. It was round and accommodated four horses. Instead of clipping the horse's harness to a rope on a pole that rotated, the new design created a moving stall by inserting a chain fence wall at the end of the pole. It was like having a gate at the front and rear of the horse. The idea was that the gate pushed the horse and that because the horse wasn't tied to any pole, he or she would have more room to move around, particularly if there was a failure.
The motor was set for a walk, and I left the horses enjoying their morning exercises to go inside and make coffee. The smell of breakfast reached me before I'd even opened the back door.
"Winter?" I called out, but it wasn't a curtain of black hair that I saw at the stove. It was a short bob of blond. My mother. I stilled in shock.
> "Good morning, Finnegan," she answered, seemingly oblivious to how unusual it was for her to be standing in the kitchen. She’d been hiding in her bedroom suite for the last three months. "Your friend isn't up yet."
If she didn’t want to bring it up, then I wouldn’t either.
"Thanks. Can I help?" I hung up the barn coat and toed off my boots, then went to wash my hands.
"Yes, would you chop the onion? I thought I'd make omelets. Does this…Winter girl like mushrooms?"
I riffled through my memories of eating at the Donovan house. "Yeah, I think she does."
The fact that I didn't know for certain bothered Mom. Her shoulders tensed, and she paused in the whipping of the eggs.
"The name Winter is very unusual. Didn't you date a girl whose sister was named Winter?"
Now it was my shoulders that were tense. Since I planned to have Winter around for a while, it didn't make sense to deny it. "Yeah, Winter Donovan. I dated her sister Ivy back in high school."
The look my mom shot me was full of pain and anger. "What are you doing, Finnegan? Dating sisters? That's a recipe for disaster, and you know it."
I dragged a hand over my mouth to keep a million bitter things out. Mom and I were all that was left of this branch of the O'Malley family tree. It didn't make sense for us to constantly be at odds.
"If I had planned on spending the rest of my life with Ivy Donovan, I would have asked her to marry me. I didn't. We broke up. End of story." I tried to change the subject. "You look good."
It wasn't a complete lie. She was upright, and that was a positive. Her hair was brushed, and while she was wearing a long, fluffy floor length robe, it was still early in the morning.
"Don’t change the subject. What are you doing?” she snapped.
I took a deep breath and then another and reminded myself of all the times my dad came home smelling of someone else's perfume. "Sorry. I’m spending time with Winter because she's interesting, smart, and talented. That she happens to be related to someone from my past isn’t relevant. I like her a lot, so I hope you'll be kind to her."
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