Big Love Abroad (Big Girls Do It Book 11)

by Jasinda Wilder

  I tried to curl in on myself as aftershocks took hold of me, but Ian was jerking my jeans off, and my panties too. My ankles were draped across his shoulders as he knelt on the floor in front of the couch, his broad shoulders angled and curved in front of me like mountains, and his soft sandy, not-quite-reddish hair brushed the now-bare flesh of my inner thighs, and—

  Oh shit.

  His tongue lapped at my juices, slicked up my swollen lips and parted them and delved in. “Mmm. You trimmed.”

  “Uh-hunh.” It was all the sense I could make.

  “I like it.”

  “You—you do?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, his tongue being too busy circling my clit to bother with plebeian concerns like words. When I was juddering wildly under his hungry, relentless mouth, shivering on the cusp of a second orgasm, Ian chose that moment to answer.

  “I do like it, yes. I liked it how it was before, too, though. I like both ways. I just like your pussy, however you choose to maintain it.”

  “So if I shaved it?”

  “I’d like that too.” He reared back a few inches to gaze at the body part in question. “But don’t, if you’re asking. Just like it is, is best, if you want my honest opinion.”

  “Don’t shave it bare, then?”

  “Don’t.” He palmed a hand over me, and trailed his fingers through the slight fuzz. “I like it like this. But don’t do anything for me either way. It’s your pussy, after all.”

  “Ian?”

  He glanced at me. “Yes?”

  I lifted my hips. “Keep going.” I reached down between my legs and stroked his hair. “Please.”

  “Greedy?” he asked with a grin.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

  He pressed the tip of his tongue to my clit and flicked it with tiny darting licking motions until I was gasping sharply, needing so much more than just his tongue on my clit, but too frantic to be able to ask for it. Thank fuck, Ian seemed to know exactly what I needed without having to be told, because he slipped his fingers back inside me, curled and curved and withdrew and speared back in, finger-fucking me with a wet slick sound, licking my clit, and then I was moaning deep in my throat through gritted, clenched teeth as I exploded under his tongue, around his fingers.

  A moment to catch my breath, and then Ian pulled me to my feet and led me into my bedroom and pushed me so my naked backside bumped against the edge of the bed. He tugged my shirt off and made quick work of my bra, and I was totally naked and standing in front of him, his gaze hot and ravenous, and then his mouth was descending to latch onto my breast, tongue swirling and flicking my rigid nipple, thumbing the other one.

  “Ian…” I managed to murmur past moans of bliss.

  “Mmmm-hmmm?” He traded one tit for the other, kissing the outer edge, licking the underside, and his fingers traced my opening so my knees buckled.

  “Pants. Yours. Pants off.” I was discombobulated in the worst way, dizzy from two orgasms in the space of five minutes and another on the horizon, still sleep-befuddled from the nap, and the disorienting transition from dream to waking.

  “I’m not done with you yet—” he started.

  I growled and pushed him away, ripped open the button and zipper of his jeans, shoved the denim down.

  “Wait, wait—” He bent and shoved a hand in one of the hip pockets, withdrew a small box of condoms, tossed them on the bed. “I did get those, before I got the call.”

  I grinned. “I bought some, too. While you were sleeping.”

  I finished removing his jeans, pushed his T-shirt up off his head, tossed it aside, and then sank to my knees in front of him, wrapped both hands around his erection and stroked his length. I glanced up at him, batted my eyelashes and smirked, and sank my mouth onto him. He sucked in a breath, his upper lip curling in a silent snarl of feral pleasure. I worked my hand around the stem of his thick cock while sliding my lips around the plump head, suckling and licking as if it were an ice cream cone. Ian gathered my hair in his hands, dug his fingers into it, gripping it by the roots, his eyes heavy-lidded and his broad chest heaving.

  And then he pulled me away, tugging at my hair until I stood up. “Those sexy lips of yours wrapped around my cock is a damned beautiful thing,” he said.

  “Then why’d you stop me?”

  “Because your legs wrapped around my hips is going to be even more beautiful. I need to fuck you, Nina. I woke up dreaming about being buried deep in your sweet, tight pussy…” He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed me backward until I fell to the bed. I crawled backward away from him, toward the head of the bed, and he followed me, his eyes on mine, blue as the Caribbean. “I woke up needing you, and there you were, your pants opened for me already, sleeping, looking so sweet, so beautiful, and I couldn’t resist. And now I have to have you. I’ve tasted you, now I have to feel you.”

  He snagged the box of condoms, opened it, ripped a packet free, tore it open with his teeth, and rolled the condom down his length in one smooth motion. He knelt over me, muscles hard and rippling, hands on my calves and then sliding up my thighs, tickling and insistent, pushing my knees apart. Ian’s narrow hips fit into the ‘V’ of my thighs perfectly. One hand planted in the mattress at my right ear, the other gripping his shaft, he nudged his tip against my opening. I gasped at the hotness of his rubber-sheathed flesh, at the broadness of his glans as he gently pushed until my labia parted for him. I was slick and wet, aching and ready. I clutched at his sides and pulled, arched my spine, keeping my eyes on his as he edged cautiously deeper.

  “Ian…god.” I didn’t know what I was trying to say. I didn’t care. He felt too good, and I needed more.

  “I know, Nina. Me too.”

  Him too? Did he know what I meant, when I didn’t? It was entirely possible. He seemed to know what I wanted instinctively.

  Except for right now. I needed him fully in me. I needed to feel him surge in and seat deep, needed to be hip to hip with him. Needed to be full. And he was pushing slowly, gradually, carefully.

  I palmed his ass, pulled roughly at him and slammed my hips up against his, driving his hot thick cock into me hard and sudden and perfect.

  “Holy shit, Nina.” His eyes flew wide as he filled me.

  “Jesusfuckyes,” I groaned, grinding my hips against his. “Give it to me, Ian.”

  “Say that again,” he growled.

  “Give it to me, Ian.”

  “How? How do you want it, baby?”

  Baby? That did something to me. Made something go all squishy and tender inside me. No. Nopenopenope. I refused that emotion, pushed it away.

  “Hard and fast,” I told him, flexing my hips away and then slamming back up against him. “Fuck me, Ian.”

  I wasn’t sure what was coming over me, what strange erotic demon was possessing me to talk this way, behave this way. I wasn’t this girl. I wasn’t this woman. I was the one who let out a genteel whimper at most, when I came. I didn’t beg to be fucked. I didn’t even use the word “fuck”. I didn’t even usually curse all that much. But this man, something about him just drove me wild. He made me into some woman I didn’t recognize.

  And damn if I didn’t like her.

  At my demand, Ian’s eyes went hooded and primal. He used his free hand to brush my hair away from my face. “Oh really? You want it hard and fast, do you?” He pressed his hand to my hip, pushed my ass down into the mattress and held me in place, withdrew his cock slowly and gradually. Surged deep, withdrew slowly, agonizingly slowly, now torturing and teasing me.

  I tried to thrust up against him. “Yeah, I do. Hard and fast, Ian.”

  He held me down, let his weight crush me against the bed, at which point I realized he’d been holding himself almost entirely off of me. And now, with his weight on me, I couldn’t move. I was pinned. His lips curled in that signature sexy smirk of his, and he began a slow, deliberate, gentle rhythm.

  “I don’t think so, Nina. I want to savor this. I want to feel i
t.”

  “Savor it?” I gazed up at him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, clawing down his back, kneading his firm ass.

  “You’re so soft beneath me, and your pussy is so wet, so tight. I can’t get enough of how you feel. So yeah, I want to savor it.” He moved so his dick was almost out of me, and thrust quickly and shallowly, so just the tip of him fucked between my labia. “I’m going to take my time with this one. You’ve already come twice, and I promise you’ll come again. But this…Nina, this is for me.”

  “For you, huh?” I was repeating him, stupidly, vapidly. But his cock just felt so fucking good inside me that I couldn’t make any sense.

  “Yeah. It’s a reward. I wanted to bury myself inside you the moment I saw you on the plane. I wanted to rip those yoga pants off you and bend you over the seat and fuck you right there on the damned airplane. But I didn’t. And I wanted to fuck you here, last night. But I didn’t. I needed your pussy so bad, last night, but I had to wait. Now I’m inside you, and I’m not going to rush it.”

  He fluttered shallowly again a few more times, and then, without any warning, plunged deep, and my breath left me in a whoosh. His hipbones bumped against mine, and I could do nothing but grind against him and clutch his muscular ass and hold on as he withdrew slowly. I expected him to tease me with shallow thrusts again, but instead he did the opposite, slamming home hard, once, twice, three times. I felt electric bursts of heat pulse through me once, twice, three times, and I started to moan, and then he slowed it, pushing deep in gradual glides. I felt the length of his cock dragging between my lips, felt our bodies bump together, and then the glide and drag, shivers thrilling through me at the feel of his length juddering out of me, thick and smooth and warm. His chest pressed me to the bed, hard muscles like slabs, his heart hammering in his ribs against mine, his thighs flexing, his breath on my neck, his arm a pillar by my face.

  There was no rhythm to his motions. He really was just taking his time, enjoying the feel of the way our bodies fit together, reveling in the slide of his dick through my pussy, groaning in pleasure as he seated himself fully into me, moaning— “mmmmm, god, Nina” —as he withdrew. And now his hand left my hip to palm my tits, one and then the other, lifting the weight of one and letting it fall to the side, kneading the softness, thumbing my nipples until I inhaled and arched my spine.

  I felt a hollow need chasming within me, a hunger, a burning wild starvation. I needed more. I needed to come. I needed to feel him explode. I needed to feel us fused as we fucked.

  Us?

  Another thought pushed aside, buried deep, subsumed beneath my overwhelming carnal need.

  “Ian…please,” I gasped, unashamed of how desperate I sounded. In fact, I gave in totally; let myself sound breathy and slutty and as sensually flushed with arousal as a porn star. “Fuck me, Ian. Stop playing with me and fuck me. Please, Ian. Please fuck me.”

  “I like the way you sound when you beg, Nina.”

  “Want me to beg again?”

  “Yeah, Nina. I do. Beg me to fuck you.”

  I wrapped my heels around his waist and my arms around his neck and put my lips to his ear, breathed and whispered so softly he’d have to strain to hear. “Fuck me, Ian. Fuck me hard. I’m begging you…fuck me until I can’t take it anymore.”

  At that, Ian lost it. He growled deep in his chest, pulled completely out of me so suddenly I whimpered from the abrupt loss of his cock inside me. His hands pinioned my hips, urging me to roll over. Yet before he let me flip over onto my stomach, his mouth crashed down over mine and his tongue slid between my lips and this kiss, holy hell, this kiss, it scorched and burned and melted everything inside me, devoured any last hint of resistance, fanning the candle flame of desire I’d been feeling up to that point into a raging wildfire. And then he pulled my hips backward, lifting my ass into the air. This all happened so suddenly I was still adjusting my weight on my elbows and knees when he thrust into me and slammed home so hard his thighs slapped against my ass. I cried out, rocked forward.

  “Okay, Nina?”

  “Yeah—god, yeah.” I’d been shocked, but it had felt good. Way too good, possibly. Addictingly good. “Again.”

  He pressed a palm flat against the broad expanse of my right ass cheek, caressing it in wide circles as, instead of pulling back and thrusting again, he merely pressed deeper, pushing his cock more fully into me, wiggling his hips until I somehow managed to take him so deep I felt him bump against something inside me.

  And then, oh god—and then he drew back and fucked me, once, hard, accompanying the sudden thrust with a resounding smack of his palm against my ass. I shrieked out loud, startled, stung, and speared by ecstasy all at once.

  “Jesus, Ian!”

  “This what you wanted, Nina?”

  I couldn’t answer, though, because he’d done it again, thrusting and spanking at the same time. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Why do I like this so much? He gripped my right hip in his hand and thrust again, this time smacking my left cheek. The right side still stung, and now the left did too, my entire ass stinging from smack after smack as he surged into me, faster and faster and faster, each spank coming on the heels of the last one, right-left-right-left, until I was crying out from the stinging pain and the aching bliss and the swelling ecstasy. It hurt, the spanking. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t playful little smacks. It was full-on spanking, now, but each time his palm cracked against my ass, his thrusting cock filled me and sent surging waves of pleasure through me. I didn’t stop him. I let him spank me. I let him spank me as he fucked me from behind, and I felt myself anticipating the resounding crack and the sting of pleasurable pain with each juddering crush of his throbbing cock into my trembling pussy. I pushed back into his thrusts. Arched my spine, offering my ass for the spanking. Rested my weight on my forearms, chest to the mattress, thrusting my ass higher in the air. I cried out louder and louder with each spank, each thrust.

  And within me, an orgasm blossomed with furious ferocity. It took hold of me low down, deep inside me. Teeth sinking in, clenching vise-like on my core, claws hooked around my gut, into my spine. Thighs shook. Heart palpitated. Breath came in shaky gusts. And I was screaming. Screaming. Mouth to the sheet angled slightly to one side, pushing back with my entire body and getting rocked forward, every muscle spasming with each thrust and smack.

  “Come, Nina. I feel you clenching around me. Say my name when you come, Nina.”

  Again, it was as if his words acted like a trigger; I exploded without warning, the blossom detonating into a fireburst of endorphins and oxytocin and dopamine. “IAN! Oh god, IAN!”

  His palms both pressed against my ass, stuttered over onto my back, and he leaned over me, caressing my spine and my shoulders, and then taking a handful of hair, gathering it into a ponytail and tugging sharply. I lifted up onto my hands and knees, pushed back against him, crying out as he fucked me relentlessly, hard and fast, hips slapping loudly against my ass cheeks.

  No more spanking, now, just his cock fucking into me over and over and over, my orgasm detonating and expanding, and detonating again, his fist around my hair tugging me back into his thrusts. I felt a faint worry somewhere inside me about how much I liked being spanked and having my hair pulled and getting creamed on, being fucked from behind, manhandled, made to beg….

  And then Ian came. It wasn’t quick, or quiet, or slow. It was sudden and loud and ferocious and wild, one hand tugging sharply on my hair, the other cradling my hip and jerking me back into his thrusts, his cock throbbing inside me, his voice shouting out loud, his sweat smearing on my skin.

  “Say…my name…Ian,” I demanded, between gasps.

  “Nina, oh god, Nina, fuck—I’m coming, Nina!”

  Slam. Pound. Crash. Smack. His thrusts stuttered, faltered, and stopped, his cock buried deep, and he could only grind deeper, both hands clutching my hips and keeping me pinned back against him, jerking hard as he ground deeper, groaning wordlessly, pulsing against my ass.


  He collapsed forward onto me, plastered his face to my back. “Nina, holy shit Nina.”

  Ian let me go, rolling onto his back as I fell forward onto my stomach, moaning in relief as the aftershocks shook me, my thighs trembling, arms aching. I was breathing hard, and strangely close to tears.

  “Jesus, Ian.” I rested my cheek on my forearm, gasping for breath.

  “Yeah. Jesus.” He rolled off the bed and I heard his feet padding on the hardwood floor to the bathroom, heard him strip off the condom and then silence as he cleaned himself off, running water and a cabinet opening as he hunted for a towel.

  I focused on listening and interpreting the sounds rather than paying attention to the frantic turmoil going on inside me. I had all sorts of feelings going on, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to examine any of them just yet. Maybe not ever. I’d promised myself this was just going to be fun, that it was going to be what it was while I was in London, and then he’d go his way and I’d go mine and that’d be that. No emotions, no clingy attachment on my part.

  The problem with Nina: I have a tendency toward addiction. When I discover something I like, I want ALL OF IT, ALL THE TIME. If I find a good TV show, I binge watch it until there’s nothing left to watch. Find a good restaurant, I go there every day until I’m sick of it, or they know me by name and what I order. Discover a new band? Listen to the entire discography in chronological order A DOZEN TIMES.

  So now I’ve found a drop-dead gorgeous man with a sexy-as-fuck accent and muscles for days and a lovely, beautiful, delicious cock and god can he use it well, and he seems to like me exactly as I am, excess of curves and all. So, yeah. Debilitating addiction, here I come. But I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen.

  That’s why the other guys I dated or slept with or whatever didn’t last too long: I think I intentionally chose—not mediocre, just…average guys. Men who were attractive and fun and seemed to be into me, but…they weren’t addiction-worthy.

  And Ian? So, so, SO addiction-worthy. Swoon-worthy. I mean, shit, I was still swooning, still dizzy from three orgasms in a row, and we’d only fucked once. Our first encounter wasn’t really sex-sex. It was foreplay, sexual play. I knew then, though, that sex with Ian was going to rock my world, and god…my world was still rocking.