“What?”
“You talking like that? Gonna make me explode before I even have my fucking pants off.”
Before she could respond to that, I buried my face between her thighs and gave her exactly what she asked for—my mouth on her clit, my middle finger caressing and massaging inside her, and then two fingers, and then three, stretching her. Her clit was sugar on my tongue, sweet and tart and delicious, a hard little nub begging for my attention. I gave it to her, aggressively, starved for the taste of her. I licked it, swiped it side to side, circled, flicked it up and down, suckled it into my mouth and sucked until she screamed, and then licked it again with the flat of my tongue, faster and faster until her hips were writhing and she was clinging desperately to my neck with both hands, balanced on the ledge of the stern, nothing but white wake and gray-green ocean beneath her, the risk making it all the more thrilling. Wind tossed her hair behind her, caught her whimpers as they ratcheted up to screams. I wrapped my one free arm around her back, clutching her close, making sure I had a firm hold on her, so she’d know without a doubt that I had her safe and secure.
No teasing, no drawing it out—this was about raw, primal hunger. I made her come in record time, drawing the screams from her with my greedy mouth and eager fingers, and when she came apart, she screamed my name to the wind, wrapping around me with arms and legs until I had no choice but bring her off the ledge. I wasn’t done, though. Not by a long shot. She’d asked me to make her come until she couldn’t take any more, and I planned to deliver exactly that. So I lifted her off the ledge, cradled her in my arms and carried her across the rear deck to the couch, and set her down. She was still quaking and gasping from her first orgasm, and I knew her clit needed a moment to recover. The rest of her didn’t need that break, though; I nipped at her breasts, kissing the heavy underside of one and around the inside and up to her nipple, which I sucked between my teeth and flicked with my tongue. Sensitive, she gasped, jerking against me, and I kept going, transferring my mouth to her other breast, teasing closer to the nipple until she was trembling in anticipation. I suckled on the thick, rigid protrusion of her nipple until she arched her back, pressing her breast harder against my mouth, and then I let my fingers dance up her thighs. She had them pressed together, and at my touch, she flung them wide open, scooting her butt to the edge of the cushion, her hand on my face, cupping my cheeks as I worshipped her breasts, one and then the other. I stroked her slit upward, letting my finger drag across her clit, testing her reaction—she groaned raggedly, and I knew she was almost ready for number two.
Instead of going for it, though, I decided I wanted to explore her channel more—stimulate her from the inside. I started with one finger, but I didn’t go for the G-spot. Instead, I slid it in as deep as it would go, feeling her pussy clamp around it from the last of the aftershocks, or the precursors of the next one, I wasn’t sure which. I explored her with one finger, swiping along the sides, feeling the smooth, wet, slick walls under my touch. And then I added a finger, and then after a few moments, a third, the digits cramped into a delta. Curling them, I drew them out, slid them in. She moaned, hips flexing. In and then out, faster, now. More. Her groan was guttural, raw, dragged out of her chest as I ground my fingers in and out of her faster and faster, making sure to start hitting that spot. Groan after groan tore from Kitty’s lips, each more ragged than the last—until I used the fingers of my other hand to massage her clit in synch with the movement of my other hand. Her knees drew up, heels pressing against my shoulders, seeking a better angle, opening more for me. Slowly and then with increasing desperation, she sank into the orgasm, hips starting to buck, her whole body writhing, head thrown back, beautiful tits shaking as she quaked and thrashed under me. Faster, faster, until she was screaming my name in a chant—
She came with one last wordless scream, spine arched, whole body racked and trembling.
My intent was to keep going, take her right through to number three, but she had other plans.
As soon as the tremors of her orgasm released her, she kicked me away, and not gently, either.
“Had enough already?” I said, with a laughing growl.
She went to her feet, standing over me, staring down at me—I was on my knees, sitting on my shins, gazing up at her. She shook her head, biting her lip.
“No, Roman, I haven’t. I haven’t had anywhere near enough.”
“Then why’d you stop me?”
She reached down and took my hands, lifting me to my feet. “Because I want more than to just let you make me come.”
“Like what?”
Kitty lifted my hands, slid my middle finger into her mouth, and slowly dragged it out, her tongue curling around it, tasting herself on my finger. She repeated this with each finger that had been inside her, each erotic slide of my finger between her lips making my cock throb harder, making my heart slam more furiously in my chest.
“Like…everything,” she said, and reached for my belt, lust blazing in her eyes.
11
Kitty
* * *
I was still shaking from the orgasms he’d given me—the second of which was utterly unlike anything I’d ever felt. The way he’d touched me, massaging me deep inside, only going for my clitoris when I was already crazed with need? The orgasm had originated deep inside, making my core clench harder than ever before, making my entire body seize with paralytic, scream-inducing ecstasy.
And now, after two intense orgasms and hours of buildup, I wanted more than just my own pleasure.
I needed Roman.
I’d come here with the intention of giving him a chance, of exploring what could be between us. Sex, at the very least. More, possibly.
But in this moment, the only thought on my mind was to touch him, to taste him, to give in to my own desire for him.
Time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him wait—and me too, in the process. I just stood there, letting my gaze rake over his body; he was shirtless, his broad chest and mountainous shoulders and thick arms bare, rippling abs tensing as he breathed. Black suit pants, black leather belt, black dress shoes. The pants were tight around his thighs, hugging his trim waist, and the zipper was bulging, straining to contain him. I wanted badly to just free him, take him in my hands, caress him and show him how much I needed him. Instead, I glanced down at his feet.
“Why are you still wearing shoes?” I asked.
He smirked. “Been a little busy.”
I thought about trying to play tough girl, ordering him to take them off…but that wouldn’t be me. It would come across as funny rather than hot, probably. So, instead, I dropped to my knees and cupped his calf, pulling his foot toward me. He balanced effortlessly on one foot, and I propped his shoe on my thigh. I untied the laces, loosened them and tugged the shoe off, setting it aside. I trailed my fingers up under the cuff of his trousers, tickling his hairy, muscular calf. Hooked a finger inside his black dress sock and tugged it down, and then off. Slowly, I repeated the process on his other foot.
He glanced down at me in bemusement. “I had no idea having my shoes and socks taken off could be so hot.”
“So I taught you something new?” I asked, standing up.
“You’re teaching me a lot of new things, Kitty.”
I trailed my fingers up his thighs, feeling the hard knots of muscle bunch under my touch. “Like what?”
“Like the fact that I’ve never known true need until I met you.”
“Same,” I replied, biting my lip as I palmed his thighs, and then ran my hands upward, caressing the bunched muscle of his powerful quads.
“You don’t understand, though,” he muttered.
“What don’t I understand?”
“How bad I need you to quit fucking around and touch me.”
I just smirked at him, bringing my hands closer together, nearer to the center of his pants, closer to the zipper and the massive presence behind it. “What’s that phrase? Oh, yeah: turnabout is fair pl
ay.”
“Fuck,” he snarled. “I’m tryin’ to let you have your moment, Kitty, but you’re makin’ it hard.”
I frowned at him. “Let me have my moment?”
He gestured at my hands as I traced the outline of his package with my index fingers. “This. You playin’ this out.”
“Is it really so hard for you to let me have my moment?”
He curled his hands into fists and tucked them behind his head, causing his biceps to swell to eye-popping proportions—which only made my desire blaze hotter. “Yes, Kitty, it is exactly that hard.”
“How hard?” I asked, turning the question into an innuendo with little more than a smirk and a teasing look.
“You’re about to find out, princess.” His murmur was a promise, a threat.
“I am?” I asked, innocent. “When?”
“Keep playin’, Kitty,” he growled. “You’ll find out.”
I ran a finger along his length, my fingertip stuttering over the cold teeth of the zipper. “You wanted to make sure you didn’t rush it, you said. You made me stand there, naked, self-conscious, while you just stared at me. You wanted to appreciate the moment, you said.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And now it’s my turn.” I slid the end of the belt out of the loop, tugged the prong free, and let the belt hang open. “Surely you can manage to just stand there a few minutes and let me appreciate you.”
“I want you to appreciate me with your mouth, is what I fuckin’ want.” He said this through gritted teeth, hands knotted together behind his head, massive arms swollen as he tensed them to keep from grabbing me and doing who knows what to me.
“That’s so crude, Roman,” I protested.
Was I protesting out of habit? Did I really mind his crudeness all that much? Not really. It was hot, in the moment. And I knew that’s what he wanted—he’d said so before, how he wanted my mouth on him.
The question was whether I was prepared to give him that. It wasn’t something I did very much with my ex, and when I did, it always resulted in things going faster than I’d intended, leaving us with an awkward space before he was ready again, which typically meant the heat of the moment was lost, as was my desire.
With Roman, however, I had a feeling it would be different, as everything was.
“Crude, but true.” He let out a snarling breath. “You’re fuckin’ killing me, Kitty. You’re taking for goddamned ever.”
I ran my hands around his hips, cupping the hard round cannonballs of his buttocks. “Toughen up, Roman. You’ve tortured me enough—surely you can take your own medicine for a few minutes.”
He laughed, gruff, rough, mocking. “Don’t be so sure, Kitty. You did tell me not to hold back, and now you’re preaching a different sermon.”
“That was then, this is now.”
“So you just want me to stand here and do nothing?”
“No, I want you to stand there and let me enjoy the process of getting you naked and touching you for the first time. Don’t be impatient.”
“Have you met me?” he asked, half laughing, half growling. “Patience ain’t my strong suit.”
I laughed, bringing my hands back around front. “I know—believe me, I know.” I traced his outline again. “Just look at this as…an opportunity to strengthen that muscle a little bit.”
He let out a long slow breath. “Tryin’, but I’ll warn you, babe—you’ve got maybe sixty seconds before my control is gone. So make use of the time you’ve got left.”
My eyes widened as I realized he wasn’t kidding. His eyes were raking over my body eagerly, hungrily. He still had his hands fisted behind his head, biceps flexing, and his breathing was ragged.
“It’s really that hard for you to just stand still and let me take my time exploring you?” I asked.
“You’ve got no fucking clue, Kitty. Takin’ everything I’ve got.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip, knowing it drove him crazy.
Sultry eyes, gazing at him from beneath my eyelashes, breathing slowly, not touching him now at all. Just standing, meeting his stare, letting my eyes make promises of what I’d let him do, once his restraint was gone.
“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that, goddammit,” he rumbled. “Those eyes of yours are fucking…”
“What?”
“Killing me, that’s what,” he muttered, closing his eyes briefly with a ragged sigh.
Lip caught in my teeth, just to make him crazy, I kept looking at him like that, my sultry, aroused need not at all faked or played up. I was lost to this, lost in my need. I’d probably cringe in mortification later, thinking of all this, but right now, I didn’t care. I just wanted him. Having felt the thick burden behind his zipper, I had a pretty good idea what I’d be unleashing, and I knew it’d be breathtaking.
No way I was ready, but I wanted it.
Lust blazed in me, pulsed through my veins. This man—this arrogant, infuriating, surprisingly sweet, crude, beast of a man…I’ve never wanted anyone or anything with the wild intensity of my need for Roman Badd in that moment.
My own ability to wait, to tease him, to draw this out was used up.
I ripped the belt out of his pants, tossed it aside. Popped the button and dragged down the zipper—he swelled into the opening, tight black briefs straining to contain his manhood. His pants dropped to his ankles, and he toed them aside, standing now in just his underwear. My eyes wandered his physique, from the planes of his shoulders to the hard swell of his chest, his furrowed abdomen, trim wedge of a waist, thick thighs…and that absolutely enormous bulge behind the stretchy cotton of his briefs.
I needed contact with him before I bared him. I needed reassurance, a hit of the drug of his touch, his kiss.
I pressed up against him, letting my breasts flatten between us, his manhood a thick ridge against my bare core, separated only by a thin layer of fabric. My hands clutched at his back and shoulders, roaming, caressing, my eyes seeking his, my expression open—he knew exactly what I needed, somehow. He brought his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks.
He kissed me, for the first time that night. His mouth was firm and warm, his lips damp and strong, sliding against mine in a slow, arousing dance. His tongue angled between my teeth, seeking my tongue; his breath was mine, and mine was his. My chest ached, swelling, tightening as Roman kissed me, and my fingers dug into the backs of his shoulders, clawing at him. My lungs screamed, but I kissed him anyway, taking his breath instead of oxygen. Sucking his tongue into my mouth, I snared the back of his head with my hands, then broke to catch my breath.
His lips brushed mine, his breath hot on my mouth.
“Kitty…” His growl was as ragged as I felt.
I let go of his neck, kept my forehead against his, watching my hands as they delved between our bodies, hooked into the waist of his underwear and tugged them down past his hips in a quick and unceremonious jerking movement. He stepped, kicked them away, and was naked with me. Eyes open wide and staring, lip caught between my teeth, I could do nothing but gasp, stunned breathless as expected at the scope of his magnificent manhood.
Curved inward ever so slightly, circumcised, the broad fat pink head leaking a droplet of clear liquid, the girth was all taut dusky flesh and straining veins. I’d need both hands to encompass all of his length, and I doubted my fingers would meet around his thickness. Heavy balls hanging tight against him, the shaft bobbing with his breath, the tip touching his navel.
My forehead resting on his, I wrapped one hand around the thick head and slid my grip downward—and no, I couldn’t bring my fingers together.
“That tiny little hand—Kitty, fuck…” His growl was tense, taut, snapping with need.
I stroked him with the one hand, taking an eternity to pass my hand from head to base. Then my other hand, just the one, sliding my fingers around him from root to tip. He groaned, his hands descending to a vise grip into my hips. His eyes were closed, jaw tensed, flexing. And then, when I wrapped both hands
around him, his eyes flew open to watch as I caressed his length.
“Goddammit, Kitty,” he barked.
“What?” I asked, genuinely perplexed. “I’m not trying to tease you.”
“No, I’m just—” he cut off with another long, guttural groan as I twisted my hands around the head. “Fuck. That’s it—I can’t handle this another fucking second.”
He yanked away from me, eyes raging with lust and furious need. Roughly, quickly, he pinioned my jaw in one hand, jerked me to his mouth for a hot kiss that lasted too short of a time, and then he had my shoulders in his hands, his grip powerful and rough, making me feel delicate and weak. His grip pressured me downward, his eyes on mine. I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t sure I was ready. Was I ready? He was too much. God, so much, so huge, so thick. When was the last time I’d done it, taken a man in my mouth? I couldn’t remember. A night of half-drunk, sloppy horniness with Tom, a year ago? Two? Who knows, who cares?
I hesitated another moment, my eyes on his. He let go, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones, and then I sank to my knees, my hands roaming his hard abs, sliding around to his butt, clawing into the muscle, clutching him, and then palming up his huge chest and back down.
I stared up at him, wide-eyed, nervous—his touch was all power, all control, demanding. His eyes were snapping with fire, blue flames burning with need that would brook no refusal.
“I need your fuckin’ mouth, Kitten,” he rasped, his voice taut. He fisted his cock, angled it toward me. “Let me watch you wrap that sweet, innocent little mouth around my cock.”
Oh god—I was going to.
I had to.
I wanted to. His command sliced through me, set fire to my needs, erased my inhibitions. I felt free, in a way I’d never felt before—it was just him, all that he was.
I was hesitating, and he didn’t like it.
“Take my cock, Kitty.”
“Roman—”
“Now.” He traced my lips with the tip. “I’m done playin’, done messing around. I need you, and I need you right the fuck now.”
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