What.
When the first contractions gripped her and she whimpered with pleasure, I wanted nothing more than to yank off my jeans, pull out my finger, and replace it with my cock.
Instead, as the hard spasms subsided into soft ripples, I slipped my finger from her, wiped my mouth with my forearm, and reached for the dildo.
"Ready for step two, baby?" I asked.
She struggled up to a half-sitting position and smiled down at me. "Fuck, yeah."
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41
According to Matthew [The Gospel of Love 2]
by Jackie Barbosa
Chapter Seven
For a second, I was afraid I might lose it like an adolescent boy getting his first hand job in the back row of the movie theater. But I was the one with experience here, damn it, and I needed to keep my head.
Or heads, as the case may be.
I shifted, trying to adjust my dick and balls into a more comfortable position inside my jeans—which I'd never though of as tight before—while I slathered the dildo with more lubricant. Casey watched me with wide, dilated eyes.
After I was done, I had a fragile but reasonably steady grip on my control, though my voice was still shakier than I would have liked when I tapped her on one gorgeous butt cheek and said, "Roll over and get on your knees."
She bit her lip, a dubious expression crossing her features as she seemed to realize just how big the dildo was and where it was going.
"My cock is bigger than this," I pointed out. Hell, right now, it felt about two feet long and six inches around, although I knew it wasn't. I did, however, know I was plenty well-endowed, and I'd hurt her if I wasn't careful. "If you can't take all of this, you can't take all of me. And I wouldn't expect you to."
She nodded slowly then got up on all fours. I took a deep, shuddering breath at the sight of her like that—ass and pussy tilted up, exposed, inviting. As I drew my fingers along her lips, she gave a small, satisfied sigh and relaxed fully, 42
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allowing me to press the dildo a solid two inches into her before encountering resistance. I stopped instantly, holding steady with the level of penetration I'd achieved.
"You all right?" I feathered her clit as I asked the question.
"Oh, God, I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know if I can take any more. It's too much. Too intense."
"We can stop if you want," I offered, while silently praying she wouldn't take me up on it. But if she wasn't up to this, I wouldn't force things.
She hesitated a long moment, and I tensed, fearing the worst. Then she shook her head. "No, keep going. It's getting better now." Lifting her head, she turned and looked at me over her shoulder. "Besides, the whole idea is making me so horny, I can't stand it."
Me too, baby. Me too.
Relieved, I leaned forward and kissed her mouth softly.
"I'm all about making you horny."
Her features clouded for a second. "God, I missed you."
She kissed me fiercely. "Please don't leave me again, Matty."
My chest pinched. "I won't," I promised, and hoped I was telling the truth.
"Thank you," she whispered. Then a slow, sultry smile pulled her lips upward. "Let's do this thing." She closed her eyes and rocked her hips backward, taking another half inch of the dildo into her ass.
My cock twitched with anticipation. Good thing I'd kept it in my pants, or I might not have been able to keep it to myself over the next few minutes. Little by little, Casey and I worked together, back and forth, in and out, until all of it was 43
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buried inside her and she groaned with pleasure. I couldn't think of anything more erotic than watching her asshole stretch and hearing her breath quicken as I set up a slow, steady rhythm with the dildo, fucking her while I stroked her clit.
Well, I could think of one thing that would be more erotic, but I was going to get there. Soon?
"Do you want to come now?" I asked.
"Yes." The word was more sobbed than spoken.
"Can you wait for me?"
She looked over her shoulder again, her face flushed and pupils dilated. "You mean...?"
I nodded. "You've taken it all. How's it feel?"
"Full. Intense." She spoke between panted breaths. "And nasty. I like it way too much."
Grinning, I reached down and unbuttoned my jeans with one hand. "This is one thing I don't think it's possible for you to like too much."
Her eyes widened as I wrestled my dick from my shorts. I wondered offhand how long it would be before I had the patience to get naked first before making love to Casey again.
Right now, all I could think about was getting inside her ass for the first time in my life, and I wasn't going to wait the extra two minutes it would take me to get out of my clothes.
I got on my knees behind her, grabbed the lube, and slid the dildo all the way out, tossing it onto the bedside table with a clatter. After slathering my cock with plenty of lube, I pressed the head into the rapidly shrinking orifice.
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"Stop me if I hurt you," I muttered, even though I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to stop if my life depended on it. The way it felt to be inside her ass—even just those first few centimeters—made me dizzy with lust. Slick, hot, tight ...
and, oh yeah, nasty as hell, in the very best possible way.
"No, don't stop," she breathed, a contented sigh escaping her as she pushed back against me, taking more.
Two inches in, I had to close my eyes. Much as I loved watching my dick sink into her, stretch her, fill her, I knew I'd come before I even got halfway if I didn't look away. Without my sight to guide me, I worked by instinct, sliding my fingers around her hip and into her wet pussy, the heavy scent of her arousal another assault on my hard-won control. She hummed approval as I set up an even in-and-out rhythm, my cock slipping in a little deeper each time until at last, I was all the way in and my balls slapped against her ass with each thrust.
"Oh, God, Matty," she moaned, urging me to pick up the pace by pushing toward me as I drove in. "More. I'm so close."
I lost it then, any restraint I might have had overwhelmed by pure, primal lust, and by the triumph of having Casey, having all of her, of knowing she was completely, totally mine.
And still, it wasn't enough.
I fucked her ass as hard as I'd fucked her pussy the night before, and she didn't object, coming right along for the ride as if she'd done this a thousand times before. But she hadn't.
I was sure of it.
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My orgasm coiled in my balls, ready to strike like lightning.
"Come with me, Case," I said. "Gotta feel you come with me in your ass. Can't last much longer.
She pushed my hand out of the way, taking over for my fingers with her own. Her thighs tensed. Her pussy clenched.
"Now." She shuddered, and the snug walls of her anus tightened even more as her climax thundered across her.
Clench, release, clench, release ... her muscles pumped me while I pumped her.
"So..." Ooomph. "Fucking..." Ooomph. "Good." Ooomph.
And then my orgasm grabbed me and tossed me overboard, my cock and balls pulsing as I filled her with hot, thick cum.
She collapsed beneath me, and I rolled to the side, cradling her against my chest, my softening cock still embedded in her ass.
"I love you," I whispered, levering myself up onto one elbow to kiss her cheek. My mouth came away wet. Salty.
Damn. She was crying.
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46
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by Jackie
Barbosa
Chapter Eight
"Oh, God," I said. "I hurt you, didn't I?" I pulled out, feeling like the biggest bastard this side of Freddy Krueger.
"I'm sorry."
She rolled toward me. "No, it's not that." Brushing my damp hair back from my forehead, she kissed me softly on the mouth. "And you didn't hurt me at all. I loved it. I can't believe I was afraid to before now."
"Then what? Why the tears?"
Her full, gorgeous lips curved into a wistful smile. "Haven't you ever heard of anyone crying for joy?"
My eyes narrowed. This had something to do with the reason she wouldn't marry me. I was sure of it. "Tell me what's going on, Casey. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."
She shook her head, wiping away the tears with her thumb. "It's nothing. I'm just happy, I swear." Snuggling closer, she kissed me again, harder this time, then rubbed her cheek where my eight a.m. shadow had left tiny red marks. "You need a shave." She sniffed the air, rich with the odor of sweat and sex, and chuckled. "And I think we could both use a shower about now."
I knew she was changing the subject to avoid the discussion, but I had promised I wouldn't pressure her ... at least not for anything other than sex. And judging by the hand creeping down my abdomen, I wasn't going to have to 47
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pressure her very hard for that. My cock stirred to renewed life at the prospect.
We wound up together in the shower, making love against the tiled wall until the water ran so cold we couldn't stand it.
"The neighbors are going to complain to the management that there's no hot water," Casey observed with a laugh as I carried her, dripping, from the bathroom to the bedroom.
"They're going to complain even more that all the dryers are full." I grinned and dropped her onto the bed, following her down and thrusting back inside her in the same motion.
She wrapped her arms around my back and her legs around my hips as I finished what we'd started. This time, I was able to hold off long enough to make her come three times before surrendering to my own climax.
I buried my face in her neck, waiting for my respiration to normalize, only to hear a loud, unmistakable rumble.
"Sorry," Casey murmured, her cheeks flushing darker red.
"I didn't eat dinner last night. I'm starving."
Reluctantly, I withdrew from her body and grabbed a handful of tissues for her. "Original Pancake House?" I asked, naming our favorite restaurant within walking distance of her apartment. Going there for breakfast after I'd spent the night had been something of a tradition.
Casey practically leapt off the bed. "Definitely."
* * * *
Forty-five minutes later, we lounged in a cozy booth at the back of the crowded little restaurant, sated on pancakes and 48
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sipping our coffee in companionable silence while we waited for the server to bring our check.
The hostess seated a middle-aged black couple at the table across from us. They had only been there a few moments before I noticed that they kept stealing glances our way and whispering to one another. So much for modern tolerance of interracial relationships, I thought sourly.
I was on the verge of calling them on their rudeness when the woman leaned toward Casey and said, "Excuse me, but aren't you Casey Franklin? The alderman's daughter?"
Casey flinched but nodded. "Yes." Her tone was wary. She was accustomed to being recognized in public, and whenever it happened, there was a roughly fifty-fifty chance of being either congratulated or harangued for something her father had or hadn't done.
"Then I wonder if you could tell me ... is it true?"
It was then I saw the newspaper folded next to the woman's plate. The excess of syrup I'd eaten with my pancakes congealed in my stomach.
"Is what true?" I asked, my mouth dry as dust.
Even though I'd made that crack to Lincoln about the story being in the morning paper, I hadn't actually believed it. I'd figured the afternoon edition was more likely. But what else could have happened in the past twenty-four hours that was both newsworthy and might involve Casey's father in some way?
The woman picked up the paper and handed it to me. I opened it, aware of Casey watching me with anxious eyes.
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Nothing could have prepared me for the headline splashed across the top of the page in big, bold type.
ALDERMAN ALLEGES POLICE MISCONDUCT
IN ARREST OF SON-IN-LAW
The blood rushed from my head, but not to any place good. I wasn't even sure where it had gone. My ears rang, my lungs seized, and my vision swam, but not so much that I couldn't read the first few paragraphs of the article, thereby confirming what I already knew.
Casey and Lincoln weren't lovers; they were married.
* * * *
"Wait!" Casey chased me out of the restaurant and into the parking lot.
I lengthened my stride, not looking back. Though the mid-morning sun beat down, pleasant and warm, I was ice cold.
Numb. Dead inside.
Just before I reached the bridge for the Metra train, a hand closed around my bicep and wrenched me around. "Please, Matty, you have to let me explain." Casey's eyes brimmed with tears. "It's not what you think."
I yanked my arm from her grasp, turned away, and kept walking. The last thing I wanted was to hear her try to justify herself.
At least now I understood why she'd turned down my proposal. She'd gotten a better offer somewhere else.
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Though I had to admit, I was damned curious to know what the hell Lincoln was up to, throwing me at Casey when they were married.
Married.
The word made my stomach convulse. Maybe I wasn't as numb as I thought.
Casey's shoes clattered on the sidewalk beside me.
"Matty," she panted, jogging to keep up with me, "I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn't. No one knew about it but Lincoln and me."
"Interesting, since everyone in Chicago knows now."
"That's what I don't understand. How did my father find out? He didn't know."
I stopped dead, causing Casey to stumble as she had to suddenly pull up short beside me. "What do you mean, your father didn't know? He's been trying to get the two of you hitched for years. Although why he kept it a secret until now—"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you if you'll just stop and listen," Casey snapped, swiping at her tears. "Lincoln and I didn't just get married. We've been married for almost ten years."
" What? " I stepped back, my mind doing quick, horrifying math. She had been married when she met me, married when she first slept with me, married when I asked her to marry me. My mouth opened and shut as my brain tried to form words and failed.
Casey took advantage of my momentary loss of the ability to speak to give me the explanation I didn't want to hear. "I 51
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was just out of high school, and he was just out of jail. We met at a party. Back then, he was everything my father hated—an ex-gang kid with no job and no prospects—and I ...
I don't know, I just wanted to do anything to show him I was my own person. Except after we got married, I chickened out and couldn't bring myself to tell Dad. I ended up going away to college like I was supposed to that fall. Lincoln came to visit me a few times, but before long, he started working on the Foundation and we just ... drifted apart. It was never a real marriage."
"You could have gotten a divorce," I managed to wheeze out. Some of my fury had died, smothered by a peculiar form of relief, but I still couldn't believe—hell, I'd been sleeping with a married wo
man for five fucking years. I'd been friends with her husband. I'd asked her to be my wife. And neither she nor Lincoln—who purported to be my friend—had bothered to mention that they were married!
Casey shook her head. "Not without my dad finding out.
The divorce would have been a matter of public record. And by the time I graduated from college, Lincoln was ... well, Lincoln. At first, I didn't want Dad to know I'd married someone he'd consider a deadbeat. Then later, I didn't want him to know I was getting divorced from his first choice for a son-in-law." She placed her palm on my cheek. "Before I met you, I didn't think I'd ever want to get married, so it didn't seem to matter very much if we didn't get divorced."
"And after?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
She smiled sadly. "There was never a good time to say,
'Oh, by the way, I'm married, but don't worry, it's not a real 52
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marriage.' So I kept putting it off. And after five years ... well, by then it was just too late."
We stood there under the bridge, studying each other in silence. I knew she was waiting for me to tell her I understood. That I forgave her.
And I did understand. Sort of. But what I understood was that she was more concerned about staying in her father's good graces than in being honest with me. One way or another, the man would always come between us until she had the strength to stand up to him and put her own wants and needs first.
If, indeed, I was even what she wanted and needed.
Maybe she needed her father's approval more.
Her father...
I narrowed my eyes. "So, if you've been keeping this secret for ten years, how did your father find out now?"
She frowned and shook her head, then we both took deep breaths as the answer dawned on us in unison.
"Lincoln!"
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