Skin Deep

by J. M. Stone

  I heard him walk away and come back to me after a second, his hand reaching down to bend my legs one at a time, guiding them until I was kneeling on some sort of padded bench. He ran his hands between my thighs and down them, sliding my legs further apart on the bench, before tracing back up until his fingers brushed the lace that was quickly becoming drenched at the juncture of my thighs.

  I jerked at the light contact, pushing back against his hand, moaning softly and wordlessly entreating him to press harder, deeper into my heat. Instead, I felt the stinging heat of his hand on my ass again, harder this time than it was before, and it made that secret part of me clench and spasm, the dark seduction of it pulling me under.

  Luke’s breath hissed through his teeth before I heard him growl, “You’re not listening, Emma. Don’t. Move.”

  At the low, barely controlled heat in his voice, I writhed against the bed, my hips thrusting forward, seeking to ease the ache between my thighs. My lips parted as I gasped for breath and my heart pounded with desire. I moaned loudly when Luke shoved his fingers beneath the lace covering my tender flesh and slid them deep inside me without warning, thrusting them in and out roughly once, twice, before pulling them out and sliding them forward to circle over the hard bud of my clit.

  “No!” I groaned as he quit my aching flesh, wanting, no- needing to feel him thrusting into me again.

  “Mmmm…you taste so good, sugar,” Luke groaned behind me, and the mental image of him sucking my wetness off his fingers made me moan and buck my hips again, which in turn, meant I felt the sting of his palm meeting my tender flesh once more.

  I cried out at the contact, but not in pain. I heard Luke groan again, and then he grasped the sides of my panties and ripped the lace until I was bare to his gaze. I knew that he was staring at the pale globes of my ass and the wetness I knew was glistening on my silky pink folds peeking from between my thighs. I arched my back, thrusting my ass further up in the air, sliding my legs apart as far as I could before my knees hit the solid arms of the bench.

  Luke growled and I got the reaction I wanted. He smacked my ass again, spanking me on each cheek until the burning reached a fever pitch and I was moaning uncontrollably. I could feel myself slipping under, lost in the spell of pleasure/pain that, until now, had been forbidden to me. Luke stopped the stinging slaps and gently rubbed the reddened skin for a minute, then ran his fingers lightly over the parted flesh between my thighs, dipping in to play in the wetness there, before his hands spread me wide and I felt his tongue spear into me, fucking in and out of my heat with deft strokes, slicking against every inch of me and firing all my nerve endings until I was screaming with the need to shatter on his tongue.

  The beginnings of my orgasm started pulsating deep inside me and when Luke felt me clench on his tongue, he pulled away immediately, leaving me gasping and shrieking in disbelief as I felt those glorious waves subside with nothing feeding them any longer. My body felt empty and ached with fever pitch for the release that he denied me so cruelly. I whimpered in the back of my throat before I gave in and started begging.

  “Luke, please, baby, please, please, please…oh, God!” I moaned, wiggling my hips and trying to bring my thighs together, anything to alleviate the aching, throbbing flesh there.

  I pressed my hands into the mattress beneath me and started pushing myself up, intending to do what, I wasn’t sure, but the feel of Luke’s hands roughly pushing me back down made me gasp before a small sob escaped between my parted lips, borne purely out of frustration and need.

  Immediately, Luke was up and over me, breathing into my ear as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, baby, are you okay? We’ll stop, I promise…”

  “Luke! No, please don’t stop! I just need you, please, fuck me, put your tongue back on me, something! Anything! Just make me come!” I moaned, arching myself up into the hardness of him over me. The thick length of him pressing against the denim of his jeans rubbed against my bare ass and I arched even more, trying to bring him in line with my aching mons, and he chuckled in my ear.

  “Well, if you don’t want me to stop, then you’re in trouble. I told you not to move, sugar. You need to come?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Yes!” I shouted (Seriously, I needed to get off!)

  Luke pulled away from me, still laughing at me (which was starting to piss me off…I was a woman on the edge and if he didn’t do something soon then I was about to have a date with the shower head. Or the bedpost. Or whatever I could get my hands on, including my hands!)

  Smack! Luke’s palm began heating my ass again and I squirmed, thrusting my ass into each stinging slap, not realizing that I was begging him under my breath not to stop. I screamed when his hand moved and slapped the tender flesh between my thighs, the sharpness tingling over my clit and sending me over the edge without warning. Luke’s fingers circled briskly over my clit as I came and came, prolonging the wrenching spasms

  shivering through my body.

  When I finally calmed, Luke slid his hands around my waist and lifted me up off the bed before turning me in his arms and laying me down on the bed. I let him move me around where he wanted me, still unable to move and blinded by the black satin still covering my eyes. He moved my arms above my head and held them there, locked together in one of his hands. I heard something clink before a cool metal bracelet snapped into place on my right wrist and then another snapped onto my left wrist without pause.

  “Luke?” I said tentatively, completely turned on but a little anxious at being locked down on the bed. I moved my hands experimentally and found that the cuffs weren’t too tight and I could reach up and wrap my hands around the slats comprising the headboard of Luke’s bed.

  He moved up between my thighs, spreading my legs high and wide and holding them there with his knees, leaving my smooth, wet, secret folds bare to his gaze. I moaned low in my throat at the feeling of helplessness that washed over me; I was spread open for him to do whatever he wanted to me and there was nothing I could do about it. It was thrilling and scary at the same time and it was driving me wild.

  I felt him lean to the side for a moment, fumbling with something on the nightstand before he was over me again, still holding me open and helpless. He dipped his fingers into my heat again, plying the wetness there over my clit, sliding up and down over it before pushing them slowly deep inside me. I moaned, clenching my inner muscles around his invading fingers, and he pulled them out quickly.

  I gasped as something blazed a trail of liquid fire down my stomach, stopping just short of my cleft. Whatever it was, it was hot, really hot, but not so hot that it was burning me. It almost felt like if you were to accidentally spill candle wax on your…holy shit! Was that what it was? Ohmigod…

  Luke’s lips followed the trail, licking and nipping my skin along my ribcage and down my stomach. I felt the heat splash onto my inner thighs, making me jump and thrust my hips up at the same time. My breath whooshed out of me when I felt Luke move again, and this time something ice cold, dripping wet, and hard slid down my skin, following the trail of wax down my body, but it didn’t stop there. The iciness slipped down over my clit, spreading my folds even more before dipping slightly inside me where it rested for a second, melting and pooling in the heat of my body.

  I moaned, lost in the sensations of hot and cold, and Luke reached up and pulled the blindfold off my eyes. I immediately stared down the length of my body, entranced by the wax drippings on my skin and the slightly wet tracks left on my skin from the ice, but mostly by the sight of Luke’s hard length, jutting up from the juncture of his thighs, long and thick, the tip weeping with the evidence of his desire.

  As I watched, Luke pressed my thighs back further, opening me up even more before dipping the tip of himself into my hot, wet tightness, thrusting forward smoothly until he was seated as deep inside as he could get. I closed my eyes but opened them again at Luke’s harsh directive.

  “Watch me, Emma, watch me inside you. Don’t close your eyes, baby,�
� Luke groaned, beginning a smooth, sliding rhythm in and out of me.

  I watched, helpless to do otherwise, entranced by the sight of his thick, ruddy hardness cleaving into my soft, wet heat over and over again. Luke’s hips began to thrust faster, his skin slapping loudly against mine in the silence broken only by our quickened breaths and soft moans.

  I gripped the slats of the headboard above my head, wishing I was free to touch him, pulling against them as my body strained and rushed toward that shattering moment of release, my hips thrusting up to meet his downward strokes, again and again before we both broke, Luke moaning loudly and me screaming out my release as my body convulsed around his, feeling him pulsing and throbbing deep inside as he filled me.

  Luke released my hands from the cuffs and we cleaned up before we wrapped our arms around one another and fell into an exhausted but satisfied slumber.

  Chapter 16

  Thanksgiving dawned bright and early and I woke with a smile on my face, the memories of last night washing over me and making me ache with want again. Luke was still sleeping beside me, and I carefully threw my leg over him after moving the sheet back, sliding my growing wetness against his slumbering length, loving the feel of it as it started thickening against me.

  Before it fully engorged, I guided it into my heat, moaning softly at the feel of it stretching me as it hardened. Luke twitched under me, his hands coming up to grasp my hips as he blinked his sleepy but gorgeous eyes at me.

  “Mmmm, sugar…what a way to wake up.” He smiled but it faltered as I squeezed him with my inner muscles and began sliding up and down on him, riding his hardness. We moved together, making love slowly and thoroughly before collapsing beside each other, tenderly kissing and touching softly as our bodies cooled.

  We laid there catching our breath before rising to get ready for the day. I was a little nervous about taking Luke and Brandon to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, though I knew I shouldn’t be. I mean, they’ve been coming to Sunday breakfast for a while now, and if that hadn’t made them run for the hills then I should be in the clear, right? I was already giving thanks that Jackson wouldn’t be subjected to the craziness, but I knew my family, and holidays around the Jensen house are anything but normal.

  Take last year, for example. My father, God love him, decided that he was going to deep fry the turkey, so he went out and bought one of those fancy turkey fryer thingies. The turkey came out black (I mean BLACK!) on the outside, but was actually the most delicious turkey we’d had. Doesn’t sound bad, I know, but then, since he had gallons of peanut oil left over, he started frying everything he could get his hands on. We’re talking scoops of stuffing that he dumped into the oil, scoops of macaroni and cheese, cheese sticks that he had found in the back of the freezer, pieces of sliced turkey that he breaded with Andy’s Hot and Spicy chicken breading (that was actually good, by the way) and whatever else he could get his hands on. Mom drew the line at the green bean casserole and cranberry jelly, much to Dad’s dismay.

  The only good thing that came out of that Thanksgiving was that we now have fry nights where we all chip in and bring over different foods and Mom (Dad gave up) fries everything up and we all stuff ourselves sick. But, back to the not normal part of Thanksgiving last year. Since everyone tried pretty much everything Dad fried (like we had a choice), the evening turned into Night of the Living Flatulence and Bathroom Runs; and Mom and Dad only have one bathroom. People did things that night in the woods at the back of the yard that we don’t speak of. Ever.

  After we got showered and dressed, Luke and I headed downstairs to make sure Brandon was up and ready. I had no idea where he had disappeared to last night, and frankly, I was glad he had been gone. The things that Luke had made me scream…

  Brandon was coming out of his bedroom, fully dressed, bright-eyed, and bushy tailed. Okay, the last one was Doug, who was following Brandon, wagging his whole back end like mad while trying to walk. It made him look like an unsteady, malformed duck. I laughed when he waddled his way over to me and sat on his haunches at my feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he cocked his head at me.

  I shook my head at him and grinned at Luke, who was laughing at Doug. “He wants to come for Thanksgiving dinner, too,” he said.

  I shrugged. “Okay. He can come. Mom and Dad won’t mind, especially because they love labs, and the kids will adore him.” I looked back at Doug again. “You wanna go bye-bye, Doug?” I cooed.

  He jumped up and started prancing around me in wide circles, stopping by the front door with every rotation. Luke handed me his leash to put in my purse and we all headed out to the car. I grabbed the Bourbon Banana Nut Bread that I had made in the slow cooker (yummy) from where I had hidden it in the canned vegetable cabinet. This was the second one that I had made because the guys hadn’t taken me seriously when I told them not to eat it because it was for Thanksgiving. It was gone in less than an hour.

  We pulled up at my parents’ house and traipsed into the madness, Doug barking like mad at the kids running crazy through the living room, chasing each other with Nerf dart guns. My brother came around the corner with my sister, Leah, under his arm in a headlock. She had her arms wrapped around his waist, holding on for dear life and was screaming at him to stop. Apparently whatever she had done was bad enough that Noah had her jean clad legs tucked up under each of his arms, helping my brother carry her through the house.

  Luke and Brandon looked at each other for a second before grinning and taking off to see where Calland and Noah were taking Leah. I walked into the kitchen behind them, covering my ears when Leah shrieked as Calland dunked her head into the sink full of dishwater. Noah dropped her legs and Calland stood her up. She looked like a drowned rat with rabies or something. Bubbles dripped down her face and her hair was plastered to her head. Mascara was running down her cheeks in little black rivulets.

  My mom and Jenna were standing side by side at the stove, each stirring something briskly. Without a beat, Mom looked over her shoulder and said, “Told you, you shouldn’t have done that. And you shouldn’t have worn makeup today, raccoon eyes. Go clean up, its almost time to eat.”

  Leah stomped her foot and stormed out, screaming, “FUCKING PENIS RULE!” as she left the room.

  I glanced at my brother-in-law, figuring I would get the straightest answer out of him. “So what’d she do, Noah?”

  Not a man of many words, he simply replied, “Whipped cream and water balloons.”

  I nodded at him as if I knew what the hell he was talking about. Because, sadly, I did. When we were younger, Jenna had come up with the idea of filling water balloons with those aerosol cans of whipped cream to get back at Calland for something he and his friends had done. It was messy but so worth it, and really was done in defense. Poor Jenna was in the bath when Calland had taken her favorite bra, wetted it down in the kitchen sink, and then froze it. By the time Jenna got out of the tub and primped herself up, the bra was frozen stiff. We never did understand why she hadn’t just grabbed another bra or thrown that one in the dryer. Instead, she stood in the bathroom screaming at Calland while she used the blow dryer to thaw it out.

  Calland finally stopped laughing enough to take over Noah’s story. Not that Noah was telling the story any longer, but again, he’s a man of few words. Very few.

  “So,” Calland began, still chuckling. “Leah got the bright idea to surprise me and Noah by hitting us with balloons filled with whipped cream while we were pulling the Christmas tree out of the attic for Mom. Being the ditzoid she is, she didn’t fill them up enough so they just bounced off of us. That’s why she got dunked!” He hooted with laughter again, holding his stomach and wiping tears away as he sputtered about the way Leah had looked after he stuck her head in the sink. Noah was smiling too, but he was more reserved about his glee.

  I raised my eyebrows and shook my head when Luke and Brandon both slapped high-fives with Calland and Noah, and when Luke caught my eye, he just grinned and shrugged. They disappeared
toward the garage with my brother and I heard Brandon asking for details on how to fill the balloons for maximum splattage. Guess I need to watch my back at home from now on.

  I turned to my mom and asked her if she needed my help with anything. She told me to take over stirring the gravy for her before she asked, “Emma? Did I hear a dog barking when you guys came in?”

  Uh-oh! I forgot about Doug with everything going on! “Um…well? I didn’t think you’d mind if we brought Doug. He’s Luke’s-” I shut up because it was pointless to talk to her anymore since she’d ran out of the kitchen calling for him.

  Jenna and I looked at each other and shrugged as we heard Mom start cooing to Doug in the living room. Leah came in shaking her head and stood beside us as we heard the click-click-click of Doug’s nails on the wood floors as he followed my Mom back into the kitchen like she was the greatest thing since sliced bread. His goofy doggy grin was plastered across his furry face as he thumped his ass down on the floor as if waiting for something.

  Mom peeked over my shoulder, finally decreeing that the gravy I’d been stirring was done before she shooed us away from the stove. Then we all watched in confusion as she set about filling a small plate with little portions of ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, macaroni and cheese, stuffing, and even a deviled egg. When she was done, we all stared, dumbfounded with eyes wide and mouths gaping, as she plopped herself down on a chair at the kitchen table, pulling the one out beside her and patting it for Doug to hop up on.

  Doug complied, looking every bit the sophisticate as he sat tall and proud on the chair. My mom began feeding him small bites of food from a fork, and Doug, being the perfect polite gentleman, was calmly and gently closing his lips over the fork, his little front teeth lightly scraping the morsels off the tines before chewing, swallowing, and patiently waiting for the next bite.