Cinq A’ Sept

by Mj Fields

  He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, whispering, “I’d get you so fucking pregnant right now.”

  His words are shocking to me, but I try not to judge. Instead, I ask, “How many do you have?”

  “None.”

  Leaning back, I study his face, thinking he must be joking. He’s not.

  “You don’t even know my name.”

  His brows knit as if in deep thought. “I see you, Brigitte.”

  I shake my head and smile. “How many women have you used that line on?”

  He smirks. “Including tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  He presses on the side of my face and pulls me against his chest again. “One. But we’d have beautiful babies.”

  “I’m sure you’d make beautiful babies with anyone on the planet, Joe. But can I caution you against saying that to the next woman you bed? She may take you up on it. One amazing, flirtatious night with someone doesn’t always tell you who they are. You end up impregnating a woman”—I sigh dramatically—“that’s more of a commitment than a drunken Vegas wedding.”

  He chuckles as he dances his fingers up and down my arm. “So, who hurt you?”

  I lift myself up enough to kiss his spectacular pecs, and he groans. Then I glance up into his eyes that are again thankfully dark with desire. “Let’s not talk about our pasts.”

  “No?”

  I shake my head.

  “So, you’re Brigitte?” He rolls to his side, pushing me onto my back.

  “Sure.”

  He places his open mouth centimeters from my face, and I inhale his hot, minty breath. Then he gently guides my chin upward, exposing more of my neck, and runs his nose slowly down from the back of my ear, telling me, “We have no pains from the past.”

  I moan as he licks back up to the sensitive spot behind my ear.

  “We just met,” he whispers, “and have decided we’re wildly attracted”—he lightly touches the same spot with his lips—“to each other.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “And we’re going to spend as much time as we can exploring one another’s bodies.” With his sexy lips still pressed against my skin, he moves in one fluid motion so he is hovering over my body. He exhales then captures my earlobe between his teeth. My body quivers as heat rolls through me.

  “Sounds perfect,” I arch my back, pressing my beaded nipples against his heated skin.

  “Tell me what you want.” His voice now sounds gravelly and each word is followed by kisses down my neck.

  I knot my hands in his thick, black, silky waves and press my body against his lips as he pushes a knee between my thighs.

  “This,” I say on a whimper as he kisses lower and lower.

  He pushes a hand beneath my ass and lifts it so my bare, wet, heated flesh rubs against his knee. “I’m on the edge of consideration, toes dipping into savage waters, Bridge. You need to tell me what you want now because, otherwise, I’m going to fuck you the way I need to.”

  Need … All I feel is need as I grind myself against his body and exhale a held breath.

  “You’re so fucking ready for this.”

  Before I can confirm, he presses his lips down on mine. My whimper is cut off by his needy tongue and his pleasure-filled groan as he tastes me.

  He moves my head where he wants it, sucking, nipping, and licking my mouth just as promised—savagely. I unknot one of my hands from his hair as I use my tongue to duel with his, needing to taste him as urgently as he needs to taste me.

  I reach lower, shoving his boxers down on one side as he sucks on my lips, licks my tongue, kisses me like I have never been kissed before. His hot, sweet breath and the taste of his tongue are heaven against mine. With a kiss like this, I can only imagine what sex with him will be like.

  I suck at his plump lower lip as I fight to push down the other side of his boxers, desperately needing to rid him of anything between us. Then I start to reach for him when he grabs my hand, pulling it up above my head and pressing it firmly into the mattress.

  With my bottom lip between his teeth, I pull his hair with my free hand, and he growls.

  When he opens his eyes, they are full of heat, fire, and an unspoken promise.

  He clutches my other hand and does the same.

  With both hands now pinned above me in one of his, he palms my breast while watching my face, my reaction to his intensifying grip. I moan, and he bares his teeth slightly before licking his lips.

  My core clenches as I try to lift my hands, desperate to touch him, guide him to where I want him next. He holds them firmer, eyes narrowing slightly in almost a warning that does nothing but excite me.

  As if he knows exactly what I ache for, he bows his head, his hair tickling my sensitive skin as his grip firms and he presses a kiss to my throat then looks up at me.

  “Yes,” I whisper as he inches closer and closer to my aching nipple.

  I watch him wet his lips with his tongue, and then he traces it lightly over the pebbled bud.

  “Please,” I plead.

  When he bites down on my nipple, I cry out. When he grips and pinches the other, lava flows to my core. When I thrust against his knee, though, he pulls away.

  “Please!” It’s not a plea this time, but a demand.

  My breast pops out of his mouth.

  “I think we can get you there this way first.”

  Before I tell him I have never orgasmed from breast play, a new level of desire heats his eyes. They’re black, savage black.

  Before I can take my next breath, he starts working my tits over with his hands and mouth to an unexpected level of pleasure, and before I can rationalize what is happening … I come.

  He offers no respite, no time for my orgasm to end, for me to savor it. Instead, as I try to catch my breath, he pushes a finger inside me and curls upward. I gasp in surprise as he crashes his mouth over mine again.

  Teeth and tongues and lips, his bites and kisses and lashes stall my breath, but another finger inside me takes it away… completely.

  I can’t breathe. I am a mess of pleasure overload. My body is a surplus of sensation, under a man who shows no sign of slowing this pace or offering me a chance to relish in a single moment.

  I won’t complain. I can’t complain. I can’t even … think.

  “I’m coming!” I cry out as he curls his fingers again, hitting the exact spot inside me that very few have ever found.

  He withdrawals his fingers, holds them to my lips, and rubs my orgasm across them as he demands, “Suck.”

  I open my mouth wider, and he pushes them inside. He’s not gentle, and I don’t want him to be.

  I suck fiercely as he kisses down my body. Then he hooks his fingers in my mouth, using that hold to guide me up.

  Still sucking the fingers he fucks my mouth with, he turns us and is off the bed and on his knees before me. He spreads my legs wide, so wide as he looks at my most intimate parts.

  “How long have I been starving?” he whispers so softly that I know I’m not supposed to answer. His eyes show something so raw, but also not meant for me.

  In a split-second, he buries his head between my legs as he splits me open with his tongue and pushes it inside.

  “Mmm …” he groans against my skin as he pulls his fingers from my mouth and pushes against my chest so I’m again on my back. Then he throws my legs over his shoulders as he removes his tongue, leaving me feeling empty and aching with need for its return. Instead, he replaces his tongue with his finger as he sucks on my flesh and licks my wetness with growls and groans of pure and raw satisfaction and need.

  When he sucks my clit, I immediately fall apart again. I grab his hair, trying to pull him away, the intensity too much, but he fights it as he pushes me further and further into something of a cyclone.

  “Stop!” I cry out, but it’s not a demand.

  “I can’t,” I beg, but he shows me I can.

  “I’m com-com … Oh, God!”

 
When he stands up, leaving me a limp mess of undone, I search his eyes, hoping to see if a softer layer has reappeared.

  It hasn’t.

  I watch as he pulls a condom out of his shorts pocket, and although I’m a complete and total mess, I ache to see him, all of him, the parts he’s kept from my hands and now my eyes.

  He sheaths himself as he steps forward. Then he leans over and takes my mouth while guiding me to roll over.

  When his mouth leaves mine, I look at him.

  Total savage.

  No mercy.

  No reprieve.

  He grips my ass cheeks and spreads them wide. He rubs his tongue up and down … all of me. Then he pushes one, two, and …

  “Oh, oh, oh …”

  … three fingers inside me, rubbing, pleasing, coating, fucking me.

  When I feel something heavy hit my left cheek then my right, I roll my head to the side and look back at him just as I feel him push the tip of his cock into me.

  “Relax,” he quietly demands, reaching around to rub my clit as he rocks slowly, stretching my pussy with his incredible girth. “Fucking tight,” he groans.

  “Fill me,” I beg.

  And he does.

  Shuddering, cursing, he stills, but only briefly.

  “Full!” I cry out. “So full.”

  “Not yet,” he whispers a hiss, pushing farther into me.

  My body lunges forward, instinctively moving away from him.

  “Fuck,” he curses, gripping my hips and holding me still as he thrusts in and out again.

  I move forward again, and he groans out, “Still.”

  “But—”

  Before I finish my words, he pulls out fully then flips me like a rag doll onto my back, pulls my legs up, placing them on his shoulders, and then drives into me.

  I come immediately.

  His pace increases as he fucks me like a madman, groaning, hissing, and all I can do is hold on.

  I close my eyes and roll my head from side to side as he fucks me harder, faster.

  “Open your eyes,” he demands.

  Looking at him, I see beads of sweat on his forehead.

  He sinks his hard length fully into me, and his eyes roll slightly. “So fucking good.”

  I open my mouth to respond when he pulls back and slams into me over and over again until he stills, his teeth clenched, his body shudders, and I feel his cock pulsing inside me as he comes.

  What a beautiful sight to behold.

  He immediately has his mouth on mine, his kisses softer, slower, less needy, and they last until I fall asleep.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m five years old. It’s getting cold. I’ve got my big coat on.”

  “Holy crap,” I grumble, holding my head that feels like it’s full of a million pounds of running safari animals. Then I reach over and grab my phone off the nightstand.

  FaceTime? I think as I sit up. My body aches … everywhere.

  “I hear your laugh and look up, smiling at you. I run and run.”

  “Bridge, what in the hell is that?”

  I jump at the rough and sexy sound of his voice.

  “Past the pumpkin patch and tractor rides. Look now, the sky is gold.”

  “Hide!”

  “I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home.”

  “What?” He laughs.

  “Hide.” I push him hard, and he falls to the floor. “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall.”

  I feel awful, but it’s a necessary evil.

  “But I know you’re not scared of anything at all.”

  How messed up is this?

  “Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away.”

  I hit the button, stopping the song, and see my daughter.

  “Mom?” she asks on a laugh.

  I smile. “Good morning.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What?” I force a silly laugh.

  She smiles, and it’s a beautiful smile, one that warms my heart every time, but right now … what a mess.

  “Did you go out last night?”

  I nod.

  “You forgot to take off your makeup, huh?”

  I bring the phone closer and see myself. “Oh, my God.”

  She laughs then scolds, “Was alcohol involved, young lady?”

  I sigh then feel a hand grab my ankle and begin tugging me toward the end of the bed.

  “NO!”

  “O … kaaay?” she says in confusion, yet she’s amused.

  I glance over the phone to find him smirking at me. I see a small streak of silver in his hair and am thankful that this presumably younger man isn’t as young as I might have thought.

  I try to kick his hand away then drop the phone when he gives me a good yank, pulling me to the edge.

  I scramble to find the phone in the mess of blankets and sheets as he holds on to my ankle and begins to lick up my leg.

  “Mom?” Natasha laughs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a man in your room.”

  “Hey!” I scold as I pick up the phone while he sucks on my inner thigh.

  “We all know how you are.” Natasha jokes.

  He looks up from between my legs, eyebrows raised high.

  “A nun!” Natasha laughs again, causing him to smirk and spread my legs wider.

  “Tash!” I hear a male voice yell her name. “Let’s roll.”

  “Who was that?” I gasp out, and not because I’m surprised, but because Joe blows against my exposed flesh.

  “Just friends. We’re taking the train to Paris. Just wanted to remind you.”

  “Be safe, honey, okay?” I ask, placing my heel on his shoulder and pushing him back.

  “Always, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I smile sadly.

  “Mom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember.” She holds up her silver bracelet with the inscription. “Be present.”

  I hold up my matching one. “Be present.”

  She ends the call, and then I hit end a dozen times, ensuring the call has ended before I look down at him as he begins kissing my ankle again.

  Between kisses, he asks, “Be present?”

  “In the moment.” I close my eyes.

  “That’s good advice.”

  He sprawls his hand on my belly and pushes me down before he begins licking me … everywhere.

  He’s so damn good at this, too good. God, what am I doing?

  I look down and watch him watching me.

  Be present, I remind myself, and when he sucks on my clit, I come apart quickly.

  He crawls up the bed and kisses me like he did after he screwed me to it last night—slowly, deeply, and sweetly.

  When he pulls away, he holds his forehead to mine. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” I say back, trying to catch my breath.

  His sweet smile turns into a devilish grin. “I hope you don’t have plans today.”

  “I have … some.”

  When he pushes my hair away from my face, I remember how I looked on the phone.

  “Change them. I promised that, when you woke up, my face would be between your legs.”

  I close my eyes and admit, “I’m not sure I am awake yet.”

  “So, on a scale of great and mind-blowing, how’s this dream going?”

  I smile in spite of the situation that should be incredibly awkward, and he kisses me again.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah, that good.” I open my eyes to see him push himself up off the bed. Then he reaches down and pulls me up. This is the first time I see … all of him.

  My mouth drops open a bit, and I look up to see if he caught the shock.

  He winks. “I googled average last night, because I’ve clearly never seen it.”

  I can’t help my silent giggles.

  “I’d apologize on behalf of all the others, but … well, fuck them
.”

  Now I laugh out loud.

  “I have to say I’ve never been with a woman who couldn’t take it from behind, so …” He shrugs.

  “I have a small canal,” I explain, and his grin grows into a smile. Then he bites his lower lip as if holding back laughter, so I explain, “It’s a medical definition.”

  After composing himself, he nods. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m a doctor.”

  “Oh yeah?” I laugh.

  “I can rectal-fy the situation; have you taking it from the back in no time.”

  “That thing isn’t going anywhere near my ass,” I tell him.

  “That thing?” He laughs and looks down at his hard, thick cock. Then he speaks to it. “She doesn’t mean it.”

  I shake my head and look down at his beautiful manhood. “I did mean it like that. I just didn’t want to say.”

  He starts laughing, and I realize I’m having a discussion with a penis.

  He takes a step back, separating us, and pulls me up. “Say cock.”

  “What?” I giggle like a teenaged girl.

  “Say. Cock.”

  He reaches behind me and grabs my ass, lifting me up as I grip his shoulders to ensure I don’t fall as I shake my head. Then he pulls my legs around him and leans down, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, drawing it out farther and causing me to whimper.

  With my nipple between his teeth, he says it again, “Say. Cock.” Then he rubs against me.

  My mouth falls open, and I whisper, “Cock.”

  “Good girl.” He bends over and sets me on the bed.

  Reaching between us, he rubs himself against my opening, and I moan at the sensation.

  “You on the pill?” His voice is gravel.

  “No,” I sigh.

  He leans his forehead against my chest while grumbling curses. Several moments pass before he then stands up and asks, “You drink coffee?”

  I nod.

  He rubs his finger up and down my slit. “What’s your flavor?”

  “Strong,” I answer on a moan.

  “I would have thought for sure it was sweet.” He leans down and licks me once before stepping back. “Don’t move until I get back.”

  “I can order something.”

  Shoot, did that come off as needy, like I don’t want him to leave? Or pushy, like I’m kicking him out the door?