by Force,Marie
“Know exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Because your every thought and emotion shows on your face. You’d be a terrible poker player, darlin’.”
“Is that so?” I cross my arms over my breasts and stare at him. “What am I thinking now?”
“You’re wondering how you can thank me for the lay and get the hell out of here without hurting my feelings.”
My mouth falls open, but I force it closed and continue to stare at him. How does he do that?
As if he has not a care in the world, he strolls across the spacious bathroom until he’s close enough for me to breathe in the bewitching scent of soap and sex he brings with him. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.” His hands land on my hips, drawing me into his magical web once again. “We’re just getting started.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“What can’t you do, Honey bee?” He loops his arms around me, bringing all our most important parts back into contact.
“For one thing, I can’t talk to you when you’re touching me this way.”
His face lifts into a half grin that is utterly charming—and disarming. Releasing me but keeping his hands on my hips, he says, “Is that better?”
“A little.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Did I hurt you? I tried so hard not to.”
“No, of course not. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Then what is it?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “I thought I could have sex with you and not want it to be anything more, but if I stay, if we do… that… again…”
“Ah, I see,” he says, affecting a grave expression that reminds me of how he looked after the awful accident during our senior year of high school. Back then, I wanted so badly to offer comfort he never would’ve accepted from me—or anyone. “You might want to stay longer, and knowing my reputation, that wouldn’t be wise.”
“Yes.” I’m relieved that he seems to understand. Have I ever had a more serious conversation in which both parties are stark naked? Not that I can recall.
“Can I let you in on a little secret?”
I’d expected him to send me on my way, grateful that I hadn’t done what scores of others before me had probably tried and failed to do—change him. “Um, sure.”
“Remember a month or so ago when I saw you at Matt and Julie’s party?”
I nod. “I remember.”
“And do you remember what you said to me in the bar tonight?”
I let my forehead drop to his chest. “I’m trying to forget.”
His soft laugh makes his chest rumble. “I wanted to say the same thing to you that night at Matt’s house. I can still remember exactly what you were wearing—a dress that had flowers on it and was all frilly and girly, and it showed off the tops of the spectacular breasts that’ve inspired many of my wet dreams over the years.” As he speaks, he drags his index fingers over the tops of my breasts. “And sky-high heels that showed off your endless legs. I had a hard-on all night with your name on it.”
I look up at him. “Do you mean that? You thought of me that way? Before tonight?”
“Honey Carmichael, I’ve thought of you that way since we were in second grade. Why do you think I was always pinching you?”
“I knew you remembered!”
Chuckling, he says, “You’ve always been hard to forget. And you’ll be especially hard to forget now that I know how soft your skin is and that your Gran nicknamed you well, because you taste like honey all over.”
“So what’re you saying?”
“I want you to stay awhile longer.”
“What does ‘awhile’ mean?”
“For me, it means spending the night. I’m not capable of forever or love or white dresses or picket fences. That’ll never be me.” His expression darkens considerably.
“Because of Jordan.”
“For one thing.”
“That was such a long time ago, Blake. I don’t want you to think I’m advocating on my own behalf, because I have no illusions that I might be the one to change your mind. But I knew her, and I loved her, and I can’t believe she’d expect you to spend the rest of your life alone because of an accident.”
“I’d rather not talk about her, if that’s okay.”
“I understand. It’s still painful.”
“Always will be.”
“So then you’re proposing an all-nighter?” I ask with a coy grin, hoping to make him smile again.
His lips twist into a half smile. “If you can handle it. Are you up for that?”
“I could be.”
“Before you decide for sure, you should know I have a condition.”
“What kind of condition?”
“When we’re in bed, I’m in charge.”
Although his words are wildly arousing, I can’t roll over and play dead on this one. “So I don’t get to please you?”
“Pleasing you pleases me.”
Well, damn… “What I did to you before…”
“Was spectacular, and I’ll definitely want more.”
“Okay, good, because it was spectacular for me, too.”
His eyes go dark with lust, and his cock bumps up against my belly, letting me know it approves. “Any objections?”
I shake my head. There’s a certain sort of comfort and safety that comes from having known him all my life. “So what happens now?”
“We go back to bed. I’m not finished with you yet.”
I glance down at The Cock, which is standing tall and proud, looking up at me. “I don’t know if I can take him again. I’m a little sore from the first time.”
He takes my hand and begins to walk backward to his bedroom. “There’s lots of other stuff we can do.”
“Like what?”
Blake cups my cheeks. “I’d love to get to know this fine ass a little better, for one thing.”
I gulp at the thought of that monstrous cock breaching me there. He’d rip me apart.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
I pull my hand free of his grip. “Stop doing that!”
“What am I doing?”
“Reading my mind!”
“I already told you. It’s not my fault that every thought you have is reflected in your expression.”
“How is it reflected in my expression? How did you read ‘I’m afraid he’ll rip me apart’?”
His face twists into a grimace that indeed conveys that exact thought. “And FYI, I will not rip you apart. I like you put together exactly the way you are.” With his hands once again caressing my ass, he speaks softly against my ear, sending goose bumps cascading down my back and arms. “I’d prepare you so well, you wouldn’t even know I was there.”
The utter preposterousness of that comment has me snorting with laughter. “Right… And how would you prepare me to take that thing and walk away intact?”
“Ouch. That thing is insulted.” He strokes his cock soothingly, as if tending to its feelings.
“I’m sure he’ll get over it the next time I spread my legs.”
“He’s already over it knowing there’ll be a next time.”
I laugh. “You’re outrageous.”
Smiling, he says, “Lie down and get comfortable.”
With one eye over my shoulder in an attempt to gauge his intentions, I do as directed.
“Face down.”
Filled with trepidation about where this might be leading, I turn over, hugging a pillow to my chest.
Blake goes into the bathroom and returns holding something that I can’t see because he’s adjusted the dimmer switch until the room is nearly dark.
Every inch of my body tingles with awareness of him as he settles on the bed next to me. Between my legs, desire thrums like a heartbeat, pulsing and twitching for more even after what I’ve already had.
“Relax, Honey,” he says softly, his hand mo
ving over my back, aided by something slick and fragrant. “Close your eyes and relax. Let me take care of you.”
Massage oil. That’s what I smelled, and good Lord, he has magical hands to go along with his magical dick. I moan from the pleasure of him kneading the tension from my muscles. He works from my shoulders to my ribs to my waist, skipping my bottom and taking care of each leg, moving with leisurely strokes that make my pussy throb and drip.
I squirm on the bed, trying to find relief.
“Don’t move.”
“But—”
“Don’t. Move.” He leans over me, speaking directly into my ear. “I’m in charge here. Remember?”
Letting out a deep breath filled with frustration and need, I try to do as I’m told, but I can’t help squiggling a little bit as he kneads my inner thighs. A sharp, stinging slap to my ass has me crying out in surprise.
“I told you not to move.”
“Did you… You didn’t just…”
“Yes, I did, and I’ll do it again if you can’t behave.” As he speaks, he caresses the heated area on my bottom, which only makes the throb between my legs sharper. Leaning over me again, he says, “Have you ever been spanked, Honey?”
“N-no.”
“Oh damn. I get to be your first?”
Before I know what’s happening, he has me over his lap, my bottom in the air as he rubs the oil deep into my cheeks, running his finger down the crease that separates them.
Though I’m outraged at the thought of him spanking me, I’m so turned on, I can’t find the words to express that outrage.
“This isn’t about punishment, baby.” He continues to caress and stroke and tease my most sensitive flesh. “This is about desire.”
All this time… Blake Dempsey has been right here, able to unleash a side of me I’d never known existed, the side that wants him to do all the things he mentioned and everything else he can think of. I want it all.
“What’re you thinking right now?”
“You tell me. You’re an expert at reading my mind.”
“I can’t see your face, so I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Tell me.”
I clear my throat and try to find the words. My Gran raised me to be a lady, and a lady doesn’t say the things I’m thinking to a man. I try not to think about what she’d have to say about what I said to him in the bar. “I can’t believe you were here all this time and I didn’t know…”
“What didn’t you know?” His voice is rough and gruff, and his cock presses against my belly, hard and insistent.
“That you were like this.”
“What am I like?”
“Passionate.” I lick lips that have gone dry while I waited to see what he would do next. “Adventuresome. Dirty.”
That last one has him laughing. “I’m dirtier than you can imagine. You think you can match me dirty for dirty, Honey Carmichael?”
“I think I want to try.”
“Fuck, that’s a good answer.” To reward me, he spanks my other cheek, sending a tingle of heat and need straight to my clit. Before I can recover, he spanks the other side, rotating back and forth until I’m a drooling, blathering mess of nerves and heat and sensation—and on the verge of coming again.
He follows each spank with a caress that sets me on fire. I had no idea whatsoever that my bottom is such an erogenous zone. His hands never stop moving, top to bottom, lifting, separating, dipping into the crease and pressing against my anus but never breaching me.
I can barely keep up with the barrage of sensations overtaking me as he leaves no part of my ass untouched. And then… I’m moving and landing face down again on the bed and, oh my God… Is that his tongue? On my… Oh God. Oh… He’s licking me there, circling my back entrance with insistent stabs of his tongue, and nothing in my life has ever felt quite like that—dark and forbidden and incredible.
“Don’t come,” he says as he holds my cheeks apart for his tongue. “No matter what I do, do not come.”
I try to reply. I really do, but my brain cells are completely fried.
“Honey. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” I say on a sob.
“Up on your knees.” He pulls at my waist, positioning me where he wants me, until I’m bent at the waist, my ass in the air and my weight supported by my elbows and knees. With my legs quivering madly, I feel like a wanton, brazen slut, but I can’t seem to care that I’m all but jamming my ass into Blake Dempsey’s face.
Oh dear God… Gran, if you’re watching over me like you said you always would, please take the rest of the night off. Please…
Chapter Four
I drag myself to work at noon on Saturday, and only because a family from Dallas has driven hours to Marfa for one of my Desert Babies custom photo shoots. What began as a lark has turned into a booming business, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to see my photo studio’s following growing so rapidly. Most of the time, I’m excited about my work. Today, I’m too sore and stunned and sleep-deprived and… I’m a hot mess, for lack of a better term.
In one long unforgettable night, Blake Dempsey has ruined my life. I’ll never have sex like that with anyone else. I know this because I’ve been with enough guys to attest that no one does it like him—and none of them can begin to compete with The Cock. Lauren was right about that.
I can’t believe I took that thing a second and then a third time, which is why I can barely move today without every tender part of me screaming in protest. The pain reminds me of when Gran signed me up for riding lessons, and I couldn’t sit down for a week after the first lesson. In time, I got used to the saddle, but if I had fifty years with Blake, I don’t think my body would ever become accustomed to or comfortable with that cock.
Hours after I crawled from his bed, a shell of the woman I’d been when I arrived, I can still feel him inside me. My muscles are still contracting. My clit is still pulsating with aftershocks on top of aftershocks. Surely this can’t be normal. Maybe I ought to call my doctor. Except what would I tell him? Blake Dempsey and his giant cock fucked me to within an inch of my life, and I’m concerned that I might’ve sustained internal injuries?
I can’t imagine saying those words to the lovely old doctor I’ve been going to all my life. He’d die of shock.
Before I unlock the studio for today’s shoot, I stop into the café next door for a tall cup of coffee and one of my friend Scarlett’s melt-in-your-mouth scones. In addition to aching from stem to stern, I’m also famished. Blake was right—burning all those calories between the sheets requires a lot of fuel.
“Morning, Honey.” Scarlett is always so damned chipper. I think it’s probably because she consumes coffee all day. That has to be it. She’s about my age, with a flawless complexion and long dark hair that she wears in one braid down her back when she’s working. “Or is it afternoon now?”
“Just about,” I mutter.
“You all right?” Scarlett leans in for a closer look, which has me taking a step back. “Is that…” Lowering her voice, she says, “Razor burn? Honey! I thought you’d sworn off contact with species who have to shave their faces every day.”
“I have. I did.”
Scarlett raises her brows, her dark eyes gone wide with shock. “Has someone fallen off the wagon? Your lips are swollen, too.” Leaning her elbows on the counter, she settles in for a good long gossip session. “Anything else swollen?”
Everything is swollen, not that I plan to tell Scarlett that. “Gotta go. Got a shoot in ten.”
“I want the dirty details!” she calls after me.
“Not happening,” I say to myself as well as the older man who holds the door for me.
“Pardon?” he says.
“Nothing.” I blame Blake for this. He’s not only got me talking to myself but to strangers, too. At the next storefront over from Scarlett’s place, I unlock the front door of my studio and switch the sign from Closed to Open. With each step I take toward my office in the back of the studio, every musc
le in my body protests the Olympic sex-a-thon I participated in last night.
I’m still trying to process what happened in Blake’s bed, and it’s been two hours since I dragged myself from his warm embrace, got dressed and managed to get my car out of his garage without waking him. Or if I woke him, he didn’t come out to see me off, which is just as well. I’m not sure I’m ready to face him. Hell, I won’t be ready to face him a year from now after the things we did.
When he said “all night,” he wasn’t kidding. He finally took mercy on me around four thirty in the morning when I cried uncle after my seventh—or was it the eighth?—orgasm. I think it might’ve been eight. His reputation as a sex machine is well earned, that’s for sure.
I take a seat at my desk and wince from the ache that spreads from between my legs to my thighs and even my poor bum. He never did make good on his “threat” to take me there, but I know he wanted to. If we were to get together again, I have a feeling that might be on the menu, although I still can’t imagine how he’d ever…
Dropping my head into my hands, I can’t believe that I’m tingling with arousal at the very thought of something I’ve never even considered before last night. If he’s got me thinking about that—and actually wanting it—his sexual gifts extend far beyond his incredible “endowment.”
The bells ring on the front door, and I bite back a groan, hoping my clients aren’t early, because I’m nowhere near ready for them.
“Honey, where are you?” Lauren calls out, her voice echoing in the vast space that is my studio.
“Back here.” I should’ve known it would be her, coming to get the scoop along with the dirty details.
She comes breezing in, wearing an adorable tank dress that shows off her amazing biceps. My bestie is a gym rat of the highest order and could kick ass on most of the men we know, which she says is why she never gets asked out anymore. Not that that stops her from lifting just about every day. I’m envious of those biceps but not the discipline it takes to get them. Maybe if I were in better shape, I wouldn’t feel like I was ridden hard and put up wet last night. And this morning.
Looking absolutely gorgeous with her curly blonde hair in a messy bun and big brown eyes fully made up, she comes to the doorway of the office to take a good long look at me. “Well…” Rolling her hand, she begs for details.