by Marni Mann
I brought her fingers up to my lips and kissed each knuckle. “I want all of you, Frankie.” I exhaled, working through the internal struggle. She needed my confession as badly as I needed hers. “And in return, you’ve got all of me.” I leaned my forehead into hers. “Every bit…it’s all yours, baby.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck, standing as tall as she could to reach my lips. Her mouth pressed softly against mine, her breath easing, her body loosening from letting out everything she’d been holding inside. She finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes ravenous. “Please don’t make me wait a second more.”
That was one demand I wouldn’t fight her on.
My hands circled her waist and I lifted her onto the workbench. I pressed my lips to the base of her jaw, the coconut and amber scents so strong on this part of her body. My mouth trailed down her neck, past her collar and around her face. “My house feels so far away from here,” I said.
“Then don’t take me to your house.”
She wanted me to have her in here, in my workshop, where my creativity flourished, where my inspiration was born. The most important space on my property…the space where I was more myself than anywhere else.
My dick practically tore a hole through my fucking jeans.
I pushed her legs apart and stood between them, running my hands up her thighs until I reached her pussy. She was wet. Hell, she was dripping. “You’re always so ready for me.” I licked her juices off my fingers and began unbuttoning her shirt, leaving it on but pushing the fabric to each side so I could see all of her.
“Touch me.”
“You’re so demanding, my pink ivory.” I kneaded her nipples between my fingers, pulling just hard enough to speed up her breathing. Then I squeezed the base until her head fell between her shoulder blades.
Moans poured from her mouth. “More,” she begged.
It had been days since I’d tasted her. I wanted to take my time licking every part.
I sucked her right nipple into my mouth, tugged on the end with my teeth and swirled my tongue around the tip. Her legs rose until her feet rested on the table, her toes folding around the hard edge. She was pulling me closer…dragging me into her.
I wanted my cock inside her as much as she did. But it wasn’t going to happen yet.
As I moved to her other nipple, I dipped my finger into her cunt. Not all the way in; just as deep as my knuckle. I didn’t move it. With my mouth on her tit, my thumb massaging her clit, she began to grind against me, easing more of my finger into her and slowly pulling out. She never let it get farther than my nail before she slid it back in. I felt her pussy contract; every time she squeezed it inside her, she let out the longest moan. When her thrusts began to deepen, her tits bounced against my lips.
“More,” she demanded.
I gave her a second finger, and she immediately pumped her pussy against it. I didn’t want to waste her wetness when it began dripping down my hand, so I buried my face between her legs. That sweet fucking cunt was so slick, my tongue glided right into it. I could smell the sawdust, the perfumed wood that was stored in the workshop, both combining with Frankie’s flavor. I’d never had another woman in here. Never mixed my personal passion with my sexual pleasure. But all that was changing with Frankie. She owned my heart as much as I owned her body.
My hands wrapped around her thighs and I yanked her even closer to my face. I flicked my tongue across her clit as quickly as I could, my fingers still buried deep within her. I could feel her orgasm building. Her pussy was tightening; her moans were deepening. She was practically milking my fingers like they were going to fill her with cum.
“Can I?” she begged.
“Fuck yes.”
Her screams made me lick faster, my fingers reach farther. Her stomach began to shudder as she closed in around me, her thighs quivering as they pressed against my cheeks.
When she finally stilled, my mouth moved up her body until I reached her lips. “Lick yourself off me,” I said. “I want you to know how fucking good you taste.” I kissed her, my tongue sliding into her mouth the same way it had inside her pussy.
She sucked it like it was my goddamn cock and pulled at my belt and unzipped my fly. Before my pants dropped, I grabbed my wallet from my back pocket and reached into the inside flap. She looked down just as I pulled out the condom. “No, Derek.”
“No?” With my one night and one morning rule, not wearing a rubber wasn’t something I had ever considered. It was a habit now and there was no exception.
She took both the wallet and condom out of my hand and laid them beside her. “I want to be able to feel you.”
“Frankie…”
“Do I have something to worry about?”
“No. Not at all.” I knew the risks my lifestyle came with, even using protection. I tested often, and I tested clean every time.
”Neither do you,” she affirmed.
I hated to ask this because it was a topic that pained her, but I had to. “Are you on…birth control?”
“I take the pill diligently.”
I stared into her gunmetal eyes, still uncertain about where this was going to take us.
“Please, Derek. This is what I want.” She used her heels to push my jeans down. I stepped out of them as they hit the ground, kicking off my boots at the same time. My boxers then fell and Frankie helped lift my flannel over my head. There was nothing separating us anymore. Her hands reached for my stomach and stopped mid-air. “Can I touch you?”
I’d always demanded a certain placement of her hands and I hadn’t done that tonight. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me because I wanted her to touch me, to feel my warmth and let it bleed through her. I hadn’t wanted that with anyone since my ex. I had controlled all the other women because their hands on my flesh were a reminder of how little I cared about them. When I was inside their pussy, it was a distraction I didn’t need. “Yes, Frankie. Touch me.”
Her lips crashed into mine and her hands roamed over my chest and down my stomach. Her touch was soft, needy, and when she moved to my beard, it turned greedy. She was hungry, merciless as she pulled my whiskers with all her strength.
My hard cock searched for her wet, tight cunt. I yanked her closer, a growl tearing through my lips as I lined up her pussy with the edge of the counter and plunged my bare dick inside it.
“Derek!” she screamed.
I groaned, giving her a quick, hard thrust. Then I buried myself into her, deep, letting her stretch around me, allowing myself a chance to appreciate all her wetness. “Jesus,” I hissed. “I didn’t know anything could feel this fucking good.”
“Neither did I.” Her nails dug into my shoulders as I began to pump. Her wetness seeped around me; her tightness closed in, her goddamn heat blanketed my cock. “I can’t wait to feel it in my ass again…”
I held her face steady so I could glare into her eyes. “You’re full of surprises tonight.”
She moaned as I started to slow. “You told me once that I’d beg for that…looks like you were right.”
I shifted my hips back and stroked her again, burying my crown until it couldn’t go any farther. “So…beg, then.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and licked her lips. “I need you, Derek. Hard. Fast. Deep inside me…deeper than my pussy will let you go.”
My dirty, pink ivory, wanted me deep inside her cunt, even deeper inside her ass. But this was the first time I hadn’t used a condom and felt this amount of wetness soaking over my dick, so she was going to get what I gave her. And for now, that was a finger in her ass, as far in as I could reach.
I tilted my hips again and swiveled them as I shoved back in. Then I did it again, harder this time. My strokes lengthened, and she screamed louder. She was tightening, getting wetter… and I could feel it, with nothing in between us, and all of it coating my dick.
Her legs wrapped around me and her feet pushed against the back of my thighs. I grabbed her hips tilting her
upward to gain more access. She leaned back onto the surface with her arms supporting her weight. I could feel her unraveling, fighting to stop herself from coming. I knew this was only going to make it harder for her, but I couldn’t help myself.
Using my free hand, I rubbed her clit.
“Oh my God, Derek…”
I fucked her harder, switching my rhythm to short strokes, then long thrusts, winding my hips in circles as I worked my way out of her. I knew I couldn’t hold it off much longer. It felt too good, too snug, and too hot to keep up this pounding. “Come, Frankie.”
It only took seconds before she was squeezing my cock from the inside. Her pussy quivered around it, her stomach shuddered, her skin clenched with each ripple. It was enough to send me over the fucking edge.
“Now you,” she said as she reached down and began rubbing my balls. “Come inside me…please, Derek. Now.”
I pumped deep, hard, fast thrusts, growling as I let go and felt my cum fill her, felt it spread over my dick as I stroked her pussy. And I watched it drip out of her when I finally pulled out.
I caught my breath and kissed her. She didn’t know how good that had just felt, but she needed to. So I gripped her hair and ravaged her mouth, trying to make her feel that kiss in every part of her body. Her hips began to grind against me…it was apparently enough to make her want to go at it again. Needing a second, I pulled away and got dressed. When she sat up, the flannel was falling off her shoulders, so I adjusted it, buttoning it around her tits. Her naked body was stunning, but flannel was so fucking sexy on her. I couldn’t get enough of it.
“You’re dressing me already?”
I heard the disappointment in her voice. “I’m just covering you up so you don’t freeze when I carry you back to the house.”
She held my hands in her lap. “I hope you don’t mind that I went into your closet to find this…”
I laughed. “Not after seeing you in it, I don’t.”
“When I was in there, I saw something that surprised me.”
“What would that be?” I nuzzled her neck, taking in more of her smell, her taste. Her skin was even sweeter after she had an orgasm.
“A suit.”
My back stiffened and I pulled myself away from her neck. There was a dull pounding in my chest that was slowly working its way to my throat. I didn’t care that she’d gone into my closet; there was nothing in there I didn’t want her to see. But mentioning that suit triggered a memory and it was one I wanted to keep buried. “It’s been a long time since I wore it.”
“I had a feeling.” She ran her hand over my chest as if she were sizing me. “It looked too small for you now. And I didn’t see any others.”
“There aren’t any.”
“Not even for business?”
“No.”
“That’s silly, Derek.” She was smiling. She didn’t know… and how could she? I hadn’t told her. “Haven’t you been to a wedding or formal event?”
I didn’t answer her.
“What did you wear it to, anyway?”
I breathed, trying to calm the goddamn pounding in my chest. “I wore it to my father’s funeral.”
“Oh, Derek…” Her hands cupped my beard, and she rubbed her thumb over my lip. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She went silent as she worked through it. “I don’t remember all the details of my mother’s funeral. What I do remember, I wish I could forget. I didn’t mean to make you revisit it. It must be difficult to think about.”
“You’re right.”
She rubbed her fingers up and down the buttons on my shirt. “So why the flannels?”
“I just like them, that’s all. I have a feeling you’re starting to like them, too.” I traced the sides of her body, letting the fabric graze her soft skin.
“I have grown to like them, only because they’re you. But I think the reason you wear them has something to do with your father.”
It was an impulse more than a decision. I wanted to let her in, and this was part of that. “My father was a working man. That’s all he did, all he knew; it’s what made him happy besides his family. He wore them to work, at home, when he went out. I wanted to be just like him, so I grew up wearing flannel. There’s no reason to stop now.”
It wasn’t the whole story, but it was something, at least. I wasn’t paying homage to him by wearing those shirts. They were part of the man he’d raised me to be, and a part of him I couldn’t let go. Someday, when I was ready to confess the truth, I would tell her the rest—the promise I made to myself the day he had died: his funeral had been the first time I’d ever worn a suit, the next would be the funeral for the motherfucker who killed him.
She leaned forward and kissed me, softening the thoughts in my head. “It seems as if we’re both bending a little for each other, doesn’t it? Letting each other in a bit more.”
“Mmm.” I rubbed my nose against her cheek. “I’m going to have you bent around me the second we get upstairs…you’ll have no choice but to let me in.”
She laughed and wiggled away, looking into my eyes. “What I meant was, I’ve fallen in love with flannel like you have with wine.”
She was right about that. I’d never touched the stuff before her, before I’d poured it all over her body. “I only like it when I’m licking it off you.”
She placed my hands on the buttons of her shirt. “And I only like this when you’re ripping it off me. Take me upstairs. Now.”
EIGHT.
FRANKIE
“DO YOU WANT ME to get the door?” I asked.
Derek stood in front of the stove with a dishtowel draped over his shoulder, a wooden spoon in one hand, and a pair of tongs in the other. There was either a pot or a pan on every burner of the gas range. Since we’d arrived in Portsmouth, he’d cooked every meal, and everything he’d fed me so far was delicious…plus, watching him in the kitchen was so sexy.
“If you don’t mind,” he said.
I pushed myself off the counter where I sat while he worked. It was the closest I could get to him without being in his way. It also gave me the perfect view of his biceps as he stirred and sautéed.
The front door was a solid panel of wood with dark metal hardware and no glass to see outside. The peephole had been designed for him—far too high and impossible to reach. I’d finally found something that I’d change in this house.
I opened the door, shielding my eyes from the direct sunlight, not at all prepared for the woman who was standing on the other side.
“Hi,” she said. Through her sunglasses, I watched her eyes drop to the flannel shirt I had on—the shirt Derek insisted I wear and the yoga pants he made me wear with it. Not the most stylish outfit, but he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off me since I’d put it on. That made it all worth it.
“Hello,” I replied. She had long, honey-blond hair, plump lips, and legs much longer than mine. She resembled Hayden, which meant she looked the complete opposite of me. “Can I help you?”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize Derek had company. Maybe I should have called first. I’m Taylor…an old friend of his.”
I reached my hand out. “I’m Frankie.” I paused after my name, not giving myself a title that would define the status of our relationship. I was wearing his clothes; I was sure she got the point. Or maybe this old friend already knew our status. “Derek’s inside cooking lunch. Do you want to come in?”
“He’s cooking, huh?” I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or if she was genuinely surprised. “Yes, thanks, that would be great.”
I walked through the entryway, listening to her move behind me as we made our way to the kitchen. “Derek? Taylor’s here.”
“She’s what?” He turned around quickly and glared at the woman who was now standing in front of the kitchen island. A look of pure shock blasted across his face. He set down the wooden spoon and tongs, wiped his hands on the towel, and threw it into the sink. “What are you doi
ng here?”
She shrugged. “I was in the area.”
“And you thought you’d just…stop by?” He turned off the burners and crossed his arms over his chest. “How did you know where I live?” I knew that posture, that tone. It was almost as enraged as when he spoke about Randy, and just as cold and dark. Had Taylor lied to get through the door?
Was I that gullible?
“I got back into town yesterday morning,” she said, “and while I was at the store, I ran into your mom. We caught up, and she told me where you lived. Considering this is the lot we had visited as kids, it wasn’t exactly hard to find.”
They’d known each other since they were kids…old friends, maybe, but definitely not current friends. They had a past, and it seemed like a tense one. I hadn’t bothered to read her face when I opened the door; there had been no reason to. I read it now, though. She wanted something from him.
“I didn’t know you’d have company,” she continued, smiling as she looked around the kitchen. Her eyes widened and she turned to look out toward the ocean. “I can’t believe it, Derek…you did everything you said you were going to. You caught every detail.” She glanced at him. “Your dad would be so proud. It’s a dream home, and a beautiful one at that.”
I watched Taylor’s expression, the warmth on her face as she spoke about his father. Then I moved to Derek, observing his reaction as her words sunk in. I saw the pain appear quickly, and I saw it depart just as fast. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she mentioned his dad. She knew more about Derek than I did, which was to be expected. But still, it stung.
“Taylor,” he barked, his tone still so sharp as he glared at her, “introduce yourself to Frankie.”
“She introduced herself at the door,” I said. “She told me she’s an old friend of yours.” I knew it was a little catty to throw that out there, but I wanted to know more and baiting Derek could get me that.