I Love It: 10 Intense Stories to Keep the Passion Alive (Shameless Book Bundles 6)

by Saffron Daughter

  Damn him. Her pussy throbbed and she squirmed in her seat. Even when she wanted to be mad at him, she couldn’t. Her gaze wandered to his lap, where she could see the outline of his cock through the denim of his jeans, although she didn’t need to see it. Libby knew it every ridge, every vein, every sweet, glorious inch of it. Even when she couldn’t see it, or even feel it, like she had last night, pillows under her belly, his arms wrapped snuggly around her, body curled over hers, taking her slowly and relentlessly from behind, she was aware of him. It’s like he filled her, all the time now, even when he wasn’t present.

  Her thighs tightened, the heat of the memory overwhelming. They’d perfected number seventy-two. She loved that moment when she closed her thighs for a tighter fit, pressing them together once he’d entered her, hearing his low moan. She wiggled in her seat, feeling the soft squish between her legs, a deep ache to feel him buried inside her. Had they not been going so fast on the interstate on slushy roads, she would have considered sliding over to touch him, maybe even suck him while he drove.

  “

  “Hey.” Henry’s hand moved over her knee, his thumb tracing her kneecap. “Libs, I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She put her hand over his, lacing their fingers. “It’s me. I’m just… being stupid.”

  “Does it really bother you so much?”

  “Not exactly.” She looked at him in the dimness, the strong line of his jaw with a light stubble growing. “I really don’t care what your parents do in their bedroom. It’s not that.”

  “Well than what is it?”

  “I guess…” Libby sighed, trying to vocalize her feelings. She hadn’t even really formed them into thoughts yet, so that was harder than it sounded. “I just wonder… about us.”

  “What do you mean?” Henry frowned. “What do you wonder?”

  “Well, you grew up around that.” She swallowed. She didn’t want to offend him or make him angry, but now that she was saying it out loud, the idea started to crystallize in her mind. “It had to have an influence on you. I mean, that lifestyle, that was your ‘normal.’ So… I just wonder...”

  “Ah.” Henry nodded, pursing his lips.

  “I mean, is that something you want?” Libby asked, the question out there now, hanging between them. She was suddenly terrified. “Am I keeping you from something you want? Do you want to be with more than one woman?”

  And then, something occurred to her, and she followed her questions up with another, one that bothered her deeply, she discovered.

  “Have you been with more than one girl at a time?”

  “No, Libby.” His fingers squeezed hers. “I mean, there were a couple frat house things that went on… but I’ve never been involved in any way I haven’t told you about already.”

  “Okay.” She let out a pent-up breath. “I just wondered, I mean, because you kept it from me, if there was more…”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” Henry grimaced. “I was stupid. I should have told you.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “You should have.”

  She knew it had come out more harshly than she wanted it to. And the truth was, she didn’t want to punish him. She even understood his reticence about telling her. At least, she hoped she did. She just prayed it wasn’t anything more.

  “You didn’t answer my other question.” She looked over at him in the dim light, heart in her throat, streetlights flashing by. “Do you want to?”

  “Do I want to what?” Henry braked, frowning out the windshield at the weather.

  “Be with more than one woman.”

  “Libby, come on.” Both of Henry’s hands went to the steering wheel. Outside, the snow fell harder, hitting the window like tiny shards of glass in the lights of the oncoming traffic. “I wouldn’t even bring it up or consider it without talking to you first. Unless it was something you wanted.”

  “It’s getting bad out there,” she said softly, blinking at the weather, but that wasn’t where her mind was. Henry grunted softly in agreement, turning the wipers on high, squinting at the highway.

  Libby snuggled down into her seat, pulling her coat more closely around her, telling herself one more time, I’m not going to let it bother me. Then she leaned her head back and let her lack of sleep and coffee catch up with her as she drifted off to the sway of the vehicle and the sound of Henry singing to the radio.

  *****

  It was so cold, Libby’s nipples hardened, even under the weight of her winter coat, a scarf, a pair of mittens, and a knit hat. She wrapped her arms around herself, a fruitless defense mechanism against the bitter cold, smiling in spite of the wind. She was happy to be out of class early, even if she did love her journalism classes, which were mostly just working on the school paper now that she was so nearing graduation. Henry had another year, but they were both nearing the finish line.

  Today, Libby just wanted to go back to their little rented apartment, undress, and get under the covers with Henry so they could make each other warm. Ever since they’d come back from the holidays, she’d felt this longing to be close to him—as close as possible. She wanted to be in his arms today, so she braved the cold instead of veering off into the coffee shop to warm up, head down, determined, a girl on a mission.

  The falling snow coated the dirty, gray snow mounds created by the snow plows, giving the University of Michigan campus a pristine look again. It was a pretty snow, thick, heavy flakes that stuck in her eyelashes, but she hurried on, not stopping to admire the view. The English department offices were up ahead, and she hoped to catch Henry finishing up a tutoring session with Dr. Franklin.

  Libby was a little terrified of ‘the Dragon Lady,’ but Henry had known her practically his whole life. Dr. Franklin was an old family friend of the Baumgartners and had agreed to tutor Henry during his freshman year, when he was struggling to keep up. He was a great hockey player, and while that had afforded him his scholarship, his dyslexia had started catching up with him once he got to college.

  In truth, Libby knew she should be grateful to the woman. She was the reason Henry had been able to stay in school. By the time Dr. Franklin discovered his secret—Henry had kept his dyslexia a secret, even from his family—he’d been benched from hockey and almost lost his scholarship. It was Dr. Franklin who had not only brought up his grades, but his confidence.

  But it wasn’t just the tutoring that had done that. Henry had admitted to Libby that he and his professor had been involved briefly in a little fling. The university didn’t condone romantic entanglements between students and professors, but that hadn’t stopped them. The May-December affair had burned hot and fast, ending just as Henry and Libby started getting involved.

  But he still saw her all the time during his tutoring sessions. Dr. Franklin had special training in tutoring dyslexic students and, in truth, she really had helped Henry come a long way. But while everyone called Dr. Franklin the Dragon Lady, Libby thought of her as a cougar who had taken advantage of Henry. She knew her perception was probably a little off, due to her jealousy, but part of her didn’t care. And she could have asked Henry about the affair in more detail—but she didn’t want to know.

  Henry would have told her though, if she’d asked. He would have given her all the detail she wanted, which was part of the problem. His whole family was like that. They were so open, it was like none of them had any filters. Things that would make Libby blush as red as her hair just made the Baumgartners smile or laugh. They were great people—but nothing seemed to embarrass them. They seemed to be able to talk about almost anything in mixed company.

  Sometimes she envied the close relationship Henry had with his parents and his sister, Janie. She didn’t have that with anyone—except Henry. She loved the way they accepted everything about her, even her reticence. In fact, they’d practically adopted her, from the very beginning.

  But Henry was different from his family. He’d kept his dyslexia a secret for so long, he’d grown used to protect
ing himself, even from them. He opened up to her, though. At least, that’s what Libby told herself. Henry would tell her anything. Everything. Wouldn’t he?

  Before now, she would have answered with an unequivocal yes. But Henry hadn’t told her everything, had he? He’d kept his parents’ proclivities from her, afraid of her reaction. And while Henry’s parents had opened their marriage, they weren’t open with everyone about their sexuality. There were people they kept it from—like her, a girl they knew might someday become their daughter-in-law.

  Libby had been so lost in thought, she didn’t even realize she’d reached her destination until she was stopped outside the door—a gold plate reading Dr. Antoinette Franklin, PhD screwed into the center—and she poked her head through the tiny space where it stood ajar. Henry was sitting in one of the big leather chairs and saw her right away, smiling as he hopped up and took two long strides to the door.

  “Hey, Libs, what are you doing here?”

  “Got out of class early and thought maybe we could walk back to the apartment together.” She readjusted her backpack on her shoulder, waiting expectantly.

  “Oh.” He blinked in surprise and Libby wrinkled her nose at his reaction. Where was his enthusiasm—or at least, mild, pleasant surprise? Instead, he looked nervous. Even annoyed. “Well, we’re almost done. Can you wait outside while I finish up with Toni?”

  Toni? Did he still call her that? She would have thought Dr. Franklin would be more appropriate. But they were former lovers, she remembered. Intimately familiar with one another.

  “Sure.” Libby took a step back. “I’ll wait out here.”

  There were two hard backed chairs in the hallway and she sat on one of them as Henry shut the door, shutting her out. She’d never been the jealous type before. It had never really bothered her, knowing Henry and Dr. Franklin had once been lovers. Henry loved Libby—she was sure of that. He loved her just as deeply as she loved him. So why did her eyes burn now with the sting of tears? What was she afraid of?

  Maybe she was just tired. Or, maybe, like a kid at Christmas, she’d gotten her hopes too high, staked too much on this moment of surprising him, and his reaction had let her down. She’d been on such a high walking over here. Yet, such manic mood swings weren’t at all like her. What had it been about his use of the woman’s first name that bothered her so much?

  Looking at the now closed door, Libby’s brow furrowed as her mind wandered into dangerous territory. Not that she hadn’t seen the woman before, but as Henry had rushed to the door, she’d gotten a glimpse of Toni Franklin, sitting on the edge of her desk, slender legs crossed right at his eye level. He could practically see right up her skirt if she’d separated her thighs just an inch. Long, dark, curly hair flowing over her shoulders, curves in all the right places accented by her tight, professional clothes, fashionable reading glasses perched on her nose, Toni Franklin was the picture of every college guy’s wet dream.

  And, he’d already fucked her.

  He doesn’t love her, he loves you! She lectured herself in her head. Stop being the jealous girlfriend already. You trust him!

  Of course she did. She always had. She knew Henry didn’t come to her a virgin. She’d known about his former relationship with the older woman he still saw weekly for tutoring sessions. She trusted him completely, not even questioning his continued professional arrangement with her. Why would she?

  Why indeed.

  Up until now, she really didn’t feel jealous. But this—seeing her on the desk like that, the way Henry had rushed to the door and shut Libby out—had smacked her right in the face. Had she been blind? Was she missing something all along?

  “Get a grip,” she chided herself and then looked up and down the hall to see if anyone was close enough to have heard her. Crazy, you’re crazy. Let it go.

  Rather than listen to her own advice, Libby’s mind focused on her boyfriend and his former lover. The brief glimpse she had of the woman had been burned into her memory. Dr. Franklin was wearing a tight cashmere sweater, very stylish, the light weave revealing a dark bra, accentuating her cleavage. Libby looked down at her own practically flat chest. Henry called them perfect little handfuls, but the endearment seemed trite to her now. What she couldn’t get past was the realization that her boyfriend had put his hands on that woman’s breasts in the past. She wondered what her nipples looked like—dark or light, large or small areola—and felt slightly nauseous, realizing Henry had had them in his mouth at one time or another.

  “What the hell?” she hissed at herself.

  You’re not a jealous woman. You will not be a jealous woman. They screw up good things, and you’re not doing that with Henry.

  “Hey, Libs!” Henry burst out of the door, his face lighting up when he saw her. It was exactly the opposite of his initial reaction, and she found herself relaxing as his long, strong legs made short work of bridging the distance between them as Libby stood. She told herself again to let it go. This was Henry—this was the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d just surprised him, that was all.

  When he pulled her into his arms, everything else fell away. Her fear, her jealousy, her anxiety and insecurity. His lips met hers, a hard, crushing, resounding kiss, branding her as his, just the way she liked, exactly what she craved. That was all this was—she just craved him today, like a premenstrual woman craving chocolate, crazed with need.

  That’s what she told herself, dismissing the suspicious thoughts that lingered, letting him know just how much she wanted him with an upward sway of her hips as she came to her toes and kissed him back.

  *****

  Libby sighed happily as her pussy clenched around Henry’s twitching cock, remaining just where she was, draped over him, enjoying the stray pulses of bliss that followed the jump-on-you-after-lunch sex they’d just had. Straddling his lap on the kitchen chair, a position the Kama Sutra book called the Amazon, she laughed again to see her bra on his plate. The last bite of burger she hadn’t let him finish before attacking him peeked out from under the white lace.

  “At least I’m bigger than your burger.” She sat up, frowning down as she lifted her chest, trying to press her breasts together.

  “What?” he laughed. “I know my dick still has most of my blood supply right now, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  His eyes lit up when he looked at her breasts, placing a light kiss on each nipple. The sensitive nubs had just been treated to a hard grind against his chest just moments before, and his attention sent a shot of warmth that tingled like electricity straight from her breasts to her core. Her inner walls gripped at his cock, still inside her as she hadn’t made a single effort to let him up.

  “They’re so small,” she complained, weighing her breasts in her hands. They didn’t weigh much.

  “Stop.” He pushed her hands away, taking them in his. They swallowed her little breasts. “They’re perfect little handfuls, all mine. You’re perfect.”

  “You don’t wish they were bigger?”

  “Are you kidding me?” He shifted his hips, meeting her eyes with a grin as he squeezed and kneaded her flesh. “I’m already getting hard again, just being forced to look at them… and feel them…”

  “Forced, huh?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Sweet torture.” He captured one of her nipples between his lips and she sighed happily again, wiggling in his lap.

  “Do you ever want more?” she asked.

  “More you?” He changed focus from one breast to the other. “Always.”

  But her mind couldn’t shake the memory. First it was the chesty Dr. Franklin sitting on the edge of her desk, and then it was Mrs. B and Gretchen carrying on in the kitchen—they were all mixed up in her head like a jealous blizzard, whiting out any rational though. Before she could chide herself again, before she could stop the jealousy from escaping, her mouth beat her brain to the punch.

  “Henry, have you ever wanted to be with more than one woman?”

  “W
hat?” He tilted his head back to look at her, frowning.

  “I mean, I know most guys fantasize about it. That whole girl-on-girl thing. But… have you ever considered it? With me?”

  “Why are you asking me this?” He cocked his head, pushing a long, auburn curtain of hair away from her face.

  “Maybe with Toni?” She held her breath, too late to keep the words from escaping her mouth.

  “Is that why you’re complaining about your bra size?” He looked at her with dawning realization. “Is that what this is about?”

  “Yes. No. Not exactly. What about Gretchen?” Libby asked, swallowing hard. “What about, what was her name, Val, from that whole frat hazing week?”

  “What is this?” Henry shook his head, looking bewildered.

  “Just tell me the truth—does it turn you on? Would you want us both? Me and Toni—

  in your life, in your bed, together?”

  “What?” He blinked at her, looking dazed. Then a slow smile began to spread. “Ohhhh I get it. That’s so cute. Are you really jealous of Dr. Franklin?”

  “It’s Dr. Franklin now? Interesting.” Libby snorted. “But, no, I’m not jealous…”

  So now she was lying too? Libby told herself to drop it, let it go, but something in her held fast, like a pit bull who couldn’t unlock its jaws.

  “I want to know the truth.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to know if I’m enough for you—or if you want to add a third person to this relationship.”

  “Libs, I—” Henry’s phone rang and he frowned, moving her off him so he could reach for it, still on the kitchen table.

  She watched him, brow furrowed as he glanced at his phone. He swiped his finger over the screen, saying hello as he turned and strode out of the room. Feet bare on the cold linoleum floor, she padded over to the couch and flopped down onto her back. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she let it go?

  Libby stared at the ceiling, remembering Mrs. B and Gretchen lip-locked, the older woman’s fingers probing between the former nanny’s swollen pussy lips. As shocked as she had been—hadn’t she been a little turned on too? Watching them had been hot. Doc sure thought so, if the bulge he’d been rubbing in his boxers was any indication. Did they really all have sex together, all three of them?