Sweet Trouble

by Sasha Gold

  Her submission is pure sweetness. Angling my head, I grip her hair to keep her right where I want her. Our kiss is lewd, obscene, and I feel my cock jump. I cup her ass, squeeze it, hard enough to make her give a small sound of surprise. I soothe the hurt, caressing it gently.

  She’s squirming impatiently. Restless, needing something she’s not sure of, but I am. I brush my hand along her side and flick the clasp of her bra open.

  Flipping her beneath me, I press her to the couch with my body, easing myself between her thighs. My cock is beyond frustrated and I love the way it feels to grind into her soft warmth. I slip my hand beneath her skirt and grip her hip. She wriggles and arches her back. She’s tempting me. Asking me. Pleading for me to touch her breasts.

  I’m going to make her wait for it because once I get my hands on her tits, there’s only one way this thing is going to go.

  The sun has set and the house is almost dark. Her face is lit by the light of the fire and her hair is a gorgeous mass I want to wrap around my fist while I drive deep inside her.

  I sit up and pull her onto my lap so she’s straddling me. “Take the sweater off, baby.”

  She doesn’t make a move.

  “Take it off, Bailey.”

  She pulls off her sweater and slips her bra from her narrow shoulders. I keep my eyes on hers the whole time. “Good girl.”

  I lift my hand and as I near her breast she arches her back. She does it without thinking, pure animal instinct sparked by our raunchy, make-out session. I haven’t made out on a couch in fifteen years or more. Bailey might never have done that. I growl softly at the thought and let my gaze fall down the front of her body. Fuck. She’s flawless.

  Her breasts are perfect. Each breast is a mouth-watering teardrop tipped with a small pink nipple and I cup one of them, stroking my thumb across the stiff tip. I watch her face and see a thousand emotions play out. She wants to act like she can handle anything I dish out, but her eyes give her away. Her eyes are lit with desire, but she’s wary, too. She should be.

  A surge of pure primitive need surges through my bloodstream, searing my veins.

  Her gaze is fixed on me, wide-eyed and wondering what’s next. The panties, of course… they’re next. I want them gone. I wrap the lace around my fingers and tear the fabric. She draws a sharp breath. They give easily and I toss the remnants aside. I’ll let her keep her skirt. I don’t want to tear that off her because I like it. I like the idea of her wearing it without her panties on underneath.

  I set her on my lap, her legs straddling me, she’s open and as I trail my fingers under the hem of her skirt she whimpers. I draw a fingertip across her, touching her slowly. She’s slick. Swollen. And her clit is like a little pearl. Setting her hands on my shoulders she fists my shirt.

  “That’s right, Bailey. Hold on to me.”

  I lean forward, suck her nipple between my lips and begin stroking her with my tongue as I tease her clit with my thumb. She lifts onto her knees and rides my hand. My other hand moves up the back of her thigh, slips under her skirt to cup her sweet ass. I can feel her response building. Small sounds fall from her lips. She gasps for breath. I graze the tip of her nipple with my teeth and she arches, throws her head back and cries out.

  “Nick…”

  Her muscles grow taut and she shudders with a beautiful release.

  Her orgasm is fucking gorgeous. But so fast, and too easy. I can’t wait to hear that again as I’m devouring that sweet pussy. I hold her as her climax fades, kissing her neck and lips as she sinks into my arms. She’s weak and spent but I’m just getting warmed up. Easing her down to the couch, I kiss a trail down the front of her body. I descend past her breasts and her narrow waist.

  My hands skim over her silken skin and I’m about to nudge her thighs apart when she grips my hair in her fist. I happen to like a little biting and scratching and hair-pulling, but her tug is a little more than your usual fun and games.

  “Nick,” she whispers.

  My brain snaps out of its lust-addled fog and I lift to look at her. She jerks to a sitting position, grabs a pillow to cover her chest.

  “I don’t know if I can handle this.” She clears her throat. “Sorry.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugs and I can tell she’s trying to cop a little bit of an attitude. But something in her eyes is so fragile, I’m sure she might start crying. I want to taste her. And I want to know what’s happened that she can’t handle my doing that.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “It just freaks me, like you’re too much for me to handle.”

  “You’ve never done this before?”

  She shakes her head. “I just panicked a little. Watching you. Sometimes your expression is so intense, it scares me.”

  “Let me take you to the bedroom. It’s dark. We’ll go slow.”

  She smiles and it’s not the type of smile she gets when she’s giving me shit, the one that shows off her dimples. It’s a sweet smile. Trusting and it makes something inside my chest crack. I can’t breathe. I wait for her to say something to break the spell.

  “All right, Nick.” She nods. “Maybe it would be easier in the dark.”

  Chapter Ten

  Bailey

  I don’t like the idea of handing control over to someone. It’s not like I’m some sort of control freak, but I like to call my own shots. I don’t even like getting bossed by doctors. And yet here I am. Wearing a skirt and nothing more, letting Nick lead me down the hallway to his bedroom where I’m going to let him do things to me I’ve only ever dreamed of.

  I lie back on the bed, feeling awkward and exposed. Closing my eyes, I’m aware of my fretfulness ebbing. This is Nick. He’s looked out for me. Taken care of me. I’ve never felt that way before. Safe. Sheltered. Protected.

  There was something that shifted while we messed around on the couch. I felt a sense of menace behind the lust. Like he was keeping a tight leash on his desire and any minute it might snap. I’m overthinking things. I should just stop and let him do what I’m sure he does very, very well. The next time the girls get together for drinks I’ll have a story to match theirs.

  The mattress dips and I sense him over me and his lips on mine are soft and warm. His kiss is tender. He laces his fingers through mine and kisses me. I writhe under him, my core throbbing with need. What I want is too feel him inside me but I can’t break the kiss to tell him anything.

  My thoughts are too scattered to form any protest. He breaks the kiss and moves to my neck, nuzzling and kissing the tender skin. His beard scratches. I love it and squirm beneath him, needing more.

  Slowly he lowers to my breasts and teases my nipples, stroking the tight buds with his tongue. He sucks gently. Each kiss makes my heart clench. His touch is slow, questioning, nothing like the way he’s treated me so far. All of this is pure seduction.

  This is what love-making is, I think. I know it’s just kissing but if feels like so much more. Offering no resistance, I open beneath him. My responses don’t belong to me anymore.

  He kisses my stomach, nipping me playfully and then he’s between my legs, his lips on my intimate flesh, kissing me there too.

  His hands caress my thighs and he presses them open. He takes a tiny lick and I feel him shudder.

  “You’re perfect,” he whispers. “Totally perfect.”

  Then he starts licking faster and harder. I want to scoot away from him but I can’t move with his arm pinning my hips down. He groans and the sound registers along around my breasts. He caresses my thigh and his touch heats my skin. Every lash of his tongue drives my arousal higher until I’m begging. Pleading. Not with real words but with mindless, primitive sounds.

  Just when I’m sure I can’t take another moment, he sucks my clit between his lips and it’s too much. That small tug sends me over the edge. My back bows off the bed and I cry out, shattering beneath him. Light explodes behind my eyes and I gasp for air.

  V
aguely, I’m aware of him prowling up the length of my body and crouching above me. He lowers and his lips brush mine. They’re wet with my essence.

  “Baby,” he says gently. “I need to be inside you.”

  I nod, or rather I’m aware of the fact that I’m nodding, because there was no thought. Just response.

  “Yes. I want that, too.”

  He whispers the words. “I’ve never gone without a condom, but I want to feel you. All of you.”

  “I want to feel you too.”

  “You’re so beautiful. You probably think I’m going to let you go when the rain lets up, don’t you?”

  His voice is teasing but I can’t say anything because my mind churns with questions. Should I tell him I haven’t done this before? What, exactly is the etiquette for having sex for the first time?

  He presses against me and eases in a tiny bit. Then he lowers to settle between my thighs and kisses me. When he pushes deeper the discomfort grows and after the next thrust he stops. Lying on top of me, he’s very still.

  “Bailey,” he says from between gritted teeth. “You’re so tight. Am I hurting you?”

  The sting has grown into something more but I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone. “Don’t stop.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I should have. I want this. Please.”

  He cups my face and kisses me, small kisses along my jaw and across my lips, pressing deeper inside me. The fullness is almost too much and then there’s a jolt of pain. I bite my lip and taste blood. It’s too dark to see anything, but I’m almost afraid of what I’ll see in his eyes. Is he the type of guy that’s spooked by having sex with a virgin? Too much commitment there?

  But he offers sweet, soothing words. Telling me how much he loves being with me.

  “Put your arms around me,” he says.

  I obey him and wrap my arms across the expanse of his powerful back and he begins moving again. His gaze holds mine and he’s watching me for a sign I want him to stop. I don’t. I try to tell him by pressing my fingers into the bands of muscle that flex beneath my hands. He’s so big. Like a fortress.

  “You think you can come?” he asks.

  Without waiting for a reply he rolls over, taking me with him. Suddenly, I’m on top of him and he pushes me halfway to a sitting position. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I see a smile tugging his lips.

  “This might be easier on you.”

  After a tentative movement, I can see why he set me here, impaled on his shaft. I can control the pressure and as I rock slowly a swirl of pleasure gathers inside me. “Oh!”

  He nods, his smile grows a little wider. “Atta girl.”

  Cupping his shoulders, I move a little more in earnest. My breasts bounce and he smiles. His gaze flicks to my breasts and back to my eyes. His grip on my hips tightens, as he guides my movements. My breathing is ragged and I’m sure that my fingernails are digging into him, but I can’t control anything.

  The sounds coming from my lips don’t sound like anything I’ve ever uttered before. They’re small cries, because I’m so close to heaven, I can almost touch it. My eyelids flutter and I see his eyes hooded with arousal. And then I break. It’s soundless and hits me like a tidal wave carrying me. The only thing I know is that I’ve collapsed and I’m lying on his chest. His arms wrap around me. He rolls me over and thrusts hard, snarling as he finds his own release.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nick

  I strike the match. It flares and I light a candle and set it down on the bathroom counter. Just before I leave to get her, I catch sight of my reflection.

  “Way to go, asshole,” I mutter.

  She’s lying in the bed, huddled under the blankets, looking at me warily. Her blonde hair is wild, cast across the pillow. I pull the blankets back and pick her up. “You should have told me you were a virgin, Bailey.”

  “I can walk,” she says.

  “Let me take care of you.”

  I set her down and flip on the shower. She looks so beautiful it almost breaks my heart. I haven’t seen a speck of makeup on her face all weekend, maybe because she didn’t bring any. She looks young and innocent but she’s not innocent. Not anymore. I feel like some sort of animal, like I just defiled some sort of sweet, angelic creature with my lust.

  “If I’d known that was your first time, I wouldn’t have been tearing your clothes off. What kinds or memories are you going to have about this?

  “I’ll remember my first time was with you,” she says.

  “And that’s even worse.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m not a nice guy, Bailey. People don’t like me and I don’t care. I walk around my house in boxers, eat out of a can, sometimes have a beer with breakfast. I don’t particularly like having people around. When I’m done with work I’m done with humanity. I don’t even have a goldfish.”

  She snorts, shoves me out of the way and steps into the shower. I follow her, shutting the door behind me.

  As she closes her eyes and lets the water wash over her, I glance at her thighs. She bled. I did that to her. Broke her.

  “Look Nick, we fooled around. I’ve always wanted to do that but never been with the right guy. It was sex. It was my first time. It was amazing. But that doesn’t mean we need to go pick out living room furniture.”

  Jealousy twists inside me. I move closer and press against her, deliberately crowding her space. “You want to go furniture shopping with some other dick?”

  She’s not intimidated by my attempt to bully her. Instead she loops her arms around my neck, lifts to her tiptoes and kisses me. Without any conscious thought, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. Her tits press against my chest and my cock jumps to attention.

  “No Nick. Just you,” she whispers. “If I go furniture shopping, it will be with you.”

  “Good,” I tell her, sounding like a petulant five-year-old. One who just claimed not to like having people around. But it’s not true, because I love having her here. Fucking love it. The one human being in the world I want near me is the niece of the man I almost killed. I should tell her. Explain how it took four cops to pull me off David Voss and how I spent nine months in jail, most of it in isolation. But then I’d have to tell her what David did to Olivia and I can’t even imagine saying the words aloud, not to Bailey.

  I take the soap and embark on yet another bad idea, washing Bailey. I work up a lather and wash her back, kneading her shoulders a little. She leans into my touch.

  “You don’t need to go furniture shopping.” My voice is rough with renewed lust. “If you need something I’ll make it for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I made most of the stuff in my house. The tables and chairs, I even made the bed so my feet wouldn’t stick off the end.”

  She laughs softly. “I like your bed.”

  “You’re the only one, besides me, who’s been in it.”

  I turn her around so I can soap the rest of her. The way she feels makes me more than ready to haul her back to bed. No. I can’t do that. I need to sleep on the couch or something, stay away from her because her body is addictive. Soap streams down her lush breasts and, unable to stop myself, I kiss her. We stand under the stream of water and kiss, making out like teenagers, which I suppose she was a couple of weeks ago. When the water grows cold, we get out and dry off.

  A short while later she comes to the kitchen wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt she swiped from my closet. The flannel shirt hangs off her and the cuffs have been rolled up a half-dozen times. She must have gone in my closet and looked through my shirts. I can’t say I mind. From now on, any time I wear that shirt, I’ll think about her and that brings a smile to my face.

  “Can I help with dinner?” she asks.

  I set a salad down on the table. “I have steaks on the grill.”

  She follows me to the garage. The rain is still coming down but just a mist, giving me the chance to cook dinner. I slide the T-bon
es onto a plate, and turn to find her looking at my garage. It’s more of a workshop, really, most of it is taken up with my wood-working tools along with the half-finished bookshelves I’m making for a buddy. Another side has my fishing rods and tackle.

  “Lots of testosterone in here,” she says.

  I tilt my head the direction of the barn. “More stuff out there.”

  “Boy toys?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Despite her playful comments there’s something in her eyes that catches me off guard. For some reason she looks sad or a little lost or something. I look around and can’t imagine what bothers her. It’s not like I have girlie calendars pinned to the wall. Everything’s pretty tidy.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head and smiles. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “How many acres do you have here?”

  “A hundred and twenty-five.”

  “You’re cut off by the river?”

  “Yeah, when we get more than a few inches of rain.”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “I thought your house was like a man-cave but really, well, the whole property is like a man-cave, isn’t it?”

  “I never thought about it that way. I like being on my own. It suits me.”

  She nods, no longer smiling. “It does.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bailey

  We spend the evening pretending we didn’t have sex this afternoon. First we watch a movie that involves a lot of shooting and explosions. It is confusing and I try to follow the plot, but when I ask who someone is I got shushed or kissed.

  At the end he asks if I liked the movie. I suggest it should have had a little more action. He pushes me down to the pillows and kisses me for a long time. I can tell he wants to keep it just to that, because a few times when I slip my hands under his shirt, he pulls them back. Like I shouldn’t touch his bare skin. And he keeps his hands far, far away from the danger zones, caressing my back and stroking my hair.