Caught Up In You ( Edgeplay Part 1)

by Jenna McCormick

  “They are probably doing it right now,” the poodle speaks up from behind me. Her voice is soft with misery. I can tell she and Edge have had a sexual encounter. Women usually go nuts because of a man, and after spending time with him, I can easily envision Connor Edge driving a woman past the point of sanity. Her possessiveness is more cloying than her perfume.

  Stowing my hurt, I say, “It’s none of my business if they are.” Other than the remark about fucking my mouth, he’s given no indication that he’s attracted to me. Connor Edge probably seduces women in droves and throws them back just as quickly. “I got what I came for.”

  A reprieve. More time to figure out what to do about myself and Pops. Connor Edge and his dirty, alluring mouth are not part of my grand scheme.

  I tell myself that, all the way back to the cottage.

  ~*~

  After calling to check on Pops’s recovery time, I eat a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich, shower off the day’s grime, and fall into bed early, physically and emotionally drained. When I wake, it’s with a sense of foreboding. I open my eyes and glance up, squinting in the dimness. There’s a man standing over me. Gripping the faux Tiffany lamp on my nightstand, I swing at him with a violent yell. He weaves back and ducks my wild swing, before launching himself on top of me. Holding my weapon arm, he applies pressure to a spot on my wrist that releases my grip. The lamp falls uselessly on the bed.

  I buck wildly beneath him, scared out of my wits. He has to repeat himself half a dozen times before I start listening to the words.

  “Ssshh, it’s all right. It’s just me.” That voice is like a warm stroke over my body. He’s lying on top of me, his weight making me sink deeper into the mattress.

  “Mr. Edge?” My pulse is pounding, my breathing choppy. “What the hell?”

  “Connor,” he corrects, nuzzling the side of my face. “I needed to see you. To be with you.”

  His behavior baffles me. From aggressively sexual to cool and formal and now overly familiar. “Are you mixing medications?”

  He barks out a laugh. “No, nothing so simple.”

  “Then what’s going on? I don’t like you inviting yourself into my bedroom in the middle of the night!”

  “Don’t you?” His hand glides across my arm in a tender caress. I shiver in response to the delicate touch, tilting my neck to the side in a silent plea for him to keep going. “See, you want me here.”

  It’s been so long, my body would probably respond to Clive the ninety-year-old post master, but I keep that tidbit to myself.

  “Your skin is so soft, so delicate,” he murmurs as his fingertips trail across my collar bone. “I want to see you, see all of you.”

  Rolling onto his back, he positions me on top of him. Sliding the straps of my camisole down my shoulders, he pulls the front part down, baring my breasts to his hungry gaze. “Look at these beauties.”

  The sweet talk and gentle touches make me tremble. He’s treating me as though I’m some sort of precious commodity, something that holds great value for him. My fingers tunnel through his thick, soft hair as he pulls me down so my left nipple dangles against his lips.

  “What about the blonde?” I gasp as his lips close over the nipple. Snarkarella is ominously silent, so I guess she wants to know what happened with his date too.

  “I don’t want her. I don’t want any woman the way I want you.” He latches onto my breast with his entire mouth, lips suckling greedily, teeth holding it in place, tongue flicking the pebbled tip relentlessly.

  I cry out and arch away, but strong hands hold me on top of him. His massive size makes me feel delicate, feminine for the first time in my life.

  Switching to the other breast, I’m so caught up in the moment, I don’t realize that he’s dragged my sleep shorts down almost to my knees until a warm palm lands on my left cheek in a harsh slap. I freeze, absorbing the blow, letting the sting dissipate into a pleasant burn. I’ve never been into the kinky stuff in bed before, but it’s clear Connor is.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He nuzzles around my breasts again, the rough scrape of his new beard growth sending blood rushing there. My breasts have never been so sensitive. Neither has my ass. Usually it’s something I try to hide from a lover, not let him play with. But from the way Connor strokes me there, I can tell he enjoys this.

  “I don’t want you to stop,” I tell him now, and he rewards me by pressing his erection into the juncture of my thighs.

  This is crazy, I’m half afraid he’s crazy, but I’m not strong enough to say no to the lure of forbidden pleasure. He sent me soaring the night before and I want him to do it again.

  Another roll, but this time he flips me onto my stomach, before peeling off my shorts. “Are you on birth control?” he asks as he nuzzles the back of my neck, his hands stroking up and over my legs, not hitting the hot well of need simmering at the apex.

  “No,” I breathe, regretting that fact if it means we’re going to stop now, that he won’t keep touching me, that he won’t fuck me. “Condoms are in the drawer.”

  “I hate these things,” he says, and I hear a drawer slide open. “Go on the pill.”

  Normally I’d get huffy over such a blatant demand, but all I say is, “You want me bareback, I need a clean bill of health and a promise of exclusivity.”

  A pause in his fumbling. “Are you negotiating with me, Red?”

  Am I? The words are just spilling out before I think them through. I was training to be a medical professional though. I’ve seen what nasty business an STD can do to a person, and I want no part of it. “I suppose I am. No glove, no dice until my terms are met.”

  He is silent behind me. His struggles to don the condom have ceased. I wonder if he’s going to call a halt to this madness, and relief fills me when warm, wet trailing kisses follow down my spine.

  “I’ll meet your terms tomorrow, as long as you meet mine.”

  I’m about to ask what those might be, but he inserts a finger into my snug channel, my lube easing his way, and any questions fly from my mind.

  “Oh, you’re so damn tight.” He rotates the finger, stroking my sensitive tissues. “So hot and wet. Roll onto your back. I want to lick you until you’re slick and ready for me.”

  My body moves into position in two seconds flat. I want him to dive right in, eager to feel that strong tongue and those hot lips against my sex again.

  He starts slower though, laving the smooth crease between my thigh and my mound. The skin there is extremely sensitive. Sparks zip up my spine.

  The moonlight filters in through the blinds, totally full now and casting iridescent trails across the mattress and our bodies. Those broad shoulders gleam in the light, and I realize he’s totally naked. I want to see his whole body, to explore him the way he’s been exploring me, but I don’t want to stop what I hope is coming.

  “So pretty,” he mumbles as he traces a thumb down the crease of my labia. The touch is way too light, and I reach down to urge him deeper, but he grabs my hands.

  “Not so fast.” He pivots me on the bed as though I weigh nothing until my head is facing the headboard once more. Pinning my hands to the slats of the headboard, he weaves something soft around first one, then the other, tying my hands until I’m immobile.

  “Is this alright?” he asks once he’s done. I see the hesitancy there. He’s afraid I’m going to panic.

  Instead of hastily reassuring him, I check in with my body’s response. Fingers flex, reassuring me that my circulation isn’t cut off. Nipples throbbing, thighs quivering, pussy gushing with lube.

  “My body trusts you,” I say. I’m well aware that my mind is still skeptical, but raging need keeps my superego at bay. I think about all the BDSM books I’d read and add, “I’ll say ‘Rosasharin’ if I want you to stop.”

  “Coming up with your own safeword.” He sounds impressed and cups my cheek in a tender gesture. Everything shifts, though, when I sink my teeth into my lower lip. Connor sucks in an au
dible breath and clamps his hand under my raw. “What did I tell you about that?”

  “That it made you want to fuck my face,” I reply immediately.

  “Don’t try to get me to change my plans. It won’t end well for you.” Gripping my hair, he lays a kiss on my lips, a complete invasion of my mouth by his, and I sag in immediate surrender. The scent of his skin is clean, spicy, and he tastes even hotter. Despite being tied, I buck up beneath him, quivering in anticipation.

  He tears his mouth from mine, then lifts my hips to prop a pillow under my backside. “Are you comfortable?”

  “I’m dying,” I tell him honestly, rubbing my thighs together to ease the ache there.

  He doesn’t respond to my gentle prodding. Instead he studies my body as though he’s figuring out how to unlock a safe. “Be sure you’re okay in this position. I plan to keep you here for a long time.”

  Then he slithers back down, trailing hot kisses over my breasts. It feels good, but I want—no need—him lower, parting the lips of my sex and seeing how wet I am for him. I shiver when he dips his tongue into my naval, the hot caress just inches from where my body desires it most. My clit is hard and aching, thrumming in time to the pounding of my heart, greedy for his hot kiss.

  Then finally, he’s in position. Spreading my thighs wide, he urges my legs up until my knees are bent and he loops his hands through, holding me in place.

  He breaths deeply, releasing the air from his lungs on a sigh. “Your scent is divine. It’s most potent right here.” He touches his tongue to my feminine opening. “I want to bathe in it.”

  More moisture flows from me at his words, and he shows his appreciation with a flat lick from my perineum to just below my clit. I squirm, but between the bathrobe tie binding me and his steady grip on my hips, I’m pinned open to him, for him to play with as long as he wants to.

  “Please,” I beg under his steady tongue lashing.

  “Please what?” he asks, lapping over the inner fold of my labia.

  “Lick my clit. Make me come.”

  Holding my gaze, he inserts his tongue slowly into my well, then shakes his head no. The motion works the slick appendage back and forth, soft yet strong inside my body.

  Arching my back drives him deeper, only not deep enough to satisfy. The wet slide feels incredible, the heat from his total concentration demanding a fresh coat of wetness to help quench the flames. Only it doesn’t. He leaves me there, teetering, unable to achieve fulfillment.

  “I’ll give you anything,” I plead when his thumb comes to rest lightly on top of my clitoral hood. He doesn’t do anything to stimulate the bundle of nerves and has me pinned so I can’t buck up against it.

  “Anything?” he asks, before delivering another of those slow and steady licks. “I’ll hold you to it, my shrewd little negotiator.”

  Every muscle in my body is pulled taut and I’m sweating, shaking with unspent lust. “Whatever you want, I promise.”

  His smile is pure sin and he holds my gaze when he lowers down, sucking the bit of flesh he’d been neglecting into his mouth. The force of his suction shoves me over the top. My mouth moves around a silent scream as I stare into the eyes of the man delivering more ecstasy than I ever imagined possible.

  My body judders in shaky aftershocks, heart racing, and when I come back to myself, he’s pushing my knees up to my chest. The position is odd, and I want nothing more than to go boneless after that cataclysmic release.

  He slaps my ass once while aligning himself at my wet opening. “Put your feet on my chest if you need to, but I will have you like this.”

  I do as he says, resting the soles of my feet against his bare chest.

  “Watch me, while I take you.”

  I fix my gaze on his face, glad he’s staring back. His focus is intense, grounding me when I want to float away. I’ve never had a man look at me this way before, with such raw need.

  His condom-covered cock slides between my saturated folds, teasing the blood-engorged tissues until I want to melt around him. Holding himself steady with one hand, he glides easily into my slick body.

  His primal growl teems with satisfaction, and pride shimmers in his glittering blue eyes. Holding my feet with one hand and my hip with the other, he moves in deep, punishing thrusts, shoving into me, fucking me roughly.

  My head thrashes back and forth on the mattress, unable to believe that desire is rising inside me again, like a faucet that isn’t turned off. His strokes quicken, building to the crescendo. His eyes are heavy lidded but still fixed on me, and I hear him pant with every slam of his hips, “Mine, mine, mine.”

  The words send me over again, and he’s right there with me this time, our shared orgasm melting us together until we are lost in one another. He groans as he empties himself into the condom, then releases my legs. They flop onto the bed and he lands on top of me, panting hard.

  We float together on a shimmering sea, neither of us willing or able to break the spell. This is right,some part of me whispers. It’s not Snarkarella, but something older, wiser than her, a part that had lain dormant until now.

  It can’t be right though, not with him. He’s too far out of my reach. Untouchable.

  He says nothing as he wraps one hand around the base of his cock and pulls free. Nothing as he removes the condom or when he disappears into the bathroom. I hear the sound of water running and wonder if I should remind him that I’m still bound to the headboard.

  When he returns, he’s carrying a cloth and towel. He wipes the sweat from my face, my arms, between my breasts, then dries them before moving lower.

  I watch him do this, feeling a chill creeping over me that has nothing to do with temperature. He’s cleaning me up, getting ready to pack me away. So much for souls touching.

  He hesitates to swipe the cloth between my legs. Our eyes meet and I see something flash across his face, something that almost looks like yearning. Dropping the cloth, he climbs onto the bed and again uses his tongue on my sex.

  “Connor, no more,” I whimper, too well used to fight him.

  His eyes close and he hums, his mouth working its magic on my yielding flesh.

  Eventually, I give up the fight and let him do what he wants. Eventually he’ll tire, or we’ll run out of condoms, something will stop his steady feasting, and then I’ll long for it. For him. So why not lay back and enjoy?

  Lifting my hips from the pillow, he traces a stream of moisture from my channel down to my puckered ring. I can’t see him now, but I feel his wet tongue circling the tiny aperture in lazy circles, stroking the nerves there in a slippery wet caress.

  Choking on a sob of exhaustion, I endure his total exploration for what feels like an eternity. He laves over and around and even into my ass when I relax enough to allow him entrance. I can’t believe he’s doing this, this dark act I’ve only considered in my most X rated fantasies. Release grips me again, leaving me a quivery mound of goo. That tongue is as dangerous as the man attached to it.

  Finally, he stops, eases me back onto the bed. Reaches for the towel to dry what he has cleaned so thoroughly.

  Again he retreats to the bathroom and I hear the sound of water running for a few minutes.

  Then he’s back, and after tucking the covers around me, he finally releases my hands, massaging them lightly to help restore full blood flow. He smells minty, and I know he used my mouthwash.

  What should I say? Should I ask him to stay with me? With the intense heat gone, we’re just two strangers who shared a carnal moment in time. It changes nothing.

  I tell myself that right up until the moment he climbs into bed behind me, spoons up to my back, wraps his arms around me, and whispers “mine.”

  I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

  When I wake in the morning, he’s gone.

  ~Continued in Part 2,

  Coming September 2012 from Sanibel Moon Books!~

  y Part 1)