by Dita Parker
He caught her mouth instead. Lucie whimpered. In protest or pleasure, he couldn’t tell as he fondled her breasts, rubbed her nipples gently. “I could kiss and cuddle you all night long, honey.”
“Please tell me you’ll do more than that,” she gasped.
Releasing her mouth, MacCale let go of her breasts, tilted her head back and cupped her lace-covered mound. “No body part left behind, I promise.” He caressed her neck with his lips, careful not to linger, not mark her creamy skin. One hand snaked beneath the flimsy fabric of her panties. Torturously slow he kept going, delving between her legs until he felt the slick opening of her pussy wet the tips of his fingers. “Wider,” he ordered, licked her throat, imagined kneeling between her thighs and savoring her pussy instead. “Open your legs, baby, let me feel you. That’s it. Good girl. Such a good girl to let me finger your pussy.”
Christ, she was steamy hot against his skin. He rubbed her lips, rimming ruthlessly until she keened, rolled her hips and tried to force him closer, drenching his digits in the process. Thrusting two fingers inside her without warning, he anchored her in place. Frantically, she pumped his fingers with her inner muscles, small clenches tugging him deeper.
“Shh, Lucie. Shh, honey.” He kissed her, her breathing no more than a pant against his mouth. “I need you too. So. Damn. Much.”
MacCale waited for Lucie to relax before giving her what she wanted, the friction she longed for. He worked his fingers in and out of her, slowly withdrawing, pistoning back in, the wash of her juices allowing for a smooth, easy penetration.
On a curse, Lucie’s hands flew to his arms, her nails digging into his biceps. He drew back, gave her clit a quick pluck before impaling her again, fast, hard. She cried out. He did it again, and again. Her back arched with every jolt of sensation, her hips shifting, rolling.
“Mac!”
“That’s it, sweet baby. Ride my fingers.” He slammed into her, burying his fingers inside her as she ground against his hand. Her pussy clenched around him, the snug wet grip making him crazy. His balls drew tight against the base of his cock, so damn tight with the need to come. But not before Lucie did.
“Five months. Five fucking months.” His fingers worked inside her with tight, controlled movements and within seconds her pussy rippled, tightened on him. Her moans grew longer, sharper, her whole body quivering as she reached for release. Everything in him fought not to push her to the bed, spread her legs and fuck her into the orgasm she so desperately craved. He gave her the frenzied movement of his fingers instead.
Lucie cried out his name, her voice thick, her eyes dazed, wide with pleasure. The pleasure he gave her. The scent of it filled the air, her nails a stinging, heated sensation on his skin. And when she grew taut before him, her cries welding into one drawn-out choppy wail as the orgasm tore through her, MacCale was forced to grit his teeth and hold back his own release. He wondered would he ever enjoy his own body as much as he enjoyed hers.
The contractions around his fingers eased. Lucie slumped against his chest, breathing hard. Spent. Sated. The knowledge filled him with a pride he would have thought ridiculous at one time. The satisfaction that now flared in him had little to do with sex and everything to do with a desire much deeper than a thousand nights in her bed could sate.
I love you. Let me love you, Lucie.
“Did I faint? I think I’m going to faint,” she wheezed.
“Oh no, you don’t. I need you with me for the next round.”
Slowly, he pulled back his fingers, rasping gently against her swollen, sensitized labia. Lucie twitched, sighed, as he kept petting her, smoothing over her mound to cup her while she caught her breath. MacCale wiped what cream still coated his fingers all over the engorged crest of his cock, wincing at the unbelievable sensation.
“That was warm up.” He had to go slow or self-combust. He was beginning to feel he would self-combust before he ever got inside her no matter what he did.
Lucie’s knees gave. MacCale scooped her up, laid her on the bed, changed his mind and scooped her up again to draw back the quilt covering the narrow mattress. “Better,” he murmured. The cotton sheets were far more comfortable than the linen quilt.
Gripping the waistband of her panties, he said, “Lift your hips for me, honey.” On shaking thighs, she complied. MacCale peeled the lace from her, pushed her legs open and kneeling between them, helped Lucie back up. The disheveled bra still plumped her breasts, and as tantalizing as the sight was, he needed her naked, skin on skin.
“Front or back?” he asked.
“Back,” she said. He unclasped the bra and helped Lucie out of it, reveling at how she moved as if in slow motion. Sitting down and opening his legs to prop them over hers, MacCale pulled her to him. He caressed her back, searching for the scars that marred her skin, feeling around for the welts he had missed the first time. He ran his fingers over every ridge the whip had left, every mark the cigars had made. A murderous rage seeped through the bliss. He couldn’t avenge her or change the past. But he could be here now.
Lucie squirmed. “They bother you?”
“No.” He grazed the scars, taking care to touch her tenderly where she had only known pain, touch her unflinchingly where he bet she wanted no man to touch or even look at.
“Yeah, right,” she grunted.
Pulling back, MacCale looked down into her eyes. Deep, dark-blue gleamed back at him as he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, the other around his shaft. He kissed her brief, fierce, tilted the thick stalk.
“Did that feel like the kiss of a turned-off man?” Nudging forward, he pushed the crown of his cock against her wet folds. Lucie drew a sharp breath, prompting him to play with her a little. He rubbed her lips with the tip, gathered the syrup there and spread it all over the swollen bud of her clit. Lucie gasped, her hands flying behind her for support as she strained to stay put.
His body taut with need, tense with hunger, MacCale couldn’t resist.
His hips flexed. He watched as the flushed wide crest slid to her lips, then pressed inside. The tiny entrance of her vagina parted, sucked at the head as he pressed it closer, clenching, urging him inside.
It was a pleasure so violent, he swore. Ah god, he couldn’t bear it. His hand locked on her, heated, pulsating pleasure wrecking his balls as he forced himself to pull back. Her juices lubricated the crown.
“Did that feel like the cock of a man who doesn’t like what he sees or feels?”
She sighed heavily. “No.”
“Damn right.” He didn’t want to kill the mood, but neither did he want Lucie to think there wasn’t an inch on her body he didn’t desire.
He tucked the head of his cock against the slick flesh of her sweet pussy, struggled with the instinct to thrust. The knob throbbed, screaming for more. He stoked the lust burning in his balls, stroked over her clit. Pre-cum welled from the tiny slit at the tip, mingled with her satiny juices as he moved over her mound, feathery-light, pleasure whipping through his shaft and racing up his spine at the thought of working his bare dick all the way inside her.
Lucie moaned. Then, as if she had heard his desperate thoughts she said, “Do it.”
Dipping back between the plump folds, MacCale pushed. The tight portal flared open, the thick crown of his cock disappearing, poised just inside her fiery-hot cunt before he was forced to pull back again.
Lucie gasped as he plopped out of her pussy. “Again. Deeper. Do it.”
MacCale looked at where their bodies almost joined. Sweat coated his neck, his back, as he stared at the naked length of his cock, the tip drenched, slick with how creamy and ready Lucie was, the evidence glistening all over the pink flesh of her labia.
“Again,” she demanded, rolled her hips, brushed against him. He watched her eyes drift shut, her head lolling back as sweet liquid heat spread all over the underside of his dick.
God, she would burn him alive. “Baby, I’m not protected.”
“I am. Always,” she
said. “Again.”
Lucie had fucked but had she known such intimacy? She’d had sex but had she ever known passion, the bond it could forge, the unbelievable pleasure it could bring?
Lucie dropped flat on her back. Her eyes fluttered open. Undiluted desire shone from them as she spread her legs but it wasn’t the temptress he saw in her lust-addled gaze or lazy movements. It was a woman giving herself to him so deeply, so completely that before he could catch himself, he was parting her saturated folds with his fingers and working his cock in, wedging inside her.
Mac eased back and forth. “There, baby. Take my dick. That’s it.” Feeling her muscles flex around him, he closed his eyes. Fighting to breathe, he had to stop. Half-buried inside her, he held still and let Lucie feel him, reveled in the feel of her.
“You still with me, Mac?”
“Oh god, I don’t know. Gimme a minute, okay?”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.” She sighed, squirmed. Her hips rocked against his, her pussy tugging at his cock and driving him crazy with the need to fuck into her hard and fast.
“All of you,” she whispered.
Shifting, he moved inside her sensitive depths and heard Lucie cry out in pleasure. Mac spread her folds to watch her taking him as he delved inside her flushed, tight flesh, sank into luscious bliss. Her scent intensified, the proof of her arousal, the smell of fucking and climaxing a potent aphrodisiac that only made his craving worse.
The incense fed his fire, tested his restraint. He impaled her a little deeper with each stroke, felt the pinching muscles as they parted for him. He pulled back, penetrated once again, the shivery muscles of her pussy gripping his dick every time he withdrew, scraping his length so sweetly every time he edged inside.
Lucie shook her head, gripped at the sheets. “Oh god, Mac, that feels incredible.”
“Doesn’t it, baby? Like a searing-hot dream.”
Just a dream. Every dream he’d ever had. This pussy. This body. This woman. Lucie wrapped in candlelight, her skin dewy and luminous, her eyes wide with awe.
“More,” she begged. “More.” Lucie arched, lost in sensation. She was humming in her throat, a low keening sound that pierced through Mac’s determination to go slow, the promise of nice and easy. It rammed through his restraint. He was losing it. Christ, he was losing control.
On a snarl of pure animal hunger, his hips jerked. He powered inside her, groaning at the pleasure. He buried his erection high inside her, a deep, hard stroke that made Lucie shout out in erotic shock.
Fuck. She was killing him. He was dying. Dying with pleasure, dying for her, for more.
“Again,” she pleaded. Her hips rolled, pressed against him, egged him on and he thrust, drove full-length inside and he could feel it, agonizing pleasure drawing his balls tighter. It tripped up his spine and it was all Mac could do not come, spill inside her clenching, quivering cunt, the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted, fingered, fucked.
His hands moved to her hips, tightened on damp, silky skin as he fought against release, fought to breathe through the pleasure racing from his balls to his dick, from his spine to the back of his head and down to his soul.
“Ah fuck! Lucie,” he groaned.
Then he was shifting, coming over her to thrust harder, stronger. He pumped inside her, his hips grinding against hers as if he couldn’t get deep enough, high enough. Within seconds, Lucie’s breathing picked up, her fingers curling into his forearms. Her legs latched around his waist, the snug channel of her pussy tightening as it pulsed around his shaft.
Too soon. Way too soon.
“Five months, Mac.” An excuse. A plea. Permission.
“Exactly,” he growled. Forcing himself into action, fighting against the need to come, come hard and come now, Mac retreated, pulled out of her clenching pussy. Lucie scrambled up, wriggled all over his dick and almost sent him hurtling into release as she sat on him, wrapping her legs around his back and her arms around his shoulders.
Mac locked her in place, his arms holding her still so she wouldn’t move on his cock. Not yet. The embrace bound them together, a sensual cocoon of warm skin and heavily drawn breaths, an unparalleled feeling of unity.
“I need it, Mac. So bad.” As firmly as she sat on him, Lucie still managed to destroy him, sucking at his cock with hungry flexes of her pussy. He wanted to hold her, just hold her in his arms. At the same time all he wanted was to keep making love to her, fuck her until she admitted loud and clear exactly whom she belonged to.
His chin gently scraped her cheek, his mouth pressed against her temple to kiss her there. Slowly, gradually, he eased up his hold to roam her skin with the tips of his fingers, encouraging Lucie to explore his skin with hers. “Nice and easy gets the goods, baby.”
She pinched his earlobe with her teeth. “Says the man who just pumped my pussy in a fucking frenzy.”
He nibbled her ear in return, nuzzled her neck, marveling at the unbelievable softness of her skin. “There is nothing like your skin on mine, Lucie. There is nothing better than feeling you, watching you, touching you. I need to hold you. I want to hold you when you come.”
“You’re going to come inside me.” Her graveled murmur brushed his throat.
“Deep and hard, baby,” he promised.
A shudder raced up her spine. One hand kneaded his shoulder, the other played with his hair. Her breasts grazed his chest, sent sparks crawling under his skin.
“I’ve dreamed about us, Mac. A thousand times. But this…this is so much better than I ever knew.”
Supporting her by the waist, he said, “Lean back.” Lucie arched her back, her chest stretching out, and pulled his head between her breasts. As if he needed encouragement. He nuzzled one nipple, tasted the spot between the pale, full globes before tracking the curve of the other breast with his tongue. Slowly, he licked his way up, circled around the swollen bead until Lucie squirmed. He awarded her with a tug of his lips followed by a rapid-fire tonguing that left her panting.
“Oh god, Mac. Stop. No. Don’t.” She held him tighter as he kissed her breasts, leisurely licks alternating with forceful pulls. His tongue traced every crease, lashed over satiny skin, his hand grazing over her hip then across to her butt cheeks. He gently kneaded her with his palm, her luscious bottom as big a turn-on as her beautiful breasts but nothing compared to the fire he’d seen in her eyes or the passion he’d heard in her voice.
His other hand tucked around her neck and lifted her face to his. His lips traced her throat, moved over her chin then touched her lips.
“Your eyes stay on mine. I want to watch you, baby.”
She sighed. “I’m not acting, Mac. This isn’t an act.”
“I know, honey. That’s why I want to watch you. It’s so damn beautiful. So fucking sexy.” He kissed her soft, gentle, his lips moving tenderly over hers. Lucie held on to him, let her tongue meet his, and Mac had to fight to hold himself back, to keep from devouring her and let her taste his mouth at her pace instead. He could feel his body grow taut. Would she see it in his expression? The insane hunger, the mindless need to possess?
His breathing rough, Mac gripped the aching length of his erection and tucked it against the entrance of her body. Searing heat swept the head of his cock. Grimacing, he prayed for patience and shifted closer.
“Ride me,” he urged. “Just don’t rush it.”
Gently, firmly, he guided her hips. Lucie pressed down. She moaned as the broad head parted her to enter.
“Mac.”
“That’s it, baby.”
She followed the lead of his hands at her hips, rocked against him. Her eyes stole between their bodies several times, Lucie trying to watch his cock begin to disappear inside her. Slick threads of fire surrounded the distended crest, streaked down the stalk and tore through his balls. She gripped his wrists as he held her hips, and pressed steadily downward.
Soft, surprised cries tore from her throat as she moved on him slowly, lifting and lowering, working
him inside her inch by thick inch as Mac watched her. Lucie holding on to him with nearly bruising force, the way her eyes narrowed and mouth opened, heated rushes of breath rolling off her tongue, her expression morphing into a study in blissful agony.
God, how he loved seeing her like that, just like that, giving in to the pleasure he wanted to share with her. Only her. He wanted to memorize every minute expression, every uninhibited response. He wanted to see if her pleasure could burn brighter, how much hotter she could make him burn because he was about to disintegrate.
Her hands flew to his upper arms, her nails digging into his shoulders. She impaled herself on him slowly, so slowly, her snug pussy closing around his cock, her inner muscles fondling his dick like a burnished vise. She stroked over him with every roll of her hips, every sway back and forth.
Mac heard himself wail. He gripped her hips, held her in place.
“Not so fast,” he panted.
She leaned forward, nipped his lower lip, stared back at him looking dazed, as dizzy as he felt. “If I go any slower I’ll stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you, Mac?” Her pussy flooded around him, her muscles clenching the pumped-up crown embedded inside her. Lucie braced her hands against his chest and slid back down on a moan. She lifted, pushed down farther, lifted, staring back at him, and put all her weight into the next downward stroke.
“Lucie! Fuck.” Sweat dripped down his temple now, dampened his chest.
Lucie shook, shuddered. “I love it, Mac.”
It. Not him. The sex. Just the sex.
“It’s good. So good.” Her voice was thick, a feminine bellow of satisfaction. Rocking against him she pressed down then lifted. Slow and easy she took every hard, heavily veined inch of his cock inside, shuddering with the pleasure. That rapture marked her expression, filled her eyes. She was breathing hard, choppy little breaths that told him she was lost in the hunger, as lost in the passion as he was.
Her pleasure intensified his, blistered through him, the look on her face nearly overthrowing him. Mac could feel himself losing his grip on the release that threatened to erupt from his balls. Lucie, like a dream come true, straddled on his lap, tight in his arms, driving him crazy with pleasure. Strong but vulnerable, sexy yet so innocent.