A Wild Ride

by Jasinda Wilder

  "And you....You make me crazy, Shane. I've known you for, like, an hour, and you turn me on without trying. You kissed me in the elevator, and I swear my heart stopped. I've never been kissed like that, not ever, not even in my fantasies."

  I was breathless at this point, worked up, hands gesturing and hair flying. Shane was watching me intently, his eyes betraying interest, lust, compassion...too many things to name, to even sort out. The man's eyes were beyond expressive; I finally understood how heroines in the erotica I read could talk about getting lost in a man's eyes. I really did, I found myself drowning in his gray-green orbs, drowning and not bothering to come up for air.

  When Shane realized I'd run out of steam, he stepped toward me, took me in his arms and kissed me. His hands ran around to my back, running across my shoulders, still damp from the shower, and down to the towel's bottom edge, near my thighs. His hands found my buttocks, cupped them with tender hesitation. I arched my back and ran my hands up the hard ridges of his spine.

  "So I'm your fresh start?" Shane's hands explored upward, mirroring my palms on his back.

  "Something like that. You're my recklessness. I want this with you, and I don't care that it's crazy and impulsive. I want it, at least partially, because it's crazy and impulsive."

  He grinned and dipped down to kiss me, a quick touch of the lips. "As long as you're sure. I wouldn't want you to feel seduced by a man like me."

  I rolled my eyes. "I've already said I misjudged you, and I'm sorry."

  He shook his head. "You didn't, not entirely. I am a hard-ass, and there was a time I was ready to fuck at a moment's notice. I just got tired of it. It stopped having any meaning, or even any real enjoyment, so I...gave it up for a while."

  "Gave it up? You mean sex?"

  He nodded, looking almost sheepish. "Yeah. It's been over a year."

  I looked at him again, with even more admiration and not a little awe. "I can't imagine going a year without it. John and I didn't do it every day, but it was usually at least once a week, sometime longer between. How do you not go crazy?"

  He shrugged. "Well, I'm gone a lot, working, and my work doesn't leave a lot of time for messing around."

  I picked up his coffee and sipped at it, then asked, "So what do you do?"

  "I'm a doctor. My brothers and I run a nonprofit company called Rescue Medic Enterprises. We're like Doctors Without Borders, but it's just my three brothers, me, and a few other guys. All of us are ex-military, grunts and spec ops, medics and field triage experts and such. We go to mostly third world countries and provide medical care in dangerous areas, or places where other nonprofits won't go. I just got back from treating civil war causalities in Africa, and I'll probably be going back soon."

  "So you intentionally, willingly go into third world war zones to treat hurt people?"

  "Yeah, basically." He poured a new cup of coffee, and we stood sipping our drinks.

  I wanted him as badly as ever, but I didn't feel rushed. He was fascinating, and I wanted to know him better.

  "That's incredible."

  He just shrugged again, nonchalant and dismissive. "Well, I spent most of eight years in combat situations. I got used to it. Then, one day near the end of my second four-year stint, my unit got ambushed and I nearly died. I decided I'd had enough of that, and took my walking papers. I came back to the States and tried living a normal life. I took a job in a hospital, working ER triage, and that was okay for a while, but I got restless. Then my brothers all got out, too, and they didn't even want to try a normal job, so we started Rescue Medic. My parents fronted us the start-up cash, and it turns out we love it. We get the thrill of combat, but it's different."

  He tipped his head at me. "What about you? What do you do?"

  "I'm an ER nurse."

  He grinned. "A like soul, then. Do you like it? Working ER?"

  I nodded. "I love it. I love the constant busyness, the rush and the excitement. I love helping people."

  He nodded, and he looked like he was considering something, but then it passed and he set his coffee cup down, stalking toward me. I set mine down and stood still, waiting.

  He'd never done his pants back up, and as he approached me, my hands moved of their own accord, reaching for him, touching the waistband of his underwear, touching his hips. He pressed me against the counter.

  "Last chance," he said. "I'll still take you somewhere else, no questions asked."

  I shook my head, slipped my hands around and under the band of his underwear to cup his smooth, tight, ass.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you, then," he growled.

  He scooped me up once more and carried me to the bedroom, set me down in the center of the bed, kneeling over me. He untucked the towel, one fold at a time. Pulling it free, he drew one side away, then the other, baring me to the cold air and his hungry eyes.

  "God, you're sexy." His voice was low, so deep and rumbling as to be barely audible.

  I shook my head. John wasn't one for compliments, and my self-esteem was an up-and-down thing. Shane was the kind of man who could have supermodels, A-list actresses, not girls like me.

  "Yes, you are. You're a goddess. You have a perfect body." He ran his hands up my stomach, between my breasts and back around to cup them, lift them, rubbing his thumbs across the nipples. "I can't wait to taste you all over."

  His hands worked magic on my tits, making me arch and writhe with just his hands on my breasts. Then he lowered his mouth to my shoulder, kissing me with a brush of the tongue, sliding his lips across to my chest and down between my breasts, kissing the side of one, then the other. He lifted one breast, kissed underneath it, then pinched a nipple and kissed the opposite one, all at the same time. I lost myself in his attentions, just lying there with my hands on his back and shoulder, head tilted backward, eyes closed and fluttering.

  I felt a thick something probe my clit, and I thought he'd somehow gotten his pants off without me noticing, but it was his finger, tracing circles around my wet, engorged nub, sliding down to push in, slip out and back in, then returning to my clit. I wasn't gasping yet, but close. I forced my back down to the bed and remembered I had hands, too, and I wanted to touch him. I pushed at his jeans until they slipped off his hips, and he wiggled out of them, kicking them off without missing a beat.

  My hands found their way to his ass again, and I marveled at the fact that even his ass was muscular and tight.

  Suddenly I realized how small and soft John was, and then I banished all thoughts of my ex-fiance from my mind. He might as well have stopped existing at that moment, as far as I was concerned.

  Shane's lips began a gradual southward descent, kissing my ribs and then my stomach, my navel, each hip. He took me by the hips and pulled me down to the end of the bed, slipping off it, and then my knees were on his shoulders and his tongue was licking at my inner thighs, and his lips were pressed to my labia, his lightly stubbled cheeks grazing my thighs.

  I spread my knees apart, arching my back as I felt his tongue find my clit, swirling in slow circles. I did gasp then, a gentle inbreath. Oh, that man's tongue was nimble and sure, drawing pleasure from me in skilled waves, bringing me up, and then back down, closer to the edge of orgasm and back away. He dipped his tongue in, moving his head in circles as my hips began to buck. I was gasping, nearly whimpering now, and I was so close, but he slowed down and I bent to put my fingers in his hair, tangling and gripping, not quite pushing him toward me, but nearly. He huffed a laugh into my pussy, and I moaned at the sudden heat. He did it again, not a laugh this time but a slow exhale, his hot breath driving me wild. He breathed on me again, and then his tongue found me again, and now he didn't pull me back. Slow circles at first, then a few upward licks, and then circles again, tightening in around my clit until I was bucking my hips in a frenzy, and then I came, harder than I ever had before. I came so hard I saw stars, and I actually shrieked and moaned.

  I'm not a vocal person during sex, not ever. Even during the most intense
experiences before, the most I ever let out was a gasping inbreath at climax, which was inevitably a low tremor at best.

  This was an explosion, a nuclear detonation in my pussy driving outward to burn in my belly and set my limbs to trembling. Shane crawled back up on the bed, and I cracked my eyes open to watch him slink toward me with predator grace, stealthy and dangerous and still hungry for me.

  I pulled him forward and kissed him, ravenous for his lips, tasting my own juices on his lips and not caring, but liking it in fact.

  "Had you ever had that done to you before?" Shane asked, between kisses.

  "Once, and it was awkward and unpleasant for us both. That was when we first started dating." I raked my nails down his back. "That was unlike anything I've ever felt. I've never come so hard in my life."

  He just laughed. "Oh, man. You're in for a wild ride, Leo. I'm just getting started. That was to get you going."

  His confidence was awe-inspiring. If that was just the beginning, I couldn't even imagine what the rest of my night would be like.

  Shane settled his long, hard body on the bed next to me and we made out, just kissed and kissed, tongues flying and lips snarling. I was breathless when we broke apart. I lifted up on an elbow and raked my gaze over his body, taking in the glorious expanse of muscle, toned and defined and lithe. I traced his chest with a finger, circled his nipples, and then let my finger follow the dips and hollows between his abs, finally finding the "V" where his abs led to his groin, disappearing beneath his boxer-briefs.

  He was hard for me, bulging up against his boxers, the head nearly escaping. I glanced at him, and he lifted an eyebrow at me, smiling with one side of his mouth. He just lay there, waiting, one hand on my back, the other tossed lazily along his chest. He knew what he had, and he was just waiting for me to discover it.

  I worked one finger underneath the band of his gray boxers, and my finger brushed the tip of him. He flinched, his stomach sucking in. I looked at him, seeing a flash of nerves, vanishing as quickly as it came. I remembered he'd gone a year without this, so a little nerves was understandable. I wondered if he'd finish quick, since it had been so long. That was probably where the nerves came into play; he was wondering the same thing I was. I thought about telling him that John--the name flitted through my mind, and I felt a quiver of revulsion at its passage--had never lasted more than a couple minutes, max. I didn't say anything, though. I knew somehow that even if Shane only lasted thirty seconds, it'd be a better thirty seconds than all the minutes John had ever given me, combined.

  These thoughts all passed through me in an instant, there and gone.

  I drew the waistband away from his body, and the tip of his cock sprang free, and I nearly moaned at the sight of him. I pulled the boxers down to his thighs, and then, feeling a thrill of daring blossom in my belly, I moved down and touched my tongue to his cock, just the tip of my tongue against the side. Shane sucked his breath in through his nose, and I looked at him with a grin.

  "You don't have to," he said.

  "I want to."

  "Have you ever?"

  "Once, kind of," I said as I pulled the boxers off the rest of the way; he tossed them aside with a foot.

  "Kind of?" He quirked his eyebrow, a gesture that I was learning held a wealth of expression for Shane.

  I shrugged. "It didn't go well. He didn't like it, said it felt weird. I stopped before it really got anywhere, and I never tried again."

  I shrugged, dismissing the past.

  He pulled at a blonde curl with a finger. "If you want to..."

  I didn't respond. Not with words, anyway. I took him in both hands, one fist atop the other, and his head still stuck an inch above my fingers, if not more. He was thick, too, wide and round, with a gentle inward curve from the base to the tip. I traced the tiny hole at the tip with a finger, and clear fluid pulsed out. I lowered my head to taste it, and he flinched again, his cock bobbing with his sucked-in breath. So sensitive.

  I rubbed him up and down with my hands, but I realized he was dry, so I lowered my mouth to his length, licking him, taking him sideways into my mouth and letting my saliva coat him. He was slick now, and I took him in my hands again, pumping slowly. His hips began to gyrate, and I felt bolder now. His eyes were hooded, his chest heaving slowly, his hands grasping the comforter of the bed. I took his bulbous, engorged head in my mouth, tasting the pre-come on my tongue, and then spat him out to admire his cock once more.

  Shane laughed. "You're teasing me, Leo. Oh, god, you're driving me crazy."

  I looked up at him, still holding him in my hands, and slid my hands along his cock again. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to tease you on purpose. Your cock is just so beautiful."

  He smiled at me, then tipped his head back and arched his spine as I took him in my mouth again, spreading my lips as wide as they could go to accommodate his girth. I pumped my fists around him, taking him farther in my mouth until he bumped against the back of my throat. Back out then, not all the way, and he was clutching the blanket with white-knuckled fists.

  He'd already lasted longer than I'd ever had a man inside me.

  I swallowed him again, this time pushing him deeper into my throat, just to the edge of my gag reflex. He gasped then, when he was nearly down my throat, and I loved the sound, loved the kind of power I had over him doing this. I was enjoying it, for myself, and for him. Now I started a rhythm, bobbing up and down on him, slipping my hands on his cock near the base in the rhythm of my mouth around him.

  His hips moved with a desperate vigor, and I matched his pace, working him with mouth and hands as fast as I could move, gliding my hands on his saliva-slick base and my mouth on his engorged cock tip. I took him deep then, letting him push against my throat and to the very edge of my gag reflex. He was thrusting wildly, and I learned to back away as he reached the apex of his thrust so I wouldn't gag. His fingers and knuckles were white from his death grip on the comforter, and he was gasping low in his throat.

  I left one hand moving on his cock and lowered the other to his balls, cupping his sac in my palm and fingers, massaging as gently as I could. They were so soft, gentle prickles of hair and wrinkled skin taut and tight.

  He gritted a warning past clenched teeth, "I'm coming, oh, god, I'm coming right now..."

  He came hard, unleashing a flood of hot, salty, thick seed into my mouth and down my throat. His balls pulsed in my hand, and his cock trembled and quivered as he came. I milked him hard, sucking on him, working him with my hand until he moaned again and writhed on the bed, bending forward and then arching his back.

  I felt powerful then, sensual and seductive and all woman. He drew me to his chest, and I curled into him, grateful for his warmth. I felt cocooned in his embrace, surrounded by heat and male muscle and dangerous strength and gentle affection.

  "Oh. My. God." Shane's voice was husky and still breathless. "You made me come so hard. That was awesome."

  I felt a thrill of pride at his praise. I knew I'd do that again, just to get the reaction from him, to feel the power over his body, to give him the kind of pleasure I so obviously had.

  My fingers traced his muscles, the other hand pressed between us. His hands were sliding up and down my back, tickling my tailbone and down into the crevice of my ass, moving up my hip to my shoulder and back down to my ass in an exploring caress.

  I couldn't keep my hand off his cock, though, and it was soon in my hand once more; I liked touching it, feeling its odd contradiction of silk and steel. At that moment it was soft and limp, flopping in my hand, strangely weighty.

  My belly tensed with anticipation as he started to firm under my touch. I wanted him inside me; I was trembling with eagerness to feel him plunge his immensity into my wet, slick pussy.

  "God, you've got me ready to go already," Shane said.

  He wasn't completely engorged yet, his cock standing perpendicular to his body rather than parallel. He curled me onto him, lifting my entire weight with one arm. I settled astride
his knees and took him into my hands again.

  He reached out and pulled open a drawer on the nightstand, ripped a condom free from the string of them and opened it. I took it from him and stretched it over his head, rolled it down with a hand-over-hand motion. The moment it was on, Shane took me by the hips, lifted me up, and guided me toward his cock. I took him in one hand and probed my entrance with his tip.

  I held myself up above him for a moment, looking down at him, our eyes meeting. I swear, actual sparks flew in the air, just for a moment. I sank down onto his full length in one slow plunge, gasping for breath, mouth quivering as he stretched my tight pussy wide to accept him. God, he was huge. He filled me, and made me stretch to take more.

  He groaned as I enveloped him, a low, animal growl in the back of his throat, a primal sound that drove me wild. I supported myself with my hands on his chest and began a dawdling roll of my hips, measured and unhurried, letting my folds adjust to his size. He wasn't even all the way in yet, and I was rising to orgasm already. I couldn't breathe past the feel of him inside me, and it only got worse when he took my tits in his hands and worked his magic again, twiddling the nipples, pinching, rolling, cupping, and hefting the breasts in his powerful hands.

  "Am I hurting you?" Shane asked, still barely fluttering his hips, not thrusting almost at all. "You're so tight, Leo, so goddamned tight."

  I shook my head, sucked in a breath to speak. "No...you're perfect. Just go slow."

  A lift of my hips brought him nearly out of me, and he pushed toward me, wanting to bury himself again. I sank down, and this time I took his length all the way in, impaled him to the hilt, ground my hips against his. I collapsed against him, crushing my lips to his, my breath coming in shallow pants, sweat beading down my spine.

  Fire was roiling in my belly, liquid heat pooling between my thighs, spreading to every inch of my body, coating every pore of my skin with hypersensitivity. He started to move into me, gradual pulsations, gentle pushes. Every movement sent ecstasy thrilling through me, stealing my breath, pulling whimpers from my throat. I matched his rhythm, barely moving in and out; I clutched him, arms around his neck, my entire body pressed against his, our sweat commingling and our breath merging. His lips grazed my shoulders and his fingers dug into my hips and thighs, straining for control.