by Claire Adams
I had to wrap my arms around his neck just to keep from falling back from the force of his kiss. He pulled his head away and met my eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I could stand spending another moment without you. You have no idea…”
I kissed him, slowly, softly, and let my tongue pass through the space between his lips. I pulled it back, and he pressed through, powerful now. My nails grated against his back, and I felt him shiver.
He stepped back and ripped my shirt off. I walked forward, kissed him again, and we kept walking up the stairs, while his lips played against my own, and his tongue swept up my palate. He bit down on my bottom lip, and I opened my eyes to see him smiling.
He lifted me up and cradled me in his arms while he carried me into the bedroom. He laid me down and took his place next to me on the bed. There was magic in this moment. When we were two people, discovering one another.
His hand swept up my arm, and a chill rose up. Then he grazed my jaw and lifted my chin so he could look at me. “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do.”
That was a weapon. He knew that it would drive me closer, and I’d press my lips against his. That my mouth would open easily, that my body would respond when he cupped my breast. It was all a way to pull me in, so we could ease our wounds and find the peace that we both deserved.
It worked. My body relaxed, and that dull ache behind my eyes faded away. His kiss and his touch were all that mattered. The way his hand pulled down my body, and his finger pulled over my nipple—I tensed up.
His lips moved faster, his tongue pulled out, and he left a hot, wet trail, down my chin, my neck, and my side. This was worship pure and simple, driven by devotion and the unbearable time we spent apart.
His lips were a blessing, sweet and gentle. Moving behind my ear, his teeth dug in, softly, but enough to cause a jolt, then stronger, driving my head back. I gasped, and he bit hard, pulling up the skin with his lips, letting it fall and rise, sucking in and out.
He pulled his hand down my breast, past my nipple, then under my bra. His thumb grazed my nipple, and thunder clapped, both inside me and outside. He pinched down, and it started sprinkling, trickling out in a hot, trembling burst.
I could feel it between my legs, like a raging storm in my core. It spun, writhed, and churned, filling the dry, neglected cracks, staining my panties, and as his lips moved down my neck, staining the sheets.
He reached his other hand under my bra and circled both nipples slowly, sending a cold wave down my body. It mixed with the storm that grew with every movement. His hand moved around my back, over the strap of my bra, and closer to the clasp.
Anticipation and passion rolled between us, fueled by his finger flicking back and forth over my nipple. His lips moved up my shoulder, and his bulge scraped against my legs, sending a pulsing wave flying straight to the storm.
My body clenched. A trickle burst out and became a wave when he unhooked my bra, ripped it off, and threw it behind him. His lips took control. His mouth moved down between my breasts and up my neck while his finger traced around my nipple.
The rain poured now, and it started pooling up. He looked up at me, stuck out his tongue, and flitted his tongue over the tip of my nipple, up and down, over and over again, each time sending sparks flying down my chest and over my stomach.
The tiny pools inside me became lakes. The hand he’d moved down my side rested against my hip, and his cock moved up and down my leg. His hips rose and fell, and his eyes, an innocent blue, caught the light. He smiled up at me with his wicked, predatory grin.
His kiss moved from one nipple to another, a sign of pure affection. Then he moved down over my breasts while his thumbs circled my areola. The warmth and moisture, set against the chilly air, provided a sweet moment of comfort, release, and something else powerful.
The storm wasn’t a storm anymore. It was a ball of electricity, and his lips were the catalyst, sending jolts flying down my stomach. Goosebumps pebbled my flesh, and the warmth of his breath flowed in, creating a fire that melded with the electric storm.
Then his teeth pressed in, tickling my skin, and they trailed lower, toward my pants. His fingers were the main focus. A finger circled one nipple, and he pinched the other, softly, then harder and harder, until a cry bubbled out, and he clamped onto both of them, laughing.
He sucked in air sharply through his teeth and kissed me. I didn’t notice his hand pressing down my pants because I was distracted by him pulling back and biting my lip, then moving down over my neck. He focused on my chest. One kiss fell on the top of my breasts, then the other, down my cleavage.
The storm was rising. His hand rested on my lips, and his finger moved up, over my veil, exposing my clit. I could feel the prints on his hand rubbing against it and the swell of moisture ready to pass through. The lakes were rising over the shore, ready to overflow.
His lips rested on one nipple, sucked it through, then onto the next as his finger started to press through my lips. He kissed the space between my breasts and began to move onto my stomach again.
This time, he moved urgently. He pulled his hand out and slipped his fingers through my belt loop. He moved his body lower, and his cock pulled down my leg. I could feel the head tracing down my shin, and his lips flowed past my belly button, pressing against the space just above my pants button.
He lifted his head to meet my eyes, and I felt a shiver pass down my body. The way he looked at me—that was pure devotion. The animal need to give me pleasure. It wasn’t pretty. It was disarming, and it left me feeling vulnerable, even as my body tensed up in anticipation.
He swept my pants off my legs, letting his hand stream down towards my ankles. He tossed my pants aside and grabbed me by the hips so he could pull my legs down over the end of the bed. He ripped them open, got down on his knees, and dove his head down with a wicked, chilling snarl that slammed me in the gut.
The second his breath poured over my clit, blood rushed in, and the lakes became boiling seas, overtaking the land and passing through the barriers I’d struggled so hard to put up.
His tongue whipped out, and he dipped his head down and pulled it up my lips. He rested it on my clit, pulled it up, and I shuddered. The rain was pounding, slamming in, like a furious torrent as his tongue pressed in, through my lips and into my opening
He had a cocky grin when reached up and let his thumb stroke up and down my clit. He pressed in, stroking back and forth, then down through my opening. That tiny movement rolled through me like the ground itself shook. My mouth fell open.
The sea poured out, spewing sharp jolts of lightning through my entire body. There was no preparing for that rush. My lips trembled, and I cried out. He stood and rested his body above mine. His kisses fell in tiny, angelic whispers. His lips grazed mine and parted so I could dip my tongue through.
Just past his head, I could see his hips rising and falling, scraping the rough denim over my skin. He rested the shaft on my lips as his fingers walked down my arm, over my breast, and clamped down on my nipple.
I cried out and pressed his hips down harder, digging his bulge between my lips. I felt the head stroke my clit when he rose up. He parted his legs and rested his knees at my side. Then he sat up, and I remembered exactly why I was there.
There was no fighting this creature. He was nothing but muscle. All brute force and cunning, so beautiful that I had to reach up and pull my hand down his ridged stomach. I rested it on his bulge and grabbed onto the base of his cock.
I needed to feel it. I had to see the way he groaned as I moved my hand up over the shaft. I flicked the head, and he grunted. I needed more. I increased the tempo and listened as his breath moved faster and faster. His eyes flew into the back of his head.
He caught my hand and moved it aside, then thrust his hips forwards, closer to my mouth. I reached out to grab it, and he caught my hand. I tried the other, but he grabbed it by the wrist. I struggled and flailed my arms around, but he just laughed.
He dropped one hand, so I lunged for it, but he just brushed it aside.
“Come on!” I begged.
He shook his head and laughed in that deep, dark way that always gave me chills. Then his hand flew back, and he pinched my clit. The jolt sent my body rising as far as it could go. He moved his body forward and thrust his hips closer to my mouth.
I lunged my head forward, but he pulled back and pinched my clit again. He had me trapped, and he had something I wanted. He was loving it. I could see it in the way he smiled with his lip curled up over his canines.
“Do it!”
I reached out and thrashed around, doing everything I could to taste it, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. He drove me wild with his finger circling my clit. It drove into my opening, and he let it rest on my spot.
My legs trembled again, and the storm inside me grew. Water poured out as a soft, bubbling sigh left my lips. When I looked up, he unbuttoned his pants.
I could see the bush of hair and the base of his shaft peeking out. It jumped as he pulled his pants off the rest of the way. I’d never seen it so hard. The tip was a deep purple, and the shaft throbbed. I pulled my head up to reach it, but he pulled back and stood up.
“What are you doing?”
He stood back so I could see and began stroking his shaft while he slowly lifted his white polo shirt. He pulled it up, along the trail of fuzz that traveled up his stomach, over his belly button, and the ridges of his stomach.
No man could possibly have the body he had without dedicating himself to working out. Even then, he would’ve had to spend most of his life struggling to become the magnificent beast he was. There was no fat, no marks, just pure muscle.
He threw his shirt aside and stroked his shaft, up and down. My eyes stuck there, watching as he picked up speed.
I couldn’t believe just how big he was, how powerful he was. I’d never met anyone like him. He wasn’t just a man. He was everything men were supposed to be. Powerful, sexual creatures.
He laid down on the bed beside me. His fingers trailed down my arm, and his lips met mine. His lips were tender and warm, softer than silk, and I could feel him smiling. His hand moved down my side, sending out a sweet shiver, like a gust of wind that fell down my body and melded with the storm.
The storm outside was growing stronger. We cuddled up close together. His lips moved over mine, scraping, swishing back and forth, his tongue pressing in and out. The tip moved in, pulled out slowly, then back again, more this time.
His hand moved down my stomach in between us, and the rain pounded against the window, with tiny flickers of lightning. As the rain fell harder, his hand moved closer, and his tongue dove deeper.
His hand was almost there now. His fingers swept over my lips and rested on my clit, while he pulled his tongue over the ridges on my hard palate. Then he slipped it out, past my front teeth, and dug his finger through.
My sigh was caught by his kiss, and his arm pulling underneath my side while his finger pushed deep. The pressure added to the raging storm system, turning it into a hurricane. I could feel it spinning, spreading a tingling warmth over my stomach, spewing heat between my legs.
His finger pushed through deeper, hitting my spot over and over again. He pulled it out and pushed it in so fast that I could barely keep up. It was bliss, but it wasn’t his cock. His cock rested against the top of my thigh, and he moved his hips back and forth, pressing it against my stomach.
He pulled me closer and pulled his finger out. His cock rested against my lips, and the head was right on my clit. His body was so close that I could feel our breath melding together, building a bubble of heat between us that flowed over my arm.
I was lost in the warmth and the brilliance of his touch and his kiss. It was worship, plain and simple. He cared about me, and he wanted me to know that. When he pulled me closer and he pressed his cock past my lips, he was slow and gentle.
Then he slammed through, past the ridges and folds, deep into my body. He bit down on my bottom lip and slammed through to my spot, back again, then out. He held onto me with his arm wrapped around my body.
His cock was like a jackhammer, so fast and hard that I could barely keep from crying out. I was moaning now, yelling. He grunted, and sweat beaded up on my forehead. The friction of his cock sliding through, and the growing heat between us. It was almost unbearable, but it was so fiery sweet.
My cries grew faster, more frantic, and his grunting moans got louder. He sped up, driving through further and further. His hips ground against the bed sheets, slipping past just like his cock.
It was like a lightning rod, gathering all of the energy from the storm, slamming it deeper and deeper, until his tongue dove through my mouth and a flash of lightning shot out.
Raging wind fluttered over my skin, hot water poured out, and of course, electricity coursed through my bones. My whole body trembled from my head to my toes, screaming as the power built, and I started to lose sight of where I was.
Nothing else existed but heat. It spread up over my stomach, down my thighs, my knees, and into my feet. It was like lava eating through my skin, my tissue, settling in my bones where the heat started to spread. It wrapped us both in a warm glow.
When I opened my eyes, he laid on his side with his head propped up in his hand. “You’re amazing,” he said, lowering his head to kiss me.
I kept my eyes open. I had to know if, after my climax, I still felt what I felt when we were together. There was warmth, and my stomach jumped. I had to grab onto the sheets just to brace myself against the rush.
Then he pulled back, and I saw how happy he was that I was there. It just didn’t seem right. I led him on. Now I was laying on his bed, letting him stroke my hair and hold my chin. It was beautiful, but it changed nothing.
“Thank you for coming back, Mercedes. You don’t know what this means to me.”
I pursed my lips.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I started to sit up, but I had to brush the hand away that he still had on me.
He froze. “Mercedes...”
He panicked, and so did I. Could I really do this? Yes, I had to. If I didn’t guard my heart, it was going to get worse. I had to push past my heartbreak and find a way to stand up and get out of there. When really, all I wanted to do was let him pull me close and rest my head against his chest.
We’d fall asleep there, and he’d hold me all night. Then we’d wake up, and he’d make me dinner, and we’d be happy. But it would be a lie. I was his whore, not his girlfriend. He paid me until I was so desperate for it that I was willing to let him give it to me for free.
That’s why it hurt so much when I did finally sit up, and he looked at me like he was ready to collapse. I turned away and got up. He let me. He didn’t say a single word. Maybe he wanted to be respectful, but I knew what I was doing.
When I ran downstairs, I heard him roar. It shattered my heart and sent me flying out the door.
Chapter 35
Jake
We were laying on the bed, drinking in the moment, and I was staring into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was perfect, even with her hair flaring out from the pounding I’d given her and with her lipstick smeared.
We were together, and I was ready to pull her close, let her rest head against my chest, and fall asleep next to her, just like I’d been wanting this whole time. Then she decided to run out again, and I was so angry, so fucking hurt, that my whole body shook with rage.
I jumped up, grabbed a robe, and ran down the stairs. Halfway down, I jumped over the bannister and landed feet first in the foyer. I threw the door open. Mercedes spun around and fell back. I reached for her, but she pulled away.
“No,” she said.
“You were leaning against the door crying,” I said.
She ran out into the rain, back toward her car sitting on the edge of the wraparound drive. The water was cold and thick, like walking th
rough a lake rather than rainfall. My whole body was drenched when I stepped out, but I didn’t care because she was still here.
“Mercedes, I love you.”
She stopped with her back to me and her arms wrapped around her chest. It was so cold that she shivered. I walked closer and felt her tense up when I got behind her. “I love you.”
“No,” she said, shaking with a violent sob, her voice filled with panic and doubt.
“I love you,” I said again, stepping closer.
“No.” She dashed for the driver’s side of her car. I ran around to block her way.
“I love you.”
She looked away. I turned her chin so that she faced me. She wrenched away. “No,” she whimpered.
“No, what? What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this? Why won’t you talk to me?”
She shook her head. “I should go.”
“I love you.”
She started to open the door. I grabbed her wrist. She pulled it away. “You don’t love me, Jake!” She turned around to face me, and all the sadness was gone, replaced by violent anger. “You just like the idea of me.”
“Whoa, wait…”
“No. You wanted to know, so I’ll tell you. It’ll make this a lot easier.”
“At least let me defend myself.”
“No, there’s no defense. You don’t even know what you do. You don’t like women, Jake. You like whores. That’s why you got with that woman.”
“That’s not true.”
“You got with me.”
“You are not a whore,” I said. “And if you take one thing away from this, remember that, Mercedes.”
“I don’t believe it, Jake. The truth is right in front of you. You called me to have sex with you, just like you did countless times with other women. You like whores, even if you don’t know it.”
“That isn’t true.”