Badd Ass

by Jasinda Wilder

  Her face slid down to my shoulder and her teeth sank into the muscle along the side of my neck, a guttural groan escaping her as her hips gyrated.

  "Oh--oh--oh--oh..." she chanted, "I'mcomingI'mcomingI'mcoming so hard it hurts, oh god it hurts, ohmyfuckinggodZANE!"

  She shattered, then, her whole body spasming, arching backward and then curling spastically forward, my palm grinding in a blur against her clit. She cried out wordlessly and a thin stream squirted out of her in a long arc just as I moved out of the way.

  I scooped her into my arms as she collapsed, holding her against my chest. She was shaking all over, shuddering, eyes closed, little whimpers seeping past clenched teeth.

  I laid her on the bed, gently stripping her of her shirt and then her bra. She cooperated sluggishly, moving her arms just enough to allow me to get her arms free of the bra straps. When she was fully naked, I took a moment to appreciate her body, her beauty, the flushed glow on her face, the messy tangle of her naturally blonde hair.

  "You're beautiful all the time," I said, reclining beside her on the bed, my mouth inches from hers, "but right after you've come? You're absolutely breathtaking."

  "You made me squirt," she mumbled.

  I laughed and touched my lips to hers. "Yes, I did."

  "I can't feel my legs."

  "Does this make us even for that blow job?"

  She opened her eyes finally, scintillating and brilliant and vividly green. "Based on intensity alone? Yes." She gazed up at me, her eyes soft, lazy, and satisfied. "You should shut up and kiss me."

  I complied willingly, giving her my mouth. I was lost in the kiss. Consumed by it.

  I could do nothing but kiss her, nothing but put myself into the kiss. My hands buried in her hair, clutched her closer, and she rolled into me, her hands scraping down my back to palm my ass, her hips pressing against mine. Heat seared through me at the ferocity of the kiss, need piling on need. I was a live wire, the detonation of a fragmentation grenade compressed into the touch of lips to lips, belly to belly, thighs to thighs, hands on skin and tongues tangling. I lost my breath and found it in her lungs, lost my ability to think or function or move, and found it in the writhing of her hips and the clutch of her hands all over my body. All of me was focused on her, on this woman, in this moment, mesmerized by her, drawn in by her. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't need to, because she was all the breath I needed, her mouth on mine.

  "Zane..." she breathed.

  "Mara." I pulled back, my eyes on hers. "What's happening?"

  "I don't--I don't know," she whispered, and then pressed a kiss to my jaw, my chin, my cheekbone, kisses peppering across my face with delirious fervor, eliciting gasping groans from me at the wet, warm bliss of her lips, the affection in the kisses. "But I don't want to stop."

  "Me neither."

  We were on our sides facing each other, tangled together. My cock was aching, throbbing, pulsating with bursting need. I could feel every inch of Mara pressed against me, her breasts flattened against my chest, her arms around me, her hands scouring my arms, my hips, my thigh, my shoulders, palming over my scalp and teasing the shell of my ear and my nape and my back.

  She pressed closer to me, snuggling so tight there was not a single atom's worth of space between us. A breath of a moment later, Mara draped her thigh over mine, her hand on my ass pulling at me.

  "Zane." She buried her face in my neck, breathing hard. "I need you."

  I inhaled the scent of her hair, my hand on her hip. "I need you too."

  She flexed against me, then, and I couldn't stop the way my hips ground against hers, and I felt her slit sliding damp against my cock. "God...Zane--" There was a hint of a whimper in the way she said my name.

  A pivot of my hips, and I felt her open for me, felt her slick warmth welcome me. I groaned into her hair as I pushed in, bare and trembling.

  Mara moaned with me, clinging to me with all the strength in her body, shuddering against me as I sank into her until we were hips to hips, flush, her thighs wedged around my waist. I rolled to my back, taking her on top of me, and she drew her body downward, lips stuttering across my chest, her spine arching outward, her hips grinding backward, crushing me deeper and deeper and deeper. I gripped her hips, then forced my hands to release, hands shaking more than they ever did before combat. I traced the knobs of her spine with my fingers, walking my touch up her back until I reached her neck, and then slid my hands into the blond mass of her hair.

  Her head lifted, then, and her eyes bored into mine like lasers, daring me to look away, daring me to break this moment, daring me to stop this. I couldn't, I didn't. What I did was bring her face down to mine and kiss her, renewing the breathless delirium of our earlier kiss, except the ferocity and need was redoubled now, because I was buried inside her to the hilt, her pussy clenching around my cock.

  When my tongue slid into her mouth, she moaned, and began to move. A slow slide at first, is all it was, but then as one moment bled into the next, she growled into the kiss and moved faster. Her hands clutched my face and her tongue slashed mine and her hips rolled faster and faster.

  Something niggled deep down, way in the back of my consciousness, but I couldn't grasp the thought. All I knew was Mara, her mouth on mine and her ass brushing against my thighs as she moved on top of me. I moved with her, palming the heavy, taut globes of her perfect ass, encouraging her motion, pulling her against me, gripping my fingers into the generous swell. I tasted the heat of her mouth and felt her pussy clenching in throbbing rhythm around me.

  She controlled this moment. It was her movement, her body writhing on mine. All I could do was move with her, push into her thrusts.

  A rasping moan bubbled past her lips and we moved together, thrusts becoming ever more wild, ever more forceful, Mara guiding our pace. Faster, faster...her moans nonstop, her pussy gliding around my cock in a tight, slippery slide. Her forehead pressed into my chest and she pushed, arching her back, hips tight against mine to keep my cock thrust deep inside her. She rolled her hips in wide circles, and her fingers stole between her thighs, and she touched her clit. I kept moving, keep thrusting even though I was pressed as far into her channel as I could go, feeling her hand between us, her knuckles moving as she fondled her clit.

  Her moans went ragged, became whimpers, and then breathless shrieks, hips grinding harder, faster. "Zane--god, Zane. I'm--ohhhhhh..."

  She couldn't even finish her statement, but I knew. God, I knew. I felt it, felt her body spasm, felt her pussy ripple and tighten around me. In the moment of climax, she yanked her hand away and gave in to riding me through the orgasm.

  Her groans, her gasps, the clamping clench of her pussy around me, the hot silk of her flesh against me, under my hands, her body writhing above me, juddering...

  It was my undoing.

  "Mara, god...I'm--ohhhh god--I'm right there, I'm so close..."

  Her eyes flew open as I felt the release building inside me. "Oh, no! Zane--don't! Not inside me!"

  At the very last moment, I rolled her off of me and pulled out. Went to my knees above her, snarling and grunting as I felt the orgasm build and build to an imminent, explosive crescendo. Mara reached for me, both hands wrapping around my cock, fists plunging. I let go, then, hips pumping, cock sliding through her hands.

  I came with a wordless shout, a geyser of come spurting out of me. Her fists plunged hard and fast, her attention rapt as the first stream shot out of me, splashing onto her pale skin. I growled through it, watching my come lay in a thick white stripe along her belly and up her ribcage. She shimmied down as I came again, and this time it pooled on her breasts, sliding down between the mounds of taut, firm flesh. She didn't relent, but kept stroking me through each successive wave until I was breathless, a viscous string dangling between the tip of my cock and her skin.

  She lifted up, licked the string away, and took me into her mouth. She sucked the last of it out of me, fist still sliding, until I was too spent to stay upright any lo
nger.

  I fell to the side, gasping, Mara next to me. She was staring down at herself, index finger tracing through the puddles of my come.

  As we lay in companionable, easy silence for several minutes, the reality of what we'd just done, what had almost happened, began to rifle through me.

  "Mara, I--" I started, but had no idea what I'd been about to say.

  She held up her finger, sticky with my come, stuck it into her mouth and pulled it out, and then her eyes met mine. "I'm sorry, Zane."

  "You're sorry? For what? It was me, I should've--"

  "No, I mean, I'm sorry that I told you to stop. That you didn't get to finish the way we should've finished. I wanted you to...to finish inside me. But--" she fondled my now-slackened cock. "I just--I'm not--I wasn't ready."

  "I shouldn't have let that happen."

  She inched closer to me, laid her head on my arm and gazed at me. "I don't regret it. I don't, I can't--being with you bare like that? Zane, that was...it was so amazing. I want it like that all the time. That's what's dangerous about it."

  "We can't, though, can we? I mean, I'm clean, but--"

  "I'm clean, too, and I'm on the shot, so we're protected."

  "But still."

  She nodded. "But still."

  Her room in this B&B had a tiny but full en suite bathroom; she rolled away from me and danced gracefully across the to the bathroom, beautiful, naked, and enticing. She didn't bother closing the door; instead, she let me watch from the bed as she cleaned up. It was a strange, intense, and almost shocking intimacy, watching the way she soaked a washcloth in the sink, wrung it out, the way she wiped her skin clean with it, scrubbing her breasts and then her belly and then between her legs, then soaked and wrung out the washcloth again and wiped herself down once more. She dried herself with a bath towel, and then soaked the washcloth and wrung it out several more times before returning to the bed. She leaned over me, standing beside the bed. Gently, almost lovingly, she cleaned my cock, starting at the tip and then the head, then holding it with two fingers and angling it this way and that as she wiped me down with the warm, damp washcloth.

  That was a first for me, and it was just as bizarrely, emotionally, and intensely intimate as it had been watching her wash herself. Why? I wasn't quite sure. It just was. Combined with the fierce vulnerability we'd shared as we moved together, the moment was fraught and delicate as porcelain.

  My heart hammered, clenched. My breath caught. I couldn't look away--Mara was too beautiful, too mesmerizing. The way her hair cascaded in long sunlit waves over her shoulder, the flick and shift of her grass-green eyes, the high, full roundness of her breasts, the generous swell of her hips, the flawless ivory of her skin...

  How could I ever give her up? The thought battered through my head with all the undeniable force of a Stinger missile.

  I choked on the thought, froze under it, paralyzed by the ravaging intensity of it.

  Holy hell, I wasn't ready for that.

  This was supposed to be a week of fun with a gorgeous, charismatic, down-to-fuck girl, with a little extra non-sexual fun on the side.

  Not...this. Whatever this was.

  The problem was, Mara Quinn was quickly metamorphosing from a gorgeous, DTF girl into a breathtaking goddess, into the woman of any red-blooded man's dreams. My blood ran red, ran hot, and this woman was exactly that, the kind of woman I could see being at the center of all my dreams.

  And that was scaring the piss out of me.

  Chapter 9

  Mara

  I saw it hit him, like it had hit me. I'd been cleaning myself up--the bathroom was so small it was nearly impossible to close the door unless you got in the tub first, so I'd left the door open. I hadn't intended to let him watch, and it had been nerve-wracking in the extreme to stand there washing his come off my skin while he watched. It had taken everything I had to act casual about it, to not hyperventilate. But his gaze while I washed up...it had been so intense. Fierce. And the moments just before I'd stopped him from coming bare inside me, those moments as we moved together had been...searing enough to flay right out of me any notions of this being casual sex anymore.

  And I saw it hit him, watched the intensity hit him, watched the moment when he realized that we were creating something between each other that I know neither of us were ready for, that neither of us had expected.

  I finished cleaning him, tossed the washcloth into the tub, and re-joined him in the bed. I remembered Claire's insistence that I try post-coital snuggles...but given the intensity we'd just shared, snuggling with Zane seemed a little too much like tempting fate.

  So instead of curling up against his side, my head on his chest--like I dearly, desperately wanted to, deep down--I propped myself on an elbow next to him and drank in his masculine, muscular, rugged beauty. He didn't reach for me, either, and I suspected he was going through a similar tangle of thoughts and emotions.

  "So." He mirrored my pose, reaching out a hand to trace my figure from shoulder to hip to thigh and back up. "Dinner?"

  "With Mrs. Kingsley and the others?"

  He shrugged. "Sure. Sounds like fun."

  "And then a movie?"

  Another nod and shrug. "The theater here only has two screens as I remember, so the selection is limited. But that'd be fun." He let his hand rest on the swell of my hip. "It'll be proper date, then."

  "A real date." I wrinkled my nose. "I haven't been on a date-date since high school."

  He chuckled. "Me either, actually."

  My hand had a mind of its own, apparently, because I watched it drift out to fondle his dick. Still slack, but under my touch it began to stir.

  "Tell me about your last date," I said.

  He let out a breath. "Her name was...uh--Ashley. MacNamara? I think that's it, Ashley MacNamara. My senior year of high school, and she was a freshman at U-A-S."

  "An older woman, huh?" I teased, toying with him still.

  He flicked a thumb against my nipple. "Nah, only by, like, six months."

  "So what'd you guys do?"

  "Walked the boardwalk, and then I took her to Bar Harbor, and then to a movie." He rolled my nipple between his thumb and finger, sending little thrills fluttering through me. "Um...The Holiday, I think we saw."

  "You remember the movie?"

  He grinned slyly. "Yeah, well...more because we didn't actually see much of the movie."

  "Too busy making out, huh?"

  He chuckled. "You could call it making out, I suppose."

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. "In the movie theater?"

  "Way up in the very back."

  I had him at half-mast, by that point, hard enough to really begin stroking him. "You went all the way with her...in the theater?"

  "Nah, not all the way. Second base, I guess you'd call it."

  "And that was the last real date you went on?"

  He nodded. "I graduated not long after, and shipped out for RTC."

  "RTC?"

  "The Navy's version of boot camp--Recruit Training Command, in Great Lakes, Illinois."

  "And you and Ashley MacNamara? What happened there?"

  "After that date, she informed me she'd prefer to meet at her apartment. I'd bring carryout after school and we'd watch a movie in her room, and...you know, Netflix and chill, only this was before Netflix. Real World and chill, it ended up being, most of the time."

  "So that was a long term thing?" I asked, my fist moving slowly up and down his shaft.

  He circled my areola with a fingertip, his gaze on my breasts rather than me. "Um, sort of." His voice went tight and clipped, verbal shorthand for drop it.

  But I wasn't going to.

  "Meaning what?"

  He sighed and glanced at me. "You really want to hear this?"

  "Of course."

  "Now?"

  I nodded, and he shifted closer to me, allowing me to reach him more easily, and him me.

  "Well..." he said, sighing, and starting over. "That was my first an
d really only taste of heartbreak, if you really must know. I was into her. I'd dated a few girls up to that point, nothing serious, mainly just being a horny teenager, you know? Sleeping around, being a general douchebag. Ashley was cool, though. She was a college chick, which gave me points with the guys, but it wasn't about that. I was genuinely into her. Like I said, though, after that date she made it obvious she wasn't interested in dating me, just sleeping with me. Which was fine--like I was going to argue with not having to set up dates all the time? Should've been wiser, but I was a horny kid and she was hot. I mean it should've been obvious, looking back. I thought we had something, I thought she just liked being around me in private. But then one day I was out with Brock and Bax and couple other guys from school, just a bunch of dudes horsing around, whatever. And we saw Ashley with a bunch of other kids, guys, girls, a big crowd of people. And Ashley was hanging on this guy, this older guy. Like, she was nineteen and he had to have been twenty-four or five, I guess. Just hanging on him, kissing him, holding hands. Being the arrogant punk I was, I went up to her. And she was like, 'Oh, hey, Zane. This is my boyfriend.' She emphasized the word boyfriend and gave me this look that said don't say a fuckin' word. That was when I realized I was just a piece of ass for her. A side piece. So I quit going to her place, focused on finishing school, and then left for RTC."

  He was fully and magnificently hard by then.

  "That sucks," I said. "She sounds like she was a bitch."

  He shrugged. "It was a learning lesson."

  "What lesson did you learn?"

  "That dating sucks, and don't trust anyone."

  I turned my attention to my hand gliding along his length. "And now?"

  He watched me touch him. "Now? I mean, nothing I've ever seen has convinced me otherwise." He hesitated. "Until Bast met Dru, at least. And now...you."

  "And now me, what?"

  "I mean, we're not really dating, but you...you're starting to make me think maybe if the right person comes along, dating could be all right, and that it might not be so bad to try and trust someone."

  When he said we're not really dating, I felt a pang of pain. But he was right. By my own suggestion, this wasn't really dating. What we were doing had a built-in shelf life. I wasn't sure there was a term or a box for what we had--more than a one-night stand, but less than a relationship.