Catching Mr. Right

by Misti Murphy

  I sink to my knees and take her tutu with me to the floor. All that damn filmy fabric is surprisingly rough against my fingertips. Dropping it on the carpet, I wind my hand around her thigh and bring her to stand in front of me.

  Mouth pursed, she touches my hair, my face, my jaw. “What are you doing down there?”

  “You know what I’m doing.” My voice comes out all guttural and raw. My fingers find the inside of her thigh and slide higher. The white material between them is wet and partly see-through. She’s wearing black panties under her body suit. Lace. Damn.

  “Why are you taking so long?” She wiggles and wriggles and that white body suit is off her arms and being peeled from her torso and over her hips. I pull it down her legs, and she steps out of it without kicking off her pink wedges. Grabbing my hand, she puts it on the front of her panties and grinds against the heel of my palm. “I’m already wet and ready for you.”

  “Fuck, girl. Can’t you let me lead for once without asking questions?” I’m not going to rush this with her. She’s seen the size of me, knows my history. And maybe what happened in the past isn’t pertinent here, tonight, but I’m not going to blow this night with her because she always needs to have her own way.

  “I’m nervous.” She blushes. “Is that normal?”

  “For you?” I smirk as I pull her panties down her legs.

  She slaps at my shoulder, clings to me. “You have to tell me if I suck at it.”

  “We’ll practice. As many times as you want.”

  “Should we see how this time goes?” She’s watching me intently, her green eyes dark and incredibly wide. The same way she looked at me while I held her against the tree out in the forest before I put my mouth to her pussy for the first time.

  “I have to make this good for you.” As good as it can be. Surging up, I take her hand, kiss the palm and lower it to my belt. “You tell me what you want.”

  A giant grin breaks across her face as she leads me by my belt to the bed. Crawling onto it backward without breaking eye contact, she kneels in front of me and nips at my jaw.

  “Careful.” I thumb one diamond sharp point through the lace cup of her bra. “Or I’ll change my mind.”

  “About sleeping with me?” she asks, yanking until the buckle comes undone.

  “Fuck no. About how we get to the point where you’re wrapped up in my arms, your head on my chest, probably snoring or dribbling. You’re a dribbler, aren’t you?”

  “I am not. I’m delightful.” She pops the button on my fly, works the zip down. The metallic click of the tines coming undone fills the room.

  Her fingers are warm and nimble against my skin as they trace the elastic of my boxer briefs. A flutter starts wherever she makes contact with my skin. My cock swells and begs for release, my jeans still tight across my thighs. She shoves them down until she has to bend and her mouth gets a little too close to my erection. My heart trips and my world turns off kilter. I grip her jaw to make her stop. My heart is confused on whether to beat fast or not at all. It takes a moment to steady myself, and I duck my head and turn to shed my pants and boxers myself.

  This situation is different. This is not that night all over again. I take a deep, steadying breath as I dig out the condoms I bought earlier this week and toss them onto the bed.

  “Are you scared?” she asks, licking her lips and tracing the head of my cock with her fingernails.

  “Are you?” The scratchy, tickling feeling makes me groan, brings my focus back to what we’re doing.

  “No.” She swipes her thumb over the little dent at the top, gathers a bead of precum and rubs it over the swollen crown. Squeezing me in her fist, she strokes my length.

  Gripping the back of her neck, I pull her to me and kiss her hard. I want to leave something of myself on her. Imprint these intense moments of our summer on her skin the way I want her inked on me. Mandy Pearce is so deep inside me she’s tattooed on my very cells. I’ll take her with me everywhere I go. I just hope she can feel that. I crawl onto the bed with her, push her down until she’s staring up from below me. My pink little minx.

  I kiss each inch of her until her skin is dewy and flushed all over. I take my time, licking and sucking at her breasts and her nipples, using my tongue to toy with the hard nubs until she’s curling her fingers into my hair and writhing, her legs scissoring underneath me.

  I trail my mouth down the curve of her abdomen, dart the tip of my tongue to her navel. She’s salt, and sweat, and sweet wine. She’s soft whimpers that tear at my lungs, but also could convince me I’m Superman. She could convince anyone of anything.

  She’s smooth under my fingers. Swollen. Pink. And drenched. Her arousal shimmers between her legs like the glitter that’s formed a constellation on her shoulder. Her grip on my shoulder bites into my skin as I run a fingertip through her wetness and circle her clit.

  A soft moan works its way up her throat, forcing her head back and her tits to rise off the bed as I taste her. My fingers stroke her pussy, my tongue her clit.

  “Cas,” she cries out, reaching for me. I take her hands, one in each of mine, and hold them to the mattress beside her as she arches under me. “I’m ready for you. Please.”

  Releasing her hands, I drop to the bed on my back and pick up a condom, rip open the packet, and roll it down over my shaft. She watches every move I make, and I reach out and pull her on top of me. Her knees automatically settle beside my hips, her pussy hot against the head of my cock. I want to fuck her so bad, want her wet snatch wrapped snugly around me. The desire to get lost in her is a craving I can’t ignore. But this is for her. This first time. I already know there’ll be a next time. There has to be. Once won’t be enough. Not for me.

  Kissing her, I clamp my hands around the back of her thighs, rock her back and forth on top of me so that my cock glides between her legs and is coated in her arousal. The head of it pushes at her entrance with each roll of my hips, so close and ready for her to sink down onto me, but waiting until she can’t stand not having me fill her.

  And then she shifts and I’m engulfed in her before I can control the movement.

  She stills, staring down at me, breathing fast. She’s shaking and wriggling and freaking out. “Shit, Cas, it’s huge. Too big. I don’t know if I can do this.”

  I’m about to lose my fucking mind with how tight she is, and the way her squirming is stroking my cock. Grasping her face, I brush my thumbs along her cheekbones. “We’re made to fit together, Mandy. It’s just the first time can be tight, okay. Breathe, girl, I’ve got you. The pressure will ease up in a minute, I promise.”

  She lets out a soft cry and presses her teeth into her trembling lower lip while we stay frozen like that, waiting for her to get used to the sensation of having me fill her. Waiting until she’s ready to move again.

  “I’m glad I’m doing this with you,” she whispers, rocking gradually onto my cock, taking me inch by inch and as far as she can handle.

  “Fuck, girl, I’m glad I’m doing this with you too,” I echo. Didn’t think anyone would get me back on the horse. Not this horse. Not this saddle. But Mandy Pearce isn’t just anyone.

  “Oh wow,” she whispers. Her movements speed up, her breath gets choppy and her eyelids heavy. “This isn’t like my vibrator. This doesn’t feel anything like my vibrator.”

  I chuckle as I push up into her. Not thrusting all the way in, not pounding her as hard as I’d like to. She’s probably not quite ready for that. “You like having my cock in you?”

  She shivers and moans. “I’m going to come, Cas. I don’t think I can help it.”

  With the way her words lilt at the end into a high pitched whine, I’m pretty sure she can’t. So we roll with it. Her tight inner muscles spasm around my cock, and I have to fight to keep control. Each time she squeezes around me is intensified as I struggle to keep from pounding into her as hard as my body craves, but I don’t last anyway. Her orgasm triggers my own and milks me of every last drop.

&
nbsp; Chapter Nineteen

  MANDY

  I don’t know what I’m doing.

  I always know what I’m doing.

  It’s just right now, in Cas’s arms, in his bed, and with his cock still buried inside me, I’ve never been more uncertain. Or felt so good.

  I’m following a plan. This was the strategy. Get Sam Sweets to fall for me, to want to date me, and eventually want more. Get Cas to help me land Mister Right by faking a relationship, have him take my virginity. All we’re doing is following the goals outlined at the beginning. Okay, well not all the goals we outlined. The virginity thing wasn’t supposed to be part of the pact Cas and I made, but then I went and told Sam I was a big girl who wasn’t as innocent as he thought she was. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t naïve. I wasn’t blind about what I was hoping for. I just had that annoying hymen issue. Okay, it was more a lack of experience issue. But now I’m not so sure this is as simple as following an outline.

  In fact, there’s probably never been a plan that feels less like a plan and more like, like…

  Cas jostles me a bit, with one arm wrapped around my middle so that he can pull out of me. His cock feels kind of bendy and not all that deflated. I almost wiggle on him to see what will happen.

  “Keep still.” He growls into my hair while his dick twitches inside me, and I do as he says. I’m not sore from the experience, maybe because I’ve shoved my vibrator up there that many times over the years it helped prepare me. I probably wouldn’t have been able to handle him otherwise.

  He leaves a hot dribble of my own arousal against my thigh as his cock slaps his stomach. It starts to grow cold and sticky almost immediately.

  “I have to get rid of the condom,” he whispers.

  I push against his chest, collapse onto my back on the bed beside him while he rolls the rubber up, knots it, reaches over to put it in the waste basket beside the bed. His other hand finds mine, twines our fingers, squeezes. I press back.

  Should I tell him that I don’t know what I’m doing? I almost did earlier. For a split second, I was going to tell him that maybe I’m wrong about what it takes to be Mister Right.

  Maybe I want something bigger.

  Nerves that swarm like butterflies every time we’re face to face.

  Fireworks every time we kiss.

  The inability to breathe when he gives me that look. The one that tells me he’s hungry for my attention. That I’m the only person he sees. That I could be the one thing on this planet that could truly make him happy.

  The helplessness that fills me when I think I could be wrong about that look.

  Cas stretches out on his side, propped up on his elbow, and fingers a few locks of my hair. “I love this. Fucking sexy.”

  “Do you think?” It’s washable color, gone with the next shower. Like this night? Is it nothing more than a tantalizing memory I’ll look back on?

  “Come on,” he says, climbing off the bed and reaching for me.

  “What are we doing?” I give him my hand.

  “We’re going to get cleaned up.” He leads me to the bathroom attached to his room.

  “But my hair.” I wind a strand around my finger. “The color will go everywhere. You’ll think you somehow ended up in the middle of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

  “Pretty sure there’s a cap in one of the drawers.” Grinning, he draws me in and shuts the door. “And a little pink has never scared me.”

  Would it if he knew that I was second guessing myself? About Sam? About him?

  He turns the water on and sifts through the drawers in the vanity until he crows triumphantly as he holds up a floral shower cap. “Here we go.”

  Perched on the edge of the sink, he gathers my hair and pulls the plastic cap over my head, tucking the lose tendrils under the elastic. I glance over his shoulder at the unsexy get up. “Did you steal this from my grandmother’s house?”

  “I think whoever stayed in this room before me probably left it. Or Claire was overly organized.” His brown eyes twinkle as he runs his gaze over me from the tip of my… shower cap to my toes.

  “What do you think?” I model the stupid thing for him.

  “Only you,” he says gruffly, moving in one fluid motion from the vanity to the shower, scooping me up on his way. He bites and kisses my mouth as he puts me down under the spray.

  “Only me what?” Water drums over my head. My pulse thunders under his heated gaze.

  I lose a breath, a heartbeat, a second as he presses me between the textured, chilly tiles and his angular body. His maleness makes my knees weak. His musky scent makes me want to cling to him. “Only you could wear that damn awful shower cap and still make a guy hard as fuck.”

  I laugh, even as my gaze drops to his erection. The head of it bobs against his abs. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” He takes my hand and places it on his cock, curls my palm around him and guides it up and down his length. “Mandy Pearce, you are, by far, the most delectable little morsel.”

  “Morsel?” I throw the word back at him, my stomach flip-flopping, my breath coming out ragged with the lightness in my lungs. It’s just a line. It doesn’t even mean anything, but it paints pictures in my head of something that lasts longer than tonight. “Are you going to eat me?”

  “Fuck yes.” His fingers go to the hot throbbing spot between my thighs. Hanging onto his biceps, I step out to give him access to the parts of me that only know him—well, and a bunch of batteries wrapped in vibrating silicone, but they never made me want like he does. He drops his mouth to my breast, sucks at my skin, leaves it rosy as he moves to the other. I tilt my face into the water, get lost in the drumming. Water droplets. My heartbeat. The constant pulsing between my legs as he pushes his fingers into me with deep, unhurried strokes. He takes his time, turns his entire focus on every inch of me. By the time he gets his tongue between my legs I can barely contain my orgasm. My shoulders bounce against the tiles, my fingers get lost in his hair as I climax, crying out under the spray.

  Cas surges to his feet. He climbs out of the shower and grabs a condom. Brow furrowed, he bites his lip as he focuses on tugging the latex over his cock. Rivers of water follow the dips and planes of his body and so does my gaze while I wait for him to fill the space closest to me again. I wind my arms around his shoulders as he picks me up and presses my back to the wall to balance us. His cock slides in more easily this time. Deeper. He steals my mouth, my breath, my plans.

  Maybe I give them to him. Maybe I was wrong about what I want.

  I bury my face in his neck, hide my thoughts where he can’t see them as he fucks me with powerful strokes that stretch and fill me and send me soaring into darkness while my inner walls squeeze his cock until he groans loudly with his orgasm. Maybe I’ll never tell.

  We collapse against the wall, and he kisses me softly while he turns the water off with a shaky hand. His muscles tremble around me.

  “We didn’t soap up,” I tell him as he carries me out of the shower and drapes one huge fluffy towel around us.

  “We’ll come back to it.” He kisses me, pulling the shower cap from my hair and tossing it into the sink before striding out of the bathroom. “Once I’ve fed you some sandwiches, and we’ve watched some bad TV.”

  “Okay.” I can’t deny I’m famished. Can’t stop the growling of my stomach. “Is there any chocolate? I’m fanging for some sugar.”

  “Probably.” He smirks as he puts me down and rubs me dry with the towel before winding it around his hips. Water droplets cling to the tips of his hair, his eyebrows, his shoulders. They slide down his torso and over his ink like rain on a windowpane. “Let’s get dressed and find out.”

  Twenty minutes later we’re back on his bed. I sit cross-legged at the end, a plate with half a lamb sandwich by my foot, a Cadbury’s chocolate bar beside it. The TV’s on some show about body painting that doesn’t really hold my attention. Cas is stretched out beside me, his hands clasped behind his head on the pillow, his long f
eet crossed at the ankles. I can sense him staring. It burns into my back and makes those butterflies perform acrobatics.

  “I was thinking,” he says. “About what you asked earlier. About whether falling hard is worth the risk when you can have something more certain.”

  My breath catches in my throat, my heart stops. Every cell in my body seems to freeze in anticipation of his answer. “And?”

  “Every fucking time,” is his coarse reply. “Every. Single. Time.”

  Turning to face him, I crawl over to straddle him. Is he right? Does he mean it? About this night? About me? Us? He strokes my face and nibbles at my lips. His dark gaze is unwavering and filled with warmth that says, Yes, little girl, I fucking mean it. Reaching between us, I begin to undo his jeans again while he pulls his shirt that he gave me to wear over my head. We take our time stripping out of our clothes, kissing and touching with light, lingering movements.

  Flattening my palms to his skin, I run them over the sharp lines of his torso, leaving the details etched in my mind. I don’t want to forget. Stubble stings my skin as he fucks his tongue in and out of my mouth. He’s heartbreakingly tender. It’s most likely because he’s always going to be scared he could hurt another living being. But what harm is there in believing it’s for me? Just for the evening. Tonight, this is real. Tomorrow? Who knows where we’ll stand.

  Fingers stroke my breasts, and he groans against my lips as he slides his thumbs across my nipples that beg for his attention. I press my pussy to his hardness. I’m needy and aching, desperate for him. His erection pulses against my slit and sends a corresponding rush of wetness between my legs, but he’s unhurried in the way he touches me.

  Until I can’t stand it anymore. The need to have him inside me is the only thing I can focus on. When he flips me onto my back and breaks our kiss long enough to reach for a condom, I can’t tear my gaze away from him. He drags the rubber over his cock, and I can barely stand the throbbing between my thighs. As he lowers himself over me, I spread my legs wide for him. His musky taste fills my senses as he drags his tongue along mine, his hard muscles fill my hands. His cock…