by Donya Lynne
“Truth or dare?” she asked.
“I’ll try dare again. It’s got to be better than the last one.”
She giggled. “Don’t be so sure.”
“What? Come on, don’t do this to me.”
Her giggle turned to outright laughter. “Pull your shirt up and do a sexy belly dance.”
He flopped back on the couch. “Oh good God!” Sighing, he stood and quickly shimmied his hips then sat back down and grabbed the next card.
“Hey! That wasn’t a belly dance.” Karma smacked his leg.
“That’s as good as it’s gonna get, sister. Truth or dare?”
“Fine. Truth.” She sat back and crossed her arms.
“What’s a sex position we’ve never attempted that you’re dying to try?” Smug satisfaction oozed over his face as if he were opening his mental Karma file and preparing to amend it.
“Well…” She nibbled her bottom lip. “There is this one story I read in one of my books that’s kind of stuck with me.”
“Oh? And what position did the participants in this story engage in that made you like it so much?”
She lowered her voice and cringed with embarrassment. “Doggy style.”
Mark’s eyebrows shot high into his forehead. “Oh really. Is that so?” He sat forward, suddenly fully interested in the conversation.
“Yes.” She flopped sideways to the floor and buried her burning face in her hands.
His dark chuckle suggested he was definitely amending his Karma file. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that. I’m actually kind of surprised I haven’t shown you that, yet. Wait. What about that shower we shared at my place? Doesn’t that count?”
He had taken her from behind in the shower, but she didn’t count that as doggy style since she hadn’t been on all fours. “I want it on a bed.” Something about being held face down on the bed while he took her from behind just…well…it really—as in really—worked her up.
“I see.”
Karma was still lying on the floor, covering her face, when she felt the edge of a card flick against her fingers. She drew her hands away and saw that he had picked up the next card for her and was waving it in front of her face, his gaze dark and mischievous.
She took it and sat up with a resigned sigh. “Truth or dare?”
“I’m banking on dare.” He crossed his fingers. “This time I’m catching a break. I can feel it.”
Karma read the card and burst into laughter. Mark groaned and threw his head back on the couch.
She cleared her throat. “Speaking of doggy style…your dare is to get on all fours and playfully spank your booty in a naughty way.”
“Oh, Christ!” He slapped his hands over his face. “Are you kidding? I cannot catch a fucking break with this game.”
“Giddyup, little pony!”
Mark slammed his palms on the cushions on either side of his hips. “You’ll get yours.”
“You keep saying that, but so far it’s not happening. Now get down here and smack that ass, Mark.” She scooted out from between his feet to the other side of the coffee table.
Grumbling under his breath, Mark joined her on the floor and reluctantly got on all fours, smacked his butt a few times, then sat down cross-legged. “Happy?”
“I’ll accept that. You have been getting some pretty lousy cards.”
“Thank you, and yes I have.” He picked up the next. “Truth or Dare?”
“I’ll take dare this time.” Hopefully it would be another good one.
A slow grin crept over Mark’s face, and he looked like he had just discovered the secret of the Holy Grail. “This one card makes all the shit cards I’ve received worth it.” He licked his lips. “Are you ready for this?”
This was either going to be very good or very embarrassing. Possibly both. “Sure. Bring it.” She waved him on.
“Using only your feet,” he said with a pop of his eyebrows, “caress your way from my ankles to my inner thighs and back again.”
The reason for his excitement became glaringly apparent. As much as he loved her feet, he had never asked her to do anything fetishy. But now he was going to get his dream come true, all because of this sexy game.
“How do we do this?” she said, taking off her socks, determined to give him the best fetishy foot feast she could. This game had been her idea, hadn’t it? And this one dare would prove just how far she’d come in her quest to shed her old, shy ways.
He gestured toward the couch. “You might find it easier if you sit on the couch.” He pushed the coffee table out of the way while she hopped up and took a seat. A few seconds later, he slipped out of his sweats, leaving on his undershorts. Then he situated himself in front of her and opened his legs, wearing a hungry smile. The revitalized tent in his shorts expressed his eagerness.
She had never done anything like this but was willing to give it a shot if it turned Mark on. “Okay, like this?” She pressed her toes to the insides of his ankles and smoothed them up his calves.
“Mmm, yes.” He heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back on his arms.
She pushed the soles of her feet past his knees and curled her toes against his inner thighs. His erection bobbed and briefly strained the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs. He liked this more than she anticipated. She continued the upward climb along his inner thighs and pushed her toes under the bottom hem of his shorts, making him groan.
“I know it’s not part of the dare,” he said, “but I’d love it if you would keep going.”
“Keep going?”
He pushed the waist of his shorts down and blinked almost drunkenly.
“You want me to put my feet on you?”
“Please…yes.” His muscles flexed and bunched under his skin, making his body appear to be in constant, fluid motion. And it was damn near the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. But then Mark himself was the damn sexiest man she’d ever met.
Cautiously, she lifted her right foot and gingerly placed it at the base of his cock. Yes, she was beginning to like that word a bit better for his junk.
Mark moaned low and deep and dropped his head back.
She liked the way he responded. She spread her toes and rubbed up his shaft, her big toe and second toe massaging up either side, all the way to the head, where she rubbed her toes around and around. Something slippery coated the bottoms of her toes, and she spread it down the shaft. Mark groaned and stared, eyes hooded.
“Am I doing okay?”
“Better than okay.” He sighed and squirmed, watching her foot rub slowly up and down.
After a couple more minutes, he gently pushed her foot away and pulled his shorts back up. “Thank you, but I think I have to stop you.”
“Why’s that?” she flirted. “Getting to be too much for you?” She skimmed her toes down his calves.
“Something like that, yes.” He picked up the next card on the deck, sat forward, and handed it to her. “The next time we do that, we’re using baby oil.” He kissed her. “By the way, dare. My luck has to get better at some point.”
She grinned, looked at the card, and read, “Place steamy kisses all over my face…except on my lips.”
“Finally, a good one.” He pulled himself to his knees, pushed her legs apart, and leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. “Now this I can do.”
He left a blazing trail of kisses all over her face. Her nose, her cheeks, across her forehead, even her eyelids again, then he kissed along her jaw. Pressing near to her ear, he said, “Dare me.”
“But you don’t have a card,” she whispered. Her pulse hammered in her veins.
“I don’t need one.”
“Dare then.” She was game for improvisation.
He licked her earlobe then said softly, “I’m going to whisper one sexy command into your ear. You must follow it.”
“Okay.” The timbre of his voice hinted of wicked decadence.
“Go into the bedroom,” he whispered, “take off your clothes and lie down on the b
ed.” He kissed the tender place just behind her ear. “Then wait for me to join you.” He rocked backward, took her hands, and pulled her off the couch as he stood.
With one final heated glance his direction, she tore herself away and went to the bedroom. She closed the door, stripped, and then crawled into the center of the bed and lay down on her back.
A check of the clock on the nightstand showed they had been playing their naughty game for almost an hour. An hour of foreplay. And didn’t Karma know it. Her body was alive and tingling, and her muscles quivered with anticipation. A pool of moisture slicked between her legs in the most debauched way, and abandon ruled her emotions. She was a woman quickly becoming lost to the pleasures Mark showed her, but which for so long she had thought would never be hers.
The door opened a few seconds later, and her anticipation spiked. He was naked, and his ruddy erection stood high and proud.
Without a word, he took her scarf from the pile of folded clothes on the dresser and slowly walked all the way around the bed, his gaze devouring her from every angle as he played the fabric through his fingers. Then he returned to the foot of the bed and stopped, playing the gauzy material loosely around one hand before unwinding it and placing it on the foot of the bed.
“Roll over for me.” His rich voice purred.
She did as instructed, and he rubbed the soles of her feet. The mattress shifted as he climbed behind her and smoothed his hands up her ankles, calves, thighs, to her butt. His weight pressed forward as his hands continued up her back, to her arms, and then finally to her hands before skimming their way back along the path just traveled as he sat up and straddled her hips. His erection rested against her backside.
“Lift your head for me,” he said.
She did, and the scarf came down over her eyes, blocking out the light coming in through the wall of windows on the east side of the bedroom.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me.” He knotted the scarf at the back of her head. “Too tight?”
“No.” It was just right. “What are you going to do to me?” She had never been blindfolded and had to admit it excited her. With any other man, it probably would have scared her, but this was Mark, a man she had come to trust. She knew he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want.
He kissed the back of her shoulder. “I’m going to give the lady what she said she’s always wanted, but first…” He rolled her onto her back again. “A little fun.”
She felt the mattress shift as he left.
With her sense of sight taken away, all her other senses were on high alert. And had he just said he was going to take her from behind? Was that what he meant by saying he was going to give her what she wanted?
The sound of ice clinking in a glass caught her attention, and she turned toward it. What sounded like a plate or bowl was set down on the nightstand, and the bed shook again as Mark rejoined her.
“What is that?”
His mischievous chuckle rumbled in her ear. “That’s what you have to tell me.”
Was this another game?
“What do you mean?”
His tongue—at least she thought it was his tongue—licked her shoulder. Yes, it was his tongue. She felt the subtle rasp of his whiskers.
He moved then went still. A moment later, something lightly touched her lips, making her jump. He rubbed the object more firmly back and forth. “Tell me what it is,” he said.
Concentrating, Karma focused on what he pressed to her mouth. It was smooth but a little prickly, and she frowned behind the blindfold. No, prickly wasn’t the right word, but it was definitely not a perfectly smooth surface. She licked her lips and picked up the faint flavor of…what was that? She smacked her lips together. It was fruity, sweet.
“Strawberries?”
“Mmm, good. Take a bite.” He nudged the berry between her lips.
She bit off the end. Juicy sweetness slid over her taste buds.
Mark brushed the wounded berry over her lips, spreading the juice, then kissed her and licked it away. A moment later, the berry unexpectedly swirled around her nipple, and she sucked in her breath. His mouth followed and sucked off the juice, then he repeated on the other nipple. Then she heard the quiet crunch of him biting into the berry and chewing it.
“More?” he said.
She nodded and licked the taste of strawberries off her lips. “Yes.”
She heard the sound of a spoon inside a glass jar. A familiar smell infiltrated her nose. “Peanut butter?” she said.
He chuckled. “Not quite, but you’re close. Open.”
She did, and something thick and sticky rubbed her upper lip as he slid the spoon gently into her mouth.
“Oops,” he said. “Looks like I made a bit of a mess. Leave that for me.” His quiet laughter made it sound as though he’d missed her mouth on purpose.
She swirled the buttery, nutty matter on her tongue. It wasn’t as thick as peanut butter, and there was a hint of something else, cocoa maybe? “I don’t know. What is it?” She finally said, giving up.
The mattress shifted, and then his mouth was on hers. He sucked in her top lip and licked off what he had smeared there, making her moan. God, he was a good kisser. A few seconds later, he released her lip. “It’s gourmet espresso almond butter.”
She giggled. “Oh gee, how did I not guess that?” She had never even heard of almond butter. But now that she had, she would have to buy some. It was pretty good.
“Stick out your tongue,” he said.
“What?”
He pinched her nipple, which made her jump and sent a jolt between her legs. “Stick your tongue out for me.”
She did as he said, and something sweet and syrupy dribbled onto it. Honey.
Before she could swallow and tell him what it was, he squeezed more on her left breast, circling her nipple. A moment later, his tongue lapped it up, and his teeth grazed the tight peak that formed.
Now, this was what she called playing with food. When she’d been a kid, she had sculpted mountains from her mashed potatoes and turned peas into torpedoes, which she flicked from the table to behind the refrigerator. Her aim had gotten pretty good, too. Of course, her fun had ended when ants invaded the kitchen and her parents discovered her spent arsenal when they moved the refrigerator. There was no more warrior princess of the pea after that. But now Mark was reintroducing her to the lost—but fine—art of food play. She needed to take notes. This could come in handy in the future.
The bed rocked again, and his legs straddled her body. “Stick your tongue out for me again.”
More honey? She liked honey. She opened and offered him her tongue. But what she received wasn’t more honey. A warm, rounded object settled against her tongue instead, and an instant later, he groaned.
“Fuck me, but that’s sexy.” His voice was an erotic rumble.
That’s when she realized what he had put on her tongue.
* * *
Mark gazed down at the head of his cock resting on Karma’s pretty pink tongue. He drizzled honey from his bear-shaped squeeze bottle onto the head and over her lips. Not much, just enough to make it sticky and slippery.
She lifted her hands to his hips as if she wanted to make exactly sure where he was, and then she drew them around to the front. One hand found his scrotum, which sent a wave of heat up and down his back and into his thighs, and then her other hand wrapped around his shaft at the same moment she closed her mouth around him.
Groaning, he capped the honey, tossed it aside, and grabbed hold of the headboard as he bent forward and watched the tip of his cock disappear inside her warm, sticky mouth. She was exceptional at fellatio. The way she touched him—the way she worked her tongue around the head and along the length—was by far the best oral sex he’d ever had. Was it because she was so inexperienced and had no preconceived notions about what he wanted? Was it because she didn’t try to be an oral acrobat like some women he had known? Or was it something more, something deeper an
d more intimate. Whatever the reason, she could go down on him all night and he would be in heaven.
He pumped forward and back in shallow thrusts, being careful not to invade her mouth too deeply. That would be a betrayal of the trust she had granted him, and he wouldn’t do that, no matter how intensely lust-driven he was. He gripped the headboard, clenched his teeth, and forced himself to maintain control as she licked and sucked away all the honey. Sweat broke over his face and chest from his self-imposed restraint, and he bit back a curse as pressure built inside his balls.
He abruptly pulled out of her mouth. “Roll over.” As she did, he reached into the nightstand, grabbed a condom, and hastily rolled it on. “Lift your ass.” He grabbed one of the pillows, thrust it under her hips, and lay down on her back. She moaned as he ground his cock against her backside. “Is this what you want?”
She nodded, breathing hard. “Yes.”
“You want me to fuck you from behind?” He took hold of his cock and positioned it at the juncture of her body, using his fingers to find and part her lips.
She nodded again, more insistently. “Yes. God, yes.”
After all their play, the blindfold, their growing intimacy, and yesterday’s near-disastrous fight, they had finally come to a place of complete and total honesty with one another. Karma was more turned on than he’d ever seen her, and he was more keenly connected to her than he’d ever been.
The head of his cock breached her, and she gasped. He buried himself inside, and she moaned. And when he began pumping in earnest, she found his hands, planted on either side of her head, and gripped them tightly as she issued a protracted crescendo of exclamations for more and cries for harder.
This was how man and woman had been made to mate. So primal, so raw. Prudence and social acceptance were abandoned as instinct took over. The man’s body craved the woman’s, and logic had no place here. All there was, was desire and need. The need to sow and the desire to revel. Coupling like this, with such primitive intentions, was a religion. A spiritual experience. A testament to the dawn of man and the invisible forces that drew one man to one woman and compelled them to procreate.