by Vonna Harper
“I can’t—can’t…” She couldn’t remember what, if anything, she’d wanted to say. The only thing she knew was that even if his nails shredded her, she needed this. Needed him.
Somehow, she was out of her sandals. Somehow, what remained of her clothing was down around her ankles. And when he commanded her to step out of it, she did so, albeit not gracefully. Finally, her heart threatening to escape her chest, she stood naked before this stranger.
His gaze meeting hers, he spread her legs and ran a forefinger over her labia. Her head snapped back, bringing instant dizziness. Righting herself, she acknowledged that she had no existence beyond her sex. He continued to stroke her, lightly at first as if his finger had become a feather. Everything in and around her turned electric. She was becoming one with the air, losing substance and form while merging with him. A small voice argued that she should be pleasuring him, but he’d positioned her like this for his exploration. Until he was done, she’d stand with her sex offered up and fireballs rolling over her.
Her existence went no further than a man’s large finger trailing over her labia, finding and teasing her clit, making brief and shallow entrance.
Her clit. Center of her ability to orgasm. She didn’t have to tell him where her trigger lay because each time he touched it, she rose onto her toes and shuddered. If she said something, begged him to linger there, in seconds she’d be past the point of holding back. Her kingdom for a climax, for the tingling explosion!
But if she gave in now, maybe she wouldn’t need or want him for the rest of the night.
“Do—do you know what you’re doing?” She rocked back, stopping when she was in danger of losing her footing.
“Tell me.” His breath again dampened her belly. His hand, strong against her sex, stilled. “What am I doing?”
“It’s been—I haven’t for a long—build-up.”
“You’re afraid you’re going to come?”
“Afraid? No. It’s what I want. Just not right now.”
“When?”
What an impossible question! “When we can do it together.”
“Believe me, if you’re on the brink, I’m with you.”
How could that be when I’ve done nothing to— What is he doing? For a moment, the only thing she knew was that his hand no longer trapped and pleasured her. Then he wiped his fingers on the inside of her thigh, leaving behind proof of how ready she was to receive him.
He closed his oh-so-capable hands around her hips and spun her away from him. She looked over her shoulder at him in time to see his mouth close in on her left buttock. A sharp raking sensation made her jump, but he still had hold of her hips and she had nowhere to go.
“Oh shit!”
“You like?”
“My head’s going to explode. Just like that, brain matter all over the ceiling.”
“Lovely image. Let’s see if we can make it happen.”
Chapter Six
Why had she said anything? If she’d kept her big mouth shut, he wouldn’t now be nibbling her backside.
She was his prisoner, stripped and helpless in the grip of a macho male intent on eating her one bite at a time. He’d started with her ass, not drawing blood but finding a million nerves with each nip. Unable to determine whether she was being tickled or abused, she swam somewhere between reality and insanity.
When she reached behind herself and wound up stroking his shoulder, she let go of the nonsense about being his prisoner. This was willingness, consensual activity between two adults, although the adult label was in danger of falling off.
Oh, oh my god! No longer nibbling. Running his tongue the length and breadth of her cheek with her marching in place like some quick-stepping soldier. “You’re killing me.”
“Don’t think so.”
True. But, damn, was he coming close. She’d once seen Neil Diamond in concert and for hours had lived in a magical universe created by rhythm and words, by the band and the compelling man responsible for the all-encompassing experience. She hadn’t fallen in love with Neil so much as the pure, wild loss of self.
This was close and getting closer to the earlier experience. Self was floating away to be replaced by a body on fire.
After releasing her hips, he spread her buttocks. The thought that he might lick her back there unhinged her. Then he pressed something, his thumb maybe, against her asshole, and she started to lean forward like some brainless horny animal. She’d become a bitch in heat willing to mate with the first mutt to jump the fence. She’d take the mutt time after time, until her heat had run its course. Then she’d turn on him and chase him off.
Or rather, she would if she really was that four-legged bitch.
Maybe a second had passed. Maybe it had been an hour. In that time, he’d claimed ownership of about an inch of her rear entrance. Her stretched muscles closed around his thumb. Blood pooled in her forehead. Her temples pulsed.
“No more!” she gasped. Straightening, she stumbled out of his grip.
Then, with her nerves raging and her pussy soft and swollen, she faced him. He’d rocked back on his heels and his hands were on his broad, tight, naked thighs. His eyes fairly smoked. Most of all, he was a man with a great erection. His cock seemed to be trying to break free of the rest of his body, veins blood-stretched and flesh fire-dark. Her clit spasmed.
“Second thoughts?” he asked. “You don’t want to do this after all?”
She couldn’t walk away if staying meant death. Didn’t he know that? Without the words to explain what she was experiencing, she was left with one recourse. After lowering herself to the carpet, she crawled to him and licked his tip. “Does that answer your question?”
He breathed, loudly. “And more.”
Ah, good. She no longer saw him as an experienced male plying his trade on a struck-dumb female. He wasn’t so sure of himself after all, it he had been. Quite the contrary, his sucked-in belly, white knuckles and flared nostrils left no doubt that she’d pushed a vital button.
Her turn. Let him try not to turn inside out as she demonstrated a trick or two. And if she could do those things without reverting back to a bitch in heat, so much the better.
Or not.
She reached his side and sat up. Then, not giving him time to guess what she had in mind, she threw her shoulder into his chest, putting as much weight as possible into the effort. He tried to catch himself, but she put an end to that nonsense by straddling his waist and shoving yet again. He sprawled on the carpet. After straightening his legs, he rested the back of his head on his palms and gave her a let’s see what you have in mind look.
It took a little maneuvering, but she wound up with her back to him and her buttocks settled on his ribs. Leaning forward, she cradled his cock in his hand and gave his head an ice cream cone on a summer afternoon lick.
“Oh shit!” He slapped her right buttock. “Shit.”
“Shut up and enjoy!” Not waiting for a word of compliance, she indulged in another lick. This one was slow and long, imitating the effort it took to keep a cone from dripping. Encouraged by the comparison, she gave herself up to savoring the slowly melting dessert, turning her head to one side and then the other to ensure she reached all surfaces.
In her mind, her fingers around his base and resting on his balls became the cone. What a tall treat she’d been given even if it was warmer than any ice cream she’d ever eaten. The texture and taste were different from any vanilla, strawberry or chocolate in her memory—not that she was complaining.
What made the adventure even more exciting—was that each languid lick earned her an ass slap. His rhythm needed work. One light blow to her right flank was followed by several to the left. Then the right again came under assault, distracting her from her task.
Laughter rolled through her, but every time it threatened to break free, the bitch in heat she’d become intercepted it. This was about foreplay, albeit a form of foreplay that hadn’t entered her mind when she’d first declared her need to ge
t laid.
Oh yes, laid. That’s why she’d pinned this man to the floor. If it was going to happen, she’d better get tab A closer to slot B.
Plan—she needed a plan. But first—she bent even lower and sucked as much of his cock as she could into her mouth. Eyes unfocused, she slowly straightened with her lips tight and flesh running over flesh. When, reluctantly, she freed him, his quick, harsh grunts filling more than her ears.
“Holy shit!” Using the sides of his hands, he lightly pummeled the base of her spine.
“Ah,” she whispered on a sigh. “That feels wonderful.”
“That should have been my line.”
Lines aside, what next? Oh yes, alignment. Thinking to face him, she started to lift a leg. However, she’d barely gotten her knee off the carpet when he grabbed her foot. Using her limb as leverage, he turned her to the side and slid out from under her.
What a fool she’d been to think she was his physical equal, she acknowledged when, once all the repositioning was over, she was the one flat on her back and he loomed over her.
Amend that. Although her spine rested on the carpet, he’d twisted her at the waist so her right hip was down. Giving her a glance that seemed to say, I done roped me a doggie, he said, “Don’t go anywhere, all right?”
“What are you—?”
“Being responsible.”
Glad that one of them was thinking, she waited while he retrieved a small package from his slacks. A ripping sound followed.
After returning to his former position, he bent her left knee and lifted it. She didn’t need pictures to know her sex was exposed.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” He held her in place via a palm over her breast. “Got that, missy? Enough with you making me crazy.”
“What are you talking about? I was having dessert.”
“That so? Then it’s my turn to do the same. The thing is, if you behave, I can just about guarantee you’ll get another treat.”
Another? Sounds great.
How right she was about his greater and decidedly more substantial size, she conceded seconds later. He’d straddled the leg against the ground, working carefully but quickly to place his cock at her entrance. Then he leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of her. His chest pressed against her raised leg, and with a smooth, incredible movement, he pushed into her.
“Oh my,” she got out as he filled her.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Ah, what more do you want?”
“How about a compliment on my inventiveness, unless you do the sideways whatever this is all the time.”
About to let him know she didn’t do anything with any frequency, she admitted she wasn’t interested in a conversation. She might not survive the body twist for long, but in the meantime—
She lifted her arms, settled them around the back of his head and applied pressure until he looked down at her. His glazed expression said a great deal about preoccupation. She felt the same.
His motion slow and smooth, he pushed deeper into her. Unable to move more than a few unimportant muscles, she concentrated on sensation. Being married should have conditioned her to certain things. Her pussy had had considerable experience with a man’s penis. It understood size and texture, the invasion.
But this was new, throat-dryingly different. Getting laid.
Smiling what she intended as encouragement, she shifted a little. Lordy, slick gliding along slick!
“So far so good?” he asked.
“No…complaints.”
He muttered something unintelligible then tightened and pushed with such strength that her upper leg rocked. Still holding on, she waited him out. Felt. Thrilled. And when he pulled back, she closed her sex muscles around him, defied any attempts he might make to abandon her.
He didn’t. Not this man with his guarded gaze and straining body. There was nothing tentative or gentle about his fucking. Hammering about said it, hard and hot blows that threatened to shove him all the way to her throat.
Being trapped under him was good—a little unnerving, but damn good. He pummeled, breathing like a laboring racehorse, his whole body locked in effort. She embraced the act with him, sweat sealing them together. She wanted to complement his effort via muscle clenches, but his jackhammering had no rhythm and she kept forgetting what she’d been going to do.
A receptacle, the requisite and more than receptive cunt for a man at the limit of his self-control. That was what she was, what she’d become.
And her left leg was going numb.
“Enough!” she gasped as her calf cramped. “Can’t—I can’t keep up.”
He stopped, tension humming through him. “Huh?”
“Off me. My—a cramp.”
Muttering something probably meant for him alone, he reared up and back, his cock escaping and leaving her hot and empty. Before she could reach for her leg, he did it for her, finding the knot and massaging it. Before long the tortured muscle went slack. Discomfort died, leaving room for other sensations, namely hunger.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have—next time I’ll know not to be so inventive.”
“Next time?” she asked. “We haven’t finished number one.”
“I should hope not. Now, what would you suggest?”
She pondered. “Where’d I put that sex manual? We could thumb through the positions and find one that—”
“Woman, you talk too much.”
She couldn’t have agreed more, and when he sat up with his hands behind him for balance, she made her move by scooting close on her ass and pushing his legs apart. She braced herself with her attention on tab A and slot B. Placing her legs over his thighs so her feet met behind him brought her even closer to her goal, but the alignment was off.
“Do you have a plan?” he asked.
“Just shut up and help.”
Measuring the remaining space between them, he cocked his head. “I thought sex was about instinct. All this preparation and execution is hard on my brain.”
“Okay, okay, what if—?”
“Wait a minute. I’ve got it. Lean back some more.”
“What?”
“You want me to paint you a picture?”
“I want you to stop making this so complicated,” she muttered and lowered herself to the floor. All she could see was the ceiling.
He slipped his hands under her buttocks and lifted her. The ceiling no longer mattered. Guessing what he had in mind, she bent her knees even more and locked her legs around his backside. Then, mildly surprised by her trust in him, she waited. Yes, there was tab A, touching slot B. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, as in you approve?” he asked.
“Hmm, as in I like where this is heading.”
“Oh, it’s getting there. However, there’s something I want to check before we get to the main event.”
As far as she was concerned, they were at the main event. Granted, his cock head only pressed against her opening, but all it would take was a final scoot on her part to—
Lordy!
From what she could tell, he’d placed an arm behind him to assure an upright position. After trapping her clit between thumb and forefinger, he gently rolled her swollen flesh one way then the other. Not thinking, mewling like some lost kitten, she seized his wrist with both hands. Although she managed to keep her lower half still, from the waist up, she was in movement—constant, uncontrollable movement.
Her entire being began and ended with his fingers. It had all come down to this, her existence hinging around the fiery sparks shooting out from her core. He had her, had her strong and insistent. His finger pads closed around her nub. She dripped, leaked, poured, a dam bursting.
“Oh god, god.”
“Take it. Take and enjoy.”
“I—oh god—am.”
There it was! Her climax pressed at her from all directions, taking her and throwing her at a foaming current. S
he dug into his wrist and made a sound she never had.
“No, no, no,” he chanted. His cock still in place, he released her clit. “Not that quick, my dear.”
“What?” Rolling her head to the side, she tried to study him, but his face was blurred—just like her thoughts. The sweet, nearly there explosion continued to hum. If she touched herself—
“You’re a hungry little creature, aren’t you?” He punctuated his question by burying a breast under his palm. Her fingers ached and she backed off on her grip.
“What about you?” she snapped. He was so damn good at pushing her buttons. “All cool and collected?”
He laughed, briefly, deeply. Then he came at her, slipped past her labia and entered. “Ah! Why do you think I stopped letting you lick me? Because I was too close to doing the Roman candle thing.”
Say something. Keep the conversation going. Get to know him. But those things would have to wait, because she was all hard and hot energy, bitch in heat.
Damn him for controlling the tempo of this thing they were doing! Thinking to shift the balance of power back to her, she released his wrist so she could grab his upper arm with both hands. Using her hold as leverage, she pulled her upper body off the carpet.
Now she could study him, look and probe and demand the truth. Her effort sucked him deeper into her.
“The hand behind you,” she commanded. “Give it to me.”
“What?”
“Give it to me!”
Frowning, he nevertheless did as she ordered. The effort forced him to lean forward to keep from losing his balance. They held hands, two naked and fucking human beings shaking on their deal. Then he released her. A mini-second later, he slid his hands around to her back, supporting her, protecting her, controlling at the same time.
What had he said earlier, that sex was supposed to be instinctive? Surely that was why she now held onto his upper arms, why she trusted him not to let her fall back, why she provided the balance he needed.
Rocking, rocking, carefree. Swinging as one, bodies fused.