Inspire

by Cora Carmack

  The door creaks open, and the beam of brightness on the floor from the hallway light blinks out.

  I look up. My eyes have adjusted a little more to the dark, but only enough to tell that Kalli is standing back in the doorway. The door clicks shut behind her, and her soft footfalls move closer. When she's about three feet away, I get my first good look at her. And my mouth goes dry.

  She's naked. No clothes. No underwear. Nothing. Completely bare.

  She walks toward me, arms by her sides, not the least bit shy or unsure. My heartbeat picks up, and lust swallows up my earlier worry in a giant wave. Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders, a few long strands trailing down to curl against her breasts. My eyes get stuck there for a long moment, watching the way they move as she walks. The skin of her stomach looks silky smooth, and I know from memory how soft she is. Her hips curve outward, and she's a foot away from me being able to feel my fingers dig into the flesh there. I love the way her body looks. Not too thin or bony, her curves flow smoothly into the next part of her form, proportioned as if she were designed to be perfection.

  I reach out for her as soon as she gets close, but her steps stall, just out of my reach.

  “Wilder,” she whispers.

  Something between a groan and a growl sounds low in my throat.

  “I can't touch you at all?”

  “I'll touch you.”

  I do growl then. “Not fucking good enough.”

  The smile she gives me is dark and sexy enough that my cock pulses within the tight confines of my jeans.

  “I'll make it good enough.”

  Oh fuck.

  “Lay back on the bed,” she says.

  I hesitate, but when she takes a step farther away from me in response, I comply quickly, scooting back and throwing myself against the pillows. I fold my hands behind my head to keep from reacting instinctively to touch her, but when she crawls up the foot of the bed on her hands and knees, I know that's not going to be enough. She moves between my splayed thighs, her tits dangling in her bent position. I groan, and she hasn't even touched me yet. She advances until her knees are a few inches below my groin, and her palms are planted on the mattress on each side of my abdomen. She smiles sexily at me before her gaze dips down, traveling over my body slowly enough to make my muscles tense in anticipation. The first time she touches me is a light graze just above the button on my jeans.

  “I should have made you take these off first,” she murmurs.

  Sitting back on her knees, she bends over me to start unfastening my pants. Her hair falls around her, brushing lightly over my thighs and stomach, and I hiss at the barely there touch.

  “Tease,” I groan under my breath.

  She laughs. “I'm not trying to tease you. I have every intention of following through.”

  She finishes lowering my zipper and peels back both sides of the fabric. Bending a little more, she presses a kiss against my erection through the stretched material of my boxer briefs.

  My hands are out from under my head before I realize it, and I barely reign myself in before I touch her.

  “Fuck.”

  Instead, I push at my clothes, trying to help her along. She's still leaning over me when my jeans and underwear get past my hips and down to my thighs. Her hair trails over my dick as she shifts backward to keep tugging, and it's all I can do to keep from bucking up toward her. In fact, I can't even help her anymore with my jeans. I have to direct my eyes to the ceiling and away from her, so close to where I want her. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to ignore the jerk and slide of fabric over my legs as she undresses me.

  I don't know if I can do this without touching her. It's the closest thing to torture I've ever felt.

  Her breath hits me first just above the base of my cock. Heat and just a hint of moisture. Then her lips graze my shaft, and I can’t stop myself from looking.

  I was wrong before.

  This is torture.

  Her eyes lock onto mine as her lips smooth up toward the tip, pulling away just before she gets there. I fist my hands in the comforter in an attempt to stay still and breathe, “What happened to not teasing?”

  I let out a shout when she grips the shaft and pulls it away from my stomach to take the head in her mouth. I slam a fist into the bed when heat engulfs me, followed by hard suction.

  I don’t realize that the string of four letter words going through my head is actually escaping my mouth until Kalli laughs around me, the vibrations drawing a ragged moan instead of another curse. She shifts, placing her hands on my hips instead of bracing them on the bed beside me, and pulls back to swirl her tongue around the tip.

  There’s something about seeing her lips there, feeling the contrast between cool air and hot mouth … hot enough to burn. Her lips caress the sensitive underside, and my hips instinctively edge upward. But with her hands braced against me, she leans a little more weight into me, pinning my hips to the mattress.

  When she takes me back in her mouth, going deep enough that I bump the back of her throat, I lose control. My hands are off the blanket and in her hair in seconds. She keeps me there, my tip against the tightness for another couple seconds, but then she starts to pull away.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I disentangle my fingers, and this time I reach above me, curling my fists around the metal headboard. Instead of removing her mouth completely, Kalli bobs her head again, returning me to that spot that has me squeezing my fists tighter to maintain control. The metal on the headboard isn’t round, so when I squeeze hard enough, the edges pinch at my skin, helping my head stay clear.

  That’s how I survive the exquisite torture of not being able to touch the woman I love as she blows my mind. Again and again, her mouth moves over me, and her eyes never leave mine except for the rare moment when her lids fall and she hums softly as if she’s getting as much out of this as I am.

  Instead of spitting out cuss words, I babble nonsense and appreciation as she works me. After a few minutes, she seems to think I’ve got control over myself, so she loosens her grip on my hips, sliding her hands down over my sensitive inner thighs before moving back up to circle the base of my erection with one and the cup the heavy sac beneath with the other.

  I’m so overwhelmed with pleasure and lust and perfection that I don’t even feel like a complete person. I’ve fallen to pieces over want for her, and my legs and arms and body aren’t connected anymore. They’re vessels of sensation. Nothing more.

  But my heart … it’s still slamming against my chest, and I think she might be on the verge of killing me.

  “Enough,” I beg. “I want inside you. Please, Kalli. I feel like I’ve waited a fucking lifetime to be there.”

  “Not yet,” she whispers before starting again, her movements faster this time, a little rougher, too. I tense, straining hard enough that the bed creaks from my pulling on the headboard.

  “Now,” I growl.

  She laughs again in response, and the unexpected sensation jerks me right to the edge. I hold my breath and tear my eyes away from her, scared just the sight of her will make me lose it.

  “Kalli, stop. I’m going to—”

  She takes me deeper than she ever has before. So damn hot and tight and fuck.

  I reach down to pull her off me, but it’s too late. Her questing fingers hit a sensitive spot, and that combined with the wet clasp of her mouth around me are too much. My orgasm slams into me, my hips lifting off the bed involuntarily. She sticks with me, continuing to touch and suck and lick as my cock jerks and I come in her mouth.

  I sink my fingers into her hair again, not caring about the consequences this time. All I know as I lay there groaning and dying beneath her is that I need to see her face. I push strands back out of the way, smoothing my fingers over her cheeks and forehead, whispering that I love her again and again until she slowly slides her mouth off of me.

  Struggling to catch my breath, I say, “You didn’t have to. I tried t
o tell you.”

  “It was your turn.”

  I shake my head. “That in the car didn’t count. You did that on your own.”

  She leans forward, planning a kiss low on my stomach before continuing up. “I meant from our first night together. You took care of me, and I didn’t return the favor.”

  She places another kiss against the left side of my ribs, and I frown. “That’s not how this works, Kalli. You didn’t owe me anything.”

  Her lips land on my chest, just above where my heart is still thundering, trying to play catch up. She lowers her body against mine. Her hips are cradled in the V of my thighs, her chest rests just below mine. She props her chin up on my chest and smiles at me.

  “I know. But you did something wonderful for me that night. Beyond the physical. You made me feel important and special and wanted not for what I could give you, but just for being me. You reminded me of things that I’d forgotten a long time ago. And you held me together when I felt sure that my only option was to fall apart. You changed everything that night. More than you will ever know. And I wanted to give you a little taste of what that felt like for me. To have someone solely concentrated on you and giving you what you need.”

  It’s the most insight she’s ever given me into her emotions, and that somehow means even more than hearing her say she loves me. My throat feels tight when I answer. Maybe from fighting the pleasure she just gave me. Or from hearing her words. Either way, my voice is raspy when I say, “You. If you want to give me what I need, the answer will always be you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kalli

  I know I should still be monitoring my energy levels and being cautious about how much we touch. It's the only way I can be certain that he's safe as we have sex.

  Fact: Being with him causes the energy to build at an unnatural speed.

  Fact: Prolonged touch amplifies that already advanced speed.

  Fact: I want him to touch me anyway.

  His eyes are hooded as he looks at me, almost lazy after the force of his orgasm. And it does something to my soul to hear him say he needs me. Makes it a little lighter, closer to the surface, as if my soul wants to get as near to his as possible.

  So, I give my being and mind and heart what they want and press my body into his. I lay my head over his heart so I can hear the way it beats underneath his skin. Steady. Strong. I inch my fingers up his side, over his chest, and around his neck, hooking them together in a gesture of possession.

  I want him to touch me despite the consequences because I want to feel like I'm his as much as he is mine.

  And there's not an inch of me that doesn't believe he is that.

  His chest rumbles beneath me when he asks, “Can I touch you now?”

  I smile and nod against him. I'll probably need to instigate the no touching rule again when we're actually joined, just to make certain that the greater intimacy doesn't cause an even more drastic reaction in me. But for now? Feeling his relaxed body underneath mine? There's nothing I want more than his arms around me.

  Half a second later, I get exactly that. One arm bands around my ribs, curling until his fingertips brush the side of my breast. The other drapes low across my waist, ending with a tight grip on my hip. I sigh in contentment, feeling like his arms are a heated brand on my skin.

  His.

  We lay like that for a while, and I enjoy the way my body moves with his every breath. Up and down. Up and down. I snuggle up his body a little more so I can press my face into the warm hollow of his neck instead.

  He makes another rumbling noise beneath me, and my grin spreads wide.

  “You're not falling asleep on me again are you?”

  I laugh. “No.” Then I open my mouth against his neck to prove it. The steady rhythm of his breathing falters a little.

  “Good.” The hand on my hip loosens and his palm smoothes down, rising with the curve of my bottom. “Because I'm not done with you yet.” His hand squeezes once and then continues down, dipping lower to the heated juncture below. He grazes my inner thighs first, and I know without his groan that I'm damp there.

  I've never in my life gotten that much pleasure out of going down on a guy. I've pretended I have, sure. That's sort of part of the routine. But every time his body had reacted instinctively—tightening or thrusting or squirming—my own body had clenched in response. It was just another part of feeling like he belonged to me. His pleasure belonged to me, too.

  His fingers continue upward until they hit sensitive, swollen flesh. And I'm more than damp there.

  “Kalli,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on my forehead.

  His touch is soft at first, exploring through my wetness. Then his arm stretches, reaching farther, touching the bundle of nerves at the top. I tighten my grip on his neck and tilt my hips into his. The movement takes me away from his hand though, so I press backward, rising ever so slightly on my knees.

  He groans.

  “Did I mention that the sight of you on all fours was the hottest thing I've ever seen? I think I'd like to see it from a different angle too though.”

  I lift up enough to throw him a sly smile.

  “It would be awfully hard for me to be in control from that position.”

  He groans. Not from pleasure this time.

  “Again?”

  I nod. “The first time, yes.”

  I can tell he’s not happy about it, but I can’t take any chances. The thought of being under him, surrounded and pressed into the mattress by his body … gods, it makes me so hot. But I think about all the skin that would be touching. More exposure. And he has a way of making me lose my head. I just imagine me getting so caught up in him that I don’t notice the rising tides of the inspiration. And then what? Risk hurting him? Or push him off and run away again, this time right in the middle of sex instead of the morning after?

  No. Better to take it slow. To be sure. If it’s manageable, there will be time later for him to be in charge. Hell, if it’s safe, I’ll let Wilder Bell do whatever he wants to me. I turn my head, kissing the center of his chest before pushing myself up. With a little wiggling, I end up kneeling between his legs again. His hands fall beside him on the bed once I’m out of his reach, and I meet his wary eyes before dropping my gaze. He’s hard. Again. Or maybe still.

  I rest a hand on his thigh and let it run up to his hip. I’m a touch unsure now that it’s about more than just pleasing him. I don’t want to just jump him. Well, I mean … I do want to just jump him. But I’m not sure if that’s what I should do. This is our first time. The only first time that has ever really mattered or ever will matter. I want it to be perfect. I don’t want him to remember it as that time I wouldn’t let him touch me, and it was crap because of it.

  Wilder must see my hesitation, and he seems to instinctively know what I need.

  “I won’t touch you unless you ask,” he says, lifting his arms again to grip the headboard above him. “But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to lay here either. I’ve been thinking about this night for too damn long to be a passive participant.”

  I grin. “I would never want you to be passive.”

  “Good. Then straddle me.”

  His expression is deadly serious, his eyes no longer lazy, but alert and watching my every tiny movement. I sit up, bracing my arms on each side of him, on all fours again since he mentioned he liked it. His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. I shift, placing my legs on the outside of his hips. He pulls his legs in, giving me more room, and I lower myself down on him. He groans, lifting his hips up to press into mine. I place my hands on his chest, one directly over his heart.

  “Like this?” I ask, wiggling a little. He curses, and I smile. “Any other requests?”

  He swallows, and his gaze dips down my body, lingering on my chest, and where we’re pressed together, and then back to my breasts again.

  “Touch yourself for me again.”

  My heart thrums, too fast to even really be called a beat. Mor
e like a vibration, the plucked string of a harp. I lift my hands, watching him watch me, and cup the weight of my breasts in my palms. He flexes beneath me, and I bear down on his hips. He grits his teeth, blowing out a breath between them.

  I rock into him, stroking softly over my skin at first, and then gradually increasing the pressure of my touch and my hips. Wilder’s fists clench and unclench on the metalwork above him.

  “I can feel you,” he growls. “How wet you are. All I can think about is flipping you over and driving inside you.”

  I slide over the length of him, slowly, torturing us both. Maybe a small part of me wants him to break, wants him to ignore my request and do it anyway. But I know he won’t. Not Wilder. Not until I say so.

  I love him for that.

  I lean over and kiss him, the tips of my breasts touching the warm skin of his chest. His lifts up into the kiss and pushes his tongue into my mouth, hard and demanding. I let him keep control, following and accepting everything he gives me. I keep rubbing against him, addicted to the way it feels to be completely bare against him. The energy is pushing at my chest, and even though it doesn’t make sense, I know it wants him. It’s almost like the muse part of me is a separate entity all together, and she wants him to belong to her just like I do.

  But I want him more. Enough that I will the energy down. I push and push until it’s as deep as it will go, and then I break our kiss and slide forward so that his tip presses against my clit, and my chest hovers close to his face.

  When I look down, his eyes are level with my breasts and his jaw is clenched tight.

  “Condom, Kalli. I need you to get one now.”

  I bend my elbows a little, and he groans, taking a nipple into his mouth. He holds it between his teeth, sucking hard at the same time, and I gasp at the sensation. He pulls back, slamming his head against a pillow.