by Ryan Michele
Princess screams as another orgasm flies through her and I pull out the last bead, throwing them to the floor. Thrust after hard thrust, I release inside my woman, my balls squeezing almost painfully. Still lodged inside of her, I feel her aftershocks still squeezing my dick. Pulling out, I flop onto the bed and Princess crashes down next to me.
“Now that’s a Valentine’s Day,” Princess mumbles, her face buried in the pillows.
I pull her in my arms, still panting. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you.”
We lie here for a few long moments, each of us catching our breath. Mustering up some energy, I pull Princess into my arms and cover us with a blanket. With Princess’s face plastered to my chest and our legs intertwined, contentment floods me.
I kiss the top of her head. “Get some sleep, baby.”
“I’m already asleep so be quiet,” she mumbles into my pec.
“Good, cause I’m waking you up in a few hours to go again.” Her body shakes in silent laughter.
“You just can’t get enough, huh, big guy?”
“Never,” I swear, yawning, and fade off to sleep.
Clouds float against the bright blue sky. I lie on the grass, the blades prickle my exposed skin. I run my fingers through them, feeling the slight dew left over from the morning. The clouds make intricate forms, and even though I squint from the brightness of the sun, I can make each of them out. A car. A bunny. They move slowly through the sky, just waiting for me to distinguish each shape.
Closing my eyes, I allow the rays to penetrate my body, the heat touching every inch of my skin. Each caress gives me slight goosebumps, my flesh raising all over. It’s as if their soft touch is roaming my body with no intent on stopping. My skin becomes alive, reactive, and for some bizarre reason, my clit begins to throb from the sensation.
I don’t dare open my eyes. If I do, it’ll break whatever this is and it feels so damn good. Up one leg then back down the same way¸ repeat on the other leg. My toes curl as the softness meets my stomach, circling my belly button and moving to the far edges of my sides. I giggle when the tickling becomes too much, but stay in place.
The softness rounds my breasts, lingering on the swells, moving back and forth methodically. My nipples pebble as a soft breeze glides across them. The faint touch floats to the crook of my arm, close to my pits, moving so fast, I don’t have time to flinch. It trails down my arm and the hairs stand on end, begging for attention. Begging for its touch. My fingers. It settles on my fingers, weaving in and out between them. I grip the grass tighter, almost unable to keep my hands from reaching out to the object.
It moves to the other arm and hand, giving it the same glorious torture. When it reaches my neck, my entire body shivers.
My eyes flutter open, and I’m greeted by light flooding the room. My body is hot, yet cold, and something is gliding over my neck. Wasn’t that a dream? Am I still dreaming? I reach up to grab whatever is cascading over my flesh.
“No, Blaze.” My man’s voice hums in my ears. I turn to the side, and Tug is sitting on the bed, naked as the day he was born with some type of feather in his hand. What the hell?
“What are you doing?” I croak out, voice hoarse from sleep. The softness returns to my body, gliding down this time, and I take in what Tug is doing. A peacock feather. Huh? “Why do you have a peacock feather?”
He chuckles in that sexy way I love so damn much, the feather continues along its trail, making the goosebumps more intense.
“Good Morning, sweet lips.” The gravel in his voice sends my already-awake-and-ready-to-play clit into hyper-drive. He says nothing more, but proceeds to wake every cell in my body, and for some reason, I don’t move. I can’t move. My body just will not. It likes just where it is and has no complaints, even craving more of the touch.
What I thought was a dream is actually Tug. Who, technically, is a dream in and of himself. I close my eyes and give in to every stroke of the feather, forgetting my question of where he got it, because I don’t really care. All I care about is that he continues. It’s strange. The sensation is cold, but my body is on fire. It’s as if all of the blood has risen to the surface of my skin with each pass of the feather.
Holy shit.
Tug kneels by the side of my chest and I sink down just a bit as the bed moves. Hot air caresses my ear and I jolt. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweet lips,” is whispered and I still. Holy crap, he remembered. Big, bad biker remembered Valentine’s Day. No way. No freaking way.
I look up in shock only to see happy eyes staring back at me. I have never had anyone remember Valentine’s Day except my mother. She always had some kind of chocolate or something for me, and it always made me smile. But this, this is different.
What Tug is doing to me—showing me—is not anything I’m accustomed to. With each glide, he’s telling me without words what’s inside of him. How strange is that? His liquid eyes brim with lust and if I’m not mistaken, a bit of longing as well. On top of all that, love. Love for me. My insides melt.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I whisper, trying not to let all the shock of what is happening engulf me. He hasn’t said a word about this day all week and I had no pretenses that he would celebrate it or even acknowledge it. It’s a day and well, he’s a guy. Unless he saw it on television or something, I didn’t expect anything. Nothing like this good morning wakeup call. And I freaking love it.
He lays the feather flat on my body in between my boobs. He rocks it back and forth, the entire length of the feather touching me at one time. Holy shit. My hips do a little swirl and my clit weeps, needing some kind of touch. A groan gets lodged in my throat, released in a painful sound. Tug chuckles deep.
Grabbing his leg, I dig my nails in his thigh. “Tug, please.” He pulls away from my grasp and straddles me, his hard dick now against my stomach, his legs taking the brunt of his weight. He peers down at me and I run my hands up his thighs, feeling each hair in my path.
He brushes the feather against the side of my face down my chin to the other side and along my neck, not leaving an inch untouched. “In due time, sweet lips. First, I need to play.” Disappointment mixed with excitement courses through my veins. I want him to play, love it when he does, but the fire burning inside is craving to combust. A foreign noise escapes me and Tug chuckles. “I know you like this, don’t deny it.” The way he reads me is wonderful and frustrating at the same time.
Not wanting to be left out of the play, I reach for the bulbous head of his dick, fisting it tight. “Fuck.” He grabs both of my hands, pulling me away and holding them above my head. I go willingly because, let’s face it, the move stuns me briefly.
“You don’t want me touching you?” Surely that can’t be right. He loves it when I do.
“You touch me, I’ll blow. Watching your sweet ass jump for the past fifteen minutes with each touch of the feather has me harder than I think I’ve ever been. You touch, it’s game over, and I have plans for you.” His cock is so close to my face in this position, if I bent my chin and stuck out my tongue, I could taste him. Tug lets go of my arms and moves back, his head shaking knowingly. “You’re quite eager today. Huh, sweet lips?”
I try to narrow my eyes, giving him a pissed off look, but it falls so damn flat I shouldn’t have even tried. I’m so damn turned on that it’s the only thing invading my thoughts. Shit. “Tug, come on.”
He stretches my arms out to the sides of my body. My body is like the letter X the way he has positioned me. “Keep your arms there.”
“Why, what are you doing?” It’s not that I don’t trust him because I do. I do very much. I just—
“What I want,” He cuts off my thoughts and the anxious energy inside me boils. Tug moves off of me, setting the feather beside me on the bed, and I watch him as he goes. Grabbing one of my large, round-jar candles—that is already lit by the way—he comes back to the bed and straddles me exactly as before. He holds the candle above me, the wax swaying inside the jar with
each move. Panic shoots through me.
“What are you doing?” His face softens at the anxiety in my tone, and that alone helps me relax a bit.
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course, I do,” I say without hesitation. “I just want to know what you are going to do with that lit candle. That’s not so strange.” Hell no, it’s not. That shit’s gotta be hot. What the hell is he thinking?
“Trust me to take care of you.” I close my eyes, because I do. He would never hurt me, at least not intentionally. I focus on that and try to relax my wired body, which takes more energy than not relaxing.
Sucking in a deep breath and closing my eyes, I say, “I do.” Exhaling, I open my eyes and receive a full-out smile from Tug. It is panty-dropping, mouth-wateringly, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. I’m so focused on the smile that I jump at the first touch of his fingers. They are warm and soft, trailing over my chest.
My eyes widen as he dips his fingers into the wax, letting it coat the tips, then brings it back to my skin. This touch is more intense than the feather. This one is warmth and heat magnified by a hundred. “Tug,” I gasp as he traces over a nipple.
“Relax, sweet lips.” Relax. Really? That flew out the window a minute ago when his warm hands and then the coolness of the air hitting after, shocked me to my core. Holy crap.
“I can’t.” I wiggle my ass. Since he is sitting between my legs, there is no chance of me rubbing my thighs together to relieve the ache. Unfortunately, the ass wiggle doesn’t help either. Tug’s body shakes with silent laughter. I want to give him attitude, but I can’t. I’m too lost in the touch.
Over and over, he dips his fingertips in the burning candle and then runs them over my body. I grip the sheets and my pussy throbs.
He moves from the bed and I pop out of my Tug-induced haze. He can’t leave. Tug sets the candle down and pulls the wax off of his fingers, throwing it back into the jar, his hard cock bobbing, begging to be touched.
I sit up on my elbows to get a better view. Tug’s body is like something from one of the biker romance novels that I read. Or used to, when I had time. Arms and shoulders broad and strong, each muscle flexing as he works. His abs are so defined that the indent of the planes look sculpted, along with his chest. His ass. God, his ass. So damn tight. I really need to get a mirror and hang it on the door across from the bed. No doubt seeing that ass move while he’s inside me would be the sights to end all sights.
A predatory gleam sparks in his eyes as he nears the bed, crawling up to me like a panther ready to strike. “I—”
My words are cut off when his mouth comes down on mine, his body following. His sleek lips take mine and I open readily to him, our tongues skimming one another in tandem. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I pull him closer to me, loving the feel of his heat and weight on me. I run my fingers through his hair and his elbow rests beside my ear.
His kiss isn’t hard or rough. It’s deep, sweet, sensual even. This is the part of Tug that I love so very much. His ability to show me the loving, compassionate him. He may be rough. He may be a biker, but with me in these moments, he’s so damn caring. Not to say I don’t like it when he just takes from me, because let’s face it, that’s hot as hell. But this? This is what shoots right to my heart, weaving itself so tight, and leaving warmth in its wake.
My body still hums from his ministrations, but there is no way in hell I’m pushing. This right here is perfect. When Tug breaks the kiss, I want to cry out for him to come back, but refrain when his lips and tongue find the spot behind my ear that gets me every damn time. The words lodge and come out in a moan or mewl. I don’t know and don’t care. My fingers stay threaded through his hair, following the movements of his head as he kisses across my jaw, down my neck to my collarbone, down my breast bone and then to each boob. Holy shit. He is not gentle with them at all. He sucks in deep and sparks fly. His teeth join in, nipping the very tips. He immediately swipes his tongue, licking away the slight sting, and then moves on to the next one.
His soft touch slides to my stomach, his tongue moving in and out of my bellybutton, mimicking the plunge of his dick inside of me. I squirm. I’m going to implode. Seriously. All over the damn room. Shit.
He moves down, and I shake my pussy at him when he hits my thigh, but he doesn’t bite. He doesn’t touch my ache at all. Saying I am frustrated doesn’t even cut it, but when his lips touch behind my knee, it goes away slightly. Tug moves down to my feet then up the other leg, giving it exactly the same treatment. I swear I am going to lose my freaking mind here soon. Dammit.
“Tug.” It almost comes out as a whine, which pisses me off. I do not whine. Shit, he’s got me twisted in knots.
He meets the V of my legs and I brace for his tongue. It’s coming, I know it is. He kisses the top of my mound and down my bare pussy. He’s right there. A little further.
He sits up on his knees.
“No!” I scream. What in the hell does he think he’s doing? The damn man chuckles. “This is not funny!”
“Having you spread out for me to feast on. You aching for my mouth, fingers and dick. You wanting me more every damn minute I touch you. Nothing else could bring a bigger smile to my face.”
My insides go all melty. Why does he have to say shit like that? It turns me all inside out and then I can’t focus on the fact that I need to come. Now. “Tug, please.”
“You know what’s even better?” His brow rises like he’s waiting for me to answer. I don’t know; I can’t freaking think so I stay quiet. “You begging.”
Tug moves me so fast, flipping me so he is on top, then spins me around like a rag doll, my face lined up with his cock and his with my pussy. Holy shit.
“Suck my cock, Blaze. Deep. Hard. Show me how much you want it.” Oh, God, I do. Right now, more than my breath. The head is purple, not happy purple, but purple and flaming mad. Tug’s hands grip my hips and he pulls me down on his face. His tongue spears my entrance and I scream. Shit. I won’t be able to hold on. His tongue moves in and out as I grip his cock in my hand.
He pulls away and I moan. “You don’t suck, I don’t suck. Got it?” Instead of answering, I wrap my lips around his dick, and push it as far down my throat as physically possible, his balls hitting my nose. I balance on my hands, but move to my elbow so I can use one of them.
His dick triggers my gag reflex. Shit. I will not gag. I ward it off by pulling him out and quickly inhaling a hard breath. His tongue licks every crevice of my folds, but the one place I need him, he’s not going anywhere near. I grind my hips, trying to get just the slightest bit of friction. Pain slices through my ass and a loud slap echoes through the room. I love it when he smacks my ass. It’s in warning, but I can’t help but continue moving.
I bob up and down on his dick, using my tongue to caress his shaft and sucking in the tip of his head at every turn. This drives him wild and he deserves it. Payback is a bitch. To add to his torture, I grip his balls and roll them back and forth as I continue fucking him with my mouth.
Tug’s grip becomes painful and he stills my hips. I pick up my licking and sucking, moving faster and faster. His tongue dives deep inside of me. I moan around his dick and it twitches in my mouth from the vibrations.
My hips are lifted and he tosses me to the side of the bed, his dick popping out of my mouth. Tug turns me around on my knees and reaches around my body, slamming my soft one into his hard one. His hand feathers through my hair and he kisses me. Not like before. No. This is the hard, rough yet passionate kiss. Who am I kidding? I love every kiss from this man.
I give as good as he does and take what he’s willing to give. Our hands roam each other and passionate lust consumes us. Tug smashes me to the bed, falling between my thighs. One hard thrust. Holy shit. My channel is ready for him, but as deep as he is inside me, my inner walls quiver.
He breaks away from my mouth, lifts my legs up and presses them together in front of me, leaving them suspended in the air but bent at the knee. This po
sition blocks my view of him and all I can do is feel. Every single thrust. Every time he pulls his dick out, rubbing the head up and over my clit then back down before he pushes inside again. Everything.
The explosion hits me. It’s not a gradual one that I know is coming. No, this is purely spontaneous, bam, there. I scream so loud, the windows shake, or it could be Tug’s thrusts rattling the headboard, whatever.
“Fuck, sweet lips. I love it when your tight pussy wraps so fucking tight around my cock.” Another wave bursts through me. “That’s it. Keep coming.” He pounds into me, every part of the room around us shaking, or at least it feels like it. “Come again. Now,” he growls.
I don’t know how I do it, but I do. This one hits and I can’t even scream. Whatever sound wanted to come out is stuck in my throat. He continues to move as my body ricochets into oblivion. His cock pulses inside of me, his heat pouring into my body. His thrusts get slower and he lets go of my legs, which fall like noodles to the sides.
Tug collapses on top of me, but I can’t move. I want to wrap my arms around him, but I can’t. I can’t even think. I’m just here.
With my each intake of breath, Tug exhales, our chests rising and falling against each other in rapid succession. We lie here, trying to pull ourselves together. Tug’s dick is still inside me, deflating ever so slowly. Damn, it feels good that I do this to him.
After a few moments, I’m able to move my arms and wrap them around Tug’s body, squeezing him tight to me. He doesn’t move, but his breathing returns to normal. These are the moments that I can never get enough of.
Tug rolls off my body onto his side on the bed. My body instantly chills, missing his warmth. He tucks me into him, our faces aligned. I shiver. Tug pulls a blanket over our bodies and returns to the same position. Every bit of love he has inside of him is pouring out of the eyes staring back at me. And to think, I almost missed all of this.