by Taryn Quinn
“Did you just lick me?” He sounded strangled.
“No?”
“If this was a pool, I’d dunk you for being a liar, and a horrible one at that. Since it isn’t one, I have no other recourse.”
Carefully, he wrapped his hands around my waist, lifted me up as if I were made of air, and set me down a safe distance away. Not very far, since the hot tub was only so big. And our legs were tangled, and oh Lord, I was breathing so hard that I gripped the side of the tub to try to get ahold of myself.
“You actually smell very good—” I began.
He held up a hand. “Let’s just table that discussion for now, shall we?”
“Okay.” At least he wasn’t suggesting we never speak again. “What should we talk about then?”
“If your request was serious, I’ll oblige you. Far be it from me to further delay a woman’s carnal education.”
The way he talked was such a turn-on. Truth be told, I got even hotter when he talked like that while acting like a dick. I just liked the softer side of him too. The one who said nice things and held me and didn’t make fun of me for having the same amount of experience as a high school senior.
Heck, freshman.
“It’s probably not fair.” I swept my loosened hair out of my face and fought the urge to fix my straggly ponytail. I was afraid to do anything that might make him change his mind. “I get to watch, and you get nothing.”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, I’ll get something. I’ll get to come, though it’ll be far inadequate to other ways I’d much prefer to find release.” His near-black eyes glittered and made me quiver deep inside. “I’ll also get to watch you watching me.”
“And that’s arousing?”
“Very much.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “If we were more well-acquainted, I might ask you to remove your top to give me visual inspiration. Or better yet, I’d ask you to do the same as me. Except you’d be sitting on the edge.” He jerked his chin at the side of the hot tub. “So, I could see every movement of your fingers.”
I was blushing, I just knew it. My face felt like a freaking torch. But I was so excited I couldn’t think straight.
Was this really happening to me? This infuriating, sexy-as-hell man truly wanted me? He was even willing to go through my probably bizarre steps rather than, oh, just, you know…making out and having sex like normal people did every day. Especially people on vacation.
Especially when this was exactly what I’d told everyone I was looking for. No-strings-attached sex.
Yet Oliver was different. He was Ally’s brother-in-law, and we’d have to see each other absolutely everywhere. At holiday dinners, at the diner, walking down the flipping street…
But you think it won’t be weird if he chokes the chicken in front of you? It’s practically the same thing, except you don’t get the O.
Assuming I didn’t spontaneously combust the second he whipped out his cock. There were no guarantees there.
“Sage?”
See, that worried expression mixed in with the lust. That was what was messing me up. More and more evidence was piling up to make me think he truly did care about me underneath all the bluster.
Perhaps fighting really was foreplay, and we’d just had a super-long extended session of it.
“Sorry. I’m just having an out-of-body experience.” I inhaled deeply and reached for the hem of my cami, pulling it over my head before I chickened out entirely.
He just wanted to look. I had a nice rack. I even thought they were better than nice, when I wasn’t obsessing on Jim’s failure to launch.
And I was done with thinking about any other man than the one currently staring at me as if he wanted to eat me alive and then lick his fingers.
I dumped the cami on the floor and sat back, stretching my arms along the sides of the tub, gripping the smooth material to keep from bolting. That kind of focused attention was new for me.
Overwhelming. Addictive.
“You’re magnificent,” he murmured.
Another inward breath. I could feel my confidence swelling like a balloon with every moment he remained fixated on my breasts. He wasn’t even trying to hide his avarice. I was flushed all over, and a quick glance down proved that pinkness wasn’t just in my cheeks. Between the heat from the Jacuzzi and my embarrassment and arousal, my normally pale skin was a deep red. And my nipples were like tight cherries, dipping above and below the water every time I shifted.
I was shifting a lot. Squirming, actually.
“Thank you.” I gulped more air. “Your turn.”
Unlike me, he didn’t hesitate. He rose onto his knees, gripped the waistband of his boxers and eased the elastic over his…wow. I only caught a brief glimpse before he dropped below the bubbles to get them off.
He tossed them over the side to join my cami. I studied the pile of our clothing, only turning back to him when the rush of water dragged my attention back to my current situation. I was regretting now my limited experiences with porn. Maybe then I’d be more comfortable watching as he…
God, he was gripping his cock. His large, fully erect cock.
Sweet mother of Jesus. I was not equipped to handle this.
And in this case, I was not speaking metaphorically.
“Jim was not built like you.” I covered my mouth with my hand, figuring my accidental comment would make him growl again, but instead he only smiled, slow and wide like a Cheshire cat.
Of course. Because men always had to have the biggest and most powerful tools around. Or at least believe that they did.
I lowered my hand and decided to say something else I was thinking. On purpose this time.
“You’re so big,” I breathed.
He gave himself one long, slow stroke, then licked his lips. “Do you want to touch me?”
Fifteen minutes ago, I probably would’ve said no. Next level. Not ready to go there yet. Not with Oliver.
But now, I inched forward, my new resolve filling my chest.
“Just do whatever you’d like.”
His voice was low, guttural. Impossible to resist.
My gaze flickered up to meet his while I brushed my fingertips over the swollen, damp head.
He hissed as if I’d burned him. “More.”
I did it again, fascinated by how his muscles tightened and the veins bulged and shifted under his taut skin. His flesh was so much darker than mine. He was covered in lots of dense, dark ink. Swirls of intricate lines climbed his left arm creating a leopard with fascinating blue eyes. As his muscles rippled, so did the dangerous cat. More artwork reminded me of tribal swirls I’d seen on a few famous actors. It was much more interesting to see it so close, especially where I could touch. So different than my virgin skin.
Virgin everything.
His part-Italian heritage allowed him to tan, whereas I only crisped up like a lobster, and just sliding my paler hand against his length was oddly exciting. Every part of this was. We were so different, with so many angles that could rub and spark against each other.
I slipped my fingers farther down his shaft. Loosely, his fingers encircled the base, holding his erection up for my perusal. I wetted my lips as I wrapped my fingers around his width. Tried to anyway. They didn’t quite meet. Taking cues from his breathing, I shifted my hand, tentatively moving it up and down.
Testing him and myself.
I’d done this before, but no other man was quite like Oliver. Not only was he holy flipping hung, his stare was a physical thing. I could feel him watching me rather than watching the movement of my hand. Maybe he was making sure I wasn’t about to freak out and run screaming from the room.
Panicked little virgin.
Not anymore.
That confidence balloon inside me was still growing. The bubbling water was like a cushion, hiding some of the choppiness of my breathing. I was nervous, but not scared. He was waiting for me, leaving the ball—balls, as it were—entirely in my court.
I wanted to play.
Lowering my head, I licked the tip. Quickly. There was no lingering, not yet. But I was curious how he would taste, and that little burst of salt on my tongue spurred me on. As did his rumbling groan, trapped in his throat. God, what would it be like to hear him come?
To make him come?
“Again,” he whispered, but he didn’t have to. My mouth was already watering for another longer taste.
Still clasping him in one hand, I used the other to hold back my sloppy ponytail as I went down once more. This time, I circled my tongue all the way around the domed head, lapping up the wetness there, returning to do so again when another pearly dropped immediately formed. I did it again and again, just focusing strictly on the tip, letting the power of this moment surge inside me until I had no choice but to try for more. To open my mouth wider and move my head down so that he rested on my tongue, and then to take more and more. Water teased the tight tips of my breasts as I took him deeper. He was swelling even further, the weight and pressure of him causing me to try to take too much, too fast.
I wanted everything.
“Easy.” His voice was a rumble, barely audible over the bubbles.
I inhaled through my nose, tears sparking briefly in my eyes as I stopped him just before my gag reflex engaged. The sound of the bubbling water and white noise buzzed in my ears, nearly blocking out everything.
His hand was on my hair now, stroking gently just as he’d done on the plane. The feeling instantly calmed me and allowed me to take more.
It was as if doing this one thing was now my purpose. Pushing his control and stretching mine. Giving him pleasure. Giving it to myself.
He undid my ponytail and my hair fell forward, sticking to my neck and chest, partially hiding my face. He gathered it up in his hand, drawing it back so carefully. Collecting each strand, pulling it back so nothing could impede his vision. He was watching every slide of my mouth, every flick of my tongue. Every alteration of my position so I didn’t take a mouthful of bubbles instead of him.
When I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, he groaned, and I tilted my head, squinting to watch the flex and bob of his Adam’s apple through the hazy sheen of tears. I’d pushed myself a little too hard but the slight burn in my throat was a badge of honor. I’d made him feel good, so good that his shoulders were strained, and his chest was heaving, his previously tender strokes on my hair becoming almost painful.
I craved that too.
He hauled himself back, and I watched the visible battle take place on his face. He was trying so hard not to rush me, not to hurt.
But I wanted that part of the experience too. I wanted him mindless over me.
I drew back just far enough to whisper against the shiny tip. “More.”
Our gazes connected and I knew he understood. The jets rose and frothed around my belly and teased my breasts as I eased myself closer using our height difference to my advantage. I pushed him back against the edge of the tub and gripped the side for balance.
The heat and thrill of controlling him—even a little bit—left me lightheaded. I slid my mouth down his shaft, taking as much as I could. He didn’t deny me that bite of pain. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but my body certainly did. My clit fluttered and I pressed my thighs together to try to get some relief. He must’ve noticed, because he reached for me with his free hand, his expression questioning even as his lips parted to drag in air.
Subtly, I shifted away. This wasn’t about me. Not now. I’d take my enjoyment from seeing this through.
Every time it got to be too much, I eased back, caught my breath, and used my hand. Slow, fast, sometimes just grasping him before I swallowed him down again, as far as I could before the water and my own limits impeded me. But when I finally got up enough nerve to let my wandering fingers sneak beneath his shaft to the sensitive sac beneath, he dragged my head up, his eyes wild.
“I’m going to come.”
My heart was crashing in my ears, throbbing between my legs. I didn’t hesitate. My whole body was attuned to him, flushed and prickling with need. “Please,” I murmured, telling him with my eyes what I craved.
I needed to know.
“Sage,” he gritted, and my name at that moment was a benediction. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I can’t…I can’t.”
“Don’t hold back.” I let go of the tub and trailed my nails up the inside of his thigh, so close to his groin that his big body jerked. “I want it.”
And I did. That woodsy, manly scent of his was driving me crazy, combined with the much more intimate smell of sex. I liked his flavors, his textures. Him.
Proving it, I dipped my tongue into that tiny slit at the head of his length, and he growled, fisting his hand in my hair, holding me right where I was. Pinned by his power and his dark, demanding eyes.
His other hand worked his shaft in tandem with mine, the pressure of his grip showing me what he preferred. Making me speed up until it was a race who could work him harder.
“Open,” he commanded.
My lips barely parted in time. The first spurt hit my tongue, heady and potent. I didn’t have time to swallow before there was more, spilling into my mouth, slipping out the sides. I sucked and sucked, letting out a humming moan while he shuddered and pumped into me, not checking his strength.
I felt used in the very best way.
When I would’ve slumped onto my side right there in the hot tub, he dropped down and dragged me on top of him, fusing his mouth to mine. There was no sweetness to his kiss. It was pure savagery, chased by the flavor of him. He groaned at that too, his hand turning gentle in my hair again. His strokes down the long length turned rhythmic, lulling me into a secure space. My heartbeat slowed even as we kissed, as if I’d ridden to the very top of a roller coaster and now was the long, endless drop.
But at the bottom was Oliver to catch me.
“I want to take you to bed. We did this all wrong.”
Though I was sure he wasn’t criticizing, the word hit me in the chest just the same.
As if he could read me already, he cursed under his breath and cupped my cheek, his thumb feathering over my swollen lips. “No. This wasn’t wrong. This was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had.”
I frowned, sure I’d misheard him. “Beginner’s luck?” I managed, surprised that my voice was barely a rasp.
Giving a blowjob was way more physically demanding than it looked. I rubbed my achy jaw. I wondered if there was a workout program.
His lips curved. “You’re a natural seductress, just as I knew you’d be. But I should have kissed you first.” His gaze dropped to my breasts and singed me like a brand. “Everywhere.”
I couldn’t help gripping his thighs tighter with my own. His hand moved down to my hip, his blunt-tipped fingers sneaking under the clingy cotton of my shorts. The intention in his gaze left no mystery.
If I gave the slightest hint I was interested, he would go down on me. Fuck me and fill me until I was utterly ruined for any other man.
He didn’t need to say those words for me to hear them as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.
Even after what we’d shared, I wasn’t ready. Not quite yet. I wanted to bask in this feeling for a little while longer. To savor this heady sense of power before he used his to flay me open and lay me bare.
At his mercy.
“I’d like that.” As his hand climbed higher, I cupped it and held it still. “Later.” I took a bolstering breath. “First, I’d like some dinner before we go see Celine Dion. Don’t worry, I have two tickets.”
His brow furrowed. “Why would I worry? Who would ever want to see her voluntarily?”
Ta-da. Just like that, he was back to being a dick. His hadn’t even stopped throbbing against my belly yet.
“I do.” I clambered off him, and yes, I might have delighted in deliberately standing over him so he could get an eyeful of my breasts. I was still tempted to cover them, but his expression was so hungry, it was impossible to worry over
much about jiggling. I climbed out and picked up my cami before passing him his boxers. “If you’d like to join me, you’re welcome to. But if you’re coming along, don’t dally. If not,” I walked to the door and waved over my shoulder, “see you when I see you.”
He swore as I pulled the door shut behind me.
6
Oliver
Death by Celine Dion was an actual thing. Who knew?
I would, by the end of this night.
Worst of all, the evening had started so innocuously. Well, after the blowjob that nearly blew my damn head off. But once I’d gotten out of the hot tub, wrung out my shorts, and slipped into the shower to clean up, my mind started to clear. Some. I was still revved up, almost to the point that I would’ve sworn I hadn’t come.
And I had. Incredibly. Right into the waiting mouth of the most gorgeous pain in the ass I’d ever known.
She was waiting for me when I got out of the shower. Not knowing what exactly her idea of dinner consisted of, I’d gone with a slate-gray suit and vest, sans tie. She had on a slinky navy sheath that hugged her curves, and her still-wet hair hung in long, curling waves down her back. My fingers had tingled at the sight of it. Fisting it had felt way too damn good. Natural.
As would taking a palm to her tight little ass.
Her smile had been saucy, as if she’d been let in on a big secret. Knowing. Yet she didn’t have a clue of all the pleasures that awaited her.
Assuming I didn’t kill her before the end of the night.
We ate at a swanky restaurant called Caribou, and she was her usual self with everyone who helped us—the maître d’, our server, and the manager who walked around making sure everyone was happy with their food. Yet she barely spoke to me. She ordered salmon with a small green salad, and we shared an appetizer of stuffed mushrooms and lots of awkward silence.
Were regrets setting in already?
For dessert, she selected a piece of cake with chocolate ganache and raspberry glaze, big enough to share. I wasn’t huge on sweets, but it looked delicious. I was about to dig in when she let out a small sigh.