That was the last syllable from her mouth before John relieved himself of the cat and had her pinned against the wall. The kiss wasn’t gentle or soothing. It was combustible and unnerving. John’s teeth clashed with hers, and her whimper of pleasure damn near ended him. Pulling away without taking her from behind right there, was a real struggle, but her large breast in his hand reminded him of her delicate condition.
Damn it. Rein it in, John, you can do rough six weeks after delivery, but for now, it needs to be tempered. For the first time, the thought of planning ahead didn’t scare the hair right off his ass. He wanted to speak, to ask…no, to tell her it would be all right, but she spoke first.
“John, I can’t do this again. This foyer, I don’t even know what to call what we did, but I can’t. Either carry me to my room and make love me or walk out that door right now as my friend and nothing more. No more longing glances or flirty laughs. No more…” John silenced her by sweeping her off her feet and practically running to her bedroom. She had told him exactly what she wanted, and what he wanted to hear.
Augusta in his arms, looking up at him with hunger in her mysterious eyes, felt good. Right.
Placing her gently atop the edge of the bed was not how he envisioned their first time, but he also never imagined their first time she would be pregnant, and there was the rub. While her pregnant form was extremely appealing, he still had issues with it—issues he hoped wouldn’t interfere with his or her enjoyment of her overly sensitive body.
While he stood there staring at her and not making a move, she took offense. She pushed up on her elbows, and the haze of passion started to recede. “John? Is this what you truly want? Me? Like this? Am I what—”
He couldn’t let her finish that question. The disappointment and self-doubt that was creeping in…he couldn’t stand that his hesitation was causing it.
“No. Don’t even think that. I have never wanted something more in all my years.” John lowered himself onto the bed beside her and began removing her clothes. “Now, no more questions, no more doubts. No. More. Thinking. Just feel.”
Slowly, he slid her dress off one shoulder and then the other, following the edge of the fabric with a kiss to each. The fabric was stretch, so it moved almost effortlessly across her skin and undergarments. When it was below her beautiful belly, he rose and worked it the rest of the way down her legs.
John noticed her legs were just as slim as they had always been, perhaps swollen a little around the ankles, but not so the casual observer would notice. He pulled the dress over her ballet flats and tossed it aside. With her right leg still in his hand, he kissed the inside of her ankle. “Sensible,” he joked as he removed one shoe and then the next.
“That’s it. We are not doing this, you big meanie. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly built for heels right now.” She struggled get up.
“Stop it, Gussy Girl, I’m just kidding.” He stood between her legs at the end of the bed, caressing the outside of her thighs, up and down. “If you aren’t comfortable in heels, why did you wear them when I took you to dinner?”
Again, she blushed his favorite shade of pink, and he watched it rise. His gaze devoured its path. He noticed her bra and panties weren’t typical date wear. They didn’t even match, but something about them were sexy as hell. Very Augusta.
“Well, if you must know, I wore them for you, you big idiot.”
“Now, now. No need to insult me. If you keep that up, I’ll spank you until you apologize.” The shiver than ran through her was borderline orgasmic for John. My Gussy Girl likes a man in charge. Perfect. Of course, he wouldn’t spank a pregnant woman, but she didn’t know that. “And these?” John hooked his finger under the edge of her serviceable underwear and drew his finger along the inside crease of her thigh—so close to her pussy, yet not nearly close enough. It was his turn to shiver. “The night you went out with me, I felt lace,” he snapped the elastic as he pulled his finger from underneath and bent to kiss her belly just above the waistband, “and satin.”
“So?” she questioned, breathless. Her hands buried in his hair, and he turned his attention to her breasts, still hidden by a soft, pink cotton.
“So, why didn’t you wear satin and lace for Jesse?”
Her hands in his hair stilled, and her gaze clashed down with his. “I am not going to stroke your ego. You are only asking because you already know the answer.” She muttered, “men,” then dropped her head back to the bed, taking her touch with her. Somehow, she was even more beautiful with her arms splayed and an exasperated look on her ethereal face.
“Maybe it’s not stroking my ego but reassuring me?”
She raised her head off the bed and gave him a challenging look. “Fine, I wore the heels and the underwear especially for you. I wanted you to see me in them, and out of them. I wanted you to appreciate me as a woman, see me as someone who was sexy and desirable, not just someone else’s baby hotel, okay? And Jesse, well, I didn’t want him to see me in them or out of them. I didn’t care how he saw me because it was just companionship. Like going to dinner with Stacy or Dax. Are you happy now? Does hopelessly pathetic turn you on?”
God, she is beautiful.
“Yes.” He caught one nipple through her bra, tearing a gasp from her pink lips. “I am extremely happy.” He gave the same treatment to the other. “You are not hopeless or pathetic, but you turn me on like no one ever has.” John reached behind her and managed to unhook her bra and free her mesmerizing breasts. “Perfection,” he breathed.
John fell on them again, sucking and nipping, enjoying her writhing below him…mewling, squirming. Her breasts were sensitive; he knew they would be. Pregnancy ramped that up in woman, among other things. He shifted his gaze toward hers while he kept his mouth working her responsive nipple. The thrill that ran through him at her watching intently sent him into a frenzy.
Keeping their gazes locked, he feasted on her body with his eager mouth. John gave her a mischievous smile against her nipples while his fingers found her clit. No ceremony, no build up, no tease. No gentle caresses on her inner thighs, just his hand on her pussy. The rapture on her face was beautiful. There was something to be said for build-up, but there is also a time and place for getting to the heart of the matter. This was the latter.
John had to rein himself in a bit because of the pregnancy, but this was their first time, and she needed to understand who he was in the bedroom. Sure, he could do slow and sweet. He even mastered following orders when the mood called for it, but as a rule, he was raw, rough, and in charge. Sometimes build-up didn’t require minutes, it could be just as intense with seconds. Her sharp intake of air and whined “John,” were proof of that. The following gasp was throwing jet fuel on a raging inferno. The explosion in his heart leveled him.
“I have to taste you.” John slid down her side, trailing kisses along the way. He didn’t stop until he was completely off the bed. Standing between her legs, he bent, grabbed her rounded hips, and dragged her toward him. Gently, but with authority, he positioned her knees, placing her feet flat on the edge of the mattress. Slowly, as to not overextend, but with a firm hand, John pressed her knees outward.
Eden. That was the one word that exploded in his mind as he got the first look at the place he wanted to own, a place he wanted to be more than anywhere else. John tore his shirt over his head and tossed it to Augusta teasingly. When she caught it in her hands easily and brought it to her nose, John thought he’d die. Then when a look of serenity crossed her face as she inhaled, he was sure he would.
“What?” she questioned while she wadded it up and placed it under her head. “I like the way you smell, so sue me.” She looked unashamed, unapologetic but still slightly embarrassed. He had always believed her to be a walking contradiction, and this was just one more incident where she proved it.
He realized why she had placed his shirt under her head. It wasn’t just for support, she seemed to be enjoying the smell. John walked around to the head
of the bed and retrieved two pillows. After raising her head, he placed one there, moved the shirt to the top, and softly lowered her head back down. The urge to place a kiss on her lips was irresistible. When he pulled away, her lips followed him up, trying to stay connected. She opened her eyes, and her head plopped back down onto the pillow.
John winked at her, causing a smile to burst across her face. Her head turned to the side, and her eyes drifted closed again as she visibly inhaled. “What exactly do I smell like?” he whispered before walking back to his previous position. John tapped her hips. She assisted in positioning the second pillow under her, presenting him a clear path to Eden, and she never once turned her head forward or opened her eyes. So, John took advantage of her distraction to free his aching cock and enjoy the view.
The slow rhythmic stroke, coupled with the beautiful pink pussy he was staring at, brought him to the edge of shooting his load somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. That will not do. Not do at all. As he was lowering himself to his knees, he heard, “Spicy Scotch and coffee.” But he wasn’t focused on her words, he was focused on her scent of arousal. That focus shifted to her taste when he kissed paradise.
John thought he might never get his fill of that flavor…or the sounds she made as he feasted. “Oh God, John. I can’t…please?” she pleaded. John knew exactly what she was begging for too; she wanted to come, needed it. It took him just one kiss, two strokes of his tongue, and a finger and thumb to figure out exactly where to pleasure her without sending her spiraling into an orgasm.
Instead, he brought her to the highest peak, held her there, then dropped her just a few degrees from the top and back up again. This kind of control was more integral to him than all other forms. For a moment, he questioned if he could live out of control in other areas of his life if this one remained, but his focus was on what was laid out before him. Those were questions he could mull over later, right now, he wanted to watch a beautiful woman come because of him.
Pumping his finger in and out of her faster, he whispered, “come,” not that she could hear him or that saying it would even work. He just needed to voice it for some inexplicable reason. Using his teeth and lips, he worked her clit until she started to quiver around his finger.
John raised his head just in time to witness her face start to contort in pleasure. Pinching her nipple with his free hand, he ceased the rapid in and out motion of the other. Instead, he let his thumb and first two fingers work in tandem together, stroking a perfect rhythm both inside and out. “Open your eyes,”he rasped, and she complied, just in time for him to see the fireworks ignite in her amber and hazel orbs.
Augusta struggling to breathe through her pleasure was a work of art.
She gasped to intake air but was locked in bliss and wasn’t able to. It was a nuance of rapture that John loved to witness.
The moment of not being in control of even the primary functions of life. John was awed, watching her hang from the precipice by her fingertips, suspended in a haze of pleasure unlike anything else. Then that almost second release, when her body was returned to her control and she got her first taste of oxygen in what felt like both a lifetime and a nano-second.
Stunning.
Augusta’s first intake was almost violent, and as she exhaled harshly, it was John’s name that provided the soundtrack. Not just for the first breath, but the first four, each one the same, but different. Both prayer and praise. This is what made the human experience…human.
John rose to his feet once more, unsteady but sure. When he caught Augusta gaping at his cock, he gripped it once again and stroked with purpose this time. He wanted her to see him the way he saw her. And he didn’t just want her to see him like that, he needed her to.
As he neared his own oxygen deprived ecstasy, Augusta turned her head in a mix of sated satisfaction and embarrassment. “Look at me, Gussy Girl. Watch what you do to me. See me as you allowed me to see you. Don’t look away, and I promise, I’ll make love to you like it’s your first time, but I’ll fuck you like it’s your last.”
John relished the shock on her face and the fascination. No one heard him talk like that outside of the bedroom, but he was a different man there.
It was the appreciation on her face when she bit her lower lip that sent him over the edge. “Fuuuuuck,” he ground out as he came all over her pregnant belly. He felt a bit of shame about that. It hadn’t been his intention, but he couldn’t say there wasn’t something smugly satisfying about it, something that called to the caveman inside him. But his shame was winning out. That was another man’s child, and it felt disrespectful somehow, until Augusta changed the way he was thinking with a simple action.
Her delicate hand came to rest on her belly, right under and on top of where he was still coming. He watched in fascination as she gently rubbed a circle there while he spurted another string of creamy white that connected them for a second. With it still clinging to the back of her index finger, she raised her hand to her face and sunk her finger all the way into her pretty pink mouth.
Her eyes closed in rapture while she sucked. John was already recovering from his mind-blowing orgasm. He couldn’t wait to sink balls-deep into what he now knew would be his own personal Eden.
Gus had her finger in her mouth tasting John for the first time, and she didn’t know what came over her. She was not this brave, not with a partner, anyway. She explored with toys and masturbatory aids, but none of her few partners had ever wanted to go beyond hop on, get off, and go to sleep. Her knowledge seemed to attract men who needed her to take charge, help them reach orgasm, and then suffer in silence as they snored away.
Not a single partner she ever had cared about her fulfillment, her pleasure. Nor had she felt comfortable enough with any of them to ask for or take what she wanted. Up until five minutes ago, her only orgasms had been at her own hand. But John had made it his mission to wring pleasure from her before seeking his own fulfillment. I wonder if he knows that, if he understands the importance of what just happened? Not the sucking his semen off my fingers part, but the making me scream part.
Gus’ actual sex life had been very unsatisfying. While she helped others in that arena, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Not for lack of wanting to, she just was never bold enough to put her thoughts into actions. With John, it just felt different. He took charge, was in control, freeing her to explore.
Making her feel cherished didn’t hurt. When she observed the pleasure he took from her, she suddenly felt desirable, strong…sure. Sure enough to reach down and massage his cum into her skin and lick it from her fingers and savor it, all while staring him boldly in the eyes.
And boy, was she glad she had. When John told her to see him as he had seen her, she was confused. Baffled. Having seen other men come, she didn’t understand the significance of it or the sheer power it possessed when witnessed through a haze of mutual pleasure.
Pride. She had caught a look of wonder and pride in John’s denim eyes as he watched her in the throes of passion. She didn’t comprehend the weight of it until she saw him in that same state and understood that it was something about her that brought him to that point.
She swelled with pride, and her confidence soared. With this man, she could ask for what she wanted; she could take it. He would allow her to take it and grant her requests as he saw fit, and that was a beautiful thing—one she never knew she craved until now. One that will devastate me if he takes it away.
That last thought that crept into her head breeched the cloak of pleasure she was wrapped in, froze her soul, and robbed her of her breath. John was saying all the right things and looking at her like she was essential to his future, but this was sex. No matter the name she called it, it was sex, and people said and did things during sexual encounters they didn’t mean or expect.
“Where are you, Augusta?” John’s voice reached into her overthinking bubble and captured her attention. Thank God, because I was spiraling and ruining this. If she only got one night,
she was dang sure not going to waste it. She could deal with the disappointment and depression tomorrow. Tonight, she still wanted to make love to the body of the man who held her heart.
“I’m right here with you. I just took a little side trip, but I’m back now.” Dang it, why did I admit that? Something about this visceral moment made her want to be completely honest. Or maybe it was his authoritative tone. Phrased as a question or not, it was a demand for her to tell him.
“Hmm, then I’m not doing a very good job if your mind had time to wander. I want you focused on me, on us…on this.” He took her jaw in his hand—a hand that smelled like her and him combined—commanding her attention and compliance. “I demand it, understood?” Her voice fled and her empty pussy clenched. She nodded. “Good girl, now, roll over and present that juicy ass to me as if I own it…because tonight, I do.”
John helped her on to all fours, piled pillows under her belly to relieve the weight, and hinged her legs so it felt like a stress-free position. She folded her arms and rested her head on her forearms, making a mental note to remember this position for labor.
This was pretty much the only choice for now, her stomach was so large that it was either this or big spoon-little spoon, and she wasn’t sure she could bend at the hips enough to be little spoon.
Gus had never felt comfortable with her lady bits up in the air like this before. Of course, she had only tried it once and hated it. Her boyfriend had made it seem dirty, and not in the good way. It also did nothing for her; she found even less pleasure than missionary. It had been uncomfortable and awkward.
Inevitably Yours (Imagine Ink Book 4) Page 12