“Gotta see this,” she tossed at him. “Is spectacular.”
An interesting phenomenon played out when Theresa was drunk, in that she got more Scottish. There was a touch of lilt to her words that was both odd and endearing, and he grinned as she reached into a tote bag, pulling out a pink paper gift bag with black tissue paper.
“Maddy made us name them,” she said.
“Name what?” And then she produced a red vibrator with her name scrawled across the side in silver script. It was a sizable cock, longer than him but not as thick, and she snickered as she turned it on and promptly buzzed it under his chin. He jumped, rearing back, and she followed him down, collapsing on top of him, her weight sending both of them sprawling on top of her covers.
“It’s strong,” she murmured as she changed tactics and jabbed it into his armpit.
“You witch. Stop that.” He snagged her wrist and she wriggled around on top of him. Her hair fanned out over his face and he inhaled, smelling flowers right before she tossed it away so she could beam down at him, all Cheshire cat toothy.
“Theresa,” he warned.
“Alex,” she mimicked.
“I don’t think that’s supposed to go in armpits.”
“Murphy insists otherwise.”
“Murphy is wrong.”
He swooped in to capture her lips, appreciative of how her body melted into his. She dropped Murphy onto the bed and settled herself more firmly on top of him, her knees outside his thighs, her breasts flattened against his chest. Her tongue flicked out to tease him, there for a second and then gone. His hands found her ass beneath her short T-shirt, smoothing over the cotton hugging the supple flesh as he bit her bottom lip and then sucked on it. She groaned, giggled again, and he opened her up, tasting her. He expected the sour of a long night of beer, but no, she was minty and sweet, and he delved deep, claiming her for his own. She responded by sliding her fingers into his hair and mussing it up as she whimpered.
Beside them, Murphy buzzed.
He reached for it, grinning wickedly against her lips as he brought it around behind her body, trailing it over her ass cheek. She squirmed and dropped her face into his neck.
“Never used one,” she admitted. She was quiet—shy—which he found endearing, and he dropped a gentle kiss to her shoulder.
Alex wouldn’t say as much because it was impolite to mention your ex-girlfriend when you were in a gropefest with a new lover, but he had. Lyn had a few “buzzy friends,” as she called them, and there were things she liked to do with them that brought her tremendous satisfaction.
Things that, when he helped with them, brought him tremendous satisfaction.
“I can show you,” he murmured, running the toy down the cleft of her ass and lower, between her thighs and over the thin, taut fabric of her underwear. She gasped and shuddered on top of him, so he nipped her ear, rotating the vibrator and pushing it against her clit, grinding the buzzing tip between her legs and raking it back and forth.
“I want you to,” she said breathlessly.
“You’re sure? You’ve been drinking—”
She grabbed his cheeks and looked him in the eye, a beautiful smile spreading across her face. “I’m sober enough to know what you’re offering, love. And I’m accepting. So show me? Please?”
TWENTY
SHE WASN’T SURE how she went from straddling him and kissing him to propped on a mountain of fluffy pillows at the head of the bed, but that was her new reality. She peered down her body at the man at the foot of the mattress. He’d taken off his shirt, which was a treat she couldn’t get enough of—Alex was wonderful to look at, his thick muscles undulating whenever he moved. He unfastened his belt and crawled toward her, picking up her foot, smiling at it fondly, and then pressing his lips to the inside of her ankle. It tickled, and she squirmed.
His smile grew.
Murphy buzzed beside them.
Pale blue eyes lifted her way. Alex skimmed his mouth along her calf, pausing to nuzzle at her knee. It was a barrage of featherlight, silken butterfly kisses, and she shivered. He kept at it, moving over to her other leg and giving it the same attention. His hands drifted to her outer thighs, squeezing, before climbing up to the sides of her black panties, forefingers and middle fingers hooking in the waistband and tugging. She lifted her ass for him, letting him strip her from the waist down. The way he stared at her, at the triangle of red hair against her creamy skin, made her shy. Her face burned, her pulse pounded. He was so intense, so very fixated on her, and he only grew more so as he climbed closer, pressing kisses along her legs, her thighs. His big hands situated on her knees and slowly—
So slowly. Painfully slow . . .
—opened her wide, exposing her to his hungry gaze. They’d fucked, but he’d never been so intimately acquainted with her body before now. He’d never before explored her inches and nooks and crannies. By the expression on his face, some parts worship, some parts wonder, he liked what he saw as he reached his hands under her thighs, lifted, and spread her.
Her folds parted. He looked into her.
Into my pussy. Into my cunt.
“Oh God,” she murmured, toes curling, her hands grabbing the coverlet and bunching it. He said nothing as he moved in, his lips skimming over her pubic bone before dipping down. He pressed gentle kisses to her clit through her hood before extending his tongue to open her up.
The first contact was lightning. She gasped, feet flat to the bed as he prodded her, sucking, lapping, and licking at her folds and valleys with delicate care. The slow exploration was sexy as hell; no one had ever paid that much attention to her body before and she liked it. He started with flicks, left to right, then up and down, but realizing she liked the circular motions best as she groaned her approval, he kept to that, swirling his tongue around in a circuit. When she started to moan, low breathy things that sent a shiver down his spine, he let her right leg go and slid his fingers up.
Thick fingers. Big fingers. They parted her lips before swirling just inside the rim of her hole. Tongue and fingers mimicked each other, keeping pace, and she felt like she had a trillion nerves all firing pleasure from her core at once.
He pulled back from her pussy with a wet smack of his lips.
“You’re soaked,” he said.
“Aye. I know. For you.”
He liked that, growled in response to that, and closed in on her clit, giving it a soft suck before he went back at her. His fingers circled one last time, then pulled away from her to dig into the meat of her thigh. Theresa’s eyes fluttered closed as her pleasure mounted, which is how she didn’t sense Murphy’s imminent approach.
She felt it, though. Something hard and cold, nudging at her, teasing at the entrance of her body. She was trembling by the time he reached for her pussy lips to open her, the buzzy thing in his hand pressing in close. The vibration was so strong she felt it deep in her body already, and he hadn’t even penetrated her yet.
Oh God.
And then it was there, spreading her walls and buzz, buzz, buzzing. She’d never experienced anything like it, the combination of being filled and hyperstimulated at the same time, the shaking and quaking of the toy demanding response. She squealed and threw her head back, gasping as Alex pushed the foreign presence deeper inside.
“Are you okay?” he asked, muffled against her.
“Oh, yes. Y-yes. Yes, yes, yes,” she rasped, and so he fed her more of the vibrator—inches upon inches that quickly went from cool to warm thanks to the heat of her body. Soon she was full, nothing left for him to give her. His fingers traced around the base of the toy, where the hard plastic met her oh-so-wet flesh.
He pulled it out.
He pushed it back in.
He put his mouth back on her and suckled.
Still Murphy buzzed.
She got loud, her yelps and mewls turning t
o long, exaggerated moans and gasps. Her hands abandoned the blanket and went to her T-shirt, tugging on its hem before pulling it up and exposing her breasts. She cupped herself, then pinched herself, rolling her nipples and squeezing them a bit too hard, the touch of pain perfectly offsetting the pleasure Alex forced on her body. He’d found a rhythm, a good one, wherein he rotated his tongue around her clit and then pushed the vibrator inside her. It was perfect. It was unseemly.
It was wet. Oh, was it wet. Every time he shoved the dick inside of her there was a squishing sound. Her body leaked its pleasure on the toy, on him, on her thighs.
I need to come. Have to come.
Her breathing was frantic. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She climbed and climbed, the precipice so close but just beyond her grasp, Alex’s mouth and the nigh-frantic fucking he was giving her with the toy demanding her release. It was too much. It was just enough. She arched up, the muscles in her legs tensed. There was a perfect second, followed by another, and then another, and she tipped over, her orgasm crashing down hard. She humped down at him, smearing his face, her screams echoing off the walls so much she clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet herself. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she writhed through it, ecstatic, happy, and giggling the entire time.
When she flopped back onto the mattress, her world swam around her.
This is wonderful.
Alex must have agreed. He gently pulled Murphy from her and tossed it onto the floor. A trail of kisses rained over her, from her pussy to her belly button. He pushed her shirt the rest of the way up and over her head, stripping her naked. His eyes feasted on her, his cheeks flush with color.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he said. “I just . . . you’re perfect. Perfect, Theresa.”
He followed the proclamation with more kisses, his tongue trailing over the flat of her stomach, along the curve of her breast. He paused to suck a nipple into his mouth before moving higher, to her throat and along her jaw. His hands reached for her arms and glided over her skin. Their fingers locked as their mouths met. She could taste herself on him, the sweet-and-sour tang, and she sighed, not minding her sex on him one bit.
It makes me want him more.
He rolled his hips against her as their tongues fenced. Her legs lifted to wrap around his waist. They were so close and yet so far from one another, too—his pants were still on. She could feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against her thigh. She pulled away from him, gasping for air so she could speak.
“You’re too clothed,” she managed to say.
“I am, aren’t I?” His smile bordered on devilish with his arched brow and saucy wink. He rolled off her, and she promptly rolled with him, onto her hip, watching as he stripped off his pants and boxers. Thighs made of rock, a trim waist, back muscles that were just . . . she wanted to run her tongue over them and never stop. It was obscene how much she appreciated his body.
He turned toward her, reaching for her as soon as he stretched out on the bed, but instead of going onto her back, she rolled him onto his. He didn’t mind, allowing her to straddle him, her face hovering above his. Their nose tips touched, her red hair a curtain blocking out the rest of the world. She could feel him beneath her, hard, thick, hot, and pressed against her thigh, and she reached between their bodies, never tearing her gaze away from him as her fingers closed around his cock.
She moved him, positioned him against her hole, his cock tip hot and insistent. His hand reached up to sweep aside her hair, cupping her skull as she sank down on him. It wasn’t a slow feed of his girthy inches, but a slick, smooth thrust that ended with him deep in her belly. There was just so much of him, and in that moment, all of it was hers. He was hers, and she would take every advantage.
She leaned down to kiss him, enjoying the feel of their united bodies before sitting back on her haunches. He peered up at her, brow furrowed. She took his hands and guided them to her stomach, and then up, to her breasts. He cupped her, thumbs raking over her swollen nipples as she started to move. It was an amazing thing to look down at him. Every roll of her hips birthed an ecstatic expression on his face. She wanted more of that—wanted to see him come. She wanted him to feel as good as he’d made her feel with Murphy, and so, as she rocked down on him, taking every inch of his hard cock inside of her, she squeezed her pussy muscles around him.
He whimpered. That big, strong man whimpered for her. She liked the sound so much she kept doing it. Every pull up was a pause. Every shove down was a wet slap and then a flex. She found a rhythm, and his hands abandoned her tits to settle on her hips like he was holding on for dear life. He couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to look at the ceiling, at her bouncing breasts, or at her face.
He was lost in the maelstrom, but then, so was she.
Sweat glistened on her body.
It glistened on his, too.
Both of them were close. She wanted to go over with him; it wasn’t like she was chasing the mythical fuck unicorn of perfectly timed orgasms, but she had climbed high enough that she was ready and eager. She wanted to come as much as she wanted to feel him coming. It was filthy, but the postcoital slither of his spunk leaking from her body was sexy as hell to her, and thinking that it’d happen again, that she’d get to feel Alex dribbling down her thighs, made her work him all the harder.
More.
More.
She snaked a hand down the front of her body and between her thighs, rubbing her swollen clit. The room smelled like sex as she sloppily fucked him, shifting the angle of her body so every push down raked his dick over her sweet spot. He started grunting with her thrusts. She groaned in reply, and when she felt him stiffen beneath her, his body tensing, the cords in his neck straining against his tan skin, she gasped. He was beautiful and fierce as he came, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough it actually hurt, but she didn’t care. She was too lost to the moment. The thought of what he was doing to her insides, of what it’d do to her after she slid off him, was enough to finish her. She furiously rubbed herself until her world shattered into a thousand perfect pieces, her pussy pulsing around his cock, each contraction of her hole drawing his hot spend into her deepest, most secretive place.
I need this.
I need him.
Oh dear God, I need.
TWENTY-ONE
HE WOKE UP tangled in her. Legs. Arms. Hair. Her back was to his front, her ass nestled against him. Their heads occupied the same pillow, the blankets wrapped around their waists. She smelled good; he nuzzled at her neck. She murmured and yawned, stretching out before him. His hand slid over her belly and fanned out, fingertips brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her foot nestled between his knees.
He indulged in Theresa’s presence as long as his bladder would allow, only disengaging at the last possible second. He slipped into the bathroom to take care of his morning rituals. As quietly as he could, he showered and dressed in last night’s clothes, which didn’t smell particularly great thanks to Harrah’s, but he was only one floor away from a fresh change. He poked his head out into the suite, and seeing Theresa still snuggled up with the pillows, he headed for the door.
He was almost in the hall when he remembered to write her a note.
Be right back. Clothes and breakfast.
He scrawled her name and folded the paper, dropping it off on the end table next to her head. He was an old dog, but he could learn new tricks.
He took the elevator up a floor and walked down the hall to his door. He was smiling as he got dressed. Smiling as he called down to room service ordering food to be delivered to Theresa’s room, smiling as he answered his cell phone . . .
Wait.
“Good morning, brother mine!”
“Hello, Sol.”
Alex tugged his belt through his belt loops, the cell phone propped between his ear and shoulder.
“I figured we
were due for a check-in on where we’re at, with it being Friday already and the wedding being Sunday,” Sol said. “The good news: swans of all types, place settings, and caterers are all accounted for. The venue is set. Maddy’s put Patrice on making sure our guests get to the Capulet with little fuss. She’s also issuing warnings to everyone coming that we’ll feed them to the sharks if they leak anything to the press. If Patrice ever gets tired of Maddy’s shit, I’ll poach her, I swear. I could use a good PA. Anyway, Nash is calling the videographer and photo-booth people. Kitten wanted one of those. I don’t think she’s figured out she shouldn’t trust me near one. I want to do things to her inside of it.”
“You’re a pig,” Alex said.
“Yes, I know. But I’m a fun pig. So the bad news, I suppose, and really the only major thing still up in the air, is the florist. Tara printed out a list of Darlene’s contacts, if you’d be amenable to paying her one last visit to pick it up. She can’t email it because the office had its Internet shut off this morning. She apologized for losing your card, but I told her I’d relay the message either way. Mama says she’ll go if you can’t.”
“No, you should spend time with Mom while she’s here. I can go.” Alex checked his teeth in the mirror, using one of those mint-flavored plastic picks to floss.
“Thank you. Don’t forget to pick up your tux if you haven’t already.”
“I won’t.” Alex paused. “I mean I haven’t grabbed it yet, but I won’t forget.”
“Good. Okay, if we can get the flower thing taken care of, all we have to worry about is getting through the rehearsal dinner tonight. We moved it to a restaurant on Royale that just opened up—it’s a small place called Irene’s, but they have a lovely function room for the wedding party and out-of-towners. Who are all here, by the way. The Barrington crowd has reserved most of The Seaside’s second floor.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Alex eyeballed the clock: 9:30.
I want to get back upstairs to see her. Maybe run her a bath. Flowers. I should get some flowers from down the street to replace the ones she threw away when she was mad.
The Lady of Royale Street Page 16