Before I can race through the walkway between the island and my range, huge hands wrap around my waist, easily picking me up, twisting me around, so I’m somehow partially laying on the island counter. My legs are dangling off, met by a warm hard body. I’m giggling and screaming a little as he finds my wrists once more. We struggle before I let him catch me. I have one hand free, which he tries to trap, but he’s also chuckling and leaning over me.
My knees in his stomach must be uncomfortable, but he’s not showing it. He’s just smiling down at me, trying to catch my hand.
“You’re fast,” he pants.
“You’re faster.”
“Jesus, will you just hold still?”
“Not on your life, buddy.”
He laughs a tad louder.
I reach my hand over my head as far as I can stretch.
His smile is gone and he stills as he wraps his big hand around my upper arm. He’s gentle, careful, as he slides up and when he does so, he has to lean down more. More. And more.
His face is not even two inches from mine when he stops, wrapping his fingers around my wrist.
“Got you.”
“Yes.” I try to repress a moan.
Slowly, he pulls my other arm up and over my head. Pushing my hands together, he holds them with one of his. When he’s freed one of his hands, he slides it down my arm, feather-light. Tickling me close to my armpit.
His breathing is fast, heavy. I think mine is too. His chest just kisses my own. My nipples love the contact. A calloused thumb caresses the outside of my lower lip.
“Your lips…god, you have beautiful lips.”
“You can see them?” I ask. “In the dark?”
A flash of white teeth beams down at me. “Not quite. But I memorized them.”
“Did you now?”
He tilts his head. “My brother thinks your name is Irish, and right then you sounded Irish.”
I shrug. Or try to. He’s still gently pinning me in place. “My mother’s from Ireland.”
“Ah.” He leans farther down, his blade of a nose gliding along the bridge of mine. God, I’m shaking terribly. I’m scared my teeth will chatter soon if he doesn’t kiss me. I want him to kiss me so much. That’s all I can think of. His body against mine, this game we play.
“But your name isn’t Irish.”
I shake my head.
“It’s Greek originally, right?”
I nod.
“It means…fate, destiny.”
“Yes.”
He wraps his hand around my cheek, pulling me closer. “What a perfect name.” Then he kisses me. Finally. I moan without meaning too, so happy. His lips brush against mine over and over again. We’re clumsy and smiling, then we collide into each other, locked in a deep kiss. He moans. His chest lowers a little more, where I feel his heart pounding into mine.
His tongue caresses the seam of my lips, and I open for him. We’re stroking each other’s tongues, his hand still gently cupping my cheek. Then he wraps the hand that had been holding my wrists together under my back, pulling me to sit up. I open my legs without thinking. He pushes between them. The fabric of my sun dress tickles my legs as it slides up and up, never hindering Joe as his erection meets my sex. He’s in jeans and I have my panties on, but still we touch, and this feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. I know that sounds odd. I mean, I have children. I’ve obviously had sex before. But even through our clothes, when our sexes touch it’s…different. It’s—this sounds silly but it’s true—magical.
Sliding my hands behind Joe’s head, I graze my fingers through his buzzcut hair. It’s softer than I thought it would be. His touch is softer than I thought it would be. But his erection isn’t. His chest, which he keeps pressing against me, isn’t as well. And the kiss is turning harder too. He fists a clump of my hair at my nape, pulling my head back, opening me even more for him. His tongue darts in and out. His other arm wraps around me, holding me even closer. All of me against all of him.
The arm at my back, moves, slowly, but with purpose. His hand lingers at my waist, but then glides up to the base of my ribs, and back down to my hips. Up and down. Up and down. He’s timing the movement with his tongue, and I find my body swaying to the rhythm. When he’s ascending up to my ribs, he doesn’t stop. His thumb grazes the bottom of my breast, startling me.
“Stop. Please.” My voice is hoarse.
He leans his head away, huffing for air. “Yeah. I can do that.”
I have to smile at his raw voice, the strain in it.
He inhales sharply, nodding his head, clenching my waist with his hands. “I can do this. Not attack you.”
“Maybe you’ll get a reward for stopping.”
He moans as he grinds his hardness against me, making me flutter my lids closed. “Don’t tease a man in this condition.”
I lean my head back and feel calloused fingers stretch wide against my neck. “I’m not teasing, Joe.”
“I love your little throat. Can I kiss it? I’ll stop when you tell me.”
My nipples contract from his request. “Yes.”
He doesn’t kiss me, naughty boy. He bites.
I gasp but lose myself in the feeling of the raspiness of his whiskers against the soft skin where he’s now licking away the sting of his bite. He kisses and sucks at my neck. God, my legs open even more, inviting him closer. Closer. So close.
“Joe?”
He makes a strange acknowledging sound that’s part grunt, part growl, and part groan.
Keeping my eyes closed, my head thrown back, I say, “Can I—can I have a turn?”
He leans away, only then can I open my lids and gaze at him.
“You want to kiss my neck?”
I nod. “But I want—”
He gives a small smile, just one side of his scrumptious lips. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
Oh, I know it’s way too soon for terms of endearment, but I love that one. No one’s ever called me baby before. My already hammering heart speeds up even more.
“I want control again.”
He slowly nods. “Okay. You want to hold my wrists?”
I shake my head. “I want to use my hands. On you. Can I?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“You’ll tell me when I need to stop.”
“Doubt I’ll tell you to stop. Ever. But, yes, I will if I want you to stop, I’ll let you know.”
I smile. “Can you—” I clamp onto his thick wrists again and place his hands beside my legs. “Can you hold still? Like this?”
“If it’s what you want, yes.”
I’ve never shaken like this. I’m so excited. I feel…new. This is new and it makes me feel so young. Like I’m a little girl in a candy shop, able to get whatever I want. My hands, as I reach for Joe’s neck, are trembling and I think he notices, but he doesn’t say anything. His chest rises and falls in a way I’ve never noticed on other men. Joe is utterly fascinating. He’s so…big. I can see through his t-shirt the signs of his pecs, and his nipples are beading, like mine are.
Finally, my fingertips brush against the strong tendons at the front of his neck. His breath hitches. I feel his whiskers, coarse, and prick my fingers. His Adam’s apple bobs and he lets me feel that. I smile, completely transfixed. His square jawline kicks. The striated muscles catching the dim light. Oh, he’s so beautiful.
Leaning forward, I kiss him gently on the side of his neck. He releases a loud breath. My tongue licks where I’ve kissed him. He groans. Then I bite.
“Fuck,” he huffs.
I lick him, like he did to me, making the sensitive skin that much more so in the process. I wonder who taught him this trick, but it doesn’t matter. He’s mine now. He’s mine to touch. To explore. Tentatively, I feel him from his neck to his shoulders, so wide and hard. Everywhere I touch, he twitches.
“Am I tickling you?”
He shakes his head.
It’s then I notice his hands beside my bare legs have mad
e fists. He’s trying so hard to stay in place. I love it when he’s good.
Well, I love it when he’s naughty too.
“Joe?”
“Yeah, baby.”
My heart ratchets up the pace yet again. And for a second I don’t ask what I want, shy suddenly. But when I see his barely controlled fists beside my legs again, I summon the courage to ask.
“Can I take off your t-shirt?”
6
He swallows. “Yes.” His voice is a deep rumble.
His t-shirt wasn’t tucked in, so it’s easy to lift and—holy mama. I’m moaning or maybe singing the praises of stomach crunches. They do Joe’s body good. He’s still wearing his dog tags. They hang low on his sternum, making me want to feel the metal, read his information, then touch him everywhere else.
He’s smiling, maybe with a slight edge of cocky in that grin.
“Wait,” I say, scooting forward and against his erection.
He grunts and grabs my hips, holding me still. “Just a second.”
I don’t move as I’m gazing at him. I hadn’t scooted forward with much effort, but I worry I’ve hurt him, especially because he won’t open his lids.
“Are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “I’m really…excited. And when you…I got…I’m trying to calm down.” Then he winces, finally looking at me. “I haven’t been with a woman in—okay, ready for this?”
I nod.
“I haven’t been with a woman in three years now.” He’s still grimacing.
I blink a little amazed at that number, at the fact that Joe’s gorgeous with an amazing body to boot, and somehow not a woman has had her way with him for three years.
“Was it because of your job? Your time in the military?” Then I’m wincing, especially since I’m still holding his t-shirt up, revealing his six-well-defined-pack abs. Releasing my hold of his shirt, I say, “It’s none of my business. You don’t have to—”
“No, I want to tell you.” He sips in a breath. “It wasn’t because of my job, but I wanted…more. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t be with a woman again until I felt…like I had to know her. Know everything about her.”
I tilt my head towards him. “You—do you want—”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Oh, my crazy heart is beating ferociously. I’m so…honored by what he’s said. It’s so…lovely that he wants to know me.
I reach forward and capture his lips against mine. We’re kissing and inside each other’s mouths with our tongues, as I try again to remove his t-shirt. We have to lean away from each other for a moment, but then I lift the black fabric up and over his massive shoulders and head.
He bends to kiss me again, but I put a hand on his chest. Oh lord. His chest.
“Wait, please.”
He nods.
“I want down.”
He scoops me by my butt and shifts me forward and back on my toes.
I grab his hand and turn both of us around, his back to the counter. Reaching for one wrist, I place his palm on the tile ledge, then do the same for his other.
“Do you mind if I touch you and you—”
“Want me to stay still?”
“Yes, please.”
“Jesus, your pleases are fucking killing me. I love them. Fucking love them.”
I bite my lip, trying to hide my grin. Then I reach out and touch his pecs. They’re full of muscles I’ve never seen on a man. Not that Tony’s in bad shape, but he’s no Joe. And I shouldn’t compare my ex with gorgeous Joe.
“You—you were—” Joe’s heavy breathing is interfering with his talking. “You have manners, while I—fuck, I swear too much. Gotta stop that.”
I shake my head. “I like your swearwords.”
“You swear, baby?”
Deciding not to answer, I swirl my hands from one pec to the other. He’s hairless, making my adventure more fun than I could have ever imagined. My fingers are voyaging from one muscle to the other, his bony sternum in between, and when I linger on his left side I feel his heart beating, beating into my fingertips.
“You don’t swear, do you?”
I glance up, my fingers resting on the very top of his six-pack. “In my head I do.”
He smiles. “What do you say in your head?”
I curl both my lips in, trying to contain my grin while I shake my head. Bump, bump, bump, my fingers trail down his defined abs.
He softly chuckles, but it’s a strained sound. My nails are scraping the soft hair under his bellybutton.
“Come on.” His voice is reedy. “You have to tell me. I’m being so good.”
I giggle, glancing up at him. “Yes, you are.”
“So tell me, what’s one word you’ve been dying to say. Out loud.”
I glance down at the top of his jeans, where my fingers swish back and forth along the hair there. When he exhales, I can feel it all the way to where I’m touching him. But more than that appeals to me when I look where I do. His erection is tenting his jeans, all the way over to his left hip.
I glance up. With him, I don’t feel embarrassed to say what I want to. With him, I don’t feel silly. Or the need to censor myself. So I don’t.
“I want to say…”
“Tell me, baby.”
“Cock.”
He groans, leaning forward, reaching out for me, but stops himself. A second before he touches me, he jerks and puts his hands back on the counter, swallowing loudly.
After a shaky breath, he whispers, “That’s a good word choice.”
I smile. “Thank you.” With the back of my hands, I run them up his body, over his puckering nipples. “Do you…do you call your—”
“Sometimes. What do you call yours?”
Something in my sex stirs. Already I feel liquid, slippery, and so good. But when he asks me this, I suddenly ache, feeling like I need weight, I need something to feel right.
I shake my head. “I’ve never called it anything.” Then I shrug. “Well, there’s when I’m with my doctor, then it’s my vagina. Or my sex.”
“That’s kind of scientific.”
“Not very fun, huh?”
He flashes me a smile. “I’ve always had a thing for girls who like science.”
I laugh.
“What do you want to call it? Your sex?”
Now I moan, hearing those words, his voice so low, so raw.
“You like it when I say…sex?” he drawls.
“Yes.” I wrap my hands around his shoulders and slide them down to his biceps. I can’t stretch my fingers wide enough to encircle even half of his arm.
“Sss-e-xx.”
I sigh contentedly.
“Tell me what you want to call your pussy.”
I blink and look up at him.
“Never called it that?”
I shake my head.
“You like it? Pussy? Or maybe, you want to go all the way with your swearing. Maybe you want to call it…your cunt?”
I swallow, feeling that word make its slow impact into my body. Instead of being disgusted, like I probably would if Tony had said it, I feel…it doesn’t sound dirty from Joe’s mouth. It sounds pretty, somehow. Powerful, like I am when touching Joe.
“Have you ever heard of vleesroos?”
“God bless you, and, no, I haven’t.”
I laugh at his sneeze joke. “It’s Dutch.”
“You speak Dutch? And your mother was from Ireland? Do you speak Gaelic too?”
I shake my head. “I’m not fluent in either of those languages.”
“But you know a little of both?”
I nod. “My father was Dutch, from the Netherlands.”
“On both sides, an immigrant’s daughter. Interesting. But tell me more about vleesroos and the connection it has to your cunt.”
“You pick up languages, words, rather well.”
“Thank you. It was my job to do that, but you were saying…?”
/> I smile, then take a breath. “Vleesroos is—it means rose of flesh. You make…cunt sound like that, like I’m—it’s a rose. It doesn’t sound like a swearword, coming from you.”
He slowly grins. “Moira?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t talk for a bit, gazing at me, swallowing. “You can see how hard you’re making me.”
I can’t help but glance down. His cock is stretched out so far. He’s so long, the very tip of him now apparent, ridged and straining through his jeans.
“I think it’s only fair,” he says, “if you tell me…are your panties wet? Do I make them wet when I say cunt?”
Slowly, I nod.
“What does it feel like?”
Drifting my fingers down, I let them rest on his hands, so big compared to mine. “It aches.”
“Your pussy aches?”
“Yes. It feels good, but there’s a feeling of needing more.”
He takes a sharp breath. “Moira? God, I do love your name.”
“Yes, Joe, and I love yours.”
He smiles, but it turns hard fast. “I need it to be my turn again.”
7
I take a step away from Joe. “Your turn to…steal another kiss from me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Then I turn and run as fast as I can toward the sunroom. He catches me less than five feet away, pulling me to him fiercely.
I gasp as my back smacks into his front, his arms around me. He’s instantly kissing down my throat, biting too. One hand snakes up and gently holds me around my neck, lifting my chin, ensuring he can touch all the sensitive flesh. His other arm stretches across and holds my hip, reaching down to my upper thigh. His mouth switches to the other side of my nape and all I can do is hang onto his forearms, trying to catch my breath. Feeling my pussy begin to throb in time with my heart beats.
I close my eyes against this onslaught, letting go, when he reaches between my legs, pulling my skirt up quickly and caressing against my panty-clad sex.
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 6