by Elle Aycart
His grin got even bigger. “Fuck, you’re hot. I’ve been dying to eat you out.”
And eat her out he did, licking and nipping and raking his teeth all over her pussy until she was a blubbering mess of need. Then he concentrated on her clit, lapping and sucking it while he thrust his fingers inside her, fucking her with them.
By now, she was flat on the table, thrashing and moaning.
He spread her juices from her entrance to her puckered hole, which reflexively tightened. He chuckled against her clit, the vibration almost sending her over. “You like this,” he murmured, his thumb pressing at the entrance of her ass without breaching it, rubbing in tight circles while it contracted and more liquid heat came rushing from her pussy.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she let out, her legs already trembling. He needed to stop lapping at her clit and touching her ass, or she was going to explode.
“Yes, you like it.” He moved up to her pussy and slid two fingers deep inside her. “One of these days, I’ll fuck this sweet ass of yours, and you’ll love it and scream for me.”
She was panting now, really loudly. She would have told him that that wasn’t going to happen, but he began sucking her clit and fucking her pussy with his hand and she lost it, her body tensing and orgasming so hard she all but blacked out.
Adrian watched as she came, long and sweet and so fucking sexy, he had to really concentrate not to explode himself. He softly kissed her pussy and nuzzled her puffed-up folds until the contractions became milder and irregular. When he was sure he’d wrenched every last drop of pleasure from her, he kissed his way up from her stomach to her throat.
“You alive?” he whispered, unbuckling himself.
She opened her caramel eyes, her expression dazed, her satisfied smile going straight to his cock. “I want you inside me.”
Good, because he was already removing his pants. She sat up, kissing him while unbuttoning his shirt. “I want you under me,” she said, palming his hard-on. “I want to impale myself on your cock and ride you.”
God, she had to stop talking this way while jacking him off, or he was going to spill in her hand. “Your bedroom?”
“Upstairs,” she answered. “I don’t think I can walk to the bed. My legs feel too wobbly.”
He looked at the flight of stairs. “I don’t think I can carry you that far.” Horniness trumped everything else, so he was ready to try, but it was anybody’s guess whether they’d end up rolling down the stairs.
“Couch?” she suggested.
“Couch.” He lifted her and backtracked several steps until his legs hit the arm of the couch. “Here we go.” He tightened his grip around Rachel, held the back of her head with one hand, and flung himself backward, hoping the couch wasn’t too well sprung and they wouldn’t bounce right back off and break their necks.
The gods were on their side, because it was rather hard. She laughed as she straddled him. “I knew this deep couch would come in handy someday,” she said, throwing the back cushions to the floor. Then she stilled and looked at him, her laughter drying up. “You’ve turned out to be a hell of a surprise, Sheriff.”
He sat up and cupped her face. “You too.” Never in a million years would he have guessed they’d end up in bed together and having the time of their lives. His life, at least.
Their kiss started tentatively, but it got very hot very fast, like it always did with Rachel. She pushed him down, holding him by the wrists, and kissed his throat, then his chest. She played with his nipples while her sweet pussy rocked against his erection wedged between her hot folds.
She began moving south, but he couldn’t wait. “I need to be inside your pussy, baby.” Her husky laugh made his dick jerk even more. For a second, he was dumbstruck, looking at her straddling him. Her hair was all over her shoulders, her lips puffy from their kissing and her eyes full of lust. Fuck, she was beautiful and wanton, and he was dying to make her his. He just had to give a little nudge, lift his hips, and he would slide inside her hot depths.
The thought of fucking her bareback almost sent him over. He gave himself a mental slap. What the fuck was he thinking? He’d never skipped the condom. If he could have laminated his own dick, he would have long ago.
She was staring at him, amused, raking her nails over his chest. Her hands, like her touch, was rough, and he liked it. Too much. “What are you thinking?”
He cleared his throat. “We need a condom.” Which he’d left in the pocket of his pants.
She reached down to the floor, where her purse lay discarded, and rummaged inside. Or so he thought, because his eyes were glued to her, her legs open and her ass in the air. Unconsciously, he reached for her core and caressed her, his thumb staying on her clit and his middle finger sliding down to press at the entrance of her ass.
She shuddered, moaning, her arms and head still at floor level. “Adrian, please. Wait a sec—” She couldn’t finish because he pinched her nipple as he deepened his touch with the other hand. “Oh God,” she said, her legs almost giving out and her pussy and ass contracting around him. “Stop or I’ll fuck you bareback.”
Ha! He remembered uttering that threat to her.
“Here,” she mumbled, before she straightened up, holding a foil package. He didn’t remove his hands from her, nor his eyes. “Adrian?” she whispered, groaning as his fingers probed deeper. His shaft was mere inches from her, jerking and leaking and begging to be unleashed. “You’ll make me come again.”
“The problem?” His voice was gravelly.
“I want you to come with me.” She ripped the package with her teeth and took out the latex. Thank God she still had her marbles, because he’d obviously lost his long ago.
“Right. All yours.” He pulled his hands away from her and watched as she sheathed him. She positioned herself and slowly sat down on him, his cock parting her folds until he was buried to the balls and she was panting, her palms flat on his chest. “Fuck, you feel fantastic.”
She slid up a bit and then back in. “You too, baby,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving his.
It was the first time they could do it slowly, relishing each moment and sensation. He held her by the ass and directed her strokes while she grabbed the back of the couch with one hand and kept the other on his chest.
He wanted to savor the moment and take his time, but that was an impossibility. She was moaning and impaling herself rougher and faster, and he couldn’t refrain from helping her along. He lifted his hips, knowing that with every downstroke, her clit slammed against his groin and his cock fully bathed in her heat, so deep inside her he could feel her heartbeat against him.
Fuck, he was going to come. He sat up, pressing her ass to him, and leaned forward to suck on her nipples.
She screamed out, tensing, bowing her back and offering herself to him while her pussy swallowed him whole again and again, squeezing him harder every time. He felt her nails digging into his back, which made everything even hotter. “Coming,” she said in pants. “Oh God, I’m coming.”
Good, because he’d already lost any chance to stop himself. He increased the speed of his thrusts until he felt her exploding, then buried himself as deeply as he could inside her and let himself go in a roar, spending himself in long jets.
When he came around, Rachel was laying on top of him. “Fucking you gets better every time,” he muttered against her hair.
Her chuckle reverberated through his body. “I’m an acquired taste.”
And then something happened that had never happened to him before while he was still hard inside a woman: he broke into laughter. He wrapped his arms around her. “Fuck, you’re nuts.”
Suddenly, a beep came from the floor, where the contents of Rachel’s purse were spread. Without dislodging him, she reached for her cell. “The OGs, probably. Reporting from Florida.”
More beeping. She frowned, then laughed and placed the cell where they could both read.
Ladies, how was your day? That was Mike.
Mike’s answer came right away. What do you mean blind?
Grandma? Are you okay? Go to the ER NOW
*** BLOND. Rebecca went blond. Sorry, Mike. In a hair salon.
Next message was from Mike: Wilma, what the heck, you almost gave me a heart attack!!
“What about the human meatballs?” Adrian asked, surprised no one had paid any attention to that.
Rachel shrugged. “Secondary. Not that important.”
Really? Not that important?
Another beep, this time from Rebecca. It’s all good, Mike.
The next one was from Greta. Yes, she looks vehicular.
“Vehicular?” Adrian asked.
“Beautiful or spectacular. You need to speak autocorrect if you want to communicate with the OGs.”
Rachel typed a quick message: Were the human meatballs good?
Silence. Then Greta: Did we eat that?
Rebecca: They tasted like chicken to me.
Wilma finally must have read her texts because she replied. **HUNAN MEATBALLS, **HUNAN
I’m getting so fisted now.
***FRUSTRATED damn it. I’m getting frustrated.
Idiot Auto erect.
Adrian had to laugh. Had to.
Okay, ladies, I’m definitely blocking you. Good night. That was Mike.
God donut was Wilma’s reply.
Chuckling, Rachel turned off her phone. Adrian had always seen the grandmas from his sheriff perspective—that is, as a nuisance—never from Mike or Rachel’s point of view. Now he was getting an eyeful of that, and jeez, they had it as hard as he did. “That was… wow. Alfred, the dirty old man inside Wilma’s cell, was hitting home run after home run.”
“Tell me about it,” she sighed against his chest. “Yesterday when I checked in and asked what activities they’d taken part in at Eternal Sun, their message read that they’d been in a menstruating seminar. They meant meditating seminar. Then they started rambling about how lucky they were they didn’t have to menstruate anymore. And then complaining that once the menstruating stops, the incontinence starts, so the diaper industry has them hooked for good.
“Poor Mike goes from heart attack to heart attack. He complained about them scarring him and threatened again to block them, but they sent him hearts and shit emoticons,” Rachel finished.
“Shit emoticons?”
“The OGs believe they’re Hershey’s kisses.” Her whole body was shaking with laughter. “Connor, Greta’s grandson, is also in the chat, but he seldom reads the messages, what with always being deployed somewhere without good internet. He told us that when he comes back to base after a mission and reads them, he has such laugh attacks that other soldiers come over from the neighboring tents, thinking someone is having a stroke.”
Adrian hadn’t seen Connor more than once or twice. It was difficult to reconcile the image of that serious guy laughing his head off.
They lay there for a long while, him caressing her back. “Your neck?”
“So far so good. Still basking in the afterglow. Not sure I’ll be able to move it once it gets cold. Your foot?”
“Same here.” His body was full of so many endorphins that he could probably run the Boston Marathon.
“Will the food keep?” she asked against his chest, her voice drowsy. “Too tired to move now.”
“Yep.” His cock was still half erect, but he didn’t want to risk the condom slipping out of place. “Lift your butt a bit, baby. Let me get rid of the latex.”
She groaned but obeyed. Once he was done, he pulled her onto his chest and covered them both with a quilt he saw on the discarded sofa cushions. He wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot, but they both could use some shut-eye. His last thought before falling sleep was that he loved having her in his arms.
Chapter Ten
Adrian woke up the next day to an empty bed. He squinted at the light coming through the window. What time was it? He’d slept like a log.
When he stood up, his foot complained. And then he remembered the sex acrobatics of last night. No wonder his foot hurt, although he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. Residual endorphins, probably. After several bouts of sofa sex, they’d finally climbed the stairs. That had finished off his foot, but the only bedroom on the first floor was Wilma’s, and no amount of tiredness in the world would get him to sleep in an OG’s bed.
He looked around. His boxers appeared to be the only item of clothing that had made it upstairs. He pulled them on and headed downstairs, slow and limping.
Rachel was in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, gazing at some notes while preparing breakfast. She was barefoot, her mane was knotted at the back of her head, and she was humming to music coming from her earbuds. He couldn’t even remember when he hadn’t found that kind of outfit sexy.
He would have thought that his first impulse, after fucking the living shit out of her, would be to run away. Nothing was further from the truth. He doubted he would ever be able to fuck her out of his system. A smile spread across his face and he walked to her, bracketing her from behind.
She yelped, and he had to immobilize her arms because she was wielding a knife—a butter knife, but still. Her immediate reaction at being surprised had been to attack.
“Shit, Adrian,” she said, closing the manila file she’d been looking at and taking one earbud out.
He kissed her on the neck, tightening the hold he had on her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” She continued preparing breakfast while he put the earbud in his ear. Nice music. Strong. “What were you reading?”
“Nothing interesting. You sleep well?” she asked, burying the file in a pile of newspapers on the corner of the counter.
He hadn’t managed more than a glance, but they’d seemed to be notes about anatomy. For her self-improvement courses, probably. Seeing that she preferred to hide the file, he ignored it too. “I slept great. How’s your neck?”
“I dosed it with the spray awhile back. Your foot?”
“I’ll live. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
She chuckled and pressed her ass against his morning erection. “Because of that.”
“You sore?”
She nodded. “The nice kind of sore.”
Good.
“But I’d appreciate a break.”
Not good. Sex he could manage, as much as needed, but spending time with a woman without engaging in fucking required concentration, and all his blood was still down south. With Jade, it had been easier somehow, because getting ready to go out had meant an enormous number of hours that she spent engaged in her routines, so the actual time spent with just the two of them doing nothing had been minimal. Rachel wasn’t like that.
He could give it a try, though. “Okay. My cock will stay semi-hard as long as you’re around. Just ignore the beast.”
She turned around and, smiling, kissed him softly on the lips. “I’ll do my best.”
When they sat down to eat breakfast, he noticed her left hand had a nasty-looking scratch. “What happened?”
Rachel checked the scratch. “I hurt myself yesterday at the garage.”
Yesterday? How had he missed it? He reached for her hand, but she hastily withdrew it. “I don’t think so,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist and forcing her to show him.
“It’s nothing, really,” she said. “I tried to scrub my hands clean after work and then applied moisturizer. That probably irritated it.”
No shit. “Band-Aids in the bathroom?” At her nod, he went upstairs, forgetting his foot was hurting.
Once back, and though she kept insisting there was no need, he disinfected the scratch and put a Band-Aid on it. Afterward, she hid her hands under the table, giving him an apologetic smile and then lowering her gaze. “They’re a mess. Too rough.”
She was so outspoken and sure of herself, it hurt to see her feeling self-conscious about something. He tipped her he
ad up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Did you hear me complaining yesterday, Grease Barbie? I had my hands on you as much as you had yours on me. Did I seem unhappy at any point?”
Rachel shook her head, and he kissed her.
“So, what do you do on Sundays?” he asked, looking around. “You feel like going out? Boston?”
She took a bite of her toast. “I like doing nothing but laze around on Sundays.”
“You want to take a dip in the lake?”
She paused for a moment. “If we go to the yard, Max will see us. If Max knows, Wilma knows. Just warning you.”
Okay, day in it was. “Netflix and chill?”
Her smile brightened her whole face. “Yes. The series we watched with Sara and XL? Aren’t you intrigued about what happened with the Professor and Lisbon?”
He hated to admit it, but he was. “You got it.” They moved their breakfast to the coffee table and he saw her blush as she glanced at the couch. “Yes. The sex was spectacular. Every time.” Her blush deepened. So adorable. He kissed her. “You taste like strawberries. Your pussy tastes like peaches, sweet and tangy. Loved it every single time I ate you out yesterday. And every single time I fucked you. And I will be doing all that again today—but not just yet, so you don’t need to blush.”
Letting out a cute snort, she sat and grabbed the remote control. “There goes the beast, getting ahead of itself.”
He wasn’t sure how many hours they spent watching the series. Discussing what was happening, laughing and grimacing and cursing—at the bitch negotiator-slash-torturer, at some asshole named Arturo, and at how badly shit was hitting the fan. After several episodes, they went to the kitchen and put some pizza in the oven. They ate it in front of the TV, sipping beer, throwing popcorn at the screen, and yelling at every wild turn of events. Until there was a loud banging on the door.
“Rachel, open up! I know you’re there.” A male voice. Then the rattling of keys in the lock.