A Little Less Conversation

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “I take it you’re ready for that fuck now,” he said so coldly she actually winced. But she didn’t push him away. She couldn’t. She simply straightened her shoulders and stared up at him in the heavy darkness, aware that his body trembled against her own.

  “Mark?” Suddenly, Mel didn’t know what she had been thinking, or where exactly things had gone wrong. What was happening between them? Why had the fact that she wanted him sent everything careening so madly out of control?

  “Are you wet for me, Melanie?”

  His dark, roughly spoken words rasped temptingly against the pulse in the base of her throat. He lowered his mouth to her skin, and her head moved restlessly against the wall, neck arched to give him better access, while her passion-dazed brain struggled to comprehend his mood.

  “Answer me, Mel. Are you wet?” he demanded in a husky, provocative rumble, even though she knew he already held the answer. His deft fingers rubbed against the 58

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  thin, soaked panel of her panties, swirling confidently through the drenched evidence of her arousal. “Are you juicy and hot just thinking about what I’m going to do to you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered shakily, her mind thick with the powerful pulse of need surging through her veins, intoxicating her. Making her feel drunk with want for this man. For whatever she could have from him. “God yes,” she breathed out on a low, frantic moan. “Mark…please.”

  “Please what, Melanie?” he asked with a hard smile as he lifted his head to look down at her.

  A part of her heart broke at the lack of tenderness in his shuttered, guarded stare, but she swallowed against the hurt and focused on the burn of physical hunger she could see smoldering in those smoky green eyes. “Please, Mark. God, just touch me. Put your hands on me. Please.”

  The sound of his name on her lips, of her begging for his touch, was nearly his undoing. “Don’t worry, Mel. I won’t leave you wanting tonight,” he growled against the moist heat of her mouth. He lost himself in the drugging flavor of her lips, in the lush taste of the warm, sweet well that lay deeper within. The sleek, tender textures of her eager, sweetly unskilled kiss sent his head spinning. “There’s not a force in heaven or hell that could stop me from touching you now.” With a rough groan, he shoved his hand into the front of her panties and cupped the wet, damp heat of her pussy in his palm. Oh Christ, it nearly killed him. Soft, slick, slippery and smooth. He wanted to drool. Wanted to howl and bury himself inside her more than he wanted to breathe. She jolted in his arms, and he gave her a moment to get used to his touch, rasping her delicate folds with the scrape of his calluses, feeling her melt against him, all warm and deliciously wet. There was no doubt that she wanted him. No, she was creamy and hot, all but dripping, and the pain in his cock took on a new dimension. A raw, pumping knot of need that seemed to beat in time with the powerful thumping of his heart.

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  He learned her by touch, letting his fingertips slide through her folds, separating her, opening her, and she shivered between the press of his warm, aching body and the cool wall. His lips found the sweet heat of her scalp, and spoke his words into the fragrant silk of her hair.

  “So soft and sweet, Mel. Did this hungry little pussy go all warm and slippery when I had you against that wall at Caza’s, letting you feel how hard you’d made me? Has it been this way ever since? I swear you’re so ready, I think you could spill against my hand any second now.”

  “Oh shit,” she moaned, eyes closing as her head fell back to bang against the wall, rolling from side to side, and a low laugh rumbled up from his chest at the sound of a cuss word leaving her lips.

  Bracing himself on one forearm beside her head, Mark cupped the slick heat of her mound, his jaw hardening at the feel of it, like smooth silk, so warm and ready. Her unique, feminine scent floated on the air with the gentle stirring of the breeze, and she quivered as he drew a deep, satisfying breath into his lungs, knowing he could get high on this woman’s scent. It was that powerful, that erotically intoxicating, and he wondered what her taste in those intimate places would do to him. If he’d be able to survive it, or if it would leave him pitifully addicted.

  “So tight,” he groaned, his voice strained as he stroked the swollen ridge of her vulva, dipping the thick tip of his index finger carefully inside, testing her. “How long’s it been since you had a hard cock shoved up this tiny opening? How long since you had this sweet little cunt crammed full of dick and fucked ‘til you screamed yourself hoarse?”

  “Mark?” she panted, her own voice coming ragged and breathless, while her shivering body shook in his arms.

  “Months? A year?” he demanded, grunting from the incredible feel of her as she clenched around him while he pressed deeper within, penetrating her, stroking the rough tip against those slippery inner tissues. The strong muscles resisted, struggling 60

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  against his invasion as he forced himself into her. He cursed softly under his breath when the narrow walls trembled, fluttering around him, milking his finger better than any woman he’d ever taken with his body.

  “T-t-two years,” she stammered, holding onto him as if she expected him to save her, to keep her safe, to offer her some kind of tenderness, when deep down he now knew the ugly truth. Those misty, big brown eyes might burn with warmth and promises, but there was only a basic need hiding beneath. Just a hungry urge to use him and lose him. Yeah, that kind of urge he knew all too well, having gone through more women than he could remember, making use of them to ease his own physical needs.

  With his reputation, the women he’d known had looked to him for a rough-and-tumble, intensely satisfying ride, which had always suited him just fine, since he was ready to move on the next day anyway. Hell, he was usually ready to move on after a few hours, once he’d screwed them through the mattress and spent himself dry. What was the point in staying after that? His own bed was bigger, less crowded, and a hell of a lot more comfortable than waking up with someone he didn’t have two words to say to.

  No, the women he’d known knew better than to look to him for the long term, and he didn’t look past what he could get out of them. All in all, it’d been an even exchange, all parties satisfied, no unexpected or unpleasant emotions weighing the whole thing down, muddying the water…until Melanie Green moved her sweet little ass to town.

  Until then, he hadn’t realized what he was missing—hadn’t understood until he’d found it. Until he’d found her.

  Before meeting Melanie, he’d considered himself lucky that women understood him for what he was and didn’t nag him for more than he could give.

  But the fact that she looked at him the same way made him sick.

  Hell, it probably wasn’t any less than he deserved, but why did it have to be Melanie? Why the one woman who’d ever managed to slip her way into his heart, so smooth and easy, he hadn’t even been able to mount a proper defense?

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  Why did she have to be so sweet? Why did she have to feel so fucking right in his arms? It wasn’t fair. It was hell.

  Shit, it was a goddamn nightmare.

  With the softness of a butterfly’s wings, she reached down and pressed the warm heat of her palm against the painful, heavy ridge of his cock, then turned her hand to stroke the thick shaft with the backs of her fingers. “I-I didn’t really believe all those rumors,” she whispered, “but they were true.”

  Raw lust rolled through his system, thick and sticky, and all he could think was, Fuckin-A, this woman is dangerous.

  “Is that why you picked me for your ride tonight, Mel?” he gritted through the clenched line of his teeth as sweat beaded his brow. He added a second finger to the first, moving them deeper into her with a knowing, twisting motion, her tender pussy so wet it was making soft, liquid sounds as he thrust into her, forcing his thick fingers hard and deep in an evocative rhythm that matched
the needs of his cock. “Were you looking to end your long dry spell with a man who could really make you cream, honey? I wonder which rumor it was that snagged me as the lucky guy. My size? My kinks? The fact that I like my sex a little rough and a whole lot sweaty, wild and out of control? Or was it the fact that I can go all night when I’m in a mood, hungry for it until I can’t move and a woman can’t walk straight? Which one, Mel? Come on, we’re friends, aren’t we?” he taunted, dragging his teeth down the taut tendon between her neck and shoulder while she writhed on his fingers. Her hips arched against him, pushing him even deeper, while a raw sound of need, desperate and low, caught in her throat.

  “Come on…you can tell me.”

  “No,” she mumbled, shaking her head as if to clear it from a haze. “I-I don’t think you really consider me your friend. Do you, Mark? I wish you’d just talk to me—that you’d just explain why you’re suddenly acting like this.” He stared into those misty eyes, wishing like hell he could hate her at that moment, when all he really wanted was to lose himself in her. “Why?” he echoed in a hard, 62

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  controlled tone. “How about because I don’t like feeling used, Mel. It’s an ugly fucking feeling, and one I’m not looking forward to repeating. But there’s no reason not to take advantage of it while in the moment, now is there, beautiful? God forbid we get hung up on feelings here.”

  Then, before she could respond to that telling remark, he had her about the waist, carrying her up the stairs until they’d reached her small landing and her purse was slipping from its snagged perch at her elbow to thud dully against the wooden planks beneath his feet. Mark took a quick look at his surroundings, then lowered her to the painted wooden bench beside her door, his deep breaths pulling at the thick air, its scent heavy and warm with the smells of potted flowers and lush, green plants that seemed to overflow from every corner. His slightly shaking, impossibly eager hands slipped off her panties, and then found her knees, forcing them apart as he knelt between her thighs. His long fingers fisted into the fragile fabric of her skirt and ripped it to the side, leaving her open and vulnerable. And that’s exactly how he wanted her.

  Wide open, without defense, the same goddamn way that he felt.

  A niggling little voice in the back of his head muttered something about dumb-ass male ego and idiotic conclusions, but his pride raged and obliterated whatever small voice of reason might have managed to help him calm down and think the events of the last ten minutes through more clearly.

  No, a man’s pride was a savage, fickle beast, and Mark couldn’t outrun its jeering.

  It was too much, and he felt that whipping, whapping crack of his control snap like a sharp, sizzling sound that jerked through his body. “Never let it be said that I left a woman wanting,” he said thickly.

  He was angry, but he was hurt too, and that pissed him off more than anything. But he was going to enjoy it. If this was all he get could get, damn it, he was going to invade and stroke and consume every sweet little inch of her, before she sent him packing.

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  “What are you doing?” she gasped, planting her hands against the whitewashed wood at her sides, trying to seek leverage as he pushed her thighs wider apart, making room for the broad width of his shoulders.

  “What am I doing? Getting ready to go down on you,” he muttered, the words husky and raw. He brought both thumbs up the heavy seam of her slit, using them to part the shy, swollen lips, uncovering the tender, hidden secrets within. “Getting ready to take a slow, deep taste—to eat out Melanie Green’s drenched little cunt.” The soft glow from her porch light spilled over her shoulders, illuminating the curly riot of her hair like a golden halo, her eyes like twin sparks of light as she gazed down at him with a look of stunned fascination.

  Holding her drowsy, heavy-lidded stare, Mark ran his thumbs softly over the slick, sensitive folds, pushing them into the hood until he trapped the ripe bud of her tender clit and pumped it within his grasp. Her swollen lips parted as a low, animal sound purred in her throat, hungry and wanting, and he knew in that moment that he was going to want this woman for the rest of his life. Knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d fallen in love with her—and all she wanted from him was sex. An ugly, wrenching knot of angry pain twisted deeper inside him, and he ripped his gaze from that dangerous landscape of her expression, only to find himself focusing on one that tore at him just as deeply.

  Despite the pale light from above, her sex remained shadowed in mystery, the glistening flesh only just visible in the flickering light. He used his thumbs to hook her outer labia and pulled them wide, leaving her open and at his mercy.

  “Do I need to be more specific?” he groaned roughly. “I can, honey. I can tell you all about how I’m getting ready to suck and lick this hot little cunt that you offered up tonight, Mel. How I’m going to keep you spread wide open, just like this, and fuck this tender little hole with my tongue, shoving it as deep into you as I can get. Give this hot little thing whatever it wants, until you’re ready to give me whatever I want.” 64

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  He waited the space of two seconds to see if she would tell him no, and when no outraged denials came flinging back in his face, he pushed her knees up, sending her off balance so that she tilted back against the outside wall of her apartment, her backside nearly sliding off the bench, and pressed his face into the humid warmth of her sex.

  Aw, hell. The perfection of the moment nearly killed him.

  Driven by need, he pressed closer, opening his mouth over the lush heat of her silken folds, exploring with the deft, greedy stroke of his tongue through the parted pads of her labia. With his pulse roaring in his ears, he licked a long, hungry line from the puffy rim of her vulva, up to the swollen, thrumming nub of her clit, knowing he’d never enjoyed a woman more. Knowing that none would ever compare. Her clitoris pulsed against his tongue like a tiny heartbeat, so eager for ecstasy and release, and he closed his lips around the delicate knot with a soft, succulent suckle, then nipped gently with his teeth, before suckling at the tender peak once again. She was wildly delicious.

  Mouthwatering. So good, he wanted to keep his mouth on her forever, or at least whenever she wasn’t crammed full of his cock.

  Mel’s back arched, and from beneath the thick fringe of his lowered lashes, Mark watched her press her fist to her open mouth to keep from screaming out her pleasure as the first orgasm hit her hard and sharp, while he milked it from her with ruthless skill. Like a flower unfurling beneath the warm sun, her cunt bloomed, lush and earthy in its desire, exquisitely primal in its quest to lure him in. With a harsh, rumbling growl, he angled his face to the side and pressed deeper, closer, licking and laving with the sensual scrape of his tongue until he reached her shuddering slit and pierced it with a lusty thrust that damn near brought her ass off the bench.

  “Oh hell, that’s sweet. Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he all but snarled in a low, smoky rasp, wishing he could detest her for being so damn delicate and delicious. For being everything that he’d ever wanted.

  “God, not again,” she moaned hoarsely, twisting beneath his mouth as her body tightened once more. “I can’t…can’t do it again.” 65

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  “You can. If I wanted to, I could make you ripple and cream all night long, Melanie.

  Give me another one,” he said in a coaxing, husky drawl. “Let me feel this sweet little pussy suck on my tongue. Right now. And I want it hard. I want it to feel like you’re trying to suck me right up inside you.” He tongued her vulva, then pressed into the warm, slick heat of her pussy, using one thumb to press down on the sensitive bud of her clit, while her scent and taste captured him, locking him in its vise—and just like that, she came again. It was a powerful, rising wave of ecstasy that he felt roll through her like a storm-ravaged gust, and a fresh, delicious wash of juices filled his mouth, drugging him with
her lush, voluptuous taste, making him want to come so damn badly his dick jerked within the confines of his jeans, the fat, broad head wet and angry and swollen.

  Not yet. Goddamn it, he wasn’t ready to let her go.

  Mark took another long, intimate taste of her tender folds, then raised his head to find her looking at him in the moonlight, big brown eyes so wide, they reflected the hanging pearl of the moon behind him. He imagined that he could witness his own harsh reflection trapped there in those luminous depths, the sharp angles of his face tight with self-disgust for wanting things he couldn’t have.

  She pulled her lower lip through her teeth and leaned forward, her slim fingers once again moving over the long, distended ridge of his cock as it struggled for release.

  He tried but couldn’t stop the rough growl that broke through his clenched teeth as she stroked him, squeezing him through the soft denim, her sweet rhythm telling him that she didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about touching a man, but was more than ready to learn. God, but it tempted him to take her. Just rip his fly open and sink into that fist-tight, velvety heat, giving her exactly what she’d asked for.

  He could have her. Right now. It’d be so outrageously fucking easy—but he couldn’t do it.

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  “No,” he muttered, stumbling back to his feet, feeling his expression pull tight with tension and myriad unnamed emotions that he couldn’t put a face to. “Not like this, damn it.”

  “Mark.” His name slipped from her lips on the ragged edges of a moan, her chest rising and falling with the rapid pace of her breath as her hands struggled to right her skirt and cover the glistening, exposed folds of her pussy, while her eyes blinked up at him, wide and questioning. “Please talk to me,” she panted in a throaty plea, and the sound of her voice twisted him up, his own lungs burning with the harshness of his breathing. “I don’t understand why— I mean, was what I asked for so wrong? Why are you so angry?”