Dirty Scoundrel

by Jessica Clare

  She’s completely quiet as I speak, but her gaze is riveted to mine.

  “And I remember reachin’ under those sweaters and brushin’ my hand over your tits and thinking that life didn’t get much better than that,” I murmur. The last hooks come undone, and then she’s spillin’ out of that dress, the material fallin’ away from her gorgeous body until there’s nothing but her gorgeous breasts in the open air. “Guess I shoulda dreamed a little harder, because right now, I can’t see how that could possibly compare to this moment. And then when I touch you again, it’s gonna get even better.” I lean in closer, because I want nothing more than to bury my face between those beautiful breasts. It takes everything I have just to gently rub two knuckles between the valley of ’em. “So now, I’m seein’ how perfect you are in this moment, and you know what I’m thinkin?”

  “What?” She’s all breathless.

  “I’m thinkin’ it ain’t gonna hold a candle to when I get my face between your thighs.”

  The moan that breaks free from her is full of need. She closes her eyes and arches slightly on the bed, and it makes those magnificent breasts of hers bounce in a way that I can’t resist. I cup one, dragging my thumb over the budded tip, and love that she moans again. I want her to grab me and hold me against her, but I guess we ain’t there yet.

  Yet.

  I lower my head and drag my beard over her other breast, letting it prickle against her skin. I can’t wait to taste her, but I’m gaugin’ her reaction first. I know I can’t show up out of nowhere after seven years and expect her to get wet the moment I touch her, but that doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna try. I use my tongue, next, sliding it over the tip of one pink nipple and teasing the other with my fingers.

  She makes a low, needy sound, and her fingers dig into the blankets on the bed. “Clay,” she pants.

  Now, that’s more like it.

  “These are some pretty nipples,” I murmur to her, and give one an appreciative lick. “Tasty, too. Think your pussy tastes half as good as these do?”

  Natalie whimpers, pulling at fistfuls of the sheets.

  “What’s that?” I tease. “Find out for myself? Don’t mind if I do.” I smooth a hand down the front of her dress, where it’s bunched at her thighs. I can’t find clasps like the ones that held the top together, though, and end up just rubbing her mound through the fabric even as I nuzzle at her nipple. My cock’s straining against my pants, and I feel desperately close to coming—even though I know we’re just gettin’ started. This is as far as I ever got with Natalie. Once, we dry-humped in the front seat of my truck until she had a tiny orgasm, but we didn’t go that far again. She was afraid to push it and I just wanted to make her happy.

  Looking back, I was far too patient as a teenager. Because as I tease her nipples and rub my hand over her cunt through the dress, she makes wild, gasping noises and writhes on the bed. It’s clear that she likes it when I touch her.

  Fuck knows why we both waited so long to make this happen. “Want to take this dress off so I can touch you the way you deserve to be touched?”

  “Yes,” she tells me, and I reward her with a nip on her breast that makes her breath catch and her entire body shudder.

  “Then show me how to remove this damn thing,” I tell her, tugging at the material. Never thought it’d be so hard to undress a woman.

  Natalie reaches for something on her side, and I see a hidden zipper. Okay, weird that it would open in the front and on the side, but I’ve long ago accepted that women dress in bizarre creations. Of course, if her hands are busy, that gives me freedom to enjoy myself. I lean in and suck lightly at her breast as she fiddles with her skirt, and her surprised little moan sends a jolt all the way to my cock.

  Then the zipper goes down and she’s pushing the material down her thighs. Good. I lick at her nipple again, and help her push the dress off of her body, though I nearly lose control when she raises one curvy, beautifully shaped leg into the air. Still wearin’ those damn wicked-looking shoes. God have mercy.

  I’m distracted away from the shoes by the sight of her panties, though. They’re a delicate pink-and-white-floral cotton, a tiny scrap of fabric against the lush softness of her thighs. Fuck yeah. That’s more like it. Boldly, I push my hand between her slightly spread legs and cup her pussy. I’m shocked to feel that the fabric of her panties is already soaked. “You that turned on, baby?”

  This time, she doesn’t haughtily demand that I not call her baby. She only shudders and gives me that hot, needy look that turns me on so damn much.

  I bite back the possessive growl that threatens to rise in my throat. Love this. Love how turned on she is. How helpless before me. How lush and inviting. I nip at her breast again and she tilts her head back, crying out as I rub my fingers along the wet seam of her cunt through her panties. She presses up against my hand as I do so, and the need to cover her body and make her mine grows stronger by the second. My sac feels tight against my cock, and I know if I don’t pace myself, I’m going to blow it.

  Literally and figuratively.

  And she hasn’t come yet. She’s enjoying herself—it’s obvious from the dampness of her panties as well as the soft little cries she’s making—but she’s not there yet. It don’t matter that I bought her for my pleasure; I’m not getting off until Natalie does. I want her to want this—want me—as bad as I want her. I need to figure out what takes her from “enjoying herself” to “going wild.” It’s gonna take a little experimenting, of course, but that’s half the fun.

  I shift in the bed, sliding my body alongside hers until I’m lying on my side next to her. Like this, I can lean over and kiss her, or pet her pretty breasts, or push my hand into her panties. She gives me a soft look, blinking up at me as I do, as if waiting to see what I’m going to do next. I feel like a king admiring his prize possession, or a man about to feast at a banquet. There’s so many places I want to taste, to touch, to tease . . .

  But mostly, I want her to come. I think about that time in my car when she made the softest little cry into my ear as she rubbed up against me, and I know I want to hear that again. Scratch that, I want to hear it magnified by a thousand times. I want her clawing up and down my back with her need.

  That’s what I want.

  Kisses are the way to get there, I think. Starting with kisses. I lean in and brush my mouth over hers, and she responds eagerly. This time, she reaches for me, her arms going around my neck, her lips eager against mine. I rest my hand on her pussy again, and I feel her tense, though her kisses grow hungrier. I slick my tongue against hers until she relaxes in my arms, and then I push the fabric of her panties aside and explore her with my fingers.

  She gasps against my mouth.

  “Want me to stop?” I give her a light kiss. If she asks me to, I will. Don’t matter how much money I’ve spent—if she ain’t into it, that kills it for me.

  But Nat shakes her head and bites down on my lower lip, then sucks on it. Her thighs tighten around my hand, and I can feel her quiverin’ but she’s still kissing me like her life depends on it.

  And I’m lost. Touching her cunt is . . . indescribable. She’s impossibly soft, her folds slippery and wet with need. She’s scorchingly hot between her legs, too, as if all of the blood in her body is rushing here. I stroke her, exploring her with my fingertips. She didn’t shave, her mound capped by a trim thatch of hair, but I like that. I slide a finger up and down her folds, seeking out her clit, and I’m almost surprised when I find it. Her gasp is the only thing that tells me that I’ve struck the right spot, so I slow down in my exploring until I find it again—there, nestled in her folds, is the tiniest of bumps. When my finger brushes against it again, her body jerks in response.

  Jackpot.

  Nat whimpers into my kiss as I drag my finger over it again. I slick my tongue against hers, claiming her mouth with deep, tender strokes as I rub my finger over her clit.

  This time, she cries out and pushes my hand away. “Too sensitive,
” she pants, pressing her forehead to mine. “Sorry. It’s just—”

  “Doesn’t feel good?” I ask. When she hesitates, I chuckle. “You gotta tell me yes or no, baby. I ain’t never touched another girl before, and I wanna do it right.”

  “Never?” Nat whispers, surprise on her face. “Not even this?”

  I shake my head. “Not even this.” In some ways, I’m just as innocent as she is, though my palm could probably attest to otherwise. Truth is, sex sounds good, but without Natalie, it loses its appeal. Sex with Natalie? Now, that thought makes me crazy with need.

  She licks her lips, and the sight of that little pink tongue darting out makes me want to kiss her all over again. But she’s takin’ my hand in hers, and guiding me between her thighs. Fuck, that’s hot. She’s gonna show me exactly what she needs to get off, and I nearly bust in my pants at the realization.

  “Soft,” Nat tells me, and takes my finger and guides it in a little circle around that spot. “Not directly against it. That’s too much.” She rubs her nose against mine and her mouth comes closer, as if she’s beggin’ for a kiss. “And then you can add fingers if you want to.”

  Add fingers? I’m so dazed by the hungry, sexy look on her face it takes me a moment to realize she means that I should fuck her with my fingers. Of course. My brain’s just scrambled at how gorgeous she is and I’m not thinkin’ straight. I love that she’s being so honest, though, and I’m gonna do my best to give her exactly what she needs.

  So I begin to touch her, just as she showed me. Tiny, soft circles around her clit, grazing and teasing the skin around it but never quite the nub itself. I kiss her again, my mouth light against hers.

  This time, she doesn’t moan. Natalie sucks in a breath, and then another. Her eyes close and she whimpers again. Her hands go to my shoulders, then drag down my sides and her nails dig in, as if she’s desperately trying to find purchase. Her hips raise and she starts to meet the movements of my hand with her body.

  Fuck, that is the sexiest goddamn thing I have ever seen.

  Her eyes are closed and she buries her face against my neck, as if it’s too much. Ain’t too much for me. I wanna watch. I stare, fascinated as she raises her hips, and my fingers—slick and gleaming with her juices—work against her pink folds. I want to taste them so badly, but I don’t want to change the rhythm I’ve got going, because Natalie’s making soft little cries against my neck that are making my sac tighten in dangerous, pleasurable kinds of ways.

  Her nails dig in to my skin painfully. “Clay. Don’t stop.”

  “I ain’t never gonna stop, baby,” I tell her, panting. It takes everything I have not to change the rhythm I’ve got going with my hand. Part of me wants to add the fingers she mentioned, and part of me wants to just finger her as frantically as I feel my heart racing at the moment, but I need to give her what she wants. Need to—

  She rubs her face against my neck, moaning, and then bites down on my skin and licks it hard. “Oh, Clay.”

  Ah fuck.

  My body shudders and I explode with release, groaning deep. My entire body seizes up with the force of it and I clutch her against me. There’s no air left in the room, no cum left in my body. I just empty and empty into my fucking pants and hold her tight as if the world’s ending.

  Maybe it is. I just prematurely ejaculated with my dream girl in my arms.

  Fuuuuuck.

  Natalie

  “Goddamn it,” Clay mutters against my shoulder.

  I just stroke his hair and press soft kisses to his wonderful-smelling skin. I don’t know what he uses, but it’s either the most incredible smelling bar of soap or he just naturally smells like heaven. Either way, I love having my face buried against him. I don’t even care that he stopped petting me or that he jerked hard against my side, and now the fabric of his pants is all wet against my side.

  I’m just really enjoying myself.

  Well, okay, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to come. But god, it’s lovely to just be touched by another person. To be caressed and stroked and petted. I didn’t realize how hungry and starved for attention I was until Clay stormed back into my world.

  Even though I tell myself this isn’t any of my choice, I’m craving the touches, the kisses, the attention.

  “Fucking came in my pants like a kid,” Clay mutters, pulling his big body off of me. His hand leaves my panties and then I’m left on the bed all alone, sprawled and naked and still so needy. He gets off the bed and wanders away into the bathroom, stripping off clothes as he does. I catch a glimpse of buns—shockingly white buns compared to the deep brown of his back—and then he disappears behind a door, presumably to clean up.

  And I guess . . . I guess we’re done. I think. I remind myself that this is all at his discretion, and it doesn’t matter if I come or not. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed, of course. I grab one corner of the blankets and delicately tuck it around my body while I wait for him to return. I wonder if I should get up and leave. Does he want me to stay? Or is he going to be angry that it happened and lash out at me? It doesn’t sound like the Clay I knew, but a lot of his demeanor doesn’t remind me of the Clay I knew. Sometimes it’s like he’s trying to be a completely different person.

  “Well,” Clay drawls from the bathroom, catching my wandering thoughts once more. “That wasn’t exactly how I planned for shit to go down. But we can look at this as a blessin’, I suppose, because—” He stops as he leaves the bathroom, bare-assed, and frowns at me. “What’re you coverin’ up for?”

  “I, uh, I don’t know,” I admit, distracted. I can’t stop staring.

  Clay’s completely and utterly naked.

  This is the first time I’ve ever seen his cock after years of wondering what kind of equipment he’d have. The severity of his tan lines are jarring, his skin above his waist a glorious warm brown, and the skin below his waist is what you would call . . . well, lily-white. He’s still incredibly muscular, though, and the tan line seems to cut right across his obliques, and from there, I can see everything. The line of hair that’s no more than a happy trail down his belly leads to the dark curls at his groin, and his cock juts out from there. Didn’t he just come? I didn’t expect it to look so . . . big. So deeply pink.

  I . . . should have watched more porn us so I’d have more knowledge. Damn it. Books and movies don’t prepare you for your first time with a guy, not the way they should.

  Because what he has is pretty impressive and I wonder if he’s average or well endowed or if I have no clue, because he looks enormous to me. And it makes my thighs tighten together, just a bit.

  He moves to the side of the bed and then crawls back over to where I’m lying, throwing the blankets aside and revealing my body again. “Don’t you cover up from me. I like lookin’ at you.” He grins at me, teeth stark against his heavy beard. “It’s clear you like lookin’ at me, too.”

  “Hush,” I say, embarrassed. “I was just . . . looking,” I manage with a strangled admission.

  “You can look all you want.” At my silent nod, his amusement seems to increase. “You can ask questions, too, you know. I don’t bite.”

  “Are you a shower or a grower?” I blurt out. I figure I’ll never know unless I ask. Or, well, that’s not true. I can just wait until we have sex and see for myself. I feel stupid.

  Clay laughs. “Right now it’s a little of both. Dick’s still hard, but it’s not at full potential at the moment, because I busted a nut before I should have.” His eyes gleam. “It meet with your approval?”

  “It’s fine,” I say primly. I do wish I hadn’t taken Lexi’s weird advice and “gone all Sasquatch.” I half want to ask him what he thinks of my pussy, but those words will never come out of my mouth. I’m too much Southerner, too much of a reserved Weston to ever say such things.

  “Like I said, though, I’m gonna look at this as a good thing.” He leans in and presses a light, flirty kiss to my mouth before giving me another devilish grin.
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  “Why’s that?”

  “Because that means I’m gonna be able to go down on you until you come without worrying about if I’m gonna lose control. Already lost it, so the edge is gone.” He presses another kiss to my lips, then begins to slide lower on the bed.

  A worried squeak escapes my throat, the sound almost as embarrassing as what comes out of my mouth next. “You’re going to what?”

  “Go down on you, baby.” He’s already moving to the edge of the bed, and grabs me by the ankles, hauling me forward a good foot or so. “Been dreamin’ about getting my mouth on this pussy for ages. Now that I’ve seen how sweet it is, you think I’m gonna lose this opportunity?”

  I’m beyond flustered. Of course I want him to go down on me. At the same time, I’m utterly terrified. What if he doesn’t like my taste? What if he thinks I . . . look strange? Oh god, why didn’t I freaking shave?

  I’m never listening to Lexi again. This is what I get for taking the advice of a woman who dresses up at Christmas as “Cthulhu’s Little Helper.” Lexi’s a sweetheart but perhaps not the best for dating advice. That does it. I’m picking up a Cosmo magazine the next time I go out. “Maybe,” I begin, rattled. “Should we wait? I mean, you don’t have to. It might not be your kind of thing or—”

  “Nat,” he says, glancing up at me even as he grabs the waistband of my bunched-up panties. “Stop talkin’ already. I’m doin’ this and you’re not gonna hem and haw your way outta things, all right?”

  Well, who am I to demand that a man not go down on me? I suppose if he doesn’t like it, I’ll know soon enough. Still, I can’t help but feel a little . . . stressed as I wait for the verdict. He said he liked the way I looked, but what if he hasn’t looked closely enough—