Asking for Trouble

by Amy Andrews

  Gah! Give the man an ax and be done with it.

  And then there was that happy trail heading south from his navel down to where his underwear prevented any further viewing. Yep, his underwear, unfortunately, had stayed—as usual—despite the huge erection testing the stretch of the fabric.

  He’d said leaving it packaged helped him concentrate on her and her body, but it only made her want to touch him more. Plus, it made a girl wonder if there was a reason he was hiding the goods away. Maybe there was something wrong with it? To be fair, it looked very hale and hearty right now—practically busting out of his underwear—but maybe it was afflicted with an odd-looking birthmark or a weird bend or a suck here tattoo that had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Della’s breath hitched as he joined her on the bed, lying on his side like she had been earlier, his hand supporting his head, his long body stretched out down the side of hers, his skin hot, his dick hard against her hip. His spare hand slid onto her bare belly, which contracted beneath his fingers, her body thrilling to his touch.

  And every time he looked at her like he was right now, with infinite patience and indulgence, her heart expanded.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his finger stroking lightly around her belly button, his eyes all hot and smoky as he kept his caresses light and controlled. “And this is so damn hot.” His fingers trailed slowly to the band of her underwear, trekking over the top to the middle gauzy panel and following it all the way down until his finger found the slight furrow of her sex.

  “So is this.” He lowered his head to her breast, nuzzling the panel where her nipple peaked through. She moaned, and he gently sucked, wetting her nipple through the fabric, his finger stroking tantalizingly back and forth between her lips.

  Della’s shifted restlessly at the stimulus, knowing he could easily make her come like this, because the man had magic in his mouth and fingers and was always so attuned to her signals. Her hand that was lying between them accidentally brushed the hardness at her hip, and her pulse leaped, and her mouth watered, and she reached for him.

  Her fingers brushed his shaft, and the swift intake of his breath was dizzying, but then his fingers shifted from between her legs to intertwine with hers and drag her arm above her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but he rolled on top of her, kissing her deep and wet, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his minty breath hijacking her senses as he stroked deep and dirty against her tongue, making her forget everything but the meltdown happening in her erogenous zones.

  Even her own damn name.

  He lifted is head a little, his eyes piercing hers with a heady kind of lust that burnt her up from the inside out. “I’m going to make you come so hard tonight you’re going to be talking in tongues.”

  It was a breathtakingly cocky statement. But given that he’d made her hear choirs of angels last night, talking in tongues seemed like a natural progression.

  “Now—” He kissed her again, hard and brief, and she moaned helplessly under his onslaught. “You might want to grab hold of the headboard.”

  Della took his advice, holding on with both hands as Tucker went to town on her body, her resolve to pleasure him evaporating at the first touch of his tongue. There wasn’t one square inch of her front between her neck and her knees he didn’t put his mouth to, and by the time her body rolled through two orgasms in close succession, he’d actually pushed her beyond tongues to a state of muteness.

  And he hadn’t even taken her underwear off.

  His lips were nuzzling her throat when he asked, “How was that?”

  Even muffled, she could hear the lazy humor in his voice. He knew damn well how it had been. “I think somewhere off the east coast they’re issuing a tsunami warning.”

  He chuckled, and puffs of warm air caressed her neck, reigniting little sparks in areas that still hummed with electricity. He pressed a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat. “Making the earth move,” he said as he eased off her onto his back. “I’ll take that.”

  Della rolled up onto her side and snuggled into him. Tucker’s orgasms were amazing, but the afterglow—lying in his arms and pretending that this was more than just another amazing sex lesson—was even better.

  His arm automatically closed around her shoulders, and she sighed as his fingers stroked lazily up and down her arm. How could he be so relaxed when his erection was like a metal pipe in his underwear? Just lie here, gently caressing her shoulder and staring at the ceiling like it didn’t matter he had a monster swelling problem in his pants. Like it wasn’t seconds off shredding his boxer briefs to pieces.

  Surely that had to be painful?

  Dropping a kiss on his shoulder, Della followed it with a string of kisses along his collarbone. He rumbled appreciatively, and she smiled against his skin as she swiped her tongue into the shallow dip at the base of his throat. She licked her way north to the thick pulse beating beside his windpipe, his sandpapery skin tickling at her nose and her cheeks and her tongue, prickling goose bumps across her scalp and down her arms.

  Lifting her head, she inspected his features. Another man might have looked girly in the pink light, but it only emphasized the depth of his tan and the corded strength of his neck. It delineated the breadth of his shoulders and the curved solid mounds of his pecs and deepened the brown of his nipples.

  Dropping her mouth to the closest nipple, she nuzzled around it, swiping her tongue and scraping her teeth against the flat little nub. He groaned, and his eyes drifted open as his hand slid onto her nape. Della glanced up to find him staring at her through slitted eyes. It would be easy to mistake those half-mast lids as sleepiness, but she could feel the heat and intensity of his gaze. “I like your nipples,” she said, her voice husky.

  A smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “Not as much as I like yours.”

  “What? These?”

  In one swift move, she’d slid a leg over his abdomen and hauled herself upright, straddling his hips, her panties pressed against his boxer briefs, her clit pressed against the hard length of his shaft. He groaned again, his hands moving automatically to her hips, holding her tight, his eyes going straight to her bra with the see-through panels and the wet patches he’d made.

  She reefed the bra cups aside to expose her breasts, the fabric pushing them together nicely, making them seem larger. Tucker’s eyes widened considerably.

  Definitely not sleepy.

  “Fuck yes,” he muttered as his hands lifted to her breasts, his body following in a sigh-worthy sit up.

  But Della refused to let him distract her anymore, let him take over. She was well and truly satisfied—it was his turn. She batted his hands away and pushed on his chest until he fell back against the mattress. Lowering her mouth to his nipples again, she treated him to some more of her tongue, stopping a while at each to play.

  The way his body reacted to her teasing was like a shot of estrogen to her libido. The growing tension in his chest, the low rumbles of pleasure deep inside his throat, the way he buried his hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head. Knowing what she was doing was turning him on emboldened her further.

  She started a slow rub. Her panties against his boxers. It was only slight, very subtle, but so damn good. Now…all she had to do was not come herself, and she might actually be able to give him some pleasure for a change.

  It wasn’t long before his breathing was heavy and he was clutching the sheet in one hand, and man, it was a turn on. Della cranked it up a notch, her tongue sliding from his nipples in a downward direction. Down, down, down in a series of incursions moving lazily, inexorably south.

  By the time her tongue was swiping low on his belly just above the band of his underwear, Della’s pulse was fluttering wildly at her wrists and her temples and her neck. She’d never been this close, and anticipation was making her mouth water, making her panties damper.

>   Della’s pinky finger brushed against the hard ridge of his arousal, and the groan that slipped from his mouth sounded almost painful. He needed this. She brushed again.

  “Oh…kay, no. No, no.” He slid one hand over his erection.

  Della looked all the way up his big, tense body and smiled, unperturbed. “Yes.”

  Shaking his head, he reached for her, hauling her up his body, his mouth landing on hers so hot and hard Della temporarily forgot every single thing she’d ever known or been, morphing into some kind of single-cell organism whose only purpose in life was to kiss this man. But her hips soon grew restless again, the press of his erection reminding her of her original purpose.

  Breaking away, Della placed both palms on his chest and levered herself upright, grinding the apex of her thighs against the apex of his, causing a shower of bliss that had them both groaning.

  Everything twinged inside her, and Tucker hissed “Della” as his hands clamped on her hips to keep her still. “Show some mercy, woman.”

  “Tuck,” she said, half moan, half pant. “I don’t want to keep lying here like a damn starfish and just take, take, take. Let me”—she ground against him again for good measure—“help you with that.”

  The muscles in his neck corded, and his fingers dug deeper into the flesh of her hips. She went to rub herself against him again, but his hands held her fast. Or as fast as they could. There was still enough flexion in her hips to create a little friction between them.

  “God, you’re so big,” she muttered, her eyes practically rolling back in her head as her internal muscles pulled tight. “Please tell me you at least do something about this when you get home from here.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he panted. “I’m fine.”

  Della’s eyes fluttered open, her hips ceasing the paltry degree of flexion they’d been able to manage. “Wait. You don’t…touch yourself?”

  The muscles in Tucker’s neck and shoulders were corded tight. “No.”

  What? “But…I thought all men did that.”

  And with far less provocation than poor Tucker. Hell, the guy had been getting her naked and getting her off for weeks while ignoring his own needs. Surely he didn’t enjoy playing such an extreme game of chicken with his testicles?

  “We do.”

  “But…not you?”

  “Not now, no.”

  He isn’t going home and jerking off? “Because you’ve given it up for Lent? Or because of me?”

  He laughed. “Definitely the second one.”

  “What the hell, Tucker?” Della didn’t understand what was happening. “Am I not good enough for your spank bank?”

  He looked perplexed for a moment. “What?” His brow furrowed. “I can’t think of anyone else but you. I just… It feels disrespectful.”

  Della’s pulse spiked. What the? “Oh, fuck that.”

  She didn’t usually say the f-word, but good Lord. She was done with men who put her on some kind of untouchable pedestal.

  “Look…I understand where that’s coming from, and it’s very sweet. But I want you to…touch yourself and think about me.” Her cheeks warmed at the topic of conversation. She’d never imagined herself ever discussing jerking off with a guy, let alone encouraging him to do it while he thought of her. “It turns me on.” She shrugged. “Maybe that makes me some kind of weirdo or something, but it does.”

  “Christ… Della.” He shoved a hand through his hair.

  She eyed him, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Look…it’s been great taking this slow. I’ve loved learning about my body and what it likes and all the different ways you can kiss and touch and enjoy being with a man. And I like that you’ve been so wonderfully sensitive to my history.”

  Hell, she loved that.

  “But this is me telling you I want to take it to the next level now. You said I had to be sure, and I am. I really am. Men have dictated what I did with my body for a very large portion of my life. My father. Todd. His father. Please don’t be another one.”

  …

  Tucker heard her heartfelt plea right down to his groin. Fuck. She was right, he’d been tempering her desires and it didn’t matter that his motives were good and pure—they were misguided. He was just another man in her life taking away her choices, interfering in her autonomy.

  His throat was dry—he tried to swallow. “What do you want?”

  “I want you,” she said, her gaze frank, her voice husky as she flexed her hips, everything inside her panties rubbing against his long-suffering erection, which surged anew at the blatant stimulus.

  He sucked in a breath. She was magnificent atop him, her hair in disarray, her boobs out of her bra, her nipples extra pink in the glow from the lamp and stiff with arousal, looking down at him with the kind of hunger he felt rumbling through every inch of his body. He wanted her, too. Far more than was good for him.

  “Inside me,” she specified. “Please.”

  Please. Jesus. Tucker didn’t want to be the guy who deprived her of what she wanted or needed. He wanted to be the guy who fulfilled every last wish, every sexy daydream, every hot fantasy.

  He wanted to be her yes-man.

  “Okay.” He nodded, and his fingers curled into her hips involuntarily as a spike of anticipation hit him square in the chest. “Why don’t you lay back. I’ll grab a condom.”

  She grinned, suddenly triumphant. She looked like a sugar addict who’d just been given the keys to the candy shop. “No need. I got some from Frieda’s today.”

  She reached for the bedside drawer, her breasts coming perilously close to his face, and there was no way Tucker wasn’t going there. Lifting his head slightly, he put his mouth to the nearest nipple, sucking it in deep. She arched her back and moaned, and Tucker lifted a hand to slide onto her other breast, the fingers tweaking as his tongue swirled.

  “Can’t concentrate when you do that,” she muttered as she groped somewhere to the side of him.

  “Sorry,” Tucker said in his not-remotely-sorry voice, smiling around his mouthful before circling his tongue around one more time.

  “Aha!” she finally announced, but she didn’t pull away from him for several more seconds, moaning and panting heavily as Tucker licked and tweaked and sucked.

  Eventually she did sit up, but Tucker followed her, reluctant to release the hard jut of her nipple, and for long moments he continued to use his tongue, encouraged by the arch of her back and her hand burrowing into the hair at his nape, holding him there.

  “Stop,” she said eventually, yanking on his hair to wrench him away. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to let you keep doing it until well after this condom expires.”

  Tucker smiled despite the pleasure/pain tingle in his scalp. “I’m up for that.”

  “Not tonight.” And she pushed on his chest.

  He fell back against the mattress, admiring the way her puckered nipples had darkened at his ministrations. His mouth watered to taste them again but dried quickly as Della tore open the foil.

  His heart beat like a gong in his chest. Christ. They were really doing this.

  Her fingers slid low on his belly, making their way to her target, and Tucker sucked in a breath as his cock bucked against the confines of his underwear and blood surged hot and thick through his belly. Her fingernails reached the waistband, and she glanced up at him through the fall of her hair as if she was waiting for him to change his mind. But he could hear anticipation in the heavy pant of her breath, and he was done with denial.

  Tugging on the waistband, she dragged it down, exposing his thickness to her view. Tucker bit back on the grunt of pain as his dick sprang free. It had been constricted for so long, the sudden freedom and the seductive fingers of cool air were exquisite torture.

  Her sharp intake of breath dragged his attention away from the flood of relief surging thro
ugh his body. She was frowning down at him like she’d never seen a penis before, and he tensed, a spike of alarm piercing his chest.

  But when she glanced at him, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Now that’s what I call big dick energy.”

  Her statement surprised a laugh out of him. “That’s not what it means.”

  Looking down at him again, she said, “It should be.”

  And damn if the reverence in her voice didn’t go straight to his head. Not that it lasted long, as her fingers slid onto his shaft, causing it to buck and his balls and ass cheeks to contract. Her touch was light and tentative, but he was so hard, so taut, it was like his skin was shredding in her wake. After all these weeks of avoidance, it was painfully erotic, and for an awful moment, Tucker thought he might disgrace himself.

  Her fingers trailed lower, and Tucker gave a pained groan at the delicious agony, stilling her exploration. She looked at him sharply. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s too…much.” Her brow furrowed, and he hastened to explain. “I mean, it’s been too long for me… I don’t know if I can…hold out for very long if you keep touching me like that.”

  Tucker watched the slow dawn of realization in her eyes. “Really?”

  Her voice was tinged with wonder. God help him when she fully came into her powers and realized how she could hold a man in the palm of her hand.

  “Maybe you should do this.” She offered him the condom. “I’ve never put one of these on before.”

  It was at moments like this Della’s inexperience hit home. She’d been married for four years and never used a condom. Never had a normal, fun, relaxed sexual relationship with a guy.

  And that was a crime. Della deserved that. She deserved to have those kinds of experiences like so many women of her age.

  “I might,” she continued with a smile, “fumble around a little too much.”

  Tucker chuckled despite the direness of his immediate situation. Yeah, his dick couldn’t cope with anything but brutal efficiency right now. Relieving her of the latex, he quickly applied it to his aching cock. She watched with fascination, staring at it all sheathed up, and the intensity of her gaze rolled through his belly like a heat wave.