Timeless

by Brynley Bush

  I’m only teasing, but her pelvis contracts in arousal as her hips undulate, and her hot little cunt flows with more juices. Well, I’ll be damned. She’s turned on by the idea of that!

  While I’ve always been dominant in every relationship I’ve had, other than when I’ve scened at a club, it’s been more of an extracurricular kink than a significant part of a relationship. Ari has me wondering what it would be like to have the more intense aspects of domination and submission as part of a relationship. I mentally shake my head. There can never be any relationship with Ari—just this one time and I have to let her go. But I intend to make this one time enough for both of us.

  Still holding her open, I lick up each side of her engorged, swollen clit. She moans and wiggles. Her eyes are closed and she’s gripping the rug so tightly her knuckles are white.

  Hmmm. Just to test the water, I lift my head and lightly spank her pussy with my open hand.

  “Fuck!” she yells. Her hazel eyes fly open and meet mine. “Do it again.”

  There’s something to be said for a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. I’ll give her what she wants, alright, but it’s going to be my way.

  I stroke her clit, trapping it between two fingers as I slide them down to her opening, plunging inside her sweet pussy before dragging them back up her slit, her clit still pinched between my fingers. I do that several more times until the little nub is swollen and throbbing, and then I slap her pussy again. When she groans her approval, I slap her inner thighs a few times, light slaps punctuated by blows to her bare mound, as her soft moans and grunts mingle with the rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh. She tries to close her legs but I push them open and strike her pussy harder, eliciting a little scream of pleasure.

  Her body arches with each blow, and I pinch her clit again, squeezing it tightly as I stroke downward to plunge into her wet heat again. She’s soaking. I thrust into her a few times with my fingers and she eagerly thrusts back. When I pull my fingers out, she whimpers.

  “Open wider for me,” I command.

  She spreads her legs wider, desperate for my touch at her center again even though she knows what’s coming first, and I slap her pussy again several times. She’s writhing now.

  “Please,” she begs.

  I give her what she wants, but this time I circle her hard little clit ever so slowly with my finger before letting it rest on her clitoral hood, rocking it back and forth lightly as I slip another finger inside of her again. She sighs with pleasure.

  “Make love to me.”

  “Impatient, aren’t you?”

  After a few more minutes of driving her wild with my finger, I bury my head between her thighs again and she cries out as the scruff of my morning beard scrapes over the now super- sensitized skin that has turned pink from the light slaps. My tongue flicks at her hardened little nub and she moans as she digs her heels into the rug and pushes greedily into my mouth.

  With two fingers, I squeeze either side of her little clit as I lick it with the flat of my tongue. Her hips are churning restlessly now, and I fasten my mouth over the little bundle of nerves and bite down lightly. Her body stiffens, and with a hoarse cry, she comes, her body jerking as the orgasm rolls through her.

  But I’m not finished with her yet. I lap up her juices as her limbs tremble with the aftershocks of her orgasm, moving unhurriedly up her slit to lightly lick her still engorged clit again. She tosses her head wildly.

  “Stop. I can’t…”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” I say matter-of-factly.

  She struggles to evade my tongue but I hold her still, my hands pinning her hips to the floor as I circle the wet entrance to her body with my tongue and then plunge into her. I move leisurely back to her clit, licking and sucking gently until her body starts to quicken.

  I push two and then three fingers inside of her, opening her to me.

  “No. Yes. Marcus!”

  I curve my fingers and stroke that tender spot inside her as she thrashes wildly against the heel of my hand.

  “One more time, baby. Come one more time and then I’ll make love to you.”

  My mouth slants over hers, absorbing her cries as she convulses around me, the walls of her pussy clenching against my fingers as the second wave of pleasure racks her body.

  “My God, Ari, but I love to hear you come.”

  She moans in response.

  “You’re so wet,” I croon as the last remnants of the orgasm shudder through her.

  “Wet for you,” she whispers. “Please Marcus. Make love to me now.” Her sweet plea is my undoing.

  I brace myself over her and she pulls me down to kiss her.

  “Do you like the taste of yourself on my lips?” I murmur as I catch her full bottom lip between my teeth.

  “I like the taste of you.”

  Just when I thought my dick couldn’t get any harder!

  I slowly sink into her wet heat. God, she’s tight! I fill her completely, my cock throbbing inside of her. I begin to move in and out in a slow, languorous dance as old as time itself. Her fingers dig into my ass, urging me to go faster, deeper, harder. But I’ve waited ten years for this and I’m not about to rush it.

  I take my time, sliding in and out of her as I gently stroke her skin, savoring the feel of her petite body under me. Her skin is slick with sweat, her face flushed, her eyes dilated from pleasure, and I’ve never seen a woman look more beautiful.

  My fingers trace idle circles around her breasts, tweaking each nipple before skimming over her ribcage and along the curve of her waist. I am determined to take it slow. But she’s too tight, too responsive, too…Ari, and before I know it her wrists are pinned over her head and I’m driving into her with the hunger of a man who’s existed on bread and water for ten years and has been given carte blanche to a sumptuous buffet. Her hips jolt upwards, meeting me thrust for thrust.

  I shove my cock deeper into her as I bite her shoulder, desperate to own her, to mark her as mine, even though I know she can never be. She clenches around me, pulling me deeper. Damn, this woman is going to be the death of me.

  I pull out so that my tip teases her entrance and then I ram back into her, taking her hard and deep. I drive into her over and over again, nailing her to the floor with each punishing thrust until we’re both panting. She’s as desperate for me as I am for her. She’s chanting my name now as her hips pump in time with mine, and my body strains as I bury my face in her neck.

  “Come with me, Ari,” I command with an authoritative growl. “Let me feel your sweet pussy tighten around me.”

  She sobs my name as she climaxes, and I can’t hold back any longer. I grip her tightly as I come with a hard and brutal need, shaking from the sheer force of the orgasm.

  After a minute, I collapse and roll onto my side, pulling her with me. She snuggles under my arm, her head on my chest, and promptly falls asleep, her slow, even breaths a whispered reminder of everything I’ve lost.

  Chapter Five

  Ariana

  I wake up slowly, my senses processing my surroundings faster than my brain can—the warmth of the fire that soothes some primitive need deep inside of me, the luxuriously soft fur against my naked skin, Marcus’ strong comforting arms wrapped around me, the scent of sex that clings to us, and the delicious, bone-tired, exhausted satisfaction that comes from three mind-blowing orgasms.

  How had I forgotten what it was like to be with a man like Marcus, a man who could always push me to experience more and take me outside of myself to places I never dreamed I could go? I sigh contentedly.

  “Awake now, Sunshine?”

  My eyes meet his and I swear I could drown in their depths. When I first met Marcus in Italy, I’d fallen in love with his eyes first. He’s got deep, expressive, brown eyes that can glint with authority, blaze with lust, soften with emotion, and twinkle with laughter. And when they narrow with determination? Holy shit, get me a fire extinguisher.

  I belatedly r
ealize his question probably warrants a response.

  “I…that was…” I flail about for what to say. “Sorry I fell asleep,” I finally say lamely.

  “It was nice to hold you in my arms again,” he says lightly.

  Nice? We just had the best fucking sex of my life and he says it was nice?

  “You should get cleaned up so I can take you back to the resort.” He taps me on the nose like I’m some cute little puppy.

  What the hell? I must look as confused as I feel because he says, “You’ve already missed the ropes class, but I think you can make the flogging demonstration.”

  I try to tamp back that familiar feeling of rejection I’d felt when I’d gone looking for Marcus that long ago day after class and my father had told me he had left, and every torturous day after that that had passed with no word from him. I don’t know what I’d expected, but this certainly wasn’t it. I remind myself that I was the one who asked him to make love to me, not the other way around. While he’d been happy to oblige me, he clearly had no intention of it being anything more than a one-time thing. I carefully extricate myself from his arms and stand up.

  Gathering my pride along with whatever shreds of dignity I have left, given the fact that I’m totally naked, I paste a smile on my face and say, “Great! I definitely don’t want to miss that one. If you don’t mind, I’ll just take a quick shower and then I’ll be ready.”

  “Help yourself to whatever you need,” he says, tilting his head toward the bathroom.

  With his head propped on his hand, he watches lazily as I grab my towel from the floor and hastily wrap it around myself before heading off in the direction of the shower, but he doesn’t follow me or ask if he can join me. I try to force old memories of us in the shower together at his grandmother’s villa away, but it’s no use. I can still vividly remember the way water droplets dripped from his face and short dark hair as he held me impaled on him, my legs wrapped around his waist and my back pressed against the cold marble of the shower wall. I shake my head. That obviously won’t be happening again.

  Tears sting my eyelids as I stand under the hot spray. I hadn’t expected a declaration of love or anything, but I hadn’t expected him to be so eager to send me back to the lodge either, like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

  Whatever. I’ve lived without Marcus Dunn for the last ten years and I certainly don’t need him in my life now. And thanks to our little interlude last night and this morning, at least now I know that I’m on the right track as far as what I’m looking for in a man. What he did—what we did—was freaking hot. I just need to find someone else to do it with.

  By the time I’ve washed away the remnants of our lovemaking and dried my hair as much as I can with one of the fluffy gray towels I find in the linen closet, I’ve put Marcus firmly where he belongs—in the past. I’ll go to the flogging demonstration, meet some of the Doms at the retreat, and soon Marcus will just be a ghost of a memory again.

  I slip back into the white shirtdress, and since I hadn’t worn a bra to the event last night and the dress is see-through, the corset. My thong is unfortunately still on the floor in front of the fire. No choice but to go commando.

  Marcus grins as I walk out into the living room. He’s dressed now in a pair of tight, faded jeans and a cream-colored sweater that accentuates his tanned skin. There’s no sign of my thong.

  “That’s some damn fine pirate booty,” he teases.

  I smile wanly.

  “Want to eat something before I take you back? I’m almost as good at grilled cheese as I am at scrambled eggs.”

  Why is it so damn sexy when a man winks at you? Why is everything Marcus does so damn sexy?

  “Thanks, but I’d better get back.”

  He nods. “Alright.” He grabs a fleece jacket that’s flung over the back of a chair and hands it to me. “It’s been snowing non-stop since last night. You should put this on.”

  “I’m fine,” I say stiffly.

  “Ari, just put the damn jacket on,” he says with a sigh.

  “If it makes you happy,” I snap, grabbing the jacket from him.

  “It does,” he says agreeably. He digs around in the closet and comes back over to me with a knitted cap, which he pulls down over my ears, and a pair of woolen mittens, which he hands to me. I put them on reluctantly and he flashes me a smile. “Good girl.”

  I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs.

  I follow him out the front door of the cabin and onto the covered front porch. We both stop and stare at the pristine white landscape before us. The snow is so thick it covers everything in sight. The only thing recognizable is the shadowy outline of the snow laden trees and Pike’s Peak towering in the distance. There’s a garage about fifty yards from the house, but I’m pretty sure we’d disappear into the snow trying to get there. And the snow is still falling!

  I look over at Marcus. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets surveying the snowy view with a grim look on his face.

  “I don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon,” he says flatly.

  “Like we’re snowed in?” Tiny fingers of panic crawl up my skin. There’s no way I can spend another second here with Marcus.

  “Looks like it. The road down the mountain from the house is steep, and it won’t be shoveled until it stops snowing. Even if I could get to the car, which is doubtful, it’s too dangerous to try and drive down the mountain right now.”

  “Doesn’t your car have four-wheel drive?” I ask desperately.

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, but that won’t matter in this kind of snow.”

  “What about skis?”

  He frowns at me. “Are you serious?”

  “Dammit!” I say in frustration. “I’m an FBI agent and you’re a Navy SEAL! Surely between the two of us we can think of a way to get out of here.”

  “The smart thing to do is wait it out. We’ve still got electricity for now, but even if it goes out I’ve got plenty of firewood and a gas stove. We’ll be fine here until the storm clears.”

  I will definitely not be fine here. In fact, I can’t think of anything worse than being trapped in a log cabin with my ex-boyfriend who I just had wild and mind-blowing sex with but who’s made it absolutely clear he’s not interested in doing it again. My ego is bruised, and I’m hell-bent and determined to get back to the resort and find a Band-Aid for my wounded pride.

  “I think Five Pines has a shuttle,” I say, pulling out my phone. But the snow has obliterated any cell service I may have gotten in this godforsaken place.

  “Ari, you’re not going anywhere,” he says patiently. “Come back inside.”

  I trail behind him reluctantly into the warm cabin and follow his lead, peeling off the layers of outwear and laying them near the fire to dry. His gaze boldly travels up my body. I tilt my chin up defiantly in response. He can look all he wants, but Marcus Dunn is never touching these goods again.

  “Want to borrow some clothes?” he asks drolly, his eyes dancing. I’m glad he’s fucking enjoying himself. But he has a point. Waiting out a snowstorm in a corset and a risqué pirate outfit isn’t very practical.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Come on. Let’s see what we can find.”

  I follow him into the bedroom, studiously avoiding looking at the bed. On second thought, what the hell? “Did you sleep in here last night?” I ask casually.

  “Nah. I slept on the couch.”

  Just what I thought. He has no real interest in me. But like any other man, he just couldn’t turn down free pussy.

  Since he’s close to six feet tall and I’m five four in bare feet, he doesn’t own a single pair of jeans or sweatpants that don’t look like they’ll swallow me whole. He finally finds me a long-sleeved, red plaid, flannel shirt that comes just above my knees, and with the knee-high socks I’d worn under my stiletto boots, I’ll at least be warm, if not particularly stylish.

  I change in the bathroom, and when I walk back into the kitche
n Marcus is making grilled cheese sandwiches in a cast-iron skillet over the stove. He turns around as I walk in and his eyes darken as he takes in my makeshift outfit, but he quickly turns back around to the stove, expertly sliding the sandwiches onto plates. He ladles tomato soup into two bowls and sets them on the table.

  “Sorry it’s not fancier,” he apologizes.

  Ah. That awkward post-coital conversation where you talk to each other with exaggerated politeness and try to pretend you weren’t just going at it like rabbits. Only it hadn’t felt like that to me; it had felt special. But he obviously didn’t feel the same.

  I tamp down my hurt feelings. Two can play this game.

  “No. This is great!” I say with forced enthusiasm. I take a bite of sandwich. It actually is pretty good, or maybe I’m just hungry. “So, tell me about the case you’re here for.”

  He entertains me with the details of his case, and before long I’m so involved in talking shop that I’ve forgotten I’m mad at him. His client is a well-known insurance company that insures a jeweler by the name of Bridget Bowden whose business is flying around the country with her inventory of jewelry and diamonds to call upon the nation’s wealthiest clients who like to buy exclusive and expensive jewelry for their wives and mistresses from the comfort of their billion dollar offices. Whenever Bridget travels, the policy states that she must be picked up from her home, where she operates her business, by a private security driver who transports her to the airport. She’s picked up at the destination airport by another driver who takes her to her meeting, and then back to the airport where the process is repeated in reverse.

  She’s based here in Denver, as is her driver. According to Marcus, several months ago, as Bridget was preparing to fly from here to meet with a client in New Jersey, she answered her door expecting to find her driver but instead was accosted by two men who forced their way into her apartment, tied her to a chair, beat her, and stole two million dollars’ worth of jewelry.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “So who’s your witness? Not Bridget, right? I’m sure you’ve already gotten her statement.”