“My daddy won’t be home for at least an hour,” Morganna replies, eyes narrowed—challenging. It’s refreshing to see her makeup-free face. She never wore a ton of makeup until she became an attorney. I imagine she uses it as another layer to hide her true self from the rest of the world.
Sitting up, I scoot next to her on the couch placing my leg against hers. “I think we need more than an hour. Rock, paper, scissors?” I offer, running my hand over her exposed thigh. Goosebumps rise in my finger’s wake—it makes me feel victorious.
“Don’t think like such a guy, Steven Warner. It’s a start. You can’t jump a cold car,” Morganna quips. “What are we playing for?”
“Best two out of three. Ladies choice or my choice,” I whisper, taking her chin in my hand. She pulls away.
Shaking her head and taking my own face into her hands she says, “One out of one.”
Not one to waste time, I place one of my large fists on top of my flat palm. “Say when,” I say, keeping my poker face tight. She wins this fucking game more than I do; psychic powers or some other unexplainable voodoo. It’s spooky as shit.
She responds by clapping her tiny fist on her palm and starting. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot,” we both say at the same time. She throws rock and by the grace of God I throw paper. I fold my paper on top of her rock, and conceal her tiny hand in mine. “I win,” I say. When I look at her face, I find that she’s staring at our hands. She’s scared to lose. More, she’s fearful of losing control.
I can remedy this.
“My choice is lady’s choice,” I say, standing from the couch while pulling her up to stand. “I choose your bedroom and you choose the activity.” Hesitantly, her gray eyes meet mine.
She doesn’t say another word. She merely leads my paper hand up to her childhood bedroom—the very same bedroom where I dreamed about taking her a million different ways. I close the heavy wooden door and lean against it as I watch a very grown up version of the same girl walk toward the large white bed in the center of the room. Her hips perfectly sculpted, the sway in her walk telling me everything. This is no girl. This is a woman. One who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. For some crazy ass reason she thinks I can give it to her.
“If you’re truly shirking your winning responsibilities and want me to choose, then I want you right here in the middle of this bed. Clothing off.” She holds a finger up when she sees me trying to get a word in. I close my mouth. “No talking. I’m in control.”
Pressing my lips into a firm line, I try to control my hammering heart. I expected something along these lines, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. I might as well braid my hair and kneel at the foot of her bed, because that’s as much control as she’s going to give to me.
For her, I can do what makes her comfortable even if it makes me uncomfortable. I’m a fucking man. A beast. A predator in the bedroom. She’s asking me to put on a kitten suit and play by a set of unfamiliar rules.
I nod, take the back collar of my shirt into one hand, and pull it over my head and step out of my shorts and underwear in ten seconds flat. Not taking my eyes off her face, her hair, her chest, her lips, I see her nerves dancing all over the place. This is what she thinks she wants…or needs. I take a deep breath and steel all my self-control into one big pile and walk past her to flop down on the middle of her bed. Folding my arms behind my head, I shoot her my best reassuring smile and wait. My cock is hard, because it has no clue it’s not in control yet. It only heard the words “take off your clothing.”
Morganna’s gaze roams my body freely, her pillow puff lips separate in a perfect pout. I bite my lip when her knowing eyes find mine. I still don’t move. Honestly, if my hands weren’t restrained behind my head they would find a way into her pussy quicker than a trigger pull. I pray whatever she has planned lasts less than an hour or real triggers will be pulled when her daddy gets home and bears witness to us locked away in this room.
I open my mouth to urge her forward, but shut it again when I remember the rules. Obey. I can obey a few simple requests.
Morg takes off her dress, pulling it over her head and revealing the hottest— and I do mean hottest—lace lingerie I’ve ever seen. I know this because it’s the reason I purchased it. It’s Agent Provocteur, a brand I know she likes to wear. The black lace stands out in stark contrast to her creamy skin, but it matches her hair perfectly. The panties hug her curves and the sheer bra doesn’t conceal her pink, hard nipples. I draw in a deep breath and hold it in awe. It looks as amazing as I imagined it would. Almost hotter than seeing her naked. Almost.
She swallows loudly, and a mirage of my cum dripping back off her tongue and sliding down her throat appears. It’s squashed when she speaks. “The art of forgetting is the only lesson I’m unable to master,” Morganna explains, her chest heaving with the weight of what she’s saying—probably what she’s remembering, despite what she’s proclaiming. “My only hope is to cover up what I’m trying to forget. Okay?” she asks.
My chest tightens the same time I close my eyes. I nod, even though every other part of my body wants to disagree. My feet want to run away, my hands itch to grab her, throw her down, and make her forget she even has something to forget. My mind knows I’m treading on thin ice, and my heart? That fucker knows this probably won’t end in anything except heartbreak. Yet, my head is still nodding like some obedient fucking puppy.
That’s the thing with Morganna. You can’t say no, even when it’s the only logical answer. Prowling to the side of the bed, she looks down at me and a funny thing happens. Suddenly, I’m the one forgetting. She’s just a woman who wants a man. She’s not Stone’s wife or the unattainable dime piece that’s been a resident in my life since before I knew she was exactly what I’ve always wanted…needed.
My dick pulses with her every movement she makes, with every blink of her eyes. I’m rapt, unable to pretend I’m looking anywhere except the place I want to be deep inside of. Tucking her thumbs into the strings at her waist, she steps out of the lace scraps and straddles my knees. The small tattoo on her hip catches my attention, but only for a split second. Her pussy is shaved and it looks like it will probably be as smooth as silk, the wet lips glistening like a homing beacon. Enter me. Enter me. Enter me.
She unfastens the bra and lets it slip to the floor. “Kiss me,” she orders, her breathy voice captivating my every particle.
I’m not supposed to talk, but I rasp, “Where?” With her naked there is only one place my lips want to be. “Kiss you where? Specify please,” I add. My fingers are clutched behind my head so tightly they’re falling asleep, the tingling forcing my attention on something other than my throbbing cock.
Morganna touches herself between her legs with a few fingers and my gaze immediately freezes there. Flashback scenes from the night at her house, watching her play with herself, crash the party. She had all the fun. Dragging her wet fingers from her pussy up the front of her stomach, between her tits and finally landing on her perfect pout, she slides them along her bottom lip.
“Lip gloss. Except not,” she says, winking. She points with a perfectly polished nail to her mouth. “Kiss me here, Steven. Right here. Taste me.”
With not a second of hesitation I lean up, careful to leave my hands by my sides, and press my mouth against hers. A loud moan escapes when I let my tongue dart out to lick her lips. Morganna wraps her arms around my neck and presses her full breasts against my chest. I can’t help the awareness of how she’s positioned herself atop me. I could merely grab her thick hips and push her onto my cock in one fluid motion. She’s wet enough. I’m harder than a fucking rock. The way her tongue and lips are owning me, I know she wants me inside her. I more than want it. I need it. I won’t act on it, though. Self-control isn’t usually one of my strong suits in the bedroom, but with her it has to be.
She breaks the kiss to run her warm tongue down the side of my throat and across my collarbone. I watch as she bites me—leaving red marks a
s she works her way over my pecs and then lower to my abs. Praise the good Lord I worked out today, because the way she’s moving her mouth over my well sculpted eight pack makes me think she approves. Clutching the quilt by my sides is the only thing that keeps me from taking her. She’s not yours to take, the sadistic part of my brain whispers. She flicks her gray cat eyes up at me and I know it’s game time.
Getting into a more comfortable position between my legs, she kneels on the bed in front of me and wraps her heaven sent lips around my dick. She moans loudly, and I think my fucking eyes roll back in my head. Every dream about her mouth and lips didn’t do this feeling justice.
I watch every move she makes, wanting to sop up every feeling, every sight possible for recollection purposes. One of her small hands comes around to get her long hair out of the way. I make a quick decision to grab her hair and hold it back into a ponytail for her. Gentlemanly in gesture, greedy in actuality.
Working up and down, she uses her tongue to trace the tip and lick the sides after every few strokes of her pumping hand. I never understood why something as wet and with so much sucking and licking is called a blowjob. Men don’t pause long enough to give a shit, is the only conclusion I’ve developed over the years.
She pushes against my chest and intuitively I know what she wants. I lean back against the pillow and spread my legs further. With her hand still pumping on my cock, I feel her lips on my balls. Just tongue and lips, and then one of my ol’ boys is in her warm mouth. Then the other. Hissing out a breath, my hips rock up again, and then again. I need to fuck her. I need to come. Closing my eyes, I feel it all: warm hands on the inside of my thighs, wetness from her mouth dripping down from my dick onto my balls, her lips wrapping around my cock and moving at a furious pace.
“I’m close,” I tell her. While I’ve known her forever, I’m not sure about her cum preferences. She speeds her hand up, I lean up to watch her work, and I groan at the beautiful sight. Her black hair sticking to the side of one cheek, her gray eyes fixed on mine. I rock my hips up and she gags a little as I force myself deeper than I should be. A few seconds later I burst, cum flowing into her mouth in hot, powerful spurts. Pleasure spasms rock my body in wave after wave.
I never take my eyes off her, even though every natural instinct in my body tells me to close my eyes and moan like a caveman. There’s no way it’s worth missing this view. Of Morganna catching my cum in her mouth, her beautiful eyes locked with mine. She moves up and over my stomach, and in a move that is both parts disgusting and hot, she lets my hot cum leak from her mouth onto me. I flex my abs in vain to try to keep it pooling in my stomach instead of dripping onto the bed.
Morganna gracefully slides off the bed and picks up the pair of three-hundred dollar panties off the floor. With a sly smirk she uses the lace to wipe the remnants off my abs.
“You didn’t think I swallowed, did you?” Morganna says, her cheeks still flushed. I laugh, but try to cover it with a cough.
I grab the panties out of her hand and wipe the sides where my cum is dripping down, and my V where it will likely leak next. “I’m not sure what I thought, but it wasn’t this.” I laugh. “You’ll hear no complaints from me,” I admit, because let’s be honest. It was hot. “My turn?” I ask, hopeful. It’s her terms, but I know what she wants.
“No intercourse. Not yet,” she replies, removing the hair stuck to her cheek. “Go down on me. I want to bear witness to your legendary skills firsthand.” I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. If you think being told what to do isn’t the biggest boner inducing fog you’ve ever known, you haven’t met Morganna before. It’s a switch, for sure; a refreshing change to be with a woman who knows exactly what she wants. I grab her waist, pull her toward me, and she falls back onto the bed letting a small laugh escape.
“By my figures we have less than fifteen minutes, so I better be more than fucking legendary,” I growl, pulling her by her legs to the edge of the bed. Without another second hesitation I settle in, my tongue a wet, heat-seeking missile.
She screams out on first contact. Loud and wild and so fucking turned on that I know my boner isn’t going anywhere.
Yet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Morganna
Past
“JUST LIKE THAT. Just like that,” I breathe out through pants that seem to be unnecessarily loud and exaggerated. I’m not in control of my body. He is.
My hands thread through Stone’s brown hair between my legs. I’m pushed up against the inside of the back seat of our SUV in the parking lot of a nightclub. I feel the need to explain this, as I’m dressed as a nun. My husband is dressed as a priest. We are probably going to end up fornicating in the car. Forgive me, Father.
It’s Halloween and we’ve reserved a couple VIP areas in the most popular club for our friends. Maverick and Windsor, a new couple, will be there. I make the unconscious decision to try to have a heart to heart with Win. She has to struggle with the same things that I struggled with before deciding to give my heart to a Team Guy. It’s not as cut and dry as a normal relationship, that’s for sure.
My thoughts about being a good friend vanish as my hot as hell husband slips two fingers inside me, while his tongue lashes against my clit furiously, wildly, demanding my quick orgasm. Sliding his wide fingers against my channel, he moves them at the perfect speed. The tingling, warm sensation wraps around me as I grind myself into his face. Stone is wild and out of control every time he gets the chance to go down on me. His enthusiasm is a catalyst for knee shaking orgasms. When I say he can’t get enough of me, I mean it. His zest for loving me never wanes. It’s as if he’s making up the time that he’s away. It makes sense.
The fingers on his other hand dig into my hip, holding me down and keeping his face in the perfect position. I yell out loudly when the pleasure hits, pulsing through my whole body at once. He eases his grip and lets me work myself on his fingers until I come crashing back down from the high. He sucks on my clit gently as curse words leak from my mouth.
“I think the entire parking lot heard you, baby,” Stone says, tracing my core with his fingers, rubbing my wetness around the lips and then dipping his finger inside me shallowly. My muscles grip his finger involuntarily. My eyes roll back in my head as I let go of his hair and put a hand on the back of the seat to try to lean against the window.
Sliding up my body, he glides between my legs, his erection landing at my sopping, wet center. “I love you,” he whispers, sliding into me—only halfway, just enough to make me crazy. “I didn’t plan on fucking you, but you’re so wet I can’t help myself.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say, my eyes fluttering closed as he sinks in another inch. I moan and clutch the back of his black cloak, my hands moving down to find his hard ass to attempt to guide him all the way in. With one hand I reach between us to find the base of his shaft. Wrapping my hand around the only part that isn’t inside me makes me shiver. I lift my hips because I desperately need to be filled. I stroke his balls and give them a tiny tug just to get my point across.
“You want me all the way?” he growls in my ear. All I can do is nod my head against his shoulder and pray he gives it all to me. With a low groan he falls into me, filling me up, and promptly begins thrusting to the hilt. I clutch his ass tightly, wanting every ounce of roughness he can deal out.
Stone whispers a combination of sweet nothings and the dirtiest curse words humankind has ever heard. My face finds its way into one of his hands as his lips crash into mine, forceful and meaningful. His kiss possesses me from the outside while his steely erection owns me from the inside—pumping in this furious lyrical pace that sets me over the edge. I wrap my legs around his waist and come again, wishing he could fill me like this forever and that this moment would never end.
“I want to know I’m inside you all night long,” Stone says, his wet lips against my ear. He jerks inside me one more violent time, and I feel him hot and throbbing deep inside me. I’m still con
vulsing around him when he pulls out slowly, listening to the amazing noises of two wet bodies disconnecting. Stone’s eyes are focused between my legs as he pulls all the way out. A huge, beatific smile stretching across his face as he leans down to kiss me on my stomach and slide my thong back into place.
Reaching behind me, I feel the cool of the window and realize they’re fogged up—exactly like what happens when people have sex in cars in the movies. “I’m glad we came early.”
“I’m always glad to come in you, Morg,” Stone jokes. I pull his costumed collar toward me and kiss him, coming up onto my knees to balance myself, my head still swimming from the adrenaline and from being with the only man to ever make me feel like a woman. His fingers grazing through my hair, he angles my chin sideways to kiss me deeper.
His erection still pressing against me, I know we could end up in this SUV all night if I don’t take the lead. “We really should hang out with our friends tonight,” I prompt in between wet kisses.
“I know,” he returns, molding his lips against mine again. “I need to go to confession first,” he says, his teeth clicking against my own.
I play along. “Confess to me your sins.”
“I’m so in love with a woman that I can’t see straight. Tell me what to do, Mother Morganna.”
My hands on the sides of his face, I pull back, narrowing my eyes. “Just love her for the rest of your life. And pick up your dirty clothing. Oh, and always, always consult her before getting a tattoo. Hot sex, too. She probably needs lots of hot sex.”
Stone tilts his chin down and narrows his eyes to match my own. “You always do need that S word, don’t you?” I erupt into a fit of very un-Morganna like giggles and sit back onto the seat. We talk for another thirty minutes about his tattoo ideas and house projects—mainly a laundry chute and a hand-crafted sex swing for our bedroom. I am satiated and so full of love for my husband, I can’t remember a time I’d been more in love with love, or with life.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 47
