by Pippa Grant
He muffles my order by capturing my lips with his mouth. I grip the soft cotton of his T-shirt and hold tight while I part my lips for his tongue.
There’s nothing small about Zeus, and kissing him is no different. He kisses big. Not that I have much practice, but our mouths aren’t melding.
No, kissing Zeus means our entire bodies are having an experience. His lips touch mine, my nipples pull a point-and-click, my lady cave gets herself all dolled up inside, the hairs on my arms dance a jig, and I can’t keep my tongue to myself.
Not that I have any lingering aspirations of being a lady.
I’ve just never understood the appeal of tongue-wrestling.
Until Zeus.
There’s something about his meaty tongue caressing my lips, stroking my tongue like it’s his favorite vacation property and he’s here to have a party, that makes me want more.
Crave more.
I don’t want to kiss him.
I want to inhale his essence. Imprint my mouth on his lips.
Claim him.
This big, bold, fearless man—yeah, I want to climb that mountain and conquer the beast.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t care if that means I let him claim me too.
Just for tonight, I tell myself.
One time, I can let someone in. I know he’s leaving. I know this is temporary. I’m not getting attached.
He rolls me onto my back. I wrap my legs around his waist and strain to rub my rosebud against his hard stomach, but I can’t get a good angle.
He’s just so big.
And suddenly I don’t care, because he’s doing something to the pebble standing in for my nipple that’s making heat streak across my chest and lightning course through my veins straight to my yippidee-doo-dah.
My dildo has never done that. Hell, neither has a vibrator.
I gasp, breaking the kiss, and thrust my nipple into his hand to offer it as a sacrifice to the sex gods. I’m beginning to understand the hoopla about a man participating in making orgasms.
“Holy fuck, you’re sexy.” Zeus follows the proclamation with a lick to my neck. “Can I eat your boobs?”
I’m already squirming out of my tank top. “I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.”
“That’s the hottest thing a woman has ever said to me.”
“Shut up and get naked. If you pull that trigger early again, I’ll strangle you with your own condom.”
He rips through the center of my bra with his teeth—holy fuck, that’s unbelievably sexy—the cups spring back, and my breasts pop free. He licks one from the underside, up over the nipple, and follows it with a pinch that I can feel in my clit. I buck against him again, because I’m aching so hard I need to rub it on something.
He reaches between us, fiddles with something south of where his fingers should be, namely fiddling with my hooha—and suddenly—holy fuck again.
Something harder and longer and thicker than a lava lamp slides between my legs and bumps that hard, needy nub in my pants. A carefree, sex-starved, badass fairy princess takes over my personality, panting and moaning and dry-humping that solid piece of meat like the fate of the entire fucking universe depends on this one big O.
And that’s before he does that thing with his tongue to my other breast.
I grip his hair and shove his head back to my chest. “More.”
His teeth scrape my nipple, my nerve endings ignite, and I buck off the blanket. His wondercock glides along the fabric hiding my pussy.
Must. Get. Naked.
Must. Not. Break. Connection.
Which isn’t a problem, because his fingers are creeping into my pants, slipping under my underwear, and hitting— “Oh yes there more THERE holy dog in heaven MORE.”
“Fuck, Joey.”
His thick fingers flick my clit, slide down the seam of my pussy, and thrust into my aching, ready depths. One more flick of his thumb to my clit, and I’m coming so fast and hard I can’t tell which constellations are real and which ones just spontaneously big-banged into existence in my brain, but there are stars.
So many stars.
Planets. Suns. Moons.
Solar systems.
All in this eency-weency slice of space where Zeus is teasing my climax harder and longer and deeper with those talented fingers, making my world so small he encompasses the entirety of my existence while also making me feel like I own the whole fucking galaxy.
The last of the spasms roll out of my body, but I’m not going limp-armed and noodle-legged.
No fucking way.
Not when he’s still poking my leg with that yard of beef.
I’m the space cowgirl who’s gonna ride that megarocket to the edge of the whole universe. “Roll over,” I order.
I push, and he rolls. I strip out of my pants and follow him.
He’s already sliding on a condom when I straddle his hips. “Joey—”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
He pulls himself up, cradles my head in his massive hands, and claims my mouth again. His tongue, his teeth, his lips—fuck, this man could teach me a thing or seventeen about kissing. Because while his mouth is worshiping mine, his strong hands are stroking my head, my hair, that spot between my shoulders that’s always too tight.
His thick stubble scratches the skin around my mouth. The sensation borders on exquisite pain, and I want more, so I kiss him back harder.
Deeper.
I let my fingers trail down his neck to his broad shoulders, the curves and angles of solid muscle a puzzle that’s already solved itself and is just sitting there waiting to be explored. He has a scar over his left pec, rough hair sprinkled over his chest, his nipples are hard tips that are just as sensitive as mine. I flick them with my thumbs, his cock pulses thicker between my thighs, and he moans into my mouth.
Yeah, I’m totally doing that again.
And again.
And again, until he grips my upper arms, breaks the kiss, and swears out another fuck.
“Flex,” he orders.
I squeeze my biceps.
And I swear on my jet, his dick grows another inch. “You could kick my ass in arm wrestling,” he says reverently.
The hell I could. His arms are so big, he’s developed muscles for holding up his muscles. I slide his meat between my thighs. “I’d let you win.”
“You’re such a trash-talker.”
I get the feeling that’s as much a turn-on to him as a sweet-talker would be to a normal woman.
And I dig it.
I don’t like feelings.
We got too close to them already tonight.
And despite that spiral of apprehension at the bruising my cherry might take at the hands of his monster cock—pretty sure he’s twice the size of my biggest dildo—I want to do this.
I want Zeus Berger to be my first.
His fingers trail down my spine. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers.
I wonder how many other women he’s called sexy, and I quickly banish the thought.
There’s no room for jealousy in a one-night stand.
Or a three-night stand, or whatever this is. I’m going back to Huntsville tomorrow. He’s…doing something that’s not going to Huntsville.
I rub my pussy over his cock, angling for his swollen head.
He grips my arms again. “Joey—”
I freeze. He’s going to tell me to stop. That he doesn’t want to do this. That it’s all a big misunderstanding.
“I’m kinda…big.”
I blink.
“Understood,” I say brusquely. He’s not big. He’s supersized. If all men’s dicks were this size, dildos wouldn’t be made for half-size packages. He’s like the jumbo hot dog in a world of cocktail weenies. “Are we doing this or not?”
He hesitates.
I’m about to fling myself off of him—and possibly off the nearest cliff in utter frustration, because so this is what it feels like—when he speaks again.
“You’re so fucking tight. So fucking sexy. But I don’t always…fit.”
My heart’s made of fucking iron. It doesn’t bend. It doesn’t break. It’s impervious to cannonballs and hissy fits and sharknados.
But that fucker’s melting in my chest right now.
Because Zeus Berger’s dick is sometimes too big.
“You’re going to fucking fit if we have to get a shoehorn,” I growl.
Even in the dark, I can see his jaw slip. The vibrations of the chuckle looming in his chest are more potent than anything batteries can produce. His thumbs caress my arms, and fuck, more parts of me are melting again.
“A shoehorn?”
“Or a dickhorn. Whatever.” Fuck. Now I’m getting all hot and bothered and popping a lady boner in my clit over the idea of a dickhorn.
Which, oddly, is why I’m totally comfortable with the idea of bumping chubs with Zeus.
He kinda gets me.
But even in the dark, I can tell he’s watching me with too much intensity. “You’ve, ah, never been with a big dude. Have you?”
Oh, hell. My lady boner’s deflating. She’s losing her steam. My nipples are drooping too. This—this isn’t sexytime conversation.
“Fuck, yeah,” I lie.
And he knows it.
His grip on my arms tightens. I can feel every cell in his body going on lockdown.
Only his cock seems to miss the memo. It’s still pulsing between my thighs like it wants to go home, and it knows home’s close, but some dickhead—no offense to Zeus’s penis—has it on a leash.
“It was never worth the bother, okay?” I blurt. “Sex doesn’t motivate me. It doesn’t drive me. And there’s no way I was fucking up my life plans by screwing any old dickhead who couldn’t find my clit with a flashlight and a map in broad daylight but could fuck up putting on a condom. I can fucking take care of myself. And if you’re not man enough for the job either, I have a lava lamp that’ll do just fine. Better than fine. Seeing the heavens fine.”
“You…you’ve fucked a lava lamp?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I’d get off his lap, except his dick’s straining harder against my pussy, and she’s doing that fucking damsel in distress, woe is me, I need a good penis to help me rub one out routine that she’s never fucking pulled before because I’ve always given her top-of-the-line toys and paid more attention to what she liked than any man before.
Any man until possibly Zeus.
Who’s subtly rocking his dick harder between my thighs while pressure coils deep inside me and blood surges to my clit and my nipples get so hard they’re puckering my entire breasts.
“You know what you need?” he growls, low and dirty and bossy.
A spanking? my pussy suggests. “For gender roles to be reversed so I could have a harem of my own?”
“You need the triple Zeusgasm.”
Swear to dog, the threat just gave me a mini-gasm right there.
“Where’s your favorite spot, Joey Fireball?”
He’s hit it twice already today. “You probably couldn’t find it with a ten-foot pole and a seeing-eye dog.”
“I’m going to find it.” In one smooth motion, he lifts me up, goes flat on his back, and sits me on top of his face.
On.
Top.
Of.
His.
Face.
His tongue flicks my clit, my vagina clenches around itself, and my hips buck on their own. “Ohmydog.”
“Delicious,” he says to my pussy.
His breath tickles the sensitive skin there, and fuck, I’m leaking. I’m getting wet and hot and bothered and now he’s sucking on my clit while he holds me in place, and it’s so intense and hot and I’m sitting on Zeus Berger’s face and I’m going to come.
I’m. Going. To. Come.
I hunch over and brace my hands against the ground, he nips at my bud with his teeth, that hot spiral deep inside me implodes, my walls clench around empty nothingness, the world goes white and sparkly, and I hear myself crying out his name. Just as I think I’m done, the earth shifts beneath my ass, and then holy fuck.
He’s got his tongue up inside me. Swirling into my depths. It’s long and thick and it’s not hard like his cock, but it’s clearly strong, because he’s stroking me from the inside out with an intensity that’s making everything inside me coil impossibly tight and hot and ready again. I’m spun up so fast my ovaries might’ve just bruised my pelvis.
Something brushes my clit—his nose?—his tongue reaches a mythical spot deep inside me, and I’m exploding again.
Squeezing his tongue with my inner walls while he laps it up and tickles that magic place, coaxing me harder and higher and more. Clenching and seizing and spasming with everything I have left, which is borderline nothing, but dog, that spot—his tongue—my pussy—my whole fucking life.
It’s all there.
The big bang. In my very center.
Coming undone.
Coming together again.
My legs are overcooked okra. My arms turn to silly putty, and I almost face-plant in the grass. Zeus catches me—of course he does—and for the first time in my adult life, I let a man cradle me.
Buck naked.
In a grassy park under the stars.
I stroke a hand down his chest while he peppers my shoulder and hair with kisses. “Jupiter still hanging in there, or is he done?” I whisper. I’m trying to be a badass, but I can barely spell it at the moment.
“He’s spent enough time in the penalty box. Learned his lesson.”
“Good. Because in about six hours, I’m going to need him.”
“Give you six minutes.”
“Fuck.”
His laughter rumbles in my ear. I can smell myself on him, and it’s arousing. I wonder what he tastes like.
If he proves himself worthy, I might see if I can find out later.
When I can move again.
“You’re fucking delicious,” he murmurs, and would you look at that.
I’m getting another lady boner.
Yeah, he’s right.
Six minutes is probably all it’ll take.
25
Zeus
I was seventeen years old the last time I touched a virgin.
We’d been dating for a month and I was so ga-ga for her I probably would’ve stuck my dick in boiling oil if she’d asked me to. She said she wanted to fuck, I popped a boner and dropped trou, and boom.
She screamed.
My mother came running down the stairs to where we were making out in the basement, Ares on her heels. Ambrosia stopped murdering the piano and started screaming just because another girl was screaming.
It’s a monster, the chick had sobbed. He tried to put his monster in my special lady flower.
I got a lecture about my responsibility to feed, clothe, and shelter any person whose life I permanently altered, along with my duty to save enough money for a kid to go to college. Also got a reminder that my hockey days would be over if I made my parents into grandparents before they were fifty, because they’d fucking ground me from everything but work, work, work, diaper duty, crying baby duty, and work.
I thought growing up with Ambrosia had been crying baby duty—and she was actually more terrifyingly devious than she was ever whiny—so that was a scary fucking threat.
Me and Ares compared dicks later, decided we were both fucked in the bad way with the megapacks in our pants, ordered the box-club-size tin of extra-extra-large condoms off a computer at school with the librarian’s credit card, and neither one of us did the real deed until we were almost twenty and two older puck bunnies adopted us.
Good times.
Not a good time?
Wondering if my head’s gonna even fit in Joey’s special lady flower.
I haven’t been this nervous since that year back home the Baloney Festival almost ran out of deep-fried Twinkies before I got my dozen.
And not just because I thi
nk she’d actually find a dickhorn.
She squirms, reaches between us, and strokes Jupiter.
And because my dick’s a total dog, he sits up, pants, and asks if he can shake. Soaking up the love while she explores him. She can’t get her fingers all the way around his girth, and even with both her fists on him, I’d have to put a hand around him to cover his whole length.
I’m already so fucking ready to blow I’m having to picture my sister naked when Joey dips her fingers under my dick to fondle my tennis balls.
And yeah, I’ve compared.
Don’t want the tennis balls to feel inferior, so I still say my nuts are the same size.
“Is it going to blow if I lick it?” she asks.
Jupiter strains inside his suit. “No licking.” Her hair’s that perfect combination of thick and silky and curly, and I’m taking full advantage of the rare opportunity to stroke it.
“Spoilsport.” She twists out of my grasp and pushes me onto my back. “You know what I like about you?”
Fuck, like I wasn’t terrified enough before. “Can’t imagine there’s a single fucking thing you don’t like about a god like me.”
She straddles me again, hands playing on my chest, my demigod trapped between her thighs with his head poking out. He wants to stand tall, but he damn sure doesn’t mind being squeezed by her legs.
“Your ego can almost keep up with mine,” she declares.
I cup her tits, because they’re there, and they’re fucking fantastic. “You wish. Stick around a while, and you might learn something about real ego.”
She’s sliding her pussy along the length of my redwood, and he’s threatening to split his bark. Chick has stamina.
But I wouldn’t have expected anything different. Not from Joey Fireball.
Fuck, I want inside this woman.
“Your turn,” she says, and if she’s trying for hard-ass, she’s missing by the length of my dick. “Tell me something you like about me.”
“Your pussy’s fucking hot.” Yeah, I almost came six times while I was licking that tasty treat. But my dick’s not in control tonight.
I am.
I’m suited up, in the game, and it’s mind over meat tonight.
Because this woman gyrating her hips and worshipping my dick with the goddess between her legs needs to know what she’s been missing.
