by Max Monroe
Kline stopped mid-kiss, and his forehead fell to my abdomen as a few chuckles escaped his lips. I could feel his smile against my flesh. “No can do, Benny girl. I’m Big-dicked Brooks.”
I stilled. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing.” He laughed softly into my skin, his tongue sneaking out and licking around my belly button.
“Did you just say Big-dicked Brooks?”
“Huh?” He peeked up at me, amusement on his lips and his eyes feigning confusion.
My nose scrunched up. “Where did you hear that?”
“I can’t recall the exact moment.” He shrugged, playfully biting my hip. “But I really did appreciate the sentiment.” Goosebumps dotted my skin as he slid his hand up my thigh, slipping his finger inside of me. “God, you’re wet and I haven’t even started with you yet.”
A hot flush crawled up my neck, my lips parting on a sweet sigh when his thumb circled my clit.
God, if he promised to keep doing that, I’d call him Big-dicked Brooks any time he wanted.
“Remember when I had my mouth on you? How good it felt? How hard you came?” He licked my inner thigh while his fingers continued working me over. “In my bed, when I sucked on your pussy until you were begging me to let you come. At the pool when I had you spread so wide and my mouth devoured you even though anyone could have walked in and seen us. They could have seen my face between your legs while your tits bounced with each gasping breath that fell from your pretty lips. Remember that, Georgia?” He moved to the other thigh, sucking a soft bruise into my skin. “God, I can’t stop thinking about how perfect you taste. How sexy you look, sound, feel when I make you come. I’m dying to know what you feel like wrapped around me.”
I was getting so hot, so wet, just from his words alone. As he kissed a slow trail across my pubic bone, my body relaxed—legs opening up and arms falling to the sides.
“I’m going to make it so good, baby.” His mouth moved to my clit, sucking and licking and caressing me into an orgasm. He didn’t stop until my body quaked and my limbs turned lax and sated.
“Hey,” he rasped, moving up my body and kissing me.
I moaned when I tasted my sex on his tongue.
This enormous sense of relief took hold, wringing the air from my lungs. I was thankful, so very thankful, that I had found him. Thankful that he was taking his time with me, making sure my first time was what I wanted it to be. I hoped he could feel it in my kiss, my touch, that this was more, so much more than I’d ever experienced. He was spinning my world out of its orbit, taking me to places I had never been.
I watched in rapt attention as he kneeled between my thighs and slid the condom on. He pulled back, pushing his hips forward and pressing the tip of his cock against my clit.
My eyes found his as he hovered over my body, his hands resting beside my head. His blue eyes glowed in the moonlight, tender and soft.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against my lips, deepening our kiss.
Hips pressed into mine, he started to slip inside of me. The pressure built to the point of pain as he slowly, so very slowly, slid deeper. He didn’t rush, didn’t hurry to claim me, just took his time. He pushed himself a little farther, then stopped to kiss me until my body let go of the tension and relaxed into him.
My eyes glazed over, overwhelmed by the intensity—not just of the deed itself, but of the feelings that passed between us. Tiny inward gasps accompanied my every breath.
Once he broke the barrier, pain consumed me and forced an involuntary whimper from my lips. I was sure he could see it on my face.
His eyes turned remorseful as he caressed my cheek.
I wanted to remove that look from his face.
“More, Kline. Don’t stop.” I wanted this. Of course, there was discomfort, but there was also a perfect ache starting to build inside of my core with each small thrust of his hips.
“God, you’re so tight. So wet. So perfect. I’m losing my fucking mind.” His lips found my neck, sucking and licking and placing little bites across my skin. Every word eased an ounce of discomfort. Every kiss, suck, and lick eased two.
“Baby, move with me,” he encouraged.
My muscles relaxed and I lifted my legs higher to my sides, allowing him to slide in farther.
He groaned.
A hiccupping breath escaped my lungs.
I needed more. I wanted Kline as deep as he could go. I rolled my hips, pulling him all the way inside of me. We both cried out. The sensations were overwhelming—his cock fully sheathed by my heat, my thighs pressing against his hips.
I let out a raspy moan, whispering, “God, this feels so good.”
“Fuck yes it does.” He kissed my jaw, my cheek, the corners of my lips.
My hips pushed up of their own accord, unconsciously telling him I still needed more. This is what it felt like to want to crawl inside a person—to be a part of them. It made me greedy; every inch he gave just made me want another one even more.
Kline moved in an easy rhythm, careful of my sensitivity but not lacking in intensity. He started to pick up the pace when I begged him to go deeper, harder, faster. He sucked savagely on my neck, growing uninhibited and frenzied, only to slow down again, finding my mouth and giving me soft, drugging kisses.
My hands explored his body, moving down his arms, his back, his ass, savoring the flex and strain of his muscles as he thrust.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, sweeping a few damp strands of hair from my forehead.
“I’m more than okay.”
“Fuck, Georgia, you look so perfect like this. Here. Under me.” His eyes turned fierce and determined, like he wanted to make me lose control, completely turn my world on its head.
My body started to shake as he sped up, only to whimper in taut frustration when he slowed down again.
“Do you trust me, baby?”
I didn’t even have to think about the answer.
“Yes. God, yes. I trust you.”
“I want to show you how good it can be when there’s no rush.” He kissed me, sucked on my lips, my tongue, stealing every one of my sounds into his mouth and swallowing them greedily.
And God, I loved his hoarse noises, how he kept telling me how beautiful I was, how good this felt, how hard he was. I loved how he took control and knew the exact way to drive me wild.
“I want to do this for hours and hours, but fuck, you’re too much. It’s too much.” He shifted his pace—lazy morphing into quick and hungry. “Tell me how good it feels,” he ground out, pressing his face into my neck. His voice was demanding, but he wasn’t chasing my climax so hard for himself. He was doing it for me.
All I could do was nod, too consumed with desire to answer. I gripped his ass, my nails digging into the toned flesh.
“Good, because I’m going to make you feel even better,” he swore. “I’m going to make you lose your fucking mind.”
He slid out of me, spurring a distraught moan to slip past my lips.
He gripped my thighs and moved his face between my legs before I could stop him. His mouth consumed me—sucking and licking and tonguing at my pussy until my orgasm started to build at an explosive pace beneath my skin. Warmth spread across my body, a thin sheen of sweat following its lead. Unintelligible words escaped my lips as I started to come.
“That’s my wild girl. Let me watch you catch fire,” he said, continuing to take me over the edge.
I squeezed my eyes closed, mouth falling open, body bowing off the bed. I didn’t just come. I screamed, exploded, burst into flames.
Time. Location. My name. Those things didn’t exist, my senses too consumed by what Kline was doing to me.
He moved back up the bed, gripping my thigh and pushing my knee to my shoulder, spreading me wide open for his straining cock. He pushed inside of me with ease and started fucking me deep, dragging in and out at the most mind-blowing pace.
He propped himself up on his hands, staring down at where he moved in me.
“Fuck, it’s so good.”
Moving one hand between us, he rubbed my clit. “I need to feel you come around my cock.”
“I don’t think I can. It’s too much already.”
He didn’t let up, determined. “Yeah, baby, you can. Come on my cock.”
I whimpered.
“Let go.”
I was his instrument and he had mastered the skill of making me sing. My body arched into his touch, my hips rocking faster with his. “Kline… I… Oh… God…”
“Fuck yes, give me one more.” His eyes focused on his hand moving over me, his cock sliding in and out.
I closed my eyes, my mind drowning in pure sensation.
My thighs quivered, my pussy tightening rhythmically around him, and my hips threatened to cramp up from the strain. A surprised cry escaped my lungs as I came hard and fast. My head was thrown back into the pillow, and I gripped his ass, pulling him forward while he rocked into me.
His eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as he chased his own release. His hair was mussed up, sweat wetting his brow. And God, his eyes, they were fierce and hooded with his impending climax.
“I want to feel you come.” I gasped, dragging my nails down his back. I needed to see him lose control, needed to feel his body when he came.
He stared down at my breasts that were moving with the force of his thrusts. His skin was sweaty and perfect, and I wanted to lick it off with my tongue. And when he looked up and met my eyes, I watched him lose control.
The moment felt like a dream—everything slowing down so I could imprint every second on my brain. His mouth moved in slow motion with each soft grunt, each guttural moan. And his movements echoed that I was seeing the real thing.
This was real. We were real. My feelings, his feelings, even though they hadn’t been said out loud, they were real. Deep down, I knew—he was it. My person. My soul’s infinitely interesting counterpart.
“Let’s stay here, wrapped up in one another until the sun burns out,” I whispered into his ear, once his body had stilled and my burning lungs had cooled enough to fill with breath.
He lifted my chin, staring into my eyes. My heart latched on to billowing blue and refused to let go. “I know you’re not ready to hear what I’m feeling, but just know, for me, tonight was more. It was everything.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me.
This moment would last forever. No matter what happened, I’d never forget the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the feel of him claiming every part of me.
I woke with a start, the brief confusion of my surroundings passing quickly enough that my hands slid across the sheets in search of Georgia’s warm, sweet skin within seconds. The hunt for heated skin turned up nothing but cold cotton.
I lifted my head and opened my eyes to continue the search, and the mid-morning sun filtering in through the glass windows highlighted her clothes from last night, strewn across the bench beneath the bay window. Sitting up to get a better visual perspective, I blinked the sleep from my eyes and scanned the room thoroughly, but still came up empty.
With my sense of sight foiled, the others engaged, and the sound of her voice echoing from down the hall turned my short bout of panic into pride. Beautiful and brilliant, the unpredictably vivacious woman down the hall had chosen me to share last night with.
Her voice wasn’t as pretty as the rest of her, though, the familiar, high-pitched, nails-on-a-chalkboard tune of her unrecognized song bringing a smile to my face. And it was loud. So loud—and unexpectedly inviting—that I got out of bed and threw on a pair of boxers to find out what she was up to.
Striding down the hall, I found her in one of the bathrooms. The door open and her body in motion, her back was to me as she slid a paint-covered roller across the wall and danced at the same time. Her voice boomed inside the small, confined room, and a Mary Poppins-like accent emphasized her tone. I’d never heard the song before, but I couldn’t tell if that was because I didn’t know the band or that she was only singing every third word.
In disbelief that I’d found her making her own episode of something on HGTV so early in the morning and without cause, I leaned against the doorframe and just watched her, drinking her in. Blonde hair sat on top of her head, curls cascading from a messy bun. She was a mess, earbuds in with her phone tucked into the side of my boxer briefs, and her black lace bra was the only other article of clothing covering her petite and curvy frame.
Her perfect little ass shook back and forth as she danced in place, painting the wall to the rhythm of whatever offbeat music filled her ears.
I crossed my arms across my chest, smiling at her obliviousness to my presence. She was painting the room the wrong color, smearing the light shade of blue I had decided I hated weeks ago all over the unfinished walls, but I didn’t care. She could paint the entire house this godawful blue—as long as she did it in her current uniform, and I got to watch. Bob and Maureen would have to learn to love it, because every time I saw it, I’d think of this—of her, of last night, and of this perfect, simple moment.
I couldn’t help but think, if I only made bad decisions for the rest of my life, at least I had made one really good decision with her.
Asking Georgia out was the smartest thing I had ever done. Period.
She turned to soak more paint onto the roller, and her hands flew to her chest, droplets of blue streaming across the room and staining everything in their path.
“Christ, Kline! You scared the bejeezus out of me!” she shouted, the accent of the band still hijacking the normal lilt of her voice. She removed her earbuds, letting the cords fall past her hips.
“My apologies, love,” I said, mimicking her English brogue.
Her cheeks turned pink, an embarrassed smile cresting her full lips. “Sorry, I’ve been listening to English rock bands all morning.”
I grinned. “You sound like a young Julie Andrews. It’s pretty fucking adorable.”
Georgia giggled, setting the roller down. She bounced around the room like a pinball, pouring more paint into the tray. Her excessive energy level piqued my interest.
“Did I wake you? God, I really hope I didn’t wake you up. I was up by five, and I couldn’t fall back asleep so I put on a pot of coffee. I watched Home Shopping Network for about twenty minutes and walked through the house, and then I saw the room and I figured why not make myself useful, right? So, yeah, I saw you had already painted one of the walls this color blue, so I decided to finish the job. Are you still tired? Hungry? I can make some more coffee if you want some?” Her words were strewn together in one giant, fast-paced, run-on sentence.
I tried to recall the last time I’d seen her take a breath.
She fiddled with bright blue painter’s tape while tapping a persistent foot against the squeaky hardwood floor.
I cocked my head to the side. “How much coffee have you had, sweetheart?”
She shrugged. “A few cups. I guess I lost count after three…or maybe it was four?”
My eyebrows popped in understanding.
“Anyway, what do you think? Are you happy with the color? I think I like it. It’s cheerful. Serene. Hopefully, your mom will like it. I guess her opinion would be the most important one, huh?”
I nodded. “I think she’ll love it,” I lied. “Have—”
“Fantastic!” she exclaimed, before I could ask her if she’d eaten anything. Her mind was like a damn hummingbird’s wing, flitting around from one thought to the next faster than the naked eye, or in this case, ear, could process.
She grabbed the roller again, sliding it into the tray, and resumed her painting with more-than-necessary focus.
“So, last night…it was…did you…” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes uncertain, and before I could offer a reassuring smile, her gaze was back on the wall, her arm sweeping up and down in quick succession. Her feet fidgeted a few times until she just blurted out, “I had a really good time last night!”
And the
light bulb went on.
Normally, I could get a pretty quick read on someone’s headspace, more quickly than this, but after waking up to find her painting my house, her beautiful mouth moving a mile a minute, I was a little off my game.
Georgia was nervous. And about a pot of coffee deep into the caffeine jitters.
She seemed uncertain if I’d enjoyed last night, which was insane. First time or not, Georgia Cummings knew just how to sexually woo a man.
A tight, hot pussy was just the beginning because the rest of it was what I would remember. The shake of her body, the gravel in her voice. The way her words turned into moans, and those, in the fiery inferno of her orgasm, gave way to nothing but enraptured silence. Her eyes held mine, and her heartbeat was my second favorite part of her chest.
Nirvana was the only way to describe it.
I knew she felt it along with me then, and I knew, deep down, she knew it now, too. I just needed to remind her.
I moved to the shower, turning the nozzle and letting the water warm up.
She glanced over her shoulder at the squeal of the pipes. “What are you doing?”
“Just want to make sure the plumbing is still good in here,” I lied. The only plumbing I cared about was hers.
I smiled in reassurance. She kept the suspicious face but turned back to her task.
Once the water hit a good temperature, I moved toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist, and whispered into her ear, kissing the soft skin of her neck.
“Hey, guess what?”
“What?” She shivered but didn’t stop painting.
I kissed her jaw and stepped back, holding my hand out. “Let me borrow that roller for a second. I have a little trick that makes it easier,” I lied again.
She shrugged, handing it to me. I set it down in the tray, glancing at the shower and noting the steam rising from the floor.
Perfect.
