Falling Into You: The Complete Naughty Tales Series

by Nicole Elliot

  “And flour,” I said as I reached my hand out.

  I slipped my thumb over her cheek and dusted the powder off her face. I watched her blush as a grin crept across her cheeks and I couldn't stop staring at her. The way her eyes lit up and the way her skin flushed underneath my touch.

  “Come on in. Everything’s almost ready. I have a glass of wine for you and everything.”

  “Wow. First-class treatment,” I said.

  “You gave it to me. So I figured I would return the favor.”

  Her apartment was nice. Much more decorated and lived in than mine was. Her hardwood floors were shiny and her furniture was plush. She had a sturdy kitchen table with two chairs over in the corner. Lit candles were dancing on top of the table and two glasses of red wine were sitting there untouched. The smells wafting around my head made my stomach growl, and Ivy chuckled all the way in the kitchen.

  “I heard that,” she said.

  “It smells wonderful in here.”

  “I’m about to get everything settled on the table,” she said. “Take a seat. Rest.”

  “I’ll sit when you’re with me.”

  “Unless you want me to sit on you,” she said.

  “Is that an option?”

  She poked her head out from beyond the corner of the kitchen doorway and stuck her tongue out. It was a cute gesture that made me chuckle as I stood by the table. I picked up the glass of wine and took a sip of it before my eyes bulged.

  It was decadent.

  It was also expensive.

  “Ivy, you really didn’t have to-”

  “I’m not going to hear a word of it,” she said as she came striding from the kitchen. “I’ve got two bottles of that stuff for us to enjoy. So drink.”

  “How much did you spend on these?” I asked.

  “I didn’t ask you how much the ticket was.”

  “Ivy…”

  “Sit, Dean. One more dish and we’re ready to go.”

  The homemade lasagna made my mouth water, but it was the homemade garlic bread that drove it home. There was a wonderful tossed salad to pair with everything. To bring it all together. I wanted to talk with her, but I couldn't stop eating. The food was magnificent. The cheese melted in my mouth and the meat was rich and hearty and the garlic bread steamed with every bite I took.

  “My mother always said that if no one was talking at the dinner table then that was the true compliment to the chef.”

  “Then she was right,” I said. “Ivy, this food is fantastic.”

  “You can thank my mother for it. It’s an original recipe.”

  “You could sell this somewhere and make a killing.”

  “Or I could lure unsuspecting men into my apartment and feed them until they burst.”

  I grinned at her before I took another bite of the lasagna.

  “My mother used to make meals like this all the time,” Ivy said. “Massive spreads, too. We didn’t have family to invite over, so we would invite the neighbors. And they loved it. They brought the drinks and desserts and my mother cooked all the food.”

  “Was the lasagna a hit?” I asked.

  “It was everyone’s favorite. But her favorite was her eggplant parmesan.”

  “Hmm, that dish sounds familiar,” I said with a grin.

  “Delivery’s makes a really good one. Not quite like Mom’s, but it’s up there.”

  “Nothing is ever quite like Mom’s,” I said.

  A somber mood fell over the table and I slid my foot over to hers. We ate in silence for a little while with my leg resting against hers. I never talked about my family with people. Never mentioned them. Never acknowledged them. It was too painful. Too much sorrow all at once. But with Ivy, I felt like I could mention them. Reminisce a little bit with her.

  But not tonight.

  I wanted tonight to be full of laughter and smiles.

  “I should just pay you to make me freezer meals,” I said only half joking.

  “Mmm, this kind of food isn’t good after it’s been frozen,” Ivy said.

  “Then I guess I’m stuck eating takeout.”

  “You know you could become a better cook if you… you know… cooked.”

  “I’m not so sure my kitchen would make it out alive if I tried to cook on a regular basis.”

  “Because you’re terrible? Or because the equipment is faulty?”

  “Trust me, I’d blame it on the equipment,” I said with a grin.

  “Then maybe I can give you cooking lessons.”

  “Will you help me stir the pots?” I asked.

  “What? You mean like wrap my arms around you from behind and murmur gently into your ear how to boil water?” she asked.

  I chuckled before I started in on my salad.

  “I don’t think you’re going to have much food left after I’m done with it,” I said.

  “Well, whatever you don’t eat you can take with you. I’ll pack it up in some tupperware and put it in a bag for you.”

  “You aren’t going to eat any of it?” I asked.

  “I can cook it,” she said with a grin. “And I wouldn't want you wasting away, either. Those muscles of yours are too glorious.”

  “So you like the view.”

  “Why do you think I talked with you at the fashion show?”

  “And here I thought you talked to me because of my personality.”

  “A personality wrapped up nicely in a big, meaty package,” she said coyly.

  After a beat of silence, I took a chance. I ran the toe of my shoe slowly up her ankle. I held her gaze, watching as her coy little grin morphed into a shy smile. She went back to eating her food, but she certainly didn’t move her leg. If anything, I could’ve sworn she pushed it further into my touch.

  Into my caress.

  I didn’t take Ivy for the type of woman to sleep with a man on the first date.

  But if the option was there, I certainly wouldn't turn it down.

  “What was your favorite part of Tokyo?” I asked.

  “The cherry blossom garden,” Ivy said. “I could’ve stood on that bridge for hours and listened to the water trickle on by.”

  “The pictures you sent me were beautiful.”

  “Trust me. They didn’t even begin to capture what I saw while I was there. I’d go back to Tokyo just to walk that garden through one more time.”

  “Then it really must’ve been something,” I said.

  “Dean, I’m so-”

  I slid my toe up the back of her calf and her words caught in her throat.

  “Don’t,” I said. “It’s in the past. Your work is important and someone needed your help. If there’s anyone who should understand that concept, it’s me.”

  I watched her nod her head as my toe slowly drifted back down her skin.

  “If you want me to-”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  Her eyes fluttered up to mine over the table as I took a long pull of my wine.

  “I mean, it’s fine,” she said. “You’re… you’re fine.”

  The blush in her cheeks was unmistakable and I felt myself buckling towards her.

  “Do you want some more?” Ivy asked.

  “Depends. Is there dessert?” I asked.

  Her eyes came back to mine and I watched her swallow. I watched that beautiful red percolate down her neck. Accenting the light tan in her skin and the few sparse freckles she had that littered her body. She was a vision. An angel wrapped up in a beautiful wrapping paper. I held her stare as she scooted her leg back, and I felt my stomach drop.

  I’d pushed her too far.

  “Ivy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t-”

  In a flash, her lips were on mine. She was out of her seat and hovering over me with her hands planted onto the arms of my chair. Her knee slid between my legs, perching on the small part of the chair she could access. Her lips tasted like wine and marinara. The sweetest combination of her heritage and the talent behind her nimble fingers. She pressed herself further
into me. I could feel her chest pressing against mine. My hand rose to cup her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Then I slid my tongue across her lips and smiled when she granted me access.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ivy

  His tongue sparked electricity in the tips of my toes. The feeling of him running against my skin was too much for me. I wanted him. I craved him. And it made it hard to resist him. Dean, with his beautiful green stare and his thick black hair sitting atop those stern, chiseled features. His thick muscles blanketing his form, looming in front of me as he scarfed down the dinner I’d made for him. It was all too much. A man being appreciative of something. His toe running up the back of my calf. His eyes dripping with guilt when he thought he’d pushed me too far.

  Dean was the perfect combination of gentlemanly and selfish.

  And I couldn’t help myself.

  His tongue slid across my lips as his hand connected with my cheek. I straddled his lap, feeling the chair slowly creak underneath our weight. His tongue collided with mine and my mind erupted into a sea of sparkles. Colors and distant sounds all froze at the forefront of my mind as his hands fell to my hips. Massaged my excess. Ran up my back before cloaking me with their strength.

  His arms.

  Oh, how his arms felt.

  Warm and seductive. Passionate and possessive. I pressed my lips further into him, begging him to take me. Begging him to take control. I fisted his pale green polo shirt. The one that made his eyes burst into a kaleidoscope of colors. I pulled him as close as I could get him. I ground into his throbbing cock as it grew against my body. Thick. Juicy. Long.

  It made me shake simply thinking about it.

  His hands grabbed my ass before he stood from the chair. My hands wrapped around his neck, holding as tightly to him as I could. He carried me effortlessly to my couch. As if I weighed nothing in the palms of his hands. He sat me against the cushions before he knelt down onto the floor, his hands sliding up my shirt. Up my stomach. Up my sides.

  He reached around and unclasped my bra before his hands slid under to massage my nipples.

  “Dean,” I said with a whisper.

  I heard him groan at the sound of his name and it made me smile. His lips fell to my neck, suckling on my skin as he moved. I rolled into him. Heat pooled between my legs. My hands fisted his hair as he pushed my shirt up, eventually pulling it over the top of my head. I let my bra fall to the floor. I let him take in my nakedness. He licked his lips and I watched his eyes darken to black, and the look he gave me sent shivers down my spine.

  He leaned forward and drew my nipple between his lips, and I was done for.

  “Dean. Yes.”

  I fisted his hair. Pressed his face further into my tits. His hands slid my pants down until there was nothing covering my body from his salacious torture. He lapped at my skin and suckled my nipples to engorged peaks. His hands massaged every part of me. My sides. My waist. My thighs. My hips. I felt his hands part my legs, pressing against my knees as my scent filled the air around us.

  “Fuck,” Dean said with a whisper.

  He dropped between my legs, this burly man with muscles that pulsed with an aching want. He nuzzled my pussy, coating his nose in my arousal before his tongue lapped up my slit. His tongue was hot. His mouth was soft. His strokes were filled with purpose and his hands held me close to him. Pinned my hips down so I couldn't move as juices dripped down my ass crack for him.

  His eyes fluttered up to mine before he smirked, then he dove in and left me breathless.

  He found my clit and sucked on it. Flicked it. Pressed his tongue deeply into it. The stubble from his five o’clock shadow tickled the sides of my pussy lips while his hands dug into my skin. I couldn’t move. Couldn't breathe. Fire burst behind my eyes as electricity surged through my body. I dug my heels into the floor until he tossed my legs over his shoulders. Leaving me with no leverage and a feel for him that I craved.

  I felt his back muscles twitching with everything it took to pleasure me.

  “Dean. Shit. Oh yes. Please don’t stop. It’s been so long. So long. So long.”

  I ran my hands through his hair, pulling him closer as he moaned into my dripping pussy. He finally released my hips and I bucked ravenously into him. I lost control of myself. Control of my words. Control of my passions and wants and my mind. His hands slid up my sides. Around to my back. He splayed his touch in the arch of my body as my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

  “So close. So close. So… clo-.”

  All of a sudden, my body pulled taut. My pussy began to pulse. My legs quivered and my lungs stopped working and silver streaks burst in my vision. I could hear him lapping. I could feel him swallowing. Opening his mouth to engulf my pussy and drink me down for dessert. I gasped for air. Whimpered into my living room. The smell of Italian was long gone, and in its place was a mixture of my womanly scent and Dean’s cologne.

  I loved that smell.

  I didn’t want it to go away.

  I collapsed to the couch before he slid away from my body. He stood up from the floor and I could hear clothes dropping to it. But my eyes were heavy and my body was weak. I couldn’t look at him. Reach out to touch him. I couldn’t even say his name.

  Then, he scooped me up into his arms.

  My back fell to my bed before his lips crashed to mine again. And they revived me, as if I’d been brain dead from a heart attack. My legs parted to accommodate his thick body and he fell into me. His hands roamed my body as my tongue licked my taste off his skin. I felt his cock. I felt it dripping along the inside of my thigh. I wrapped my feet around his calves and rubbed my pussy lips along his engorged length, desperate to feel him inside of me.

  “Dean, please,” I said breathlessly. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  His eyes connected with mine, and then that telltale smirk crossed his cheeks.

  He reached down and guided himself into me and my eyes bulged. Shit. The man was massive. I arched my hips and opened my legs as much as I could, but I still had to adjust. I still had to breathe. Like I was a virgin for the first time again. His fingers threaded with mine and I clamped down onto the back of his hand. Dug my nails into his skin as he slid into me, inch by inch. I never thought he was going to stop. I didn’t think his cock would end.

  And then his hips connected with mine and all thoughts to the contrary were forgotten.

  I bucked against him. Rolled my hips as my pussy gobbled down his cock. My tits jumped against his chest and my lips wouldn’t stop kissing him. His cheek. His forehead. His neck. His shoulder. I bit into the meat of his muscles. Sucked on patches of rock hard strength while his cock slammed into me. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. Opened myself for him as much as I could.

  His knees planted onto the bed and he reared back, his hands grabbing my hips.

  “Hang on,” he said.

  “What?” I asked breathlessly.

  He fucked his cock with my body, sliding me up and down his length. And the electricity and the pleasure were too much to bear. My nails curled into his thick thighs. His forearms pulsed with bulging veins. His cock grew against my walls and my pussy fluttered around him, trying to push out the massive intrusion while simultaneously taking what it wanted. I was helpless against him. Helpless to his assault as my body gave itself over to the man on top of me.

  The man between my legs.

  The man with the tricky grin and the comforting eyes.

  “Dean. Dean. Oh my gosh. I can’t… don’t stop. I beg you, don’t stop.”

  “Ivy. You have no idea how… good you… you feel.”

  Skin slapping skin filled the room, sending my mind into a frenzied state. I felt juices pouring down my ass crack and coating his balls. I felt my heels digging into the mattress as I rose to his thrusts. He bit down onto his lower lip as my hands cupped my tits, massaging their aching peaks and chasing my own end. I was out of control. Chaotic. Greedy. Dean po
unded into me, our bodies colliding at lightning speeds while his muscles twitched for my viewing pleasure.

  I’d never come back from this.

  That much I was sure about.

  “Dean! Yes! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Oh... fuck.”

  My back arched and my hands curled into the sheets beside me. I shook. Quaked. Throbbed as ecstasy poured through my body. My pussy milked his cock and I felt his hips beginning to stutter. His grip on me became soft and his body fell to mine. He hit his hands, then his forearms, then nothing. Just his body against mine as I throbbed around his cock. He exploded inside of me. Painting my walls with his hot cum as my pussy swallowed him whole. Pulled him deeper into me with each pulse of lecherous desire.

  His hands found mine and he intertwined our fingers. He was jumping on top of me, matching the pulsing of his cock and he emptied into my body. My body stilled. My chest heaved. And my hands rested within the palms of his. Dean’s lips found my neck and began to kiss. His nose nuzzled my jawline before our mouths connected again. A sweet kiss timed perfectly with the sliding of our fluids from between my legs.

  But I didn’t care.

  With Dean, I didn’t care about anything.

  And I fell asleep with him on top of me and his cock still sheathed within my body.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dean

  When the alarm on my phone went off, the sound was distant. It barely pierced the dreams rattling around in my mind. I opened my eyes and took in a deep breath, but the air didn’t smell like my apartment. It smelled like wine. Smoke. The faintest hint of lasagna. My eyes slowly opened and I felt something draped around me. Something warm and soft. I drew in another deep breath and caught wind of it. That sweet, decadent smell I bathed myself in the night before. The memories came rushing back. Crashing over my body as my cock pulsed against my stomach.

  I saw a thick head of blonde and green hair splayed across my chest and I smiled.

  Ivy.

  I had stayed with Ivy last night.

  My alarm pierced my thoughts again and I unraveled her from me. Her arm was slung around my waist and her leg was tangled up between mine. I hated to peel myself away from her. I hated to get out of bed. But I was due at work and I needed to clean up beforehand. I slid from her body and out of her bed, watching as she turned over and curled up with a pillow beside her. Gravitating towards anything she could cling to.