Sticky

by Nina Lane

  “Oh, I can’t take it!” I writhed desperately, my ass squirming on the comforter. “It’s too much… oh, God… oh!”

  Ben murmured something and worked his fingers faster, driving my need higher and higher. Before I could stop it, an orgasm ripped through my body in wave after wave of ecstasy. I bucked my hips up toward Ben, tears slipping from my eyes over the sheer intensity of pleasure.

  He continued licking and stroking me until the final sensations ebbed, and I fell back, limp and exhausted.

  “Good girl,” Ben said, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he lifted his head.

  “Oh, Mr. Hunter,” I gasped. “I had no idea it could be this good.”

  A smile curved his mouth. He pulled up to lie beside me and covered my mouth with his. I tasted the tangy flavor of my own body on his lips, and fresh desire tingled through me. After a long, thorough kiss, Ben slid his hand over my naked breasts.

  Through the haze of lust, I realized he was harder than ever, his cock almost visibly pulsing. I shivered, pressing my legs together. As much as I wanted to feel him pumping into me again, I also wanted…

  I darted my tongue out to lick my lips, not sure how to ask. Heaven knew I wasn’t accustomed to asking a man for anything sexual, but I was also too shy to try and demonstrate.

  Finally I reached down to stroke his erection, shivering anew at the sensation of the smooth, veined skin against my palm. His body jerked in reaction, his breath hissing out. Emboldened, I cupped my breast with my other hand.

  “Would you… use these?” I asked.

  Heat flared in his eyes, and his cock twitched against my palm.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he whispered.

  “I don’t know how…”

  “Lie back,” he ordered. “Press your breasts together.”

  Captivated by his husky command, the return of the dominant Mr. Hunter, I lay back on the bed and pushed my full breasts together to create a deep valley of cleavage. Ben shifted over me, his body taut with restrained lust, his muscular thighs hugging my sides.

  “Nice and tight,” he murmured, positioning his cock at the underside of my breasts. “Just like that… ah, yeah…”

  With a grunt, he thrust his erection into my cleavage. I gasped, my body jerking upward with the force of the thrust. Then he pushed back and did it again.

  Oh my God…

  I couldn’t believe it. I could only stare as the swollen head of his cock appeared intermittently in my pillowy cleavage, the pathway dampened by his fluids and my perspiration. I struggled to keep my breasts pressed together tightly as Ben fucked them again and again. His balls slapped against the underside of my breasts, his sculpted chest glistening with sweat.

  “Tighter, honey,” he urged, his voice hoarse. “Christ, you have incredible tits. I’m so goddamned close…”

  Fascinated and aroused all over again, I watched as his expression tightened and his whole body seemed to vibrate with the impending power of an orgasm. His cock slid between my breasts once, twice…

  “Oh, fuck.” Ben pulled out of my cleavage and grasped his slick shaft, stroking it from base to tip. His head fell back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he creamed all over my breasts.

  Our breathing rasped through the air as Ben collapsed on the bed beside me. I rubbed his semen into my breasts, wondering why I’d ever thought this particular act was “gross.”

  It was messy, raw, and not at all polite, but watching Ben work himself to an orgasm like that… I shuddered with a fresh wave of pleasure.

  “Fucking incredible,” he said, pulling me to him for another hot, open-mouthed kiss. “I’m not letting you go, Maddie.”

  I settled my body against his and rested my head on his shoulder. As I closed my eyes, an unwelcome response penetrated my foggy, sated mind.

  I don’t want you to, Ben.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‡

  Ben woke me at dawn, nuzzling his face into my hair and rubbing my bottom, his big hand warm and strong. The lovely haze of sleep pulled me in the other direction. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so deeply.

  “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered in my ear. “I want to show you something.”

  “I don’t want to see it,” I mumbled.

  “Trust me, you do.”

  With a grumble of protest, I hauled myself out from under the covers. Ben’s discarded T-shirt lay at the foot of the bed, and I slipped it over my naked body before going to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. I padded out to the kitchen, where the scent of coffee roused my senses.

  I leaned against the doorjamb and watched Ben pouring a cup of coffee. In drawstring pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, his jaw rough with whiskers and his hair messy, he looked so yummy I thought I just might have him for breakfast.

  He approached to hand me the cup. “Milk, no sugar.”

  “How did you know?” I wrapped my hands appreciatively around the warm mug.

  “That’s how you had your coffee at dinner last night,” Ben said, giving me a wink. “I pay attention to you.”

  The area around my heart softened with appreciation. I couldn’t remember anyone ever making me coffee. I was always the first one up in the mornings to start the coffee, prepare breakfast, and pack lunches. Certainly no one had ever noticed how I actually liked my coffee.

  I brought the mug to my lips. The first delicious sip of rich French Roast almost broke my heart.

  Ben poured himself a cup of coffee and added milk and one teaspoon of sugar. When he started to pass me in the doorway, I grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt and yanked him toward me. I pressed my mouth hard against his, a whimper of need lodging in my throat. A second’s resistance spread through him before he braced one hand behind me and slanted his mouth over mine.

  “Careful,” he murmured, his voice laced with husky amusement. “I’ll fuck you right up against the wall.”

  “Yes, please. This wall. Right now.” I slid my hand under his shirt to touch his flat belly. “Is that what you wanted to show me, Mr. Hunter? Your big, hard dick?”

  Ben laughed. “Bad girl. I’ll be more than happy to show it to you later. Come on.”

  He grabbed an old quilt from the sofa and opened the sliding glass door to the wooden deck overlooking the beach. A gust of cold air wafted into the room along with the rhythmic sound of ocean waves. The sky was still dark, only a seam of light on the horizon indicating the approach of day.

  I yawned. “What time is it?”

  “Almost six. Sit down.” He gestured to one of the deck chairs.

  I stepped onto the deck, shivering, and sat down, tucking my legs underneath me. Ben wrapped the quilt around me, and I snuggled into its warmth as he sat in another chair beside me. The contrast of hot coffee and cold ocean air woke me up further, but it wasn’t until the sun began to peek over the ocean that I came fully awake.

  “Oh.” The word escaped me on a sigh.

  As the sun rose, brilliant red and gold streaked across the sky and over the ocean, polishing the blue-gray water with shimmering light. It was like watching a painting come to life—a blaze of colors leaping and dancing, washing away the darkness of night.

  Neither Ben nor I spoke as we watched the sun rise, though I was acutely aware of his close proximity, his thigh pressing against mine.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, turning to him with a smile. My heart gave a leap at the sight of him, all lazy and sexy sprawled out in the chair, his body relaxed.

  “Thought you’d like it. It’s one of my favorite things about coming up here. Sunsets too. We’ll go down to the beach tonight to watch it.”

  He pushed up from his chair and took my empty coffee mug. “Hungry?”

  I nodded, my belly rumbling on cue. It was such a relief to give myself a break from thinking about healthy eating and calorie counting. Ben had brought a bunch of food with us from Sweetwater, and I sat at the breakfast nook while he cooked eggs, bacon, and thick-cut cinnamon toast.

&nb
sp; A man had never cooked for me before. I felt warm and almost treasured as Ben put a plate laden with food in front of me and refilled my coffee.

  “Mmm.” I took a bite of bacon and closed my eyes in bliss. “I’ll have to give you a really big tip.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  If I’d had some idea that we would spend the entire day having sex, I was wrong. I knew the hot, dominant man from the principal’s office was still there, though I also loved discovering all the other sides to Ben Hunter. We shared one of the strangest and most beautiful mornings I’d ever spent anywhere.

  We lingered over breakfast—I usually never had time to linger—then I indulged in a long, hot bubble bath in the claw-footed tub. When I dressed, I didn’t bother putting on a bra, enjoying the way my naked breasts bounced and swayed. I pulled on clean panties and Ben’s T-shirt again, loving how it enveloped my body and fell halfway down my thighs in a waterfall of soft cotton.

  Aside from a quick call to my children, I didn’t check my cell phone. I didn’t put on any makeup, worry about a schedule, or think about anything except how good this felt.

  Ben lounged around in his pajama pants, reading a paperback novel and then working on a model of a pirate ship. I leafed through some old magazines and wandered around the cottage, examining a bottle filled with sea glass, an old oar painted with a picture of a lighthouse, and an intricate drawing of a starfish. The shelves lining the living room were cluttered with books about ocean life, fish identification, coral reefs, and seashells.

  “You’re really into the ocean,” I remarked, pulling out a book about whales and dolphins. “Is that why you bought this house?”

  “Partly.” Ben glanced up from the model. “I always wanted to live close to the beach. When I was a kid, I wanted to be either a pro baseball player or a marine biologist.”

  “Really?”

  “Turned out I had a lousy pitching arm, and the schools didn’t do much marine education, so I guess both ideas died. I’ve always been interested in marine life and oceanography, though.”

  He wiped his hands on a rag and turned in his chair to face me.

  “So what did Madeline Collins want to be when she grew up?” he asked.

  “Maddie Larsen,” I corrected.

  Ben smiled. “What did Maddie Larsen want to be?”

  “See if you can guess,” I said.

  I half expected him to say a ballerina or a princess. Instead he said, “An astronomer.”

  I laughed. “Why an astronomer?”

  “Because you’d want to try and make sense of mysteries like galaxies and stars. To impose order on the universe.”

  “Thanks for thinking I could actually do that,” I remarked dryly. “But actually, I wanted to be a gypsy. I loved the idea of traveling as part of a caravan, playing music, and cooking over a campfire.”

  “Really?” Ben lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

  “I know, right? I was seven at the time, though, so I wasn’t exactly practical back then.”

  An unexpected twinge went through me. I could hardly remember that seven-year-old girl who wanted to run away with the gypsies.

  “Then when I got older, I wanted to be a photographer,” I continued. “My father was an amateur photographer, and I remember he used to take me with him when he went out to take pictures of old bridges and farms. That was before he left, of course.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “Another woman.” I looked at my hands, the pale circle of skin on my finger where I’d removed my wedding ring. “At least, that was what my mother said. She was convinced she wasn’t a good enough wife, so she drilled it into me that I had to be exceptional or my husband would leave me too.”

  I’d done better than she had, I supposed. Richard hadn’t left me.

  A bitter laugh stuck in my throat. Oh, the irony.

  Ben pushed to his feet and stretched, the movement pulling his T-shirt across his broad chest.

  “So why didn’t you become a photographer?” he asked.

  I became a wife instead.

  “Just never had the opportunity, I guess.” I set the book back on the shelf, no longer wanting to talk about lost dreams and missed chances. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  We pulled on jeans and took a long walk on the beach before returning to the cottage for two games of backgammon. A flirtatious exchange led us into the bedroom, though instead of a wild sex romp, we ended up snuggled together for a late-morning nap.

  I yawned and stretched, feeling my muscles lengthen gloriously as I woke again. Beside me, Ben’s body was warm and heavy with sleep, his hair-roughened legs entwined with mine. I shifted, rubbing my breasts against his arm.

  I pushed up on my elbow and looked at Ben’s face. His eyes were closed, his dark brown lashes like little feathers against his cheekbones. In sleep, with the intense blue vitality of his eyes concealed, he seemed somehow vulnerable.

  I put my hand on his bare chest and felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. I made circles on his pecs, admiring all over again how rock-hard and sculpted he was. Never having explored a man like this before, I let my fingers trace the ridges of his abdomen to his belly button and the V of pelvic muscles leading to his groin.

  My heartbeat increased. I slid my palm down his flat belly and below the waistband of his drawstring pants. His cock was warm and flaccid. I cupped the shaft in my hand just as he stirred, a grunt rumbling through his chest. His eyes opened, cloudy for a second before they cleared and focused on me.

  “What’re you doing, naughty girl?” Ben mumbled.

  I wasn’t sure, but I also wasn’t about to stop—especially when his cock began to harden. A heady thrill of power raced through me. I squeezed a little tighter and rubbed my hand up and down his shaft, circling my thumb around the velvety head.

  “Exploring,” I whispered.

  “Mmm.” He rested his head back against the pillow. “Go right ahead, Columbus.”

  So I did, knowing he would never push me away. I touched the pulsing veins of his shaft, moving lower to where his heavy testicles were pulled tight between his legs. I ran my hands over his strong thighs, the ridges of his kneecaps, then back up to his groin and abdomen. I was awed by the hard power of his body and the knowledge of how beautifully he and I fit together.

  “You’re incredible,” I breathed. “The girls must be all over you.”

  “I want a woman, not a girl.” Ben grasped my waist and hauled me up so I was straddling his thighs. Fire lit his eyes as he tugged at the front of my T-shirt.

  “Off,” he ordered.

  I took hold of the hem and pulled the shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Ben groaned with appreciation at the sight of my bare breasts and reached up to rub and squeeze them. My nipples stiffened instantly under his touch. Currents of heat flowed into my blood. His cock was fully hard now, sticking right up in front of me in invitation.

  “These too,” he said, plucking at my panties.

  I slithered the panties over my hips. Ben held my waist, and I lifted my body, positioning myself right over his erection.

  A sudden wave of self-consciousness hit me—I was naked and on full display—but Ben’s gaze was so hot that my unease quickly waned. I started lowering myself onto his cock, gasping at the sensation of the hard knob parting my folds, pressing into me. In this position, he felt even bigger, if that was possible. I curled my fingers against his chest and sank down with a groan.

  “God, Ben…” I wiggled my hips, trying to absorb the impossibly full sensation of him throbbing inside me.

  “Move,” he said, digging his fingers into my hips. “Work your gorgeous body up and down. I want to see your breasts bounce.”

  A shudder rocked me, goosebumps prickling deliciously over my skin. I tried to smother another wave of shyness, old disgraceful reprimands that a lady would never straddle a man and shamelessly ride his cock.

  But I would.

  I braced my hands on Ben’s chest and lifte
d my hips, then went down again. A jolt of heat flooded me as he pushed back into my channel.

  “That’s it, honey.” Ben tightened his grip on my hips. “Do it again.”

  I did, rocking my hips back and forth, sliding up and down. With every downward thrust, he filled me. Pleasure radiated through my nerves. I was sharply aware of my breasts jiggling as urgency compelled me to move faster and faster. Beneath my hands, his chest moved with increasing breaths, his eyes like lava as he raked his gaze over my body.

  “So fucking incredible,” he muttered, pushing his hips upward to match my movements. “Harder now… faster…”

  With a moan, I began riding him in earnest, as my embarrassment over what I was doing gave way to the need for release. Sweat broke out on my skin. His shaft was like hard, malleable wax inside me, hitting that sweet spot that fired my blood.

  “Faster,” Ben ordered, his voice gritty. “Come on, now, work for it… ah, fuck…”

  He moved one hand behind me, and next thing I knew, his broad palm slapped against my ass. I shrieked, the mild sting spreading a delicious warmth over my skin. I leaned forward, bracing my hands on either side of his head and jutting my bottom out so he’d have better access.

  Our gazes clashed. He gave me a wicked smile.

  “You like that, Maddie?” he asked, spanking me again.

  “Oh…” I moaned and wiggled my ass against his hand. “Yes, Mr. Hunter…”

  I worked myself up and down on his cock, desperate to reach the bliss that hovered just beyond my reach. My clit ached, the friction of his shaft stimulating my urgency in ways I hadn’t known existed.

  “Spank me again, Mr. Hunter, please…” I begged, both shocked and thrilled by my utterly brazen pleas.

  His big hands landed on my ass again in a series of sharp slaps. I groaned, feeling my skin redden with prickling heat. Ben spread his hands over my bottom, rubbing to soothe the sting. I slipped my hand down between my legs to touch my swollen clit.

  “No.” Ben grabbed my wrist and moved my hand away. “You’re going to come just from my cock.”

  I stared at him. I’d never had an orgasm that wasn’t from direct clitoral stimulation—mostly administered by my own hand, while Richard grunted on top of me…