"I’m coming. Oh, oh, I’m coming!"
My whole body goes off. Lights explode before my eyes. My nipples grow inches long. It’s like a wave of bliss slams into me everywhere.
Best. Orgasm. Ever.
It goes on and on, my body pulsing and throbbing. I’m moaning and moaning. Then I collapse on his bed. And giggle.
Sawyer rises from my pussy. He grins and I have no idea what to say. After all, I hardly know him. I’m usually shy with people I don’t know.
"You like?" he asks, teasingly.
I nod.
Balanced over me, biceps bulging, he kisses me. He tastes of my pussy—ripe and musky, slightly salty. His lips are wet with my juices.
Originally, I wanted to learn about thrilling a guy from him. But now I just want to give Sawyer what he gave me.
"I want to suck you off," I whisper awkwardly. "Could you teach me how to do it?"
Chapter Three
I get up and sit on my haunches on his bed, my hands on my breasts to cover them, because I just can’t sit there confidently naked. Sawyer stares at the curves of my boobs, pushed up by my hands. Some women might get annoyed that he’s looking at the breasts and not at the face, but considering he didn’t look at the huge, almost-bare breasts on screen, I feel privileged.
His gaze moves up. "Claire, I’m not asking you to do something for me that you aren’t ready to do."
Sawyer is unlike any gorgeous guy I’ve ever known. Gorgeous guys in my home town knew they were good-looking, and tried to get everything they could. As fast as they could. That was Trey’s reputation. Now I’m starting to wonder why I actually liked him.
"Oh, I’m ready," I say.
I wriggle down the bed until my face is in line with his crotch. Hooking my fingers in the waistband of his pants, I lift up and kiss the bulge of his erection. I kiss along the line of the zipper. Run my tongue over the hard, long ridge.
I want to make this sexy.
Trying to be sexy is very fun.
Sawyer, braced on his arms on the bed, looks down at me. "You’ve never done it before?"
I shake my head. I gaze up at his truly spectacular violet eyes as I undo the snap of his fly. "But I want to try."
But am I filling him with fear? My inexperienced teeth are going to be near his—well, some pretty sensitive places.
But he says, "You are gorgeous."
Okay, I like the way this is going.
To be daring, I take the zipper in my teeth—not in the most graceful way—then try to tug it down. When I get stuck part way, I finish with my hands. White briefs peek out at me.
In the soft light, I can just barely get a sense of what the cock in those briefs must look like. I can see how it curves, pressing against the cotton. It’s so thick and hard and is held so snugly, I can see bulge of the head and even a hint of the crown that rings the head.
I press my lips to the cotton-covered ridge and kiss it.
Above me, he groans.
I kiss my way to the head, and when I find it, I suck it through the fabric. His earthy, rich smell surrounds me. Now I’m eager to unveil his cock and kiss it for real.
"I want to do it really well," I tell him.
He looks at me under his long lashes. "I’m going to love anything you do. Just imagining your beautiful mouth on me—hell, I’m ready to explode."
But I need to know what to do to thrill him. "Could you tell me what you like?"
"You want me to guide you through it?"
"Yes." I arch up and kiss the full head through his undies again. "I want you to explain it to me step by step."
He laughs at that. "I wouldn’t last if I do that. Surprise me, Claire."
That doesn’t help. He pulls his jeans down to his thighs, allowing me to take his briefs down. I hold my breath as I do, excited and nervous.
His cock springs out, rigid and thick. It points upward and I follow the length with my eyes, taking in every detail. I never dreamed the first time I saw a guy’s cock it would be mere inches from my face.
It’s so long. That I didn’t expect. I mean, girls talk about size and length and I overheard conversations in school. We were in puberty and things like penis size were to be marveled over. Anything over eight inches elicited ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. One guy in our school was supposed to have a penis that was twelve inches long, though no one actually admitted to have seen it up close and personal.
Even though I never dated in high school, I read about sex. Different acts, different kinky things. I had a friend who used to get instructional books like: How to Thrill a Guy in Seven Sex Acts and Successful Secrets of a Modern Courtesan. We used to read them in her bedroom. In those books, size was discussed a lot.
I have no idea how many inches Sawyer possesses but it looks enormous.
I love its aroma—it smells ripe and rich. I wonder if it tastes like it smells. In mere moments, I’m going to find out.
His prick looks primitive, I realize. Veins run along it. It is a dusky color, almost purple at the head, which I guess is from all the blood surging in it.
I part my lips. Without further ado, I gobble the head inside my mouth. My eyes open wide at how much I have to stretch my mouth to take him in. He really is huge.
Now that it’s in my mouth, what do I do with it?
I dab at it with my tongue. The head is satin smooth, the crown a firm ring. On the shaft, his skin is like velvet over steel.
When I explore with my tongue, Sawyer groans.
When I strum my tongue across the full head, around the crown, he moans.
When I start to suck hard, he cries out. When he shouts, it’s a deep, sexy, hoarse cry.
I made him do that.
It was that intense.
Quivers go through me. I want this to be so good for him. Going intense must be the way to thrill him, mustn’t it?
My jaws start to hurt, I’m sucking so hard. I go up and down his shaft. He fills my mouth so much—I never quite expected that. I can’t go further than halfway down his shaft. I’d love to take him all the way in, but how do you do it?
His hips start to move in rhythm to my bobbing. I have to clamp my mouth tight around him to control him.
I realize: he’s all mine right now. I can do whatever I want. I touch his balls, fascinated to see what they feel like. Soft, wrinkly, and I can feel the testicles inside. Then they tighten up as I play with them.
I can indulge every fantasy I’ve ever had.
I can stroke his amazing balls and discover all sorts of intriguing information. I can run my fingers over his pronounced hip bones—one of his sexiest parts.
Of the dozens of sexy parts he has.
I stroke his ass. He has the hardest, tightest, most incredible butt. It’s way firmer than mine of course. As he pumps slowly into my mouth, against the resistance of my lips and tongue and suction, his muscles flex.
I wriggle my finger between his ass cheeks and work it a little way into his anus. Just like he did to me.
"Claire." His voice is kind of strangled. His cock grows in my mouth.
I let my lips open wider to accommodate him and his cock swells and thickens against my tongue. Then he jerks his hips up and I feel his shaft pulse and the head grow huge. I feel him shooting. Suddenly I have a mouthful of fluid—it’s slightly sour, musky, and thick.
I’ve never done this before, but I read it is supposed to be an intimate gesture to swallow. Anyway, I don’t know what else to do.
When I gulp it down, his hips lurch and his shoulders lift off the bed. He moans long and hard. His cock softens in my mouth, and I feel powerful. I give him a last vigorous sucking. I want to make this last forever.
"Whoa!" He jerks upright.
He touches my head. "I’m too sensitive." A rough laugh comes from deep in his chest. "I can’t take anymore."
Sliding his arm underneath me, Sawyer scoots me back up on his bed. Then he kisses me deeply, even though I must taste of him.
He
breaks the kiss, falls onto the bed beside me. "You’ve really never done that before?"
"First time." Then I wonder if I should have pretended to be more experienced. I always thought guys would like virgins. In high school, I discovered girls were made fun of for being virgins and mocked for having sex. It was a no-win situation.
"No one’s ever done that before. You know, put a finger in my asshole. I didn’t know—fuck, it was intense."
Fuck. Actually, I would kind of like to do that right now. I’m worked up again by giving him pleasure. But he seems satiated and happy. So I’ll go with that.
I don’t know what to do now. Should I ask?
Sawyer yawns. "I’m tired, Claire. Would you like to spend the night here?"
He yanks down the sheets and lifts me again to work them down underneath me. I squeal in surprise. We share a smile and the moment leaves me breathless. His hair is tousled, his eyes sleepy. His breathing slow and heavy.
I’ve done that to him.
We’re naked and he wraps his arms around me, in his bed, after pulling the covers over us.
"I should go back to my dorm," I mumble. But I don’t want to drag myself out of his warm bed.
"Don’t go. Sleep here tonight, with me. I’ll drive you back to the campus in the morning."
I really do want to spend the night with him. But…"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Just down the hall. I’ve got a robe hanging on the door. Use that."
As I get out of bed, he settles on one of his pillows and closes his eyes. I thought he might stay awake until I returned. But he seems really exhausted.
His robe smells of him and I wrap it tight around me. It trails almost to my ankles.
In the bathroom, I wash my hands. I hope he did like it. He came really hard, so it must have been okay.
When I get back to his room, Sawyer is curled up on his side. He looks so boyish and beautiful in his sleep. I can’t believe I just had my first sexual experience with this gorgeous guy. I mean, even without penetration, this is definitely an erotic experience.
Lifting the covers, I slip into bed beside him. My feet slide down his long bare legs. I cuddle up to his tight, naked butt and wrap my arm around his narrow waist. My breasts are against the hardness of his back, my fingers are brushing against his thick pubic curls, and my crotch is tight to the amazing curves of his ass. It’s mind-blowing.
Later, in the middle of the night, I wake up and roll over. Sawyer rolls over too, and spoons against me, soft cock against my bottom, his hand resting gently on my breasts.
True, I don’t know a lot about Sawyer, other than the fact he’s gorgeous and sexy. And he races street bikes. And he does one night stands, which is something I’m trying not to think about. Lying in bed with him snuggled against me is so thrilling it takes me a long, long time to go to sleep.
Maybe this is the last time I will see him.
God, I hope not.
* * *
In the morning, I wake up alone. That surprises me, scares me, makes my stomach drop to my toes. I pull on my clothes. He left me in bed and went…somewhere. Upstairs, I guess.
Was it just to get breakfast and not disturb me? If so, that was sweet. But if I’d woken up first, I think I would have just wanted to watch him.
I go up to the kitchen and walk in expecting to see Sawyer because I hear male voices…
Conversation stops.
Two guys are seated at the kitchen table—one is blond, the other has long auburn hair that spills over his t-shirt clad shoulders. The handsome guy with the shaved head is frying bacon. A lot of bacon. An entire one-pound, cellophane-sealed package, in fact. He scoops out the strips, drops them on a plate, and eats a few pieces with his fingers while frying more.
I recognize them all from last night when I arrived. Sawyer’s roommates.
"Uh." I say. "Hi."
Since I’ve never had sex with anyone, I’ve never done anything like this before: I’ve never been in a guy’s house first thing in the morning, with a bunch of strange roommates I don’t know. I feel weird and self-conscious. I mean: they know why I’m here. It’s not like I can pretend Sawyer and I were just studying and I fell asleep in a chair.
My stomach clenches with hunger. But what do I do? I’m Sawyer’s guest. What is the etiquette? Has Emily Post ever written an entry on the proper behavior when scavenging food that belongs to the roomies of a guy with whom you sort of had a one night stand?
In the light of day, now I can’t believe I got pretty intimate with a guy I barely know. It’s completely unlike me. No wonder Sawyer has had so many one night stands at Yardley. He just makes you melt. He made me so aroused that my brain couldn’t think of anything but wanting him.
And again the question rears up: What’s going to happen now? Will I see him again?
Should I even sit down at the breakfast table? Someone has brewed coffee but no one has offered me any. This is far beyond the capacity of a shy and awkward girl to figure out.
Then Sawyer strolls into the kitchen. He has his cell phone against his ear. His expression is tense, and he rubs his thumb across his forehead. "Does it have to be tonight?" he asks into the phone.
His expression turns grimmer. "Okay. Okay. I’ll do it. Usual time and place? Yeah. Got it. I’ll be there. Threats aren’t necessary, man."
Threats? Who is threatening him?
He hangs up, looks at me. The hard expression remains for one moment, then he grins. "Good morning," he says. He comes up to me, pulls me to him, and kisses me. A deep, long, slow kiss. I stand on my tiptoes. I’ve never been kissed like this, like I’m the most beautiful person in the world. It’s exhilarating.
I kiss him better now that I have more experience. My kiss is softer, more skilled, more playful. Definitely more passionate. I don’t feel clumsy now. I’m just dissolving in the sheer emotional, arousing pleasure of caressing his mouth with mine.
Someone whistles. Someone else says playfully, "Get a room. No, wait—you have one. Go use it."
The guy frying bacon shouts and slaps at his arm, where bacon fat hit his biceps.
I’m blushing when Sawyer breaks the kiss. "Is there any other food in the fridge?" he asks casually.
"There’s beer," says the blond guy.
"Breakfast of champions," adds the auburn-haired roommate, unhelpfully.
Sawyer rolls his gorgeous eyes. He looks to me. "Let’s go out for breakfast."
We grab coats and shoes, and he leads me outside through the garage. It’s a two-car garage, filled by a large black pickup truck and a trailer that had something standing on it, covered in a tarp. There are workbenches and shelves, all of them covered in tools, tool chests, rags, and an assortment of shiny chrome objects that must be car or motorcycle parts.
Sawyer pauses. Turns to me. "Want to see my bike?" At my confusion, he adds, "My race bike." He pulls off the tarp.
"Wow." All my breath whooshes out and I’m dazzled.
When I’ve drawn another breath, I say, "That’s the most sensuous piece of machinery I’ve ever seen."
His eyebrows rise at my comment.
Cautiously, I approach the bike. It is glossy cherry red and all sweeping curves. It barely looks like a motorcycle. It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. There could be a whole futuristic TV show made about this bike, it looks so cool. I reach out to stroke the curve of the seat, then stop myself.
"Can I touch it?"
"Of course."
I run my hand over the smooth, supple leather, then my fingertips glide along the shiny, scarlet cowling. I think that’s what it’s called. Then I touch the seat again. This is where Sawyer’s incredible ass sits and where his crotch rests when his legs are spread to straddle the bike. Just thinking of that makes me feel hot and liquid inside.
"It’s really beautiful. It must be very valuable."
"Reasonably so," he answers, noncommittally. "I’ve upgraded it a lot myself."
I look around. The whole
garage is a workshop. "Do you get the whole garage to yourself?"
"That’s the deal. I own the house."
"Own the house?"
"Yeah. I rent the rooms mainly to give other guys a place to live at a reasonable price."
Jenna had said he made a lot of money from racing bikes. I guess it’s true. "Speaking of which, why was your roommate eating so much bacon?"
"Because he bought it. He knows if he leaves it in the fridge, everyone else will eat it."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Food in the fridge is always fair game. So any guy that brings in food tends to eat it all at once."
Sawyer grins and I know it’s true. He hauls up the garage door. I love watching his back muscles bunch and move under his coat as he does it. We take his gorgeous red car—I guess I know his favorite color.
A few minutes later, we’re in a diner on Westingham’s main street for their brunch buffet. We’re sitting in a booth by the window, drinking coffee. Sawyer reaches out and strokes my fingers. It’s such a sweet gesture, it surprises me. All I heard about from my friends were his one night stands, where he and his partner parted in the morning and didn’t hook up again.
I try to think of something brilliant to say, but nothing comes. "Do you like racing bikes?" Duh—I’m sure that’s obvious.
But he frowns thoughtfully. "I don’t know. At the beginning, I loved it. Loved the speed. I liked the money—I needed it for my mother’s treatments. The truth is, I also liked proving I was the best. But you can only make money if you have a sponsor." Sawyer sneers on the word sponsor. "What I didn’t understand was that once you’ve done that, you’ve sold your soul."
As a high school outcast, I spent a lot of time watching people. Reading them. I can see intense anger behind his cool expression.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"My sponsors call the shots. Without their high stake bets, I wouldn’t be hauling in so much money. I have to do what they say. It means that if he wants me to throw a race, I have to do it."
"But you don’t want to stop because you need the money."
"Yeah, that’s the basic problem."
Our waitress comes with our plates of food. Sawyer gets the ‘blue collar special’, which includes 3 servings of sausages, bacon, and ham, along with eggs and home fries. I’m having waffles and fruit.
Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart Page 43
