by Avery Flynn
“You like that, do you?”
Hell yeah was the scream that went through her head, but all that came out of her mouth was another moan because he did it again and again before sucking one nipple into his warm mouth and doing things with his tongue that sent shots of electricity through her body. This wasn’t foreplay. This was a religious experience.
“Someday, I’m going to fuck these and come all over them.”
The mental image of his cock sliding between her breasts as she held them close together was almost too much. She didn’t just want that. She needed it. But before she could make the demand that they do just that right now, Frankie plucked at one nipple while rolling the other between two fingers, and the snap and crackle of that robbed her of any thought. All she could do was feel.
“I can’t wait to watch these tits bounce when I fuck you, when I bury my cock so deep in you that you’ll still feel it tomorrow.”
She fought for words, for the ability to seize back some control before she fell into the abyss of feeling that made her forget everything else but the man beneath her. “Maybe I like it slow and soft and sweet.”
One eyebrow went up. “Really?”
He cupped her breast and lifted it to his mouth, watching her as he grazed his teeth across the sensitive nipple with just enough force to make her suck in a quick intake of breath as she rocked against him, needing relief from the rough heat of his attentions.
“I’m not so sure you’re telling the truth about that.” His breath against her flesh was like a wave of fire against her wet nipple, which was aching for more attention. “Are you, Lucy?”
His hands glided down her body, over the more-than-a-handful curves to her hips, where he lifted her up and away from him without even a hitch in his breath. The agony of being away from him nearly made her cry out.
“If you want me to fuck you, you need to be honest. That’s the only way I can give you what you want.” His gaze traveled across her exposed flesh, and by the time he was eye to eye with her again, lust had turned his blue eyes dark and his jaw had hardened as if the effort to not just throw her down and bury himself inside her was costing him. “But you have to say the words.”
Jesus. The man got bossy any time her panties got wet. Okay, part of what got her panties wet was him getting bossy, but she wasn’t about to admit to that.
“I don’t want nice and sweet.” Okay, she wasn’t planning to admit it, but her mouth had other ideas.
He settled her down on his lap again, positioning her so that there was no missing the thick steel of him against her, so close and yet so far away from where she wanted him most.
Letting out a harsh groan mixed with mumbled words that sounded a lot like “fuck me,” he glided his hands up her back, following the line of her spine. “What do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me like you mean it.”
And there it was, proof that being naked with Frankie Hartigan was pretty much truth serum, because it wasn’t enough that she wanted him to want her, she wanted him to want her so badly that it was like he’d been waiting years just for her. That it wasn’t just fucking. They were doing something more, something that took feeling good to feeling absolutely amazing—something that mattered. His gaze snapped back to her face, a sharpness in his eyes that made her think he hadn’t missed her meaning.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since you parked that ridiculous car of yours in my garage.”
Tension stretched taut between them as the narrative of just what this night meant began to morph into more. The realization made her pulse hiccup, and that old familiar ribbon of doubt that tied her insides into knots threaded its way through her.
“That must have made for some uncomfortable driving.” Defensive joking? Her? Oh yeah, that was exactly what she was doing.
“You have no idea.” Then he reached up and fisted her hair, pulling her head back and stealing the words from her mouth. “Now I want you to get off me, lay that gorgeous body of yours on the blanket, and spread your legs wide.”
In an act of physical grace she didn’t know she was capable of, she swung herself around and did exactly what he’d said. Following orders wasn’t normally her thing, but the idea of not doing what Frankie asked didn’t even occur to her.
“Fuck me,” he said as he looked at her spread out before him. “I cannot believe I’m lucky enough to be the man who gets to fuck you. If you don’t want that, you better tell me now, because it’s all I can think about.”
Good to know she wasn’t the only one. And while it was kind of awesome to be looked at like she was the Venus de Milo come to life, she wasn’t sure how much more of his studied gaze she could take. She planted her feet on the blanket and lifted her hips, offering herself to him in all but words. He bit out a curse and got on his knees between her legs. He slipped his hands around her ass and lifted her higher before finally lowering his mouth to her aching core.
He didn’t just lick or taste or curl his tongue around her clit. He feasted. He did things with his tongue and lips that she couldn’t describe beyond the fact that it turned her entire body into a supercharged live conductor of sexual need. There was nothing else in the world but Frankie’s hands palming her ass, keeping her in place even when the sensation got to be too much, his mouth doing magical and probably illegal things to her sex, and the building sensation tightening her belly and making her lungs tight. This was it. This was the edge that he was going to push her off of, and she was so happy to go flying into space because she knew without even a slight hint of a doubt that when she did, Frankie would be there to catch her.
And she did come, her orgasm making her vibrate from her calves all the way up to her core until it built into one final body-arching climax that exploded in Technicolor vibrancy. It washed away all of the ugly that she’d endured during the week and left only a satisfied, blissed-out peace in its wake. It took a million eons, but she eventually surfaced from that post-orgasm coma and cracked her eyelids open. What she saw demolished that sleepy sensation and brought back that hungry, needy feeling in half a heartbeat.
Frankie sat back on his heels at her feet, looking down at her with his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking it up and down, the bellend of it slick with pre-come. It was too much for a woman to see and not beg for more.
“Frankie.” That his name crossed her lips sounding more like a plea than a demand didn’t bother her in the least. Not now. Not while he was staring at her like that. “I need you inside me now.”
“I wish I could.” He grimaced. “Trust me, you have no idea how much I wish I could.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“No condom.”
Holy. Shit. On. A. Stick. It would be comical if it wasn’t so heartbreakingly frustrating. She was on edge, reaching for relief. She wasn’t about to let a thin piece of latex keep her from the one person who could give her exactly what she wanted, what she needed. So she decided to break her no condom, no nookie rule.
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “My tests are all good.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, more concern than entreaty in his voice. “I promise, I’ve tested clean for everything.”
Words were her stock in trade, the kind that turned shit situations into public relations dreams, but this wasn’t the occasion for it. This was a moment for action. So she rolled onto her knees, wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, and licked him from root to tip. Then, while maintaining eye contact, she slipped her fingers between her legs and rubbed her clit while sucking him deep in her mouth. Staying like this was a temptation, one she’d give in to another day.
“This is good, but I’m not going to be satisfied until you’re filling me up and making me beg for more of your cock,” she said. “Does that answer your question?”
His only answer was to yank her up from the ground, spin her around, and press his hand between her shoulder blades so she bent over and braced herself by
putting her hands on the storage box. She widened her stance, looking over her shoulder at the man who had done this to her. He looked wild, staring at her with an intensity that nearly made her come just on that alone. She lifted her hips, sending him a universal invitation to bury himself balls deep, but he didn’t come to her. Instead, Mr. Patience just stood there like a stubborn giant in the moonlight watching her.
“Frankie,” she said, her voice a desperate whisper. “Please.”
…
Frankie was ready to fall to his knees with relief when she said yes, but his cock had other ideas. It usually did. And now, looking down at her sweet ass, so full and round as she looked over her shoulder at him, something shifted in him. He’d like to say it was a gentlemanly determination to go slow, give her everything she needed. It wasn’t.
What shifted in him was whatever tie he had to civilization. The mine that roared through him at that moment was so strong, so visceral, that he couldn’t even begin to lie to himself about being a modern man. This need, this sense of being a part of her was too real to be anything other than primal.
“Frankie,” she said, the plea in her voice going straight to his balls. “Please.”
Who was he to deny her? As if he could deny her anything.
Pulse pounding, he knelt down, lined up with her wet folds, and slid home for the first time in his life without a condom.
Fucking A. Sensation jolted him down to his toes as he sank deeper and deeper into her welcoming warmth. It was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. Correction. She was like no woman he’d ever known. The instinct and need to pull back out so he could plunge inside her again had a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, but he wasn’t ready to give her up yet. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever would be.
However, Lucy—being Lucy—took matters into her own hands, pumping herself forward and back against his dick, controlling the pace and the depth as he reveled in the sweet torture of it all.
“You feel so fucking good,” he managed to get out before she stole his breath again with a figure eight move with her hips.
“I could ride this cock all night. I’m gonna come so hard on you.”
Her unrestrained honesty flipped a switch inside him, reminding him this wasn’t just about how his dick was feeling. This was something more, something he couldn’t put into words yet. So he tightened his grip on the soft flesh of her hips, bringing her back hard against him. And when she let out an answering moan of approval, he did it again and again until she was meeting him stroke for stroke, giving him everything. It nearly broke him seeing how beautiful she was at that moment, her lust unfurled like a flag and flown for all to see. Then, when he thought he couldn’t take another moment of delicious friction, she started begging in nonsensical words that conveyed more than any well-worded pleas could.
Closing his eyes, he fought against the climax building at the base of his spine and plunged inside her over and over, leaning forward to change the angle and deepen the stroke, until she let out a scream of pleasure and came on his cock, milking it as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body. It was all he could do to take measure of the moment before the string snipped and he lost the last thread of control, coming inside her so hard he lost himself in the sensation as she called his name.
By the time he’d come back to himself, he and Lucy were somehow sitting on the blanket. He had his back to the metal storage box, and she was sitting between his legs, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as he held her tight.
“I don’t care how old I live to be,” he said, dipping his head down and kissing his way up the long line of her neck. “I’m never forgetting that.”
She laughed, the carefree sound carrying over the water. “Good, because I’d hate to be the only one who remembered.”
“Next time, we’re going to be somewhere that I can keep you all night so I can roll over and wake you up in the best way possible.”
“Next time, huh?” she asked, relaxing against him as they snuggled closer and looked up at the stars. “Isn’t that rather presumptuous of you?”
“Nope.” Not if he had anything to say about it. This was only the first of many times.
She pushed up from resting against him and twisted so they faced each other, a teasing grin curling her lips. “Your ego is even bigger than your—”
“Cock,” he interrupted.
She threw back her head and let out a throaty laugh. “I was going to say car, but yeah, it’s bigger than that, too.”
He answered that bit of impertinence with a kiss, and she settled back against him. They sat in companionable silence, watching the stars twinkle above. Frankie wasn’t a stranger to post-coital cuddling. Usually his brain was spinning out ways for him to leave sooner rather than later. This time, though, he just wanted to let the world go on by. So when Lucy started to make a move to pull away, he tugged her tighter instead and wracked his brain for something to talk about to get her to stay longer.
“No matter what your dad says,” he started, not sure where those words were going, but the need to keep her here like this under the stars where it seemed like the rest of the world was just a dream was too strong. “I’m not afraid of real risk.”
She looked at him, the ends of her dark hair tickling his chest. “You talked to my dad about your ‘thing’?”
“You mean my stupid idea to stop having sex?” Because holding her like this right now, he was convinced he’d never had a worse idea than to put an obstacle between them.
“When did it become a dumb idea?” she asked.
“The minute you got in my car.” Yeah, that was about the reality of it.
She kissed the spot on his chest where he could feel his heart beating and then rested her cheek against that same spot. “What did you talk about?”
“Well, he talked. I just kept telling him I wasn’t going to talk.”
“And that shut him up, did it?” She chuckled against his bare chest, the puffs of hilarity tickling his skin.
“No. He’s kind of like you that way.” Okay, he was a lot like her that way. “He said I was afraid of real risk, of emotional risk.”
“But you’re not?”
“No.” He wasn’t an idiot. There were things in his life that scared the shit out of him—most humiliating among them was his bone-deep fear of clowns and talking squirrels. “I just don’t want to do to someone I love what my dad did to my mom.”
The breath left his chest. He’d never said those words out loud. To anyone. It was the dark secret he’d carried for so long, he didn’t realize how heavy it had become until he offered it to Lucy. He felt a little dizzy with the lightness invading his body, but maybe that’s just because he’d forgotten to breathe. He took a deep breath and focused on the woman in his arms.
Lucy, always a woman in motion even when she was sitting, went still. “What are you talking about? They are the happiest couple I know.”
From the outside, that’s exactly what they looked like. Frank and Kate, married for decades with a raucous, close-knit family who didn’t know the truth. Didn’t understand what kind of man they sat down with every weekend for family lunch. But he did, and the one thing that scared him more than clowns or talking squirrels or talking squirrel clowns was the chance that he could turn out like the man he was named after.
“That’s what I thought, too,” he said, keeping his face turned up toward the stars, but he wasn’t seeing them anymore. “In high school, I went down to the firehouse and caught my dad kissing one of the secretaries from headquarters.”
They’d been pressed together. His dad had his back to the wall and the other woman, Becky he’d thought her name was, had been glued to his dad from toes to lips, clinging to his old man like he was the oxygen she’d needed to breathe. Just the mental image of it all these years later hit him like a gut punch by Godzilla that left him gasping for breath again.
“What did you do?” Lucy asked, her voice soft, comforting.
> He’d raged. He’d cursed. He’d wanted to take his dad’s head off. But he didn’t. Once the red cleared, he thought of his mom, his brothers, his sisters. What would they do if his dad left? It would break their hearts. And if there was one thing he’d never let happen, it was to let them hurt. He’d distracted Finian with a bullshit mission to get something from the corner store before his brother caught sight of Dad sucking face with Becky. Then, he’d confronted his old man.
“I told him that if it stopped, I’d never tell.” Oh, his dad had told him some bullshit line that it wasn’t what it looked like, but Frankie was old enough by then to know what he had seen.
“And did he?” Lucy asked.
“Yes.” He’d watched his dad like a hawk after that, always mindful, never letting the others know what was going on, never letting on that there was a problem.
The silence stretched between them as the old nightmare ghosts flooded up to the surface, along with the guilt of keeping such a secret from his family. Part of him had wanted—still wanted—to tell them everything, unburden himself, but he couldn’t. It was bad enough that his dad thought so little of his family that he could do something like that. There was no way he could do the same. So if that meant he shielded them from the ugly and ate the bile that rose each time he saw his mom look at his dad as if the sun rose and set on his smile? He’d take it. If it meant they got to live the lives they wanted, he’d take it.
“Are you sure it was a thing, or could it have been a weird moment?”
How many times had he asked himself the same, especially when there was never even a hint of a repeat or shady behavior on his dad’s part? “Even back then I knew the difference between a kiss and an I-want-to-fuck-you-against-a-wall make-out session.”
“Wow,” she said, sounding anything but impressed. “I never would have thought it.”
“Neither has anyone in my family.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her close so the top of her head fit under his chin. “You’re the only one I’ve ever told.”
“So why didn’t you tell the others?”
