by Mina Carter
Lifting a hand, he crooked his finger, beckoning her with that hot “‘I’m in charge’ look on his face. But a little devil sat on her shoulder, leading her down the path of temptation with a hop, skip, and a jump. Lifting her chin in defiance, she shook her head.
Goose-bumps raced along her arms, over her shoulders as her nipples tightened, rubbing and pressing against wet fabric of her dress. Given the design, she’d had to forgo a bra, something she hadn’t even thought of this morning but which now seemed tantamount to pre-meditated seduction. His gaze latched onto them, the tight buds easy to see through the wet fabric. The look on his face turned hard, almost feral.
“Come here, Frankie,” he ordered, the low sound shivering along her skin. “Don’t make me fetch you.”
She wanted to giggle, but the sound caught in the back of her throat as he lunged for her. Squealing in delight, she tried to scoot around the large island in the middle of the kitchen, but he was too fast for her. Before she’d taken a step he wrapped her up in his arms, turning and pinning her against the solid counter as his mouth came down on hers.
Her pussy clenched hard as he parted her lips and thrust his tongue deep, confident of his reception. He had a right to be. As soon as his lips claimed hers any thought of resistance was washed away. A moan broke free from her lips as she wound her arms around his neck, pressing as close as she could. Her skin itched, the blood in her veins simmering with need as she kissed him back desperately. She needed to get closer, touch him. Run her hands all over the satin skin, the steely muscles she’d become so familiar with. Claim them…claim him all over again.
A groan rumbled from deep within his broad chest as he wrapped a big hand around the back of her neck to angle her head just the right way. He didn’t just kiss her; he kissed her like she was the last woman on earth. Devouring her as though he couldn’t get enough.
Tension drove the heat up in the room as he shoved the thin straps off her shoulders. The wet fabric clung to her skin, foiling his plan. A short sound of frustration was lost against her lips as he hooked a finger between her breasts and yanked the dress down. She gasped as the fabric abraded her nipples, and her breasts popped free of their confinement. Her damp skin pebbled as the air washed across them, her nipples aching for his touch.
He tore his lips from hers as his large hand covered her. Cupping the generous globe, molding it and rolling the nipple between his fingers before he leaned down and flicked his tongue over the tip. She groaned, head thrown back to thrust her chest higher, a silent demand for more.
“Let’s get you out of this wet dress,” he murmured, working his way up her neck with tiny kisses as he pushed the dress the rest of the way off, leaving her clad in just her panties, the tiny thong leaving nothing to the imagination.
Her hands weren’t idle though, working the buttons down the front of his shirt and pushing until she had it half off his shoulders. Her mouth watered as the solid lines and muscles of his chest were revealed to her eager eyes. God, he looked good enough to eat.
Her gaze flitted to the basket on the counter next to them. Good enough to eat. And she hadn’t had dessert…
“Baby? What are you doing?”
His voice rang with confusion as she broke away from undressing him, leaving his shirt halfway down his upper arms, effectively pinning him in place. Of course, the bondage was a mere illusion; with the corded strength in his upper body and arms, he could have shredded the shirt in seconds and escaped. Instead he let her turn him around, a frown creasing his brow as she rooted through the basket until she found what she wanted. The lines on his brow increased as she snapped the top off a box and she found it hard to contain her giggle as she dipped her finger inside.
Then smeared chocolate frosting across his broad chest.
“Oh God, you’re gonna kill me.” He groaned as she smoothed more of the stuff over his nipples. His hands were clenched at his sides, the knuckles white as she painted the other nipple.
“What? You expect a girl to go without dessert? Sorry, bud, you’re just gonna have to stand still and suffer.” Leaning over, she took a swipe at his chocolate-covered skin and groaned in pleasure. Chocolate and Gray; she couldn’t think of a better combination.
She worked him over in short swipes and long licks, taking her time as she reached his nipples. He gasped as she bit down on one lightly, nipping at the sensitive flesh. The sound of tearing cloth mingled with his groan as the shirt gave under the strain of his bunched muscles.
“Stay still.” Her order was sharp, authoritative as she tapped his chest warningly. He wasn’t the only one who could be bossy…and it was well past her turn. Leaning back, she studied his chest critically. No chocolate left.
“Well this just isn’t good enough. I’m still hungry.” She pretended to pout, then blinked as though she’d had an idea. His breathing caught as she reached for his jeans, unsnapping them with efficient gestures to get at the thick, heavy length of his cock within.
“Hm, this should just about do it,” she murmured as she released him, the rigid shaft leaping eagerly into her hand. A shudder ran the length of his big body as she pumped lazily, then reached for more chocolate. She grinned.
His eyes glittered as he watched her smooth a generous layer over his dick and then slide to her knees in front of him. Her mouth watered at the delicious treat in front of her. Chocolate cock, her new favorite dessert.
“When you’re done, I’m gonna fuck you until you scream,” he promised, the rough words cut off with a gasp as she leaned forward and licked him. The taste—rich, dark chocolate and pure Gray—exploded on her tongue. She moaned, well past any teasing now, and opened her mouth to suck the broad head. He was big but she loved the taste and feel of him, of his thick cock in her mouth, and the frosting was just…well, the icing on the cake. A moan of pleasure in the back of her throat, she feasted on him. Licking and nibbling along his thick length, she worked with everything she had to arouse him and get every last bit of chocolate.
Humming with happiness, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around him. His soul-deep groan stroked her feminine ego as she bobbed her head up and down. Sliding and stroking along his cock as she took him deeper.
“Fuck! Frankie, you’re—” The shirt tore again, and his big hands were in her hair, fingers shoving through the tumbled strands as he held her lightly. His hips jerked, his cock pushing farther past her lips before he got control of himself. Tension held his body taut, the lines of near pain on his face telling her just how much control he was exerting over himself not to just let go, tighten his hold, and fuck her mouth until he came down her throat.
Humming and using her tongue to vibrate against the underside of his cock, she resumed her attentions. Relaxing her throat, she took him as deep as she could and then sucked as she pulled her head back. Back and forth, slide and suck until his hips jerked continuously and a stream of soft curses and moans slid from his lips.
His balls tightened suddenly, cock pulsing in her mouth and he swore, dragging her from him.
“Fuck, no! Not yet.”
She pouted as he hauled her upright with more strength than finesse, but the expression on his face, the feral glitter in his eyes, put paid to any argument.
“My turn.”
His words were little more than a growl as he lifted her, swept the island counter free of everything on its surface, and laid her down in the same movement. It was her turn to gasp as he wound his hand through the string of her thong and yanked. The delicate fabric tore loudly. With a stifled grunt, he shoved her knees up and apart, parting her legs and leaving her completely open to him.
Cold air washed over her, pulling another gasp from her lips at his new roughness. His hands shook as he slid them down her thighs to part her swollen lips. Color washed over her cheeks as she realized the picture she must present, laid out over the counter like some sort of offering to a pagan god. The pagan god of pleasure that was Gray.
He didn’t speak, j
ust leaned forward and swept his tongue over her soaking pussy lips. Pleasure burst through her at the warm, wet stroke. Then all bets were off as he groaned and started to feast. No gentle touches, soft licks, or tentative exploration this time. No building her up gently to an earth-shattering orgasm as she was used to. Instead he thrust his tongue deep into her cunt, fucking her with hard, fast strokes before moving up to her clit.
Lick, flick, suck. He rolled the little button of nerves between his lips, then suckled as he flickered his tongue over it in a maddening dance. Giving her no chance to recover, he thrust two thick fingers deep inside her and curled back, hitting her G-spot with unerring accuracy.
She gasped, reaching out to cling to the sides of the counter as he ate her pussy with a ruthlessness she had only guessed at before. She shuddered, a scream ripping from her throat as she started to come. A growl of triumph rumbled through him as he held her hips down and thrust his tongue deep inside her pussy again, as though feeding from the hot torrent of her release.
He didn’t stop, flicking her clit and driving back into her again, elongating the pleasure until she was almost mindless with it. Her breath came in low pants and shudders, broken phrases as she begged him for something, anything. Finally, his hold loosened. Whimpering, she lowered her legs, but he wasn’t done. Surging to his feet, he wiped his mouth then reached out to flip her over.
Her tits pressed against the cool granite of the counter, hardened nipples rubbing against the smooth surface as he held her down with a big hand in the center of her back.
“That’s what you get for teasing me with chocolate,” he grated, kicking her bare feet apart. She bit her lip as he shoved two fingers into her pussy from behind, pumping lazily as his thumb grazed her hypersensitive clit. “God, you feel fucking amazing. I love fucking you.”
His hand disappeared and a packet rustled, then his fingers were replaced by something thick and hot at the entrance to her pussy. She moaned as he pushed in, the broad head of his cock breaching her body. No matter how many times they did it, every time he took her she caught her breath, unsure if he was even going to fit. Normally he was gentle, waiting patiently for her to adjust. But not this time. Instead he grunted and pulled back before pushing again, working his way into her in short, sharp movements until he was seated to the hilt.
She whimpered, her cunt throbbing around the thick intrusion of his cock. It burned, the feeling of being full almost painful.
“That’s it, baby, you got all of me.” He kissed her shoulder, reaching around to slide clever fingers against her clit. She moaned and arched back against him, the change in angle making them both shudder as pleasure cascaded between them.
“That’s it, shove your arse back,” he urged, fingers playing over her clit and he started to thrust, taking her with short, powerful strokes. “God, you’ve got a great arse. I love fucking you from behind.”
She couldn’t answer, her mind blown as he bent her over the counter and fucked her in the way she’d been dreaming of for weeks. Not gentle. Hard and visceral. Raw and powerful. Man and woman coming together in their most basic form. She panted, pressed against the granite as she thrust back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke.
All too soon her body trembled. Her release rose up, engulfing her in ecstasy as she screamed his name, pleasure rolling through her in an unstoppable wave of lust, need…and love.
* * *
This was shit.
The simple thought rolled around and around in Gray’s head as they sat in the darkness and listened to the warbling coming from the stage. It wasn’t that he was against singing as such, but this just wasn’t his cup of tea. He was more a rock type of guy than whatever they called this.
The theater.
A wry grin twisted his lips. Who would have thought it? Him. Leighton Gray, the bad boy of Standford Hill, at the theater. Not only that, at the theater with Damon Cross’s pretty sister. His gaze slid to the woman at his side and he reached out to take her hand, lacing his fingers through hers carefully. She was so tiny and delicate; he worried about hurting her.
Except in bed. He’d scared at first that he was too big for her, that he was hurting her, so he’d been careful, always holding back. But after their encounter in the kitchen a few days ago, when she’d pushed him past the limits of his control, he’d realized that she could take him. More than take him, that she actually liked it hard and fast.
Need hit him, his cock surging to life, hard and heavy against the inside of his pants in a heartbeat. He wanted her again. He always wanted her; even when they’d just done and she was exhausted he could go again, bury himself in her silken warmth and just stay there forever. If he had his way, they’d spend all their time in bed.
The sex between them was amazing, absolutely mind-blowing. Good in bed, pretty, intelligent, all the players on the team adored her…even if that little twat Bryant kept trying to chat her up. Even then, though, she dealt with the situation as capably as she did everything else. Turning his flirty comments back with a gentle humor that had everyone laughing with, but not at, him.
Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, smiling as she flicked him a glance, their gazes meeting and holding. Encouraged by the look in her eyes, he leaned forward and claimed her lips. A soft kiss that lingered. He tried not to think about the private box they were in, or the fact she was wearing a flowing skirt.
It would be so easy to gather her into his lap. No one would see if he pushed the fabric up, releasing his cock so she could sit on it, impaling that pretty little pussy on his aching length as she rode him, taking them both to heaven and back in the darkness.
Her breathing caught in the back of her throat, making that little sound he found so damn sexy. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t, that he’d let her watch the show without trying to distract her, but her soft lips were too much of a temptation. Nibbling across the full expanse of her lower lip, he persuaded her to open her mouth for him. As soon as she did, he deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue along hers in slow, wet thrusts that mimicked what he wanted to do to her with his body.
She made that sexy little sound again, turning and wriggling closer. For a moment it was all Gray could do not to grab her and pull her into his lap, the thought of taking her here, with everyone in the boxes around them being none the wiser, threatened to have him shooting his load right then and there in his pants.
She pulled away with a gasp, her hand tangling in his loose hair. He’d stopped tying it back when she’d said how much she liked it down around his shoulders.
“Leigh, I know you got the tickets for tonight, and it’s lovely—”
She stopped, biting her lip as she looked up at him. He lifted her hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles and silently urging her on.
“But… Could we go? Home. To bed?” She wriggled closer and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. Hidden in his pants and in the darkness, his cock jerked savagely. “Please?”
“Hell, yeah. C’mon.”
Heat added wings to Gray’s heels as they left the theater, leaving behind the warbling strains of whatever the hell song the performers were mangling, and spilling out into the warm night air outside. Happily, he wrapped an arm around Frankie’s waist as they trotted down the steps and turned toward where he’d parked his car.
“You’re not too upset, are you?” she asked as she stroked the small of his back. An idle touch that only fueled the fire rampaging through his veins.
“Not at all. Why?”
She grinned up at him, an impish expression that made him want to stop, pin her against the brick facade of the theatre, and kiss the living daylights out of her.
“The theater’s nice, but I was kind of hoping you’d take me to see Ransom instead,” she said, naming the latest action blockbuster.
Time stretched out and in the eternity between one moment and the next, Gray knew this was it. He was in love. Completely, irrevocably,
undeniably head over heels for Frankie Cross. The fears he’d felt, that he wasn’t good enough for her, not bright enough, not classy enough, were still there. After all, he was the kid from the roughest estate in town whereas she’d grown up in a big house in the most expensive area.
Determination filled him. None of that mattered. He would make sure he was good enough, study hard for a career after he stopped playing, something that meant he could provide for her. Marry her.
That was it. He would marry her.
He gave in to his impulse, stopping to haul her into his arms right there in the middle of the pavement and kissing her until she was breathless.
“Oh my,” she whispered as he eased her back down to her feet. The fact she was so much smaller, that he could pick her up and hold her in his arms never failed to make him feel totally male. Like when he had her stretched under him, naked and begging for his cock. “What was that in aid of?”
“Nothing. Just because.” He grinned. He wouldn’t tell her he loved her yet. Not until he was down on one knee, a ring in his hand. Tomorrow. He could get a ring tomorrow and ask her after he’d taken her to see Ransom as she’d asked.
* * *
He was going to marry Frankie Cross.
The enormity of the thought filled him to bursting as they reached the car and buckled in. A smile crept over his face as warmth and love for the woman sitting next to him spread out to fill every cell in his body. He stole a sideways glance at her, his gaze caressing her profile as she turned to look at the cars going past. Already he could imagine her in a wedding dress and veil. Beautiful.
“Straight home?” he asked as he pulled out into the traffic, sliding easily into a gap in the flow. “Or did you want to stop somewhere and pick up something to eat first?”
He knew what her answer would be, but it was part of their ritual. As he waited, his agile mind turned over and over, working out how he was going to organize things so she wouldn’t suspect until he actually popped the question. And he had just the jeweler in mind. A new designer who made unique and exquisite pieces. Damon had ordered a necklace from them last year for Sophie. Should be just the ticket. He knew her taste in jewelry so picking something she’d like shouldn’t be a problem… Something classy, but intricate.
