Here’s the thing about an enormous penis. They don’t just live in romance novels. They don’t just live on famous actors, although John Hamm and Michael Fassbender need to admit a certain ginger vet into their Big Cock Club. They’re real. And they’re out there. Right here, even, in my guest shower.
For every peanut, there is an eggplant. For every Charles, there is a Lucas. And since I’d had one, I feel I deserved the other.
My “Holy sweet fuck, are you kidding me?” still ricocheted off the tiles, bouncing off his shocked face.
“Pardon me?” he finally said, his hands frozen on my hips, his lips still halfway down my neck.
“Sorry. Actually, not sorry. Actually, congratulations.” I pointed down. “This is kind of amazing.”
He threw his head back and laughed out loud. “My dick is amazing?”
“Oh, please, like you don’t know. You’re bigger than a breadbox!”
“Baby’s arm.”
“Huh?”
“Bigger than a baby’s arm, that’s the phrase.”
“That’s gross! What does that have to do with a—stop laughing at me!”
He didn’t stop laughing, but he did start kissing my neck again. Which normally would have been enough to make me surrender to the sizzle running wild through my veins, but I literally couldn’t take my eyes off it . . . er . . . him.
“I don’t even think that’ll fit,” I said.
“Oh, it’ll fit,” he murmured, then pulled away. “Wait—are we . . . talking about . . . fitting?”
“If you think we can. Seriously, Lucas—you’re huge.”
“Seriously, Chloe, you’re awesome. Will you walk around behind me with a megaphone from now on?”
“Quiet, you,” I said, bringing him back to my mouth for another searing kiss. Every single thought went out of my head, which was filled up instantly with Lucas. Here. Now. Hot and heavy and wanting.
I focused on this moment, this gorgeous man and his delightful tongue that was thrusting inside my mouth, mating with mine and making my breath come even more quickly.
My mouth opened wider, trying to bring as much of him inside me as I could. My urgency was matched by his own, his hands pressing into my skin, strong and sure, each finger on a different part of my spine, nails embedded, fiery and wicked strong. I broke the kiss just so I could breathe, only to be sucked back down in another wave of need, stronger than the last.
“Need you, need to see you,” he murmured into my hair, picking me up roughly and setting me down on the ledge at the end of the shower, knocking shampoo bottles left and right. Dropping to his knees on the tile, he kissed a path down my collarbone, down the center of my torso, hands now reaching out, surrounding me, cupping my breasts and kneading my wet skin. His mouth closed around my nipple, sucking hard and fast, his tongue rolling in a way that made me alternately slap at the wall and push deeper into his mouth.
“Lucas. Oh. Lucas. Oh. Lucas,” I chanted, my hips beginning to roll in concert with his tongue. He released my breast to bring another punishing kiss to my mouth, still tasting of coconut rum, passion running wild now. He pulled my hair to bring my face up, looking deep into my eyes. His face was full of lust. Longing. Lust. Frustration. Lots of lust.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, my voice throaty, filled with that same lust.
“You really want to know?”
I placed my feet on either side of him, using my knees to cage him in and coax him further into me. “Tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”
Lucas stared hard at me, then knelt on the shower floor. He kissed my tummy, let his tongue trace a circle around my belly button. Hands once more touched my skin, his knuckles trailing up the backs of my legs. I leaned forward on the ledge, mimicking his movements with my own hands, tracing little patterns across his cheekbones, pausing to touch the indent above his upper lip, stealing a kiss on my fingertips as his mouth chased me a bit. I let him catch my thumb between his teeth, nipping at me as I let out a soft gasp. Even the air was frantic, charged with the excitement you feel at the very beginning of something. You don’t know quite what it is yet, what it might turn into. But you’re aware of the epic.
“You want to know what I’m thinking? Right this very second?” he asked as I put both hands on the back of his neck once more, trying to pull him back into my orbit.
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, watching as his hands moved farther up my legs, dancing across the tops of my knees.
“It’s a little bit dirty,” he replied, leaning down to press one wet kiss against my left kneecap.
“I’ve never really had the dirty,” I admitted, my mind flashing to missionary after missionary with Charles. I blushed a bit under Lucas’ stare, but held it. I was done with timid. I wanted to try tiger.
He pulled me even farther down on the ledge, toward where he was kneeling. “Still want to know,” he asked, wrapping one of my legs around him, “what I’m thinking about?” He wrapped the other leg around him, his hands moving even higher, digging into my thighs.
“I think so?”
“You think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He leaned up again, nuzzling at my neck, just below my ear. His tongue darted out just the tiniest bit to lick at the skin below.
I shivered in the very best of ways and nodded yes. What his mouth was doing to my ear might be illegal. And I wanted it.
“What I’m thinking about right now is the same thing I’ve been thinking about since you showed up in this town, blushing in that mirror over the bar.” He moved to my left ear, his right fingertips now tickling the inside of my thigh. “How you look spread out for me, naked and pink.”
I gasped, and he bit the side of my neck hard enough to leave a mark. He continued, now scraping his teeth lightly down towards my collarbone. “I’m thinking about your tits, how gorgeous they are, and how they’ll look when I’m fucking them.”
He buried his face in my skin, sweeping kisses across my breasts once more. His fingertips teased and taunted my nipples, which stiffened at his touch. “But, Miss Thinks She Wants It Dirty, what I’m dying to know”—he reached down below, grasping the inside of my thigh and pushing it open wider, higher around his waist—“is what your pussy will taste like the second before you come.”
Lucas totally brought the dirty.
He pushed me back against the wall and settled between my knees, scooping his hands under my bottom and pulling me to the very edge of the ledge. Instinctively, I closed my knees. Instinctively, he spread them wide. I gasped as he licked his lips. I gasped as he blew the tiniest puff of breath across my naked skin.
“Look at you,” he said, his voice husky and thick. And I gasped when that honey tongue licked my skin, and gasped again when a deep groan came from the back of his throat.
He nuzzled into the crease at the top of my thigh, licking the skin there and teasing me with little sweeps of his tongue, flicks and flutters. I could feel his nose prodding at me, inhaling me deep as I tangled my hands in his hair, holding him exactly where I wanted him. I moaned when his hands teased me apart, opening me further to him. One finger, then two, dipped down and gently eased inside, then began thrusting. My back nearly bowed in half, the assault of sensation running wild through my body. No one, no one, had ever played my body the way he was, and he was just getting started.
His lips surrounded me, kissing and licking, my cries bouncing off the wet tile, water still raining down on his back, as he buried his face in between my thighs. I ran my hands down that very back, leaning over him, arching, finally leaning back again against the wall, my fingers tucked into that hair, holding him. I shivered and moaned. I shook and groaned. Words began to pour forth from my mouth, words that I’d never said out loud before; detailed, wicked words. Then he finally pressed his tongue exactly where I needed him to.
“Fuuuuccckkk,” I groaned, eyes closing against the terribly wonderful pressure building within.
“There’s my dirty girl,” he whisp
ered—and sucked my clit into his mouth. My eyes shot open, every muscle in my body tensing. With his fingers thrusting inside, and a mouthful of me, I came so hard that I shook, my hands still in his hair, my mouth open in a silent scream. And when color came back into the world, he did it again, his free hand anchoring my hip as I thrashed and crashed and came apart.
But he wasn’t done with me. Before I could gasp thanks for the awesome, he wrapped my legs around his waist, stood with me, turned, and sat down on the ledge I’d just been perched on. Leaning in, he kissed me deep, and I shivered at the naughty that was all over his mouth. “So now I know,” he whispered into my ear, his voice gravelly and deep and full of wicked.
“You know what?” I sighed, boneless and punchy from the sizzle still coursing through my veins.
“What you taste like a second before you come.” He nipped at my ear and I squealed, nuzzling further into his neck.
“That was beyond,” I murmured into his skin. “Insane. Ridiculous,” taking the opportunity to give some tiny kisses of my own. “Ring a ding ding,” I purred as I continued to kiss along the side of his neck, his collarbone, down across his shoulder. He shifted as I rose up a bit higher on my knees, resting my hands behind his neck as he wrapped his hands around my hips. Which brought his Something Enormous in direct contact with my Still Tingling.
“Still think you’ll fit?” I asked.
“Hmm?” His voice was somewhat muffled by my left breast, which he was currently torturing with his tongue. If you defined the word as meaning exquisite and earth shattering.
“This,” I repeated, bouncing down a bit to illuminate. “Now that I’m all warmed up?”
“You sure about that?” he asked, raising his head to look at me. And something else was rising once more. Not that it had ever really—
“Mm-hmm,” I nodded, sliding against him, feeling how hard he was against my soft. And just like that, he picked me up, holding me close to his chest, legs still wrapped around, and we were out of the shower. Grabbing his bag off the counter, he carried me down the hall to my room, leaving big, wet footprints on the floor.
“Be careful! Don’t slip—ahhh!” I squealed, as he took a corner too quickly and bumped off the wall like a pinball.
“Oh, Christ, Chloe, do that again,” he groaned, hustling down the hallway.
“This?” I laughed, bouncing again.
“I need to be inside you. Now,” he growled as we tangled around each other, very close and slippery.
Tossing me onto the bed, he searched his bag, coming up with a package of condoms.
“Prepared, aren’t you?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Chickie baby, I’m like a Boy Scout,” he said, grabbing one. Then grabbing a second one.
I squealed once more when he pulled me down on the bed, bringing me back into his lap and settling me on his thighs. I watched, eyes wide, as he tore the packet open and rolled on the condom. If it was possible for my eyes to widen further, they did. It really was an impressive sight. I looked up, smiled at his sweet face, and then leaned in and kissed him. And once more, every sense I had was filled with him.
I saw golden skin and glacier-blue eyes. I heard the rumble in the back of his throat as his tongue tangled with mine. I felt the heat of his skin, the strong muscles in his shoulders and arms. I smelled the salt and the woods and the surf inherent in his California DNA. And I tasted? Me. Mixed with mai tai.
“Go slow, okay?” I breathed as I raised my hips. I could feel him as he pressed himself just barely inside.
“Spread your legs a little more—just like that,” he murmured, his hands now on my hips. Our eyes met as he pushed up, and I sank down. Slow. Sweet. Solid.
And oh my, did he fit.
Once he was seated fully inside my body, I let my weight go, closing my eyes and sinking further onto my knees, feeling the sweet burn of being filled so completely. Ohhh.
When I opened them once more, his face was gloriously tense. His jaw was tight, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wild. I cupped his face gently as he leaned into my palm.
“It’s good, right?” he sighed, arching his back slightly and gaining somehow one more scrap of space.
“Mm-hmm,” I said, rocking slowly backward just once and gasping at the sensation. He was big, full, and thick, and exactly what I needed.
“Please do that again,” he asked, and a small smile crept over my face. Doing as I was told, I rocked forward, the movement creating a delightful friction where our bodies were connected, and just above. His hands still held my hips, twisting my body just enough to make it more than good.
“You feel unreal.” He groaned as I tilted my head back, rocking a little faster this time. He thrust up as I rocked, and if it was even possible, he hardened even more.
“This feels unreal,” I said, shaking a little at the sensation of having him inside me, thick and beautiful. “This whole thing feels unreal.”
“Chloe,” he whispered, and my name on his lips, while he was inside my body, was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. His eyes searched mine, primal, wanting, needing . . .
“Lucas,” I whispered back. And then he was moving, and I was grinding, and he was circling his hips in a way that was nudging something new inside, and it made me a little crazy. He kissed me, hard, and pressed my hips back a bit. I looked down, and could see him sinking into me again and again, and just like that . . . I came. Again.
I fell forward onto him, into him, weightless, useless, I was so wracked with sweet, beautiful bliss. His hands grew more rough on my hips, taking what he needed, using my body for his pleasure, and oh my God, was that a fantastic thing to witness. I watched as his eyes grew hazy with lust. His thrusting became more pronounced, his groans deeper and more guttural, and with every muscle and tendon in his body tense, he came. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he exhaled, collapsing into me as I held him to my breast. I clutched at him, running my fingers through his hair and sighing.
He fell backward onto the bed and I went with him, giggling and laughing, laying atop him, feeling his body under mine as our breathing slowed and steadied. He kissed me once more, slow and deep. Sweet. Breaking the kiss, we stared at each other a bit, eyes searching.
And then he tilted his head to one side and gave me that killer half grin. “We should totally have pancakes for dinner.”
I looked at the bedside clock. “It’s after midnight, Lucas. We’re way past dinner.”
“Then we should totally have midnight snack pancakes.”
“You don’t know how to make pancakes,” I pointed out.
“You’re really not getting it, are you?”
“Am I supposed to make you pancakes?”
“That’s a great idea!” he said, mock surprise on his face as he ran his hand smoothly over my bottom, then gave it a little spank.
“Oh!”
“I knew you were a dirty girl,” he laughed.
Pancakes. Not the worst idea.
At 2:17 A.M., I attempted to make pancakes. At 2:19 A.M., I banished Lucas to an orange leatherette bar stool at the other end of the island because he was handsy, and I went through five eggs trying to get just one in the bowl without shells everywhere. So pointing my whisk, away we went to the safe side of the kitchen where I could cook and he could watch. And watch he did. I could feel his eyes on me now as I poured batter into neat little rounds on the griddle. I snuck a peek or two myself. Clad in those broken-down jeans and his T-shirt, no shoes, no socks, Lucas looked rumpled. Sexy. And well ridden. And I should know.
We’d had the sex. And it was amazing. But already I was beginning to wonder what this meant. Where was this going? What would happen to the easy, breezy way we had with each other now? And what was going to happen when he left the country, in like, hours?
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, breaking me from my stupor.
“Hmm?” I looked at him, confused.
“You just went somewhere. W
here’d you go?”
“Sorry, just thinking. Will you pour some orange juice?”
“Am I allowed to leave my chair?” he asked, and I grinned at him.
“If you can behave, then yes. Only for juice, though. Then it’s back to your post.” I flipped the first round of pancakes over on the griddle, then took the opportunity to watch him as he moved with a quiet grace around the kitchen. He knew that the metallic tumblers in the far cupboard would keep the orange juice icy cold all through the meal, knew the orange juice was in the door of the fridge instead of the back—he was well acquainted with my kitchen.
And not just the kitchen. As I watched him open the carton, those long elegant fingers reminded me of everything he’d done to my body only minutes before. How careful and strong and sure they were, whether coaxing toe-curling orgasms from me, or tenderly sweeping a piece of hair back from my face so he could sneak a kiss.
Back on his stool, orange juice poured, his eyes returned to me once more. I deflected. “How many?” I asked, pointing to the griddle.
“As many as I’m allowed to have,” he said seriously, and I looked over my shoulder at him. He already held his knife and fork in hand. “And if they taste as good as they look, I may have to eat yours too.”
“No way, mister, I’m starving.” I flipped the pancakes onto two plates, then covered said pancakes with butter and syrup. “Start with these, and if you’re still hungry I’ll make you more.”
“Oh, I’ll still be hungry,” he murmured, getting that same look on his face he had earlier. I crossed to him, setting his plate down before him and neatly sidestepping his roaming hands. I needed a few moments to process what we’d just done. I’d take those moments while filling myself up with pancakes.
“So good in my mouth,” he said around a mouthful, beaming.
I couldn’t help but giggle. “My mom’s recipe. She didn’t make them as much as I got older; too much sugar, you know. But when I was little, every Sunday morning she’d make pancakes. Then I got hips, and oatmeal and fruit became my breakfast.” I stabbed up a gooey forkful, dripping with butter and syrup.
Mai Tai'd Up Page 19
