Your Desire

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Your Desire Page 6

by Dee S. Knight


  “So long to do what?” Turning her head, she kissed his neck, nipped his shoulder with her teeth. Trying to move under him, to begin a rhythm, she found it hard to believe she wanted him again so soon.

  What was wrong with her? This was alley cat behavior. Fast fucks in the afternoon with a virtual stranger weren’t her speed at all. But she loved it with Kailen. He was like a drug.

  He raised his head to stare into her eyes. His were dangerously dark. “What took you so long to come to me? Ben called Monday to say you wanted my address. Here it is Saturday.”

  She was astounded. “You wanted me to come to you? Well, why didn’t you call? Why did you leave last week without a word or a note?” Reaching up, she palmed the coarse bristles on his clenched jaw while her thumb traced a path across his cheek.

  “I’m not what you need. I’m not good for you, for your career. I know it and you know it, so I guess I should be asking why you’re here at all.” Seeming to answer the question, his hips pushed forward, pressing into her and rubbing against her sensitive clit.

  “Ohhh, God.” She brought his mouth to hers and their tongues rubbed and mated until they broke off, gasping for breath.

  “Is this the only reason you’re here?” He thrust again and she groaned. “Because of what I make you feel when I’m inside you?” And again he moved.

  “Yes!”

  Fleeting emotions in his expression caused her to stop. For a brief moment, a look of caring had shown in his eyes followed swiftly by disappointment, before his expression became neutral again. She cradled his head in her hands.

  “I don’t know, Kailen. I just know that for years the most important thing in my life has been my job. This week I couldn’t concentrate on work. All I thought about was you, and how much I burned for you. I wanted you to call me. Every time my phone rang, at the office or at home, I prayed it was you telling me you burned, too. By the time the weekend arrived I knew your not calling meant I wasn’t important to you, that I was someone you could forget. But I couldn’t forget you, not for a minute. I couldn’t have gone another day without seeing you.” She leaned up to kiss him, and his expression softened. “Why did you leave me like that last week?”

  “Later. Right now let me show you that I did burn for you last week. All. Last. Miserable. Damn. Week.” He punctuated each word with a hard, deep thrust, sending her over the edge yet again. Then, with his head thrown back and a guttural cry torn from his throat, he followed her.

  *

  Goddamn! Kailen could barely catch his breath. Derica’s pussy milked his cock like a riptide dragged a swimmer away from the shore. Even through the rubber the sensation was earth-shattering. He could only imagine how it might feel skin to skin. The thought sent a shiver down his back.

  It was satisfying to know that Derica was as affected by their sex as he. Her breaths came in fast, soft pants, pushing nipples still firm from her orgasm into his chest. The heel of her right foot lazily rubbed his butt, and her musk filled his nostrils. He wanted her again. If she opened her eyes would he see the same desire reflected there? It was something of a shock to admit that he wanted to.

  Bending his head, he licked a drop of sweat from her neck. She groaned, bringing her left foot up to join her right, rubbing, smoothing his ass, pushing him into her. Her arms encircled his neck and she moved her mouth under his, an open, moist invitation for his tongue. He slipped it in, pulled it out. She sucked it back, in the same way her vaginal muscles had just pulled on his cock. Incredibly, he hardened again, pushing the full condom up along her thigh as his erection grew.

  He broke the kiss to push to his knees. “Gotta get rid of this.” He pulled the condom off, dropped it beside the bed, then reached for a fresh one.

  “Let me,” she said, sitting up and taking the packet from him. Fitting it on the head of his penis, she rolled the latex over and down his length. Stroking him between her hands, she leaned forward to suck his nipple at the same time.

  Kailen thought he’d pop if she didn’t stop. “I’m not going to be able to hold off if you keep it up,” he choked out.

  “I’m not worried,” she said with a throaty chuckle. “Keeping it up is your specialty, I think.”

  “Get on your hands and knees.” He backed off the bed and arranged her at the edge.

  Her butt was smooth and milky white. Tempted to do more, he satisfied himself with a sweet kiss on her butt cheek. She looked over her shoulder at him, then dropped to her elbows, thrusting her ass into the air and wiggling.

  He massaged her, enjoying the silkiness of her butt cheeks under his hands. Again a painting flashed into his mind. Derica, posed just as she was, bare-bottomed but wearing a frilly teddy, lace thigh-highs and heels. He knew in detail how he’d paint that seductive smile and her warm brown eyes alive with the knowledge that soon a cock would invade her pussy. And her expression would whisper that she couldn’t wait.

  Suddenly, neither could he. He spread her legs and pushed into her, a gentle entry until he was in all the way. He stood still, reveling in the sensation of being buried to the hilt in her heat.

  With an audibly deep breath, she dropped her head and pushed back, taking him even deeper than he’d thought possible.

  “Yes, baby, yes.” Backward and forward. Thrust and draw out, all the time meeting her increasingly faster movements. His balls slapped against her.

  He heard her breathing, ragged and shallow. She moaned sharply and came, gripping him, releasing him, as strong as before. His scrotum drew up and the spring of tension coiled inside him, until he had no choice but to let it go.

  “God, yes!” Holding her hips firmly against him he spurted over and over into the condom while lights flashed behind his closed eyelids. He couldn’t move. His orgasm seemed to go on and on.

  Finally, he had nothing left to release. He felt strangely as though he had nothing left in him at all, and he pulled the rubber off his limp penis. Derica fell to her side, then half pulled, half pushed herself to the head of the bed. He picked up the first condom and dropped them both in the trash can beside the bedside table before collapsing next to her.

  “Is that what you came here for, Derica?” He didn’t think he had the energy for even a kiss, but somehow he found enough to wrap his arm around her as she snuggled to his side.

  She shook her head. “More,” she whispered, moments before her breathing turned deep and steady.

  “I don’t know if more is good for you, but to hell with what’s good. More is what I’ll try to give you,” he murmured into her hair. Then he closed his eyes and drifted into a deeper sleep than he’d had all week.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dawn had barely pierced the sky when Derica woke. Something heavy lay across her stomach and for a breath of time she didn’t know what. Then she remembered the previous evening, and where she was. She smiled with languid pleasure, thinking about what she’d done. What they’d done, she and Kailen.

  He slept soundly, lightly snoring beside her, his arm thrown over her in casual possession. She’d never been a woman who’d wanted to be possessed by a man. No woman got where she was without knowing how to grasp and maintain the upper hand in relationships, and frankly, no man had ever interested her enough to make her want to change her attitude. The men she worked with hadn’t wanted a relationship with her except in the most primal sense—where they, of course, had the control. Not for her, thanks. The least she’d settle for was equality of power.

  She could have had that with some of her previous lovers, she supposed. None of them had been involved with her firm directly, and so there’d been some freedom for her give in to the wantonness that lay below her controlled exterior. But she hadn’t wanted to. Deep inside she’d felt the desire to let go though, and that’s what Kailen tapped into. Tapped into, drilled into, drove into… As the metaphors came to mind, heat flared between her legs.

  Taking a breath, she pulled herself toward the edge of the bed, sliding from under his arm. He made an eff
ort to hold her, wrinkling his face and grunting as his fingers scrabbled for her body, but he didn’t waken. When what he searched for wasn’t there, he pulled his hand up under his chin and began snoring again.

  Derica found the bathroom and relieved herself, then examined her reflection in the mirror over the sink. After their session of sex late in the afternoon, they’d fallen asleep only to waken hungry for each other hours later. That sequence repeated itself early in the morning, when she’d brought him to life with her mouth and ridden him to climax minutes later.

  Neither food nor drink had entered her mind since arriving, and if they’d occurred to Kailen, he hadn’t indicated it. Instead, only sex and sleep, then more sex, had occupied her consciousness. The alley cat analogy came to mind again, especially when she remembered the gleam in his eyes when she’d looked over her shoulder at him, her ass stuck in the air, an invitation to do whatever he wanted. Oh, she’d felt wild. She wanted to be wild again.

  Despite the interrupted sleep she looked refreshed, rested. Content, even. Like a woman well-used. She smiled at her reflection, knowing she had given as good as she got.

  Tempted to go back to bed and wake him, she fought the urge. Her body cried for a different type of relief, and she decided to make coffee and see what Kailen had in the fridge.

  Tiptoeing from the bathroom, she saw a shirt thrown across a chair near the bed. Like the one he’d worn the previous afternoon, this one was denim, but without the spatters of paint. She slipped it on and was immediately engulfed in his scent: musk, light sweat and a hint of oil paint. No other man in the world smelled like Kailen, and for a moment she was overpowered, feeling his hands on her body and the brush of his tongue on her clit. The intensity nearly robbed her of breath.

  She buttoned the shirt and rolled up the sleeves, then left Kailen in bed while she went to explore his home.

  Coffee was easy to find, and she started a pot brewing. The loft was surprisingly warm, even so early and with the primarily northern exposure, and she was comfortable wandering around in her bare feet and half-dressed. In a pantry, she found a trash can and loaded it with the pizza boxes and empty cans that littered the table, then she rinsed the dishes left in the sink and stacked them in the dishwasher. Nodding approval, she noted the kitchen looked clean and neat.

  With a steaming cup of coffee she walked through the rest of the loft. When she’d passed through the previous afternoon, clutter seemed to be everywhere. Upon more careful examination, she saw that clutter was all it was. The loft was as clean as her apartment. It was simply layered with … things. Clothes, books, empty cups—it was all there, in the living quarters. Only the studio was scrupulously neat, with everything in a particular niche.

  The early morning light lent a touch of mystery to paintings stacked against one of the walls. Squatting, she looked at each, pulling a canvas forward to lean on her knee as she examined the one behind it.

  She recognized Noelani and Fauve in a few. Others featured strangers. Several depicted a man and woman, or a man with two women. With a pain she shouldn’t have felt, she admitted the man looked remarkably like Kailen. And he was depicted doing what he had done with her, last night and last week. Jealousy, hard and stinging, raged through her. Quickly, she shoved those paintings aside and flipped through another, smaller stack.

  She remembered he’d said he worked for local designers, and these must be some of the contracted work. There were landscapes of the Bay area and still lifes.

  “Do you like what you see?” His voice was hushed, or maybe it just seemed so, in the dim and quiet room. Yet, he’d startled her.

  Standing, she wanted to gather her thoughts before facing him. He didn’t give her the chance to turn, coming behind her and pulling her back against him with an arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder and cradled her cup with both hands in order not to spill. He had a cup in his left hand and sipped as he waited for her answer.

  “I do like them. Even your landscapes have a sense of richness that’s almost seductive.” She smiled as she felt his cock rise against her back, knowing her words and her closeness inspired his reaction. “I don’t know how you inspire sensuality with a painting of flowers or the Golden Gate Bridge, but you do.”

  “Hmm. You’re the first person ever to express it that way. I like it.” He set his cup on the worktable then put hers beside it before turning her in his arms. “By the way, paintings aside, you look damn sexy in my shirt.”

  She took in the fact that he wore briefs and an open bathrobe and nothing else. His hair was tousled from sleep and his cheek, as it rubbed hers, was scratchy with the bristles of a beard. Tilting her head, she encouraged his exploration of her neck with his tongue and lips.

  “I feel pretty sexy in it.” She slid her hands under his robe and to his back.

  He pulled her closer. “I almost hate to ask you to take it off, but I’m hungry.”

  Disappointment clouded her mind. She was getting all hot and bothered, and he was thinking doughnuts? “Oh, so you want me to get dressed.”

  Chuckling, he tilted her head back. “Not yet, sweetheart. Just take off the shirt. Let’s satisfy one appetite at a time. First, into the shower. It’s huge—lots of room to … eat. Then we can get dressed and go out for something more conventional.”

  “I do like the way you think.” Snuggling against his body, she virtually purred. “Lead me to the shower! I feel a sudden urge to get all wet and soapy.”

  A quick movement of his hand made her gasp.

  “You’re already wet. Let’s go work on the soapy part.”

  * * * *

  Kailen posed and looked into the camera, but he wasn’t concentrating on how to look good in the suit he modeled for the department store catalogue. Instead, his thoughts were on Derica and how many hours remained before he’d see her that night.

  He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in the past two weeks. What had started as simple physical attraction had quickly turned into a red-hot passion that separation hadn’t extinguished. Being apart that first week had only made him want her more, a fact that didn’t particularly make him feel at ease. He liked being a free spirit, painting beautiful women in his own evocative style without having to worry how a wife or girlfriend would—or could—complicate things. More, having been a member of the rat race for years himself, he appreciated what it took to climb the corporate ladder. Being involved with a man who modeled, rode a courier bike around town for a living, and painted nude women, wasn’t the kind of man who would help Derica’s career. He worried about that for her because he remembered so well what it took. He knew for certain he could never go back to that life, and so he could never ask her to compromise what she wanted in her life.

  As difficult as it had been not to call after leaving her apartment that first night, he’d known instinctively it was for the best. When he’d answered the door the following Saturday, distracted at being interrupted, he couldn’t believe she’d come to him. And stayed.

  Now he fought the hard-on that sprang to life when he remembered the good, long time in the shower that Sunday morning. Her breasts weren’t big or full, but they filled his hands and were a tender mouthful, too. Enjoying them had occupied several minutes before he’d soaped her, smoothing his hands over her slick body until she moaned with need.

  When he lifted her over his erection and pressed her against the tile wall, neither of them had considered a condom. They’d thought only of hot water sluicing off bodies and steam filling the shower stall, as though it emanated from their fiery frenzy. Pounding hearts matched their bodies as they came together. Loving her without a rubber was just as he’d thought it would be—pure bliss as his cock drove into her over and over until she came with volcanic-like contractions, and tremors that shook them both.

  Later, when breath had been caught and heart rates returned to normal, she’d assured him that she was on birth control and health issues were discussed to mutual satisfaction.
More than satisfactorily for Kailen, since it meant that whenever they fucked he would feel her orgasm with no barriers. Now that he knew how it felt when her muscles clenched his cock, he didn’t ever want to go back to being sheathed in latex. Skin to skin, her cream coating him and his cum filling her—that’s the only way it should be between them. The mere thought made his rigid cock ache even more now. If he didn’t do something to distract his body, he’d have to call for a break.

  During breakfast that Sunday, when she’d reverted to her public, more conservative self, he’d explained again why he thought they shouldn’t see each other any longer, although now that he’d had her—really had her—he’d been loath to tell her she should stay away. Her arrival at his loft had struck him in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.

  When he’d made his case to say goodbye, she’d looked at him with her big brown eyes that turned soft and warm rather than heated, and said, “I need you,” and he’d felt a stab of joy that was completely unexpected.

  They hadn’t gone to her apartment since that first night. She seemed to prefer the careless mess of his place to the pronounced neatness of hers, and he didn’t mind. Her apartment was her life without him, whereas his place represented somewhere she wanted to be, with him.

  That Sunday he’d cancelled plans with friends so he and Derica could be together. She’d stripped then donned his shirt as soon as they’d gotten home. They’d read the newspaper together on the sofa, and when she stretched out for a nap, he’d sketched her.

  Another quick drawing, this in one of his dress shirts, with the tie hanging loose and the top buttons undone, depicted Derica raising the hem of the shirt to show off the vee of brown curls at the juncture of her thighs, while her smile held no question as to what she demanded of the viewer. He loved the look of her, the feel of her, the sheer animalism she exhibited. And how she made him feel when he was with her, as well as inside her.

 

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