He kissed me, bypassing the slow build–up and coaxing my mouth open with the sensual swipe of his tongue along my lower lip. The man could kiss, his every move calculated to evoke the image of what he could do with his cock and by the time he lifted his head for a deep gulp of much–needed oxygen, I was wet and squeezing my thighs together against the ache.
Max walked us backwards, stopping when I felt the brush of my comforter against the back of my legs. He leaned back, taking another lingering inventory of my body.
“Fuck, but you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, reaching a hand towards me but stopping short of actually touching. I bit back a whimper, shocked at how much I craved that press of his fingers against any part of me. I needed him that much.
I didn’t have the usual urge to make excuses for my cup size, to cover up the freckles that peppered my breasts or to shield my slightly rounded belly from his view. Something about the way he looked at me told me that he was pleased with what the saw, wanted it under him, around him.
“Sit down.” Max did touch me then, one finger placed in the space between my breasts where the crisscross of satin was highlighted with a tiny bow. He pushed me back with a gentle shove and I did as I was told, glad to be off legs that I wasn’t sure would hold me up much longer.
Max peeled off his jacket, draping it over the bench at the end of the bed. Next was the shirt—pulled out of his waistband—each button undone with a slowness that made me dig my nails into the coverlet. I wanted to do this task, wanted to expose inch upon inch of his flesh to my eyes and my hands but I didn't move. I wanted to see what he would do next. Needed to let him lead me down this path, to show me just how good this could be.
The snowy white shirt joined the jacket on the bench and he stood in front of me, his skin glowing golden in the dim light of my lamps, the moon glow coming through the window. His shoulders were broad, the muscles on his body honed to a fine point, flat brown nipples in the light whorls of dark hair that covered his chest and led in a narrow trail down into his waistband.
His right bicep was covered in a tattoo—a red heart, bisected with a sword and surrounded by long, angel’s wings. It was gorgeous, perfectly highlighting the finely cut muscles of his upper arm and rippling with every flex of movement.
He didn’t tease either of us, unfastening his belt and button and unzipping the fly while never looking away from my face. I was watching his progress but I knew he was zeroed in on me, no doubt cataloging my quick breathing, hard nipples, and shaking hands. Max was in control of this and I was happy to go along for the ride and just play passenger for a change.
He toed off his shoes and socks and then lowered his pants, stepping out of them and placing them in a pile with his other clothing. He stood before me for a few seconds in a pair of black boxer briefs, his erection pressing hard against the soft cotton, but soon those were gone, too, and he was naked. I sucked in a breath, the exhale stuttering out with the impact of just how fucking gorgeous he was.
His cock, hard and flushed, stood up against his belly and while I watched he wrapped his long fingers around it and stroked it from root to tip. Max walked two steps forward and stood right in front of me, his hand still working his length in a slow deliberate glide. My mouth watered with what I knew was coming next. He’d tell me to suck him off and I couldn’t wait to taste him, to feel the weight of him against my tongue.
I was not expecting him to lower himself to his knees, place his hands on my thighs and spread me open. He moved in closer, settling inside the notch of my legs and kissed me sweetly, a brushing of his lips against mine. I wove my fingers in his hair, pulling him in closer and trying to speed this up. I knew he wanted me the way I wanted him—so what was with the slow roll?
“Let me enjoy you,” Max murmured, in between kisses. I felt his hands travel around my back meeting in the middle to undo my bra. He pulled away from my mouth and dragged the lingerie with him. “I’ve been waiting forever to suck your tits. I bet they’re as sweet as they look.”
He dove back in immediately, covering my neck with a trail of hot kisses that took a detour over my collar bone and ended in the valley between my breasts. His stubble rasped against the tender flesh as he pressed his face against me, his breath warm as he closed over a nipple.
His tongue was just as good on my body as it was on my mouth, and I gasped at the way he lit me up from inside. This was more than pleasure; this was ecstasy—the kind of thing that you only read about and never expect to experience. I moaned, long and loud, as he sucked on me, traveling to the other one to deliver the same mind–blowing attention.
I was so strung out on what he was doing to me that I almost didn’t notice his one hand sliding low, stopping at the edge of my thong. He stroked back and forth there, one finger tracing the edge of lace with a deliberate slowness that caused my thighs to clench together. I was this close to coming and he hadn’t even taken my underwear off.
His finger finally dipped inside—low—even lower until he parted my flesh, petting my clit with a slow stroke that set off sparklers behind my closed eyelids. I threw my head back, bracing my weight on my arms. My legs fell open—an invitation he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t.
Max abandoned my breast and dipped his head lower. Soft kisses against my belly tracked his progress until his hot breath, rapid and hollow, skated over my skin. He pulled down the thong, maneuvering it off while keeping my heels on and then spread my legs wider, opening me and exposing me to whatever he wanted.
“I want you to come on my mouth.” He looked up at me, his eyes heavy–lidded with his own passion. I could see his cock, hard and heavy in the frame created by my legs and it made me flash hotter, higher. “Then I’m going to slide inside you and make you come again. You okay with that?”
I could only nod. I didn’t have enough blood in my brain to actually respond verbally, so I let my body do the talking. I reached up and grabbed his hair and pushed him down towards my sex.
He groaned, the vibration of it combining with the first swipe of his tongue. I shorted out—there was no other word to describe the electric shock that zinged through my body. My toes curled in my heels, my hands abandoning his hair to grasp huge sections of the coverlet, my legs opening even wider in spite of the overload of sensation. I did not want to back down from this. I wanted it all.
His tongue swirled, lapped, and stroked every inch of me as I watched from above. I could not look away. Could not stop sounds coming from me as he drove me higher and higher. Max slid a finger inside me and found that magic sweet spot that was directly related to the “off’ switch in my brain and I was nothing but one big nerve ending. Only feeling, only here in this moment with him.
His mouth continued to work me and his finger eased in and out of me, sliding, pressing until I was there… and then over.
I came apart, shaking and falling back on to the bed as he drew the orgasm out. The huge explosion had died down but with his attention, smaller firecracker orgasms rocked my body and matched the sparklers going off behind my closed lids.
I declared this my own personal holiday—complete with a second round of pyrotechnics as soon as possible.
“I’m going to fuck you, Kit. I can’t wait.” He was staring down at me, rolling a condom over his erection.
I nodded, loving the weight of him as he lowered his entire body on top of mine. It was delicious perfection, and I was immediately overtaken by the sensation his hard, blunt length sliding into my body. I was ready for him, slick and soft, and I opened up like he was meant to be there. I arched into him, drawing him deeper until he was fully inside me.
I opened my eyes and he was staring at me, his face hard, eyes intense and he began to move. Long strokes where he almost left my body, the ache of loss sharp in my belly. And then he was there again, his cock filling me and touching every spot that built the fire inside me again.
I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist, bringing him closer to me, his stroke deeper
and Max closed his eyes. He threw his head back, tendons tight in his throat, low grunts escaping him with every thrust.
“Fuck me, Max.” I cried out as I dug my fingers into his back, dragging him even closer to me.
“You’re so hot. Wet.” He gazed down at me again, the words forced out between his clenched teeth. “I knew it would be this fucking good. I want to see you come again. I want you to come all over me, Kit.”
The hard planes of his abdomen stroked against my clit with every stroke and I needed little encouragement to get there again. It was white hot, and I shattered like glass around him as he shoved his hard length into my body with a desperate edge. He leaned down and took my mouth, his tongue invading me as his hips slammed against me one last time.
I swallowed his moan as his entire body went rigid, the muscles on his back like iron under the sweaty silk of his skin.
It was amazing; over the top. He’d probably ruined me for sex with anyone else, but it was worth. Every girl should experience a guy like Max. It should be a constitutional right.
I giggled, letting the absurdity of my thoughts wash over me and Max lifted his head to look down at me. He slid out of my body and lowered himself to the bed, one long, heavy leg pinning mine in place. He laid a hand on my belly, a show of possession that I didn’t mind.
“Usually women don’t laugh after sex with me. Should I be worried about my performance?” he mumbled against my neck, his breath warm.
“Um… no.” I pushed back a little to look at him. “Wait. Are you fishing for a compliment?”
“Kit, every man wants you to stroke his ego after you’ve stroked his cock. It’s crazy, but we’re built like that in our DNA.” His lips turned up into a sensual smile that promised a reward if I delivered. “So, c’mon. Humor me.”
“I need to write a song about it.”
“Really?”
“It will be a number one. Fans will riot if I don’t write it, scream it if I don’t sing it. You’ll be mobbed by women everywhere you go.”
“I could deal with that,” he was laughing now, his body shaking with it.
“Well, then let me get started on it right away,” I said as I moved to get out of the bed. “I don’t want to lose the inspiration.”
He yanked me back, rolling on top to pin me to the mattress. His smile was still there but it was more feral than cute and I shivered with the promise I saw there. It was going to be a long night.
“You can write that song later.” He leaned down and kissed me by the ear, whispering. “Right now you need a more inspiration.”
Yes, I did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Max
“Oh my God, that is amazing.”
I watched in fascination as Kit devoured the ice cream I spooned into her mouth. She sat cross–legged on her bed, holding the gallon of vanilla ice cream that we’d liberally doused with chocolate sauce and her spoon. And she was naked—boldly, completely, and unashamedly naked.
Ice cream and a naked Kit. I could sell this to Ben & Jerry’s and make a fortune.
But that would require me to leave this room.
Not a chance.
She scooted closer and scooped up a spoonful of the ice cream to feed to me. I kept my eyes on her and groaned when her tongue darted out to touch her bottom lip, her teeth biting into the swollen plush cushion of her mouth when I closed my own over the spoon and sucked off the sweet dessert. Her hair was tousled around her shoulders, cheeks flushed in the afterglow of her orgasm, ice cream dribbling down her arm. She was natural, uninhibited, and the sexiest fucking thing I had ever seen. My cock was already hard with the idea of having her again.
Sex had always been good for me. What was there not to like? I love women—their curves, tits, ass—every single thing about them was to be enjoyed to the fullest. It was a mandate. They were God’s gift to my unworthy gender and we were supposed to worship their bodies at every opportunity.
But Kit… she was something else entirely. Maybe I’d built her up in my mind after watching her for so many years, but what had happened between us wasn’t because of her picture on the cover of Rolling Stone. That shit had nothing to do with celebrities and fans—that was all raw chemistry between a man and a woman.
“That tickles.” She squirmed as my tongue snaked in between her fingers and slurped up the melting ice cream. “If you don’t stop, I’ll…”
“You’ll do what?” I kept my tongue working on her fingers. She didn’t pull away. In fact, she inched closer.
“I’ll, umm…” She laughed and shook her head in confusion. “… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll probably require hospitalization.”
“You don’t scare me. I grew up with three sisters.”
Kit managed to pull her hand away from me and settled back in the bed. She dipped the spoon and fed me another mouthful. “Three sisters? Are you the only boy?”
I shook his head. “Nope. I have a younger brother. I’m the second oldest of five.”
“Five? That must have been fun, growing up with such a big family.”
And then I remembered—she was an only child. That explained the longing in her voice and the idea that having to share a bathroom with three sisters was anything but a living hell.
It was my turn to use the spoon. “Yes it was a madhouse. My parents should be sainted since we all lived to adulthood and weren’t sold to gypsies.”
“Your parents are teachers?”
“My dad is the school superintendent in Lively—a little place just outside of Nashville where I still live. My mom is a kindergarten teacher, and my sisters, April and Elizabeth, are as well. My brother, Josh, is in law school and the baby, Ashley, is still in college at the University of Tennessee.”
“Did you go to college?”
“No. Straight into the NFD after high school, but I’m taking classes towards my degree in psychology.” I winked at her. “So, you can lie down on my couch and tell me all of your secrets.”
She laughed and shook her head, the movement causing her bare breasts to sway, the nipples tight and pink against the paleness of her skin. I settled back against the headboard to enjoy the view and thanked God again for how utterly at ease she was with her nakedness. She was such an odd mix of the public persona and the private parts—all in all, a pretty amazing combination.
But the question remained—how much of the public Kit was the real Kit?
Now was as good a time as any to find out. “I can’t remember. Did you go to college?”
She shook her head. “No. I have my GED, but I haven’t had any time for college.” She set down the tub of ice cream and absently plucked at the sheet twisted around her legs. The nervous gesture reminded me of how her fingers manipulated the guitar strings and I wondered if she even knew she did it. “A college degree is definitely on the list of things I want to do. I’ll go when my career slows down.”
“Why didn’t you get to finish regular high school?”
“I quit high school at sixteen to work and support myself.”
I watched as she retreated even further into herself. She wasn’t backing away from me, but there was a barrier there—like she was shielding herself from whatever difficult memories my question had brought to the surface. I didn’t need to know her story bad enough to kill this mood or bring her down. I opened my mouth to take it all back, but she stopped me with her response.
“My daddy died when I was fifteen and I started working to help support myself and my mama.” Kit swallowed hard. “By sixteen she was…” Kit blinked rapidly, briefly focusing on a point just over my shoulder. She stopped, took a deep breath and continued with a voice that had a rough edge. “She was gone and I was on my own. So, I quit school, got my GED, and started working—waiting tables, cleaning houses, singing a little here and there, until Paul Bryant discovered me at an open mic night at the Bluebird Cafe.” She looked at me, her smile strained, but there. “I didn’t have a normal life or the typical American dream
situation, but it worked out all right.”
“Is that what you want?” I clarified when she looked baffled. “Normal. The house in the suburbs, two kids, a minivan.”
“Yeah. Not today. Not tomorrow, either. I just want…” Kit paused, clearly revising her answer in her head. “Actually, I guess I just want somebody—my somebody. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything other than the music.”
Oh shit. All kinds of alarm bells were going off in my head. Just like earlier when we’d discussed her writing a song about me, I’d stepped into a minefield. Any time a woman started talking about wanting a permanent relationship, it was 50/50 on how it would end.
“You don’t want that,” she said, reading my silence or my expression like a piece of sheet music. If I was a dick, I’d use this moment to my advantage. Cash in on her honesty and lie to make sure I got to fuck her again. I was many things, but I wasn’t that big of a dick.
“No. I don’t.”
“Ever?”
“No.” We stared at each other, the weight of my confession and her dreams threatening to bury this fling alive. I asked the next thing I wanted to know. “Who taught you to write music and play the guitar?”
At that question, Kit smiled and I felt the tension pooled in my gut ease off. Keeping this casual was proving harder than I’d thought it would be. I liked her. She was interesting and I wanted to know more about her. But I reminded myself about the ground rules: I wasn’t here to bring her down. I was here for the good stuff—for both of us. Keep it loose, Butler.
“My daddy gave me my first guitar. Jolene—the one you rescued from the fire. Both he and my grandfather played and I learned by watching them. Song writing… well, that just kinda came to me. Just like performing in front of people—once I did it, I was hooked.”
“So, you’d do it even if you didn’t have a big contract?”
She laughed, but the light didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I might get to find out the answer to that question.”
Temptation Page 9
