Pleasured By You

by Steph Nuss

  “Jesus, what took you so long?” he asked, dragging me into his apartment.

  “Saturday traffic is a bitch.”

  Slamming the door shut behind us, he grabbed my hand, spun me around and crashed his lips into mine. I dropped my purse on the floor and wrapped my arms around his neck, flushing my body up against his. Our mouths moved together, so hot and eager, biting and licking, sucking and teasing like we would die if we didn’t get more of one another. Hastily, I unbuttoned his jeans while he worked at undoing my skirt. He kicked his jeans off as my skirt fell to the floor, and then he walked me back into his living room, his mouth still devouring mine, sucking in breaths here and there.

  He lifted me up off the ground easily and laid me on the couch while admiring me with those arctic eyes of his. A devious smile played on his lips while he took off my flip-flops. Running my eyes over his unbelievable body, I watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. I couldn’t help but admire the way his abs rippled across his hard stomach.

  “God, I need you,” he growled, reaching for the hem of my shirt.

  I covered his hand with mine and shook my head, returning his naughty grin. Shoving him back into the couch, I climbed over and straddled his thighs, reclaiming some of the control he stole from me the minute I knocked on his door. My fingers swam through his hair as I arched my body into his and wiggled in his lap, his hands tightly gripping my waist. Tilting his head up, I stared down into his eyes and lifted my arms up. “Take my shirt off.”

  He gave me another swift kiss before gliding his hands under my shirt and slowly pulling it off and tossing it aside.

  “Rip off my panties,” I commanded, before crushing my lips onto his.

  He moaned into my mouth, skimming his hands up my bare thighs. Digging his fingers into my lace waistband, he tugged hard and the material instantly ripped apart, undoing me further. He threw my shredded panties to the floor and rocked his groin up against me.

  Unclasping my bra, I let the straps fall off my shoulders, and Fletcher pulled it the rest of the way off, admiring my tits as he went.

  “Seriously, woman,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head. He planted a kiss in the valley between my breasts, and then his mouth quickly went to work. Wrapping his lips around my left nipple, I arched into him and cried out in pleasure when he began sucking and nibbling. His mouth was seriously lethal, pushing me into a state of thoughtless bliss. When his hand came up and fondled my other breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, I damn near came on the spot.

  “Fletcher,” I panted, clenching the back of his head. “Condom. We need a condom.”

  He laughed deeply, his voice vibrating against my skin as he sucked and bit his way up my neck to my ear. “They’re in my bedroom.”

  “Then take me to the fucking bedroom,” I demanded, in a needy voice.

  “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he said, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  He stood and carried me into his bedroom, and then threw me onto the same bed we’d fucked in just months ago. Only this time I was completely sober. Reaching across me, he pulled a condom out of his nightstand and threw it onto the bed beside me. I quickly grabbed it and was just about to rip it open with my teeth when he grabbed it out of my mouth and tossed it back onto the bed.

  “Hey, do you wanna do this or not?” I asked, leaning up on my elbows.

  “I do,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they moved from my face back down to my breasts. “But I wasn’t done.” He brushed his mouth over my hard nipple again and lightly tugged on it with his teeth, spiraling me back into a flurry of euphoria. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” I gasped, tightening my grip on his hair. “God, yes.”

  So, he picked up where he left off, and with each kiss and lick and suck, he pushed me closer to the release I so desperately craved.

  “Fletch . . . G-get inside me,” I pleaded, rubbing my feet along the backs of his legs. With my toes, I pushed his boxers down until they were completely off.

  Finally, he reached for the condom and sheathed himself. Smiling down at me, he grabbed my hands and threaded his fingers through mine. “This is not going to be sweet.”

  “Thank fuck,” I said, opening my legs further.

  “It’s going to be rough.”

  “Even better,” I quipped, smiling impishly.

  Tightening his grip on my hands, he slammed into me hot and swift, burying himself deep, right where he belonged. He and I were cut from the same cloth. We lived for the pleasure sex brought us, and right now, I felt truly alive with him, just like I had on New Year’s. I relaxed back into the mattress as he leaned down and kissed my neck.

  “You are so fucking sexy.” He let go of my hands and skated his down the length of my arms and sides before settling them on my hips. He tilted my hips up, pulling out slightly and then sliding in again, hitting deeper than before.

  I grasped the sheets, gripped the pillow, and dug my nails into his arms as he continued moving in and out in hard, deep, rhythmic strokes that had both of us sweaty and gasping for air. He slid over me and placed a harsh kiss on my lips. I felt an orgasm tingling down my spine, rushing through each of my nerve endings as I tightened around him and held on for dear life.

  This man could kill me with his dick, that’s how well he knew how to use it.

  And then my whole body trembled as I unraveled beneath him. My legs turned to Jell-O. My toes almost cramped, they curled so hard. The room went black as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I fell into the gates of sexual heaven moaning incomprehensibly and saying his name as I floated on an orgasmic cloud on a bright summer day, basking in the warm, pleasurable sunshine.

  When I heard Fletcher grunt my name, the heavens vanished and I was thrown back into reality, where his taut body erupted above me. Every ripped muscle etched into his skin flexed as he came hard, pushing through his release until he couldn’t anymore. Once he was finished, he fell on top of me sluggishly, sweat covering every inch of our bodies, our breaths coming in short, quick pants.

  He rolled off of me and ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Fuck, that was . . .”

  “Yeah, it was.” He didn’t even need to finish his statement for me to understand. I was right there with him, unable to breathe and sated beyond a reasonable doubt thanks to the sex master beside me. Lying there in a daze, with my heart beating uncontrollably, I took in my surroundings and listened to the humming noise coming from somewhere within Fletcher’s room.

  He removed the condom and tossed it in the trash. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Sure,” I said, tilting my head to the right to look at him.

  He rolled onto his side, and I couldn’t help but admire that magnificent ass of his, so nice and firm. He opened something that made the humming noise grow louder for a split second and then he closed it again. Turning back toward me, he smiled. “Water or Powerade?”

  I grabbed the water bottle from him and quickly gulped down a drink. “What’s that noise?”

  “What noise?” he asked, putting the cap back on his Powerade.

  “That humming,” I said, gazing around the room.

  “Oh, that’s the mini fridge.”

  “You have a mini fridge in your bedroom?” I asked incredulously.

  “It’s built into my nightstand,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It comes in handy for times like this. It’s not that loud.”

  “I was just wondering.”

  He sat up on his left elbow, resting his head in his hand. “Seriously? That’s what you were thinking about while we were having sex?”

  “What?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion. “No, I didn’t even hear it until just a few seconds ago.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “Yes, thank God, your ego is still intact,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “I should probably leave before it gets any bigger.”

  He laughed and ran hi
s hand over my hip. “You’re not leaving.”

  “Oh, I’m not?” I asked, surprised.

  “No,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not letting you leave wearing a short skirt without panties.”

  “You enjoyed ripping them off,” I said.

  “And I’m going to enjoy keeping you naked for the rest of the night and tomorrow morning.”

  Now, it was my turn to laugh. “When did we agree that I was staying the night?”

  “When you agreed to give me benefits,” he answered, brushing a piece of hair off my neck. He leaned in and kissed me, grazing his teeth against my tender flesh. “Stay with me. We’ve already broken one of our rules, breaking another won’t hurt.”

  His deep voice vibrated through me, causing my insides to turn to goo. I no longer had an angel sitting on one shoulder and a devil sitting on the other, contradicting one another. They were sitting together now, cheering me on, encouraging me to break another one of my rules. There was no chance in hell I’d leave now. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  “Good,” he said, placing another kiss on my neck. Resting his hand on my stomach, he smiled down at me. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat,” I said, nodding with a shrug.

  He laughed and then slid out of bed. “Me, too. I’ll order us a pie.”

  What? A pie?

  “Okay,” I said, furrowing my brows. “But if you want pie, I can make a pie. I don’t know if you have all the ingredients I’ll need, but I could go get what you don’t have.” His laughter escalated, trembling through him as he pulled on his boxers. “What are you laughing at?”

  “You,” he said, shaking his head.

  “What?” I asked, looking down at myself. I pulled the sheet over me and glared up at him. “Seriously, why are you smiling at me like that? Is it about the pie? I just think it’s stupid to order a pie when I can make one from scratch.”

  Fletcher’s laugh deepened so much that he had to lay back down on the bed.

  “Stop laughing at me!” I said, hitting him with a pillow. “I don’t even know why you’re laughing, but it’s starting to piss me off!”

  I swung the pillow at him again, but this time he caught it and tore it out of my hands. “Bayler, here in New York, pizza’s called pie.”

  “What? Seriously?” I asked, wrinkling up my nose. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It just is.”

  I sat up against the headboard with the sheet clutched against my chest. “Then what do you call pie? Like on Thanksgiving, what do you call pumpkin pie? It’s not pumpkin pizza, is it?”

  More laughter erupted from him in short, delightful chuckles. “No, it’s just pie. We still call it pumpkin pie just like every other American.” He shook his head and smiled at me. “Pumpkin pizza . . . that’s hilarious.”

  “Shut up! I didn’t know.”

  He threw the pillow at me and stood from the bed. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

  “I’m not picky.”

  “So, anchovies and mushrooms?”

  I wrinkled up my nose again. “Gross. No. Just the normal stuff like pepperoni or hamburger or meat lovers! I love meat lovers. Vegetables are for salads. I want a meat-loaded pie!”

  “There we go,” he laughed, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. “You’ll like Martino’s pies. They’re the best.”

  “Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I don’t really wanna be walking around in a sheet when the delivery guy shows up.”

  “Nope.”

  “What?” I asked, in disbelief. “You have shirts. Just let me borrow one.”

  He looked up from tapping around on his phone and smiled at me. “No.”

  “Fletcher.”

  “Bayler.”

  “Fine,” I said, throwing the sheets off me. I stood up from his bed completely naked and walked over to his dresser. “I’ll get one myself.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, in an amused voice. He placed the phone next to his ear and ordered our pizza.

  I pulled each drawer open, but I didn’t find any t-shirts until I opened the bottom drawer. That bastard, I thought, glaring over my shoulder at him. I was bent over with my bare ass in the air while he watched me from the other side of the room. Quickly, I grabbed a shirt and tossed it over my head, and then turned to face him with my arms crossed over my chest.

  “You’re a perv,” I said, shaking my head.

  He tossed his phone back on the nightstand and then crossed the room to me, eying me from head to toe. “No, I’m a man, and we happen to like women naked and bent over. Though, you look pretty damn good in my shirt, too.”

  “Well, good luck getting me naked any time soon,” I said, walking away from him, swaying my hips for good measure.

  He grabbed his shirt and pulled me back into his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I could have you naked again in a second.”

  “Oh, please,” I denied, rolling my eyes. He was damn right though. Beneath his shirt, my thighs rubbed together in an effort to deter my carnality.

  “We’ve got fifteen minutes until the pie arrives,” he said, breathing hot and heavy into my ear. His hands moved from my waist, creeping lower and lower, until they were underneath his shirt, touching me. I took a deep breath as his fingers inched closer to my who-ha, but it was his heated breath breezing along my sensitive flesh that ultimately seduced me. “Think of all the things we could do in fifteen minutes.”

  Why is he always right?

  “The hell with it,” I said, tearing his shirt off my body.

  ***

  When the pizza finally arrived, I was still lying naked in his bed, sated and worn out yet again. Fletcher was back in his boxers and paying the delivery guy. I heard the door to the apartment shut and watched as Fletcher entered the room carrying our pizza.

  “Dinner is served,” he said, setting the box down on the bed in front of me.

  “Good, I’m starving!” I tucked the sheet under my arms and sat up. He opened up the box and the room immediately filled with the aroma of greasy, delicious pizza. “It smells so damn good!”

  “It tastes even better,” he said, smiling. “Do you want a beer?”

  “Sure,” I said, reaching for a slice. He exited the room again, and I took my first bite of New York pizza. As the flavors of meats and cheese and tomato sauce collided together, appeasing my taste buds, I groaned loudly. “Good lord, that’s fucking good.”

  I grabbed the TV remote off Fletcher’s nightstand and powered it on. Flipping through the channels, I continued feeding my hunger. Finally, I found a good movie playing on FX and set the remote down on the bed. Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law’s British accents and good looks always made me stop and watch. As I admired them on the screen, I saw Fletcher appear in the doorway, staring at me with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

  “What?” I asked around a mouthful of pizza.

  Walking toward the bed, the smile on his face widened and he waved his beer at me. “This, right here—a hot, naked woman in my bed, eating pizza and watching an action movie—is the real American dream.”

  I took a bottle of beer from him and swallowed a sip. “You forgot drinking a beer.”

  He laughed and sat down beside me. “You’re right, you hot, naked, pizza-eating, beer-drinking, action-movie-watching woman.”

  I laughed and clinked my beer bottle against his. “Thanks. Everything tastes delicious.”

  “Good,” he said, leaning back against the headboard. He took a bite of pizza and nudged my arm. “Can I ask you something without you getting pissy?”

  “I don’t get pissy,” I said, grabbing another slice of pizza.

  He snorted out a laugh. “Yes, you do.”

  I glared back at him. “Just ask your stupid question.”

  “See,” he said, pointing at me with his beer bottle, “that’s you getting pissy.”

  I silently stared at him, not even bothering to argue with him. I was too hungry to care about arguing.

&nbs
p; He took a long pull from his beer and then another bite of his pizza. “Are you on the pill?”

  “Yes,” I said, turning my attention back to Robert and Jude. “I’m on the pill. Why would you ask me that?”

  “I just thought since you asked about condoms earlier that maybe you weren’t.”

  “No, I asked because I have no idea who you’ve been with, and you have no idea who I’ve been with.”

  “Well, I’m clean,” he said, taking another drink from his beer. “I’ve always used condoms, and I just got checked a month ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since then except for you.”

  “Same here.”

  “Okay, so, if we’re only having sex with each other and you’re on the pill, I thought maybe we could skip the—”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re using a condom.”

  “But—”

  “I’m clean, and I’m only fucking you,” I said smiling, giving him a friendly pat on the cheek. “I just don’t want a little Fletcher or Bayler running around, and I’d rather take my chances using two forms of birth control rather than just one. Harper was on the pill, and she still got pregnant. I’m not ready to be a mom. Are you ready to be a dad?”

  “God, no,” he said, cringing.

  “Okay, glad that’s settled.”

  Still, he seemed befuddled over my explanation. “I guess I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

  “Because you’re a guy,” I said, finishing off my beer. “You don’t have to push tiny humans out of your body.”

  He threw his crust into the pizza box. “Way to ruin a man’s appetite.”

  “You’re the one who asked!”

  ***

  Later, in the middle of the night, my bladder woke me up to a sleeping Fletcher spooning me. We hadn’t fallen asleep like that, so waking up to him cuddling me was alarming. The last thing I remembered was sliding off of his body after experiencing the most explosive orgasm of my life and then quickly drifting off into a peaceful sleep next to him. There was no cuddling involved.

  He started to worry me with all these benefits. It felt too relationship-ish for me.