by Anna Jeffrey
His fingers continued to thrust in and out of me and finally, finally, he drew my swollen core all the way into his mouth. A violent explosion tore from the soles of my feet to the top of my head, shooting me so far into space I might not return. My toes curled. Deep spasms quaked my body. I sobbed. I anchored my fists in his hair and pulled my knees up as far as possible. I tried to hold back the animal sounds that were escaping my throat, but I couldn’t. It went on and on. At the peak of it, tears leaked from my eyes and all I could do was whimper his name.
Then it was over. I had climaxed profoundly, but my sex was still clenching against the emptiness. I wanted his hard cock inside me, fucking me into an even more profound oblivion. I wanted him to hold me, to kiss me. I wanted this to be more than what it was. I wanted him to feel something. I craved all of this at once. I had nothing to cry about, but I couldn’t stop the tears that trailed past my temples. I gave a little sniffle.
“What is it, baby?”
“Please….I feel so empty…I—I need you—”
“Tell me what you want,” he said hoarsely.
“You know…”
“Say the words.”
“I—I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. Say them.”
I had never said dirty words during sex, but I choked out, “Fu—fuck me. Please….And hurry…”
He turned to his side, shoved his shorts past his butt and kicked his legs free. He reached across me, his long, swollen penis bobbing and brushing my thigh as he grabbed a condom off the bedside table.
In seconds, he was standing on his knees between my thighs, giving me a front-row view of his erection—thick, deep red and long enough to reach my heart. He closed his fist around the thick shaft and pulled at it. “Is this what you want?”
Every inch of it. I nodded. “Yes, yes. Just hurry.”
He ripped the foil package open with his teeth. I watched, fascinated by those agile fingers quickly covering his thick length with latex.
Then, he was leaning over me, braced on one hand beside me and carefully placing his penis at my opening and scalding me with the heat of the smooth head.
A shudder passed over his shoulders. “Jesus,” he choked out. “I thought I’d lose it before we got to this point.”
A pulse beat rapidly in his neck. My own heart was pounding. Gripping his thick biceps with my hands, I pulled my knees up in invitation and he pushed the wide head into me. He was so big I expected it to hurt a little. It didn’t, but I couldn’t hold back a huge sigh.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed. “Just don’t stop…”
“No way…”
He intertwined our fingers and pressed them against the mattress on either side of my head. “Open your eyes,” he said tightly.
My eyelids jerked open and I met his eyes, black and glittering.
“I want you to remember who’s fucking you.”
Until the day I die…“How could I forget?”
He moved high above me and began a steady rock, the root of him pressing my clitoris with each shallow thrust. My world became his wide, golden chest blocking my sight, our comingled labored breaths echoing in my ears, the scent of sex and his maleness filling my nostrils, the thick root of him pressing and massaging the tiny spot that had become my universe. I caught on to his rhythm, hooked my heels beneath his buttocks and met him thrust for thrust.
“That’s it, sweet baby….That’s it….Rub that clit against my dick.”
I began to climb and in no time, I felt that tickle, that quickening….I was on the edge again.
His grip on my hands tightened. He picked up the pace. I writhed, uncoordinated, and lost the connection. “Arghh!” I cried.
On a growl, he slammed into me all the way to the hilt. I came with a yelp, my hips pumping wildly, my deep vaginal muscles convulsing beyond my control around him.
When it ended, he untangled our fingers and sank to his elbows, his eyes locked on mine. “Jesus. That nearly finished me off….God, baby, your cunt’s so fuckin’ tight….So sweet.”
He felt enormous all the way up inside me, stretching me, filling me top to bottom and side to side. “You feel so big.”
“But not too big,” he said huskily, his dark eyes intense. He began to pump. “Stay with me.”
He moved with athletic ease, each push taking the tip of him deeply into me. I entered another dimension. A glorious bliss came over me. My eyes wanted to close, to better savor the indescribable friction going on inside me. But with great effort, I forced them open and held his gaze.
Without missing a stroke, he braced himself on his hands on the mattress beside my shoulders and lifted his torso. His face was flushed, his black eyes glittering. “Put your legs around my waist.” Robotically, I did as ordered. “Gonna fuck you hard….”
He drove into me, his lunges powerful enough to lift my buttocks off the mattress and deep enough that his sac brushed against me with each thrust. I hooked my arms around his shoulders and hung on.
That arcane harrying low in my belly began to build again. How could I come again? My body was spent, but the desperation grew and grew until one great starburst erupted inside me. I dug my nails into his shoulders, my heels into his butt and rode the punishing waves of ecstasy.
His release came with a great strain and groan, his body going rigid and still as his penis jerked inside me. From out of nowhere, a visual of semen jetting from the tip came to me and for an insane moment, I hated the idea that the receiving receptacle was a latex balloon. A few seconds passed before his arms gave away and his heaving body sank on top of me.
I was exhausted. I was slick with sweat. My bones had liquified. But I hugged him tightly to me, breathing in his distinctive scent. “Oh, my God, Tack,” I whispered. “Oh, my God….”
He lay half on, half off me. He, too, was covered with a sheen of perspiration. We lay there in silence for long minutes.
“Jesus, Miranda,” he mumbled finally, his voice hoarse.
“I know,” I said. From somewhere, a stupid giggle popped out of my mouth. “You shouldn’t have set that goal.”
“We didn’t get there yet,” he gasped out. “But the night’s still young.”
Oh, God. Could I keep up?
He rolled to my side and hauled me with him until we were front to front. His knee thrust between my legs and he caught my thigh and took it across his hip. He pushed my damp hair back from my face with trembling fingers and looked at me with soft eyes. “You’re something else.”
“I don’t know what’s come over me. I never was before.”
A hint of a smile tipped a corner of his mouth. “I don’t know how I held out so long. I must’ve wanted to be sure it was good for you. Back there at Skyline, I was scared to death you’d say no.”
My chest almost wouldn’t hold my swelling heart. I strummed his ribs with my fingertips, smiled up into his midnight eyes that now looked calm and serene. “Now I ask you. How many women have ever said no to you?”
“Enough.”
“How could that be when you have so much to offer? And you’re so persuasive?”
“You think so?”
“I do. You certainly persuaded me.”
“I think what I am is stubborn. When I really want something, I have a hard time taking no for an answer. It’d make my day if you said you wanted this as much as I did.”
I pressed my fingers into his thick back muscles, lifted my head and gave him a warrior-woman kiss. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“You said sex had to have some meaning.”
“That’s how I feel. I can’t help it.”
“Fucking me has meaning?”
Everything inside me stilled. What was he asking me? For some reason, I believed that the next words I said were important. I looked soul-deep into his eyes and said, “Of course it does.”
Chapter 7
Tack didn’t reply, which sent a little stab of disappointment through me.
You scarcely
know each other, my snarky inner voice snapped. What did you expect?
He reached over to the bedside table, picked up his watch and checked the time. “We should order supper before it’s too late.”
He rolled to his feet and dealt with the condom, then walked to the bathroom, giving me a view of a narrow white butt and wide tanned shoulders. Thick slabs of muscle flanked a deep valley that traveled the length of his spine. I could fall in love with his body even if the rest of him had no appeal.
I flopped to my back, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts whirled so fast I couldn’t grasp so much as one thing that seemed real. What was that?
It was fucking, my inner voice chided. Don’t make the mistake of confusing it with lovemaking.
I couldn’t count how many times I had come. My body had never been so thoroughly used, titillated and thrilled.
I had planned on getting dressed and going home, but now, maybe not. I wasn’t sure I could walk, much less drive my SUV.
When I heard the flush of the toilet, I turned to my side, propped myself on my elbow and rested my head on my hand, waiting for his return. He came out of the bathroom, giving me a full frontal of all that God had given him. Good grief!
He took my breath. He truly could be a Greek statue. His tanned torso was toned and padded with defined muscle. Black hair dusted well-developed pecs and whorled down to his groin. He obviously didn’t wax or shave his body, which was fine with me. Abs rippled down his stomach. He had those ridges of muscle that traveled from his waist and disappeared into a perfect delta of pubic hair. He was the most perfect specimen of manhood I had ever seen up close and personal. I drank him in.
His penis, still stretched and deep red, nested in a thatch of black, black hair. As incredible as it seemed, I started to think about having it inside me again.
He gave me that familiar half-grin. “Like what you see?”
“What’s not to like? You must work out.”
He knows he has great body, my snarky inner voice put in. How many women have seen him like this? And is one of them waiting back in Midland?
I shoved those questions right out of my mind. No one had twisted my arm and forced me to be here.
He ran his fingers through his hair as if my remark had embarrassed him. “A little. It’s a habit left over from the army. I don’t go to a gym or anything. I’ve got some equipment in my house. And I work around the ranch sometimes. Cowboying is a pretty good workout.”
Reaching the bedside table, he rummaged in the drawer. His penis was the perfect level for me to reach out and caress him, but I restrained myself.
He came up with a Ruth’s Chris menu, sat down on the edge of the mattress and studied it. His wavy hair stuck out in a dozen directions. I couldn’t keep from giggling. He looked at me across his shoulder. “What? What’s funny?”
I gave him a teasing grin. “Your hair. It’s going every which way.”
He grinned back at me. He had the cutest grin. His face was so classic and perfect, but when he grinned, it took on a “little boy” look.
“I’ll order steaks.”
“Great. As long as you don’t expect me to go out and kill a cow.”
“Another time, maybe.”
“Something small is okay with me. I usually don’t eat a big meal this late in the evening.”
“What, then? A filet?”
“That’s fine.”
He picked up the wine list, scanned it quickly, then looked at me.
“Whatever you like,” I said.
He returned to the list. “I’m not an expert on wine. When I eat steak, I usually order burgundy or anything red. There isn’t much I don’t like.”
“Red wine with red meat. Isn’t that what they say?”
He smiled, leaned down to me and gave me a sweet kiss. “Is that what they say? Who is this they anyway?”
While he ordered dinner and the wine, I picked up the bar menu. Working in a bar and living with my mom’s drinking, I had developed a strong caution about alcohol for myself, but I enjoyed making creative cocktails. Of all of the drinks the menu offered, a blueberry mohito appeared to be the most benign. I knew how to make mohitos, had tasted one, but I had never made one with blueberries. I started to imagine how I could make it and serve it at Smoky Joe’s.
After he hung up and started to return the menu to the drawer, I handed the bar menu to him.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked.
I shook my head. “The wine will be enough for me. I don’t drink much.” I scooted to the opposite side of the wide bed. We had made a wreck of it. “I should find all of my clothes before they bring the food.”
I got to my feet and reached down for my cami that had somehow gotten to the floor feet away from where I peeled it off. A sweet, deep ache manifested itself between my legs along with a new experience—my clitoris was tender and slightly sore. This night had been full of new experiences and I had the feeling they hadn’t ended yet.
I crossed the room to the closet. Sensing his eyes on me made me self-conscious. I dragged a hotel terrycloth robe off a hanger, hid my nakedness and ducked into the bathroom. My reflection in the wide vanity mirror over the sink looked as ugly as I feared it did. My eye makeup was smeared, my pale complexion looked mottled. I doubted I owned enough makeup to cover the whisker burns on my chin and around my mouth. My hair looked as if I had been in a hurricane.
Tack’s travel toiletries bag sat open on the end of the counter and I spotted a small hairbrush. I helped myself to it and brushed out the most obvious tangles. If I had my barrette, I could clip the top layers back into a ponytail, but the clip was, no doubt, somewhere in the bed.
I gave up on the hair and tried to wipe the mascara from under my eyes with a washcloth and warm water. Afterward, I looked only slightly better.
I finished washing up and returned to the bedroom. Tack had put on his jeans, but the fly was open and I saw that he was commando. I found that sexy beyond belief. I gave him a teasing grin. “Be careful zipping up. I wouldn’t like you wounded.”
He looked down at his fly, then back at me and grinned as he zipped up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I walked around the spacious room, picking up my clothing. He came to me and took the garments from my hands, laid them on the foot of the second bed, then untied my robe and slid his hands underneath. I loved his warm hands on my bare skin.
He gently caressed my waist. “I don’t want to think you’re with somebody, but it’s hard for me to believe you’re not.”
Don’t pass up the perfect opening, my inner voice said.
“That goes both ways, you know. It’s hard for me to believe you don’t have a wife and a houseful of kids back in Midland.”
“No kids. Just an ex-wife. These days, seems like everybody’s got an ex-something.”
Of course he had an ex-something. No guy as attractive as he was would have escaped a union of some kind. How long were they together? Couldn’t have been long. He wasn’t that old. I judged him to be over thirty, but under thirty-five. And why didn’t he have kids?
“My ex-wife is a long way from Midland,” he added. “And I don’t have any other exes.”
We kissed long and sweetly. When we stopped, I looked into his eyes, cocked my head and asked, “How far is a long way?”
“Germany.”
Quick mental exercise. Aggie class ring. ROTC. Aha. She’s in the army. “Oh. That is a long way.
He released me and picked up his shirt from the chair where he had tossed it. He no sooner had pulled it on and buttoned it before the food and the mouthwatering aroma of grilled steak arrived. The steward rolled in a small table on which our meal was laid out, then bustled about, arranging dishes, lifting lids and opening and pouring wine. He moved chairs from the table on the far side of the room. As he started to leave, Tack handed him bills, the denomination of which I couldn’t see.
Tack held my chair for me and I sat down. “Hmm. Heavenly. I haven’t eaten at
Ruth’s Chris in a very long time.”
He took a seat opposite me, picked up his wine glass and sipped. “Try the wine.”
I sipped. “Tastes good to me. I don’t have a trained palate, you know.”
We settled down to eat. I searched for a place to start a conversation. “What about the condo? Did you and Drake talk about it?”
He picked up a roll that looked to be softer than a pillow. “A little.” He smiled. “I’ve known Drake a long time. I know how he is. We’re dickering.”
So my warning him about Drake’s competitiveness wasn’t necessary. “Oh, good. Which one are you dickering on?”
“The big one on the twentieth floor.”
Oh. My. God. A mansion in the sky. Twelve Million dollars. Besides the price, the size variance between the 2,100 square-foot unit on the seventeenth floor and the 6,000 square feet on the twentieth was huge. Why would he need so much room?
I gave him a look. “Seriously? Drake said you wanted a small pad.”
“A small pad is all I need for myself. But then I started thinking about the investment and my sister in Killeen. She’s got four kids. Her husband’s in Afghanistan. They live frugally. If I had a bigger place, she and the kids could have a good place to stay when stuff is going on here in Fort Worth. Killeen isn’t that far away. Or she and her husband could use it as a getaway when he’s home. He’d be insulted if I offered them money, but providing a nice place for them to take a break now and then is a small thing I can do for them.”
He had buttered the roll he picked up. Arching his brow, he offered it to me.
I frowned, considering. “Hmm. I’ll bet the bread here is scrumptious. I usually don’t eat bread, especially with butter, but yes, I’ll take one.”
He smiled, placed the buttered roll on a plate and slid it to me. “Not a drinker, don’t eat bread and butter. Why so much discipline?”
“Controlling my weight is important to what I do.”
He picked up another roll, pulled it apart and started to butter it. “I thought you were a real estate agent. Now I’m curious. What is it that you do?”
