Speak Low

by Melanie Harlow

  We didn’t care.

  Finally, we got through the dining room into the hall and Joey was able to walk forward and get us to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his heel as I cupped his jaw in my hands and kissed his top lip, then his bottom lip, running my tongue along them, sucking them into my mouth, rubbing my lips back and forth against them. “God, I love your mouth,” I murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about it. And your hands—I’ve never told you how much I love your hands.”

  Heading straight for the bed, he crawled up on it with my arms and legs still wrapped around him. When he finally lowered his weight onto me, kissing me long and deep, I thought I would scream if I couldn’t have him naked, fast.

  I tugged at his sleeves and he knelt, one knee on either side of my hips, to free his arms from his braces and wrest his shirt from his body. Then he grabbed his white athletic tank from the back and yanked it over his head as I watched, mesmerized by the rough masculine movements, the twitching muscles in his arms and chest, the way the lines on his abdomen undulated as he breathed. My fingers flew to them and I sat up, running my palms over his hot, tight skin. Grabbing his hips, I brought my mouth to his stomach and brushed my lips across it. Planting soft kisses on hard muscles, I placed a hand between his legs, thrilling at the feel of the bulge there. He sucked in his breath, and I looked up at his dark eyes and tousled hair, my heart pounding.

  “Should we draw the curtains?” I asked.

  “No. I want to see you.” He moved backward on his knees and stepped off the end of the bed. “Come here.”

  I crawled to the edge.

  He reached for me. “Stand up.”

  I did as I was told, feeling the damp heat between my legs as I stood.

  Taking me by the shoulders, he turned me around, and I felt his hands at the back of my neck and then working their way down the row of buttons to the sash at my hips. When the dress was loose, I slipped my arms from the sleeves and let it drop to the floor. I turned to face him wearing just my chemise, step-in, and black stockings rolled thigh-high.

  The sight of him shirtless and hungry-eyed was too much for me to bear. I reached for his trousers. “Wait,” he said, grabbing my wrists. “I want to look at you.”

  “I want you to do more than look.”

  “I promise you, baby, I will. Raise your arms.” Reaching for the bottom of my chemise, he lifted the simple white garment over my head and set it aside. Then he crouched in front of me and pulled down my step-in. I held his shoulders and lifted one foot from them, then the other. But when I went to remove my stockings, he took my hands again. “Leave them on.”

  I stood before him, naked except for my stockings and shoes. I’d worn less in front of another man, but somehow this felt like the most naked moment of my life. Every inch of my skin was sizzling as he swept his ravenous eyes over my body. The tension inside me pulled tighter. My nipples grew harder under his stare, and when he licked his lips, I felt a flutter between my legs as if he had licked me there.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, bringing his hands to my hips and guiding them to the bed. Then he dropped to his knees and slid his hands down my thighs, pushing them apart.

  My mouth fell open.

  Moving his hands to the small of my back, he pulled me toward him, closing his mouth over one breast. I inhaled deeply when he dragged his tongue around my nipple in lazy circles and flicked it with tiny strokes. When his teeth closed on it, I grabbed his head, filling both hands with his thick, wavy hair. Heat rushed my center, which was cradled against his stomach. “Now, Joey. Please.”

  He switched his mouth to the other breast and ran a hand up my ribcage to the first, torturing me with his thumb and fingers in a way that made me pant.

  Jesus, does he want me to beg?

  Because I would.

  “You’re making me crazy,” I whined, looking down at his lips closing over my nipple. Leaving the drapes open made everything he did even more arousing because I could see it.

  “I’m just getting started.” His breath tickled my wet skin. I shivered at the cool tingle on my breast and the nearly unbearable hum between my legs. He moved a hand to the top of my thigh, his thumb brushing my sensitive outer folds, and then softly circling over my clitoris.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, yes.”

  “Now lie back.” He brought his hands to my shoulders and gently laid me back. Standing for a moment, he leaned over me and kissed my neck, a moan rumbling from his throat. “Mmmmm, I can’t get enough of the way you smell.” He kissed his way down my chest, stopping to take each breast in his mouth again before continuing down my stomach. “Or the way you taste.” Planting a kiss on each of my hips, he licked a circle around my belly button before trailing his hot, wet tongue in a line straight south. “I want to taste you everywhere.”

  He took a moment to slip my heels off my feet. Then he dropped to his knees between my legs again, hooked his arms beneath my thighs and pulled me to him.

  When he put my knees over his shoulders, I flung my arms over my head.

  At first, I felt only cool air at my center, and then warm air as he exhaled. My body was coiled so tight as I waited for his mouth on me I thought I might explode the moment I actually felt it.

  I nearly did.

  Slowly he licked his way up the silky wet seam at my center, and my legs trembled. When he reached the top, he lingered there and swirled circles with the flat of his tongue before flicking lightly with the tip. Then he did it again, and I felt the telltale tightening of my muscles in my lower body. I’d never fought an orgasm before, but now I knew the exquisite torture Joey had experienced in the pantry. Soft, tender strokes every which way, barely-there flicks that left me panting, loops and lines and curves…Jesus, he could write poetry with his tongue.

  “Joey,” I whispered. “Please…” But then I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, because he chose that moment to take the tiny bud, tingling with heat, into his mouth and suck, and at the same time he slipped his fingers inside me. My heels dug into his back. My toes pointed like a ballerina’s. My hands flew to the bedcovers next to my hips, clawing them in tight fists. He pushed his fingers deep inside me and somehow twisted them to press upward on some magnificent spot I never even knew existed. Working me with both fingers and mouth, he brought me to a peak so high, so hot, so deliciously fraught with tension that I thrashed my head from side to side, my mouth open in a silent scream. When he moaned against my throbbing center, I couldn’t hold on any longer. Letting go completely, I was rewarded with an orgasm so powerful, my body went completely stiff with ecstasy as I yelled his name between gasps.

  For a moment afterward, I didn’t move or speak or even breathe. Joey kissed each of my inner thighs before standing and removing the rest of his clothes. When I propped myself up on shaky elbows and saw him naked before me, I nearly cried with need to feel that body on mine. In the light of the setting sun that crept in through the open drapes, his skin was golden, and every muscle was etched in line and shadow. He had the kind of body immortalized in marble by Italian sculptors four hundred years ago.

  Plus an erection that would rival the leaning tower of Pisa.

  He picked up one of my legs, set my foot on his chest and removed my stocking. Then he kissed each of my toes, my instep, the inside of my ankle, the back of my knee.

  Oh, dear God—how had I never imagined how good his lips would feel at the back of my knee?

  He picked up my other leg and repeated the process.

  I was shaking. “Joey, inside me. Now.”

  He grinned crookedly. “You’re always so bossy.” Leaning down to kiss me, he hooked an arm around my back and dragged us up the bed. “But I’m going to give you what you want.” He stretched over me. “Just the way you want it. I promise.”

  I felt like screaming at how good his skin felt against mine, how blissful his weight was on my body. Our lips and tongues molded, sucked and stroked, and my hands traveled all over
him—his back, his arms, his face, his hair. His cock pushed into my thigh and I wanted it pushing into me. I scooted down, knees wide, putting him exactly where I wanted him.

  “Tiny.” Joey braced himself on his hands above my shoulders and looked down at me with serious eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” I punctuated the words with kisses pressed to his chin, his jaw, his neck.

  “I wasn’t planning for this, so don’t have anything to, you know…stop things from…”

  “I don’t care. I love you, and I’ve never wanted anything more than this. We can be careful.”

  “I’ll go slow.” Reaching between us, he guided himself to the entrance of my body, and I bit my lip. Would it hurt? I closed my eyes and willed myself to open up to him. It’s Joey, I kept thinking. The first couple inches slid in, tight and hot with friction. Oh, God. More. Now. I put my hands on his ass and pulled, panting with frustration.

  Joey let out a strangled groan. “I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman here.”

  “Fuck being a gentleman.” I opened my eyes and dug my nails into his skin. “I want you all the way inside me, and I want it now.”

  At that his eyes blazed with heat and he rammed into me. I gasped and threw my head to the side, crying out at the sudden shock of being stretched so tight and filled so completely. He pulled out and then slammed into me again, hitting a place so deep inside I was rendered soundless, if not actually mindless. Then he slowed down, and with several long, deep thrusts, he taught my body how to take him in, how to surrender completely to being pushed to the limit.

  When I could finally breathe again, I looked up at him. His eyes were open, and in them I saw the battle between how much he loved me, which meant he didn’t want to hurt me, and how badly he wanted to pound his cock into me until I screamed for mercy. And even though a sliver of fear still lingered that my body wouldn’t be able to handle it, I knew what I wanted. When he hit the deepest spot again, I held him there; then I tilted my hips so I could feel pressure exactly where I needed it.

  “Right there, baby?” he whispered, rocking into me with smaller movements.

  “Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes as pleasure triumphed over pain. Staying deep within me, he circled his hips in a slow, steady rhythm. Within seconds I grew wetter and hotter and the buzzing tension began building again at my center.

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he said. “I had no idea, no fucking idea…”

  “Me either,” I breathed. “I used to dream about your hands on me, and even that was enough to make me crazy.”

  “I used to think about exactly what I’d do to you if I had the chance. All the ways I’d touch you. How you’d feel wrapped around me. How you’d smell, how you’d taste. There isn’t one fucking inch of your body I haven’t dreamed about. And now you’re here,” he said, his voice going hoarse, “and you’re so fucking beautiful.” He began to move faster, harder, and I wanted it, I wanted everything. My lower body hummed and coiled, and the euphoria began to overtake me again. “Oh my God,” I panted, completely lost to him. “Oh my God, you’re so good. You’re so gorgeous and big and hard and you feel so fucking good.”

  Over and over he pounded into me, hard and steady and deep. His mouth came close to mine but we were so out of our minds with rapture we couldn’t even kiss—our eyes locked and our breath mingled and our bodies moved together in an unceasing, savage rhythm.

  “Christ, I’m gonna come,” he said through clenched teeth. “So if you don’t want me inside you—”

  Gripping him tight to my body, I lifted my head and pressed my mouth against his. “Don’t leave me.”

  With powerful, primal sounds coming from deep within his throat, he pumped himself into my body even harder and throbbed inside me, over and over again. Powerless against the torrent any longer, every cell in my body burst open in a glorious fireworks of light and sound and color. I turned my cheek to the bed and cried out, short, repeated screams of pleasure beyond belief that echoed through my head and were probably loud enough to burst Joey’s eardrums.

  The moment our bodies stilled, Joey propped himself on his elbows and dropped his head to mine, pressing his damp forehead to my temple. “Tell me this is real.” His chest rose and fell from exertion.

  I finally closed my mouth and licked my lips. “I hope it is.”

  He put his lips on my cheekbone and held them there, and inexplicably, a lump jumped into my throat.

  What the hell? I was perfectly happy and my body was totally sated. What on earth could I possibly have to cry about? But the tears were coming, and there was nothing I could do about it. Completely mortified, I felt one slip from the corner of my eye, and a sob wrenched itself from my chest.

  Joey picked up his head. “What’s wrong, baby? Oh God, I should have pulled out.”

  I grimaced through tears. “No, no, it’s not that. Nothing is wrong, I swear to you, nothing.” Sniffing, I squeezed my eyes shut. “This is so dumb, I don’t know why I’m crying because I’m actually really happy right now.”

  Laughing gently, he wiped a tear from my cheek. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “I know! That’s why it’s so dumb!” Incredibly, I continued to sob, and even though Joey must have thought I was crazy, he wrapped his arms around me and flipped us onto our sides, keeping our bodies joined.

  “Come here. It’s OK.”

  I circled his torso with my arms and buried my face in his chest, loving the warm feel and smell of his skin and detesting myself for ruining this moment. Weeping like a child, I let him hold me. Joey kissed the top of my head and rested his chin there, rubbing my back with slow, soothing strokes.

  Thankfully, my insanity passed and I was able to stem the tears after a minute or two. “Sorry.” I sniffled. “I suppose I’m just emotional.”

  “You? Emotional over me?” He squeezed me tight. “Then go ahead. Cry all you want, doll.”

  I slapped his chest and picked up my head to look at him—messy hair, smiling mouth, and best of all, eyes full of content and adoration. No one had ever looked at me that way before. “No, I’m done now.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case…” He deftly slipped underneath me so I was sitting on his hips, my hands propped on his chest. We were still connected, and I felt him stirring inside me again. “God, you’re so beautiful. Even with a red nose and puffy eyes.”

  I slapped my palms over my face. “Don’t look at me.”

  He took my wrists and brought them to his chest again. “Let me.” As his eyes took me in, they warmed with unmistakable intention.

  I wouldn’t have thought we had anything left.

  I was wrong.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I said sprinkle, not pour!” Joey rolled his eyes when he saw how much sugar I’d dumped over the apples in the pan. “That looks like an avalanche.”

  “Well, sorry,” I said, laughing. “I thought I was sprinkling. And you never said how much to sprinkle so I just guessed.” He was teaching me how to make a dessert called Brown Betty Pudding, but I wasn’t a very good student. Who could blame me? We’d been in his bedroom for hours working up an appetite, and Joey was still shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black pants that sat low on his hips. He’d offered me one of his shirts to wear, and I insisted on the one he’d worn today. I couldn’t stop sniffing it.

  “Jesus. Give me that.” Joey took the canister of sugar and spoon from my hands. “Go into the pantry and get cinnamon and bread crumbs.”

  “You’re supposed to be giving me a lesson. How am I going to learn to cook if I miss what you’re doing?”

  “I’m just adding the butter and salt. Did you at least manage to heat the water?” He looked skeptically at another pan on the stovetop.

  “I think so. Even I can’t screw that up.”

  Joey didn’t look convinced of that, but I was in too good a mood to bicker so I went to the pantry. I found the cinnamon pretty quickly, but didn’t see any bread crumbs
. “Joey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need help.”

  A moment later he appeared in the pantry doorway. “Geez, Tiny, I’m beginning to think even lessons from me aren’t going to help you. Maybe you should stick to rum running.”

  “Ha, ha. I found the cinnamon but I don’t see any bread crumbs. Are they in a box?”

  “Oh. No, they’re probably in a container but it might be labeled in Italian.” He glanced up at a shelf and pulled down a canister with something handwritten on the front. Flipping the lid, he peeked in, a curious expression on his face. “Aha.”

  “Bread crumbs?”

  “Nope.” He reached in and pulled out…a gun?

  I jumped back. “Jesus, Joey! What is that and why is it in your pantry?”

  He set it on the shelf and closed up the container. “It’s a pistol. My dad’s. He used to keep it in there just in case, and my mom probably forgot about it. Don’t worry. I won’t shoot you, even if you ruin dessert.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and he swept me up in one arm and kissed me. “But if you stick that tongue out at me again, I might have to end this lesson early.”

  I grinned and kissed him back. When he let me go, I couldn’t resist hopping from one foot to the other out of pure joy. Joey laughed at me as he set the empty canister back on the shelf and retrieved the bread crumbs.

  “What are you doing, dancing?”

  “Why not?” I skipped out of the pantry and twirled around in the kitchen on bare toes. “I just realized on Friday night how much I love dancing. I never knew it before I danced with you.”

  Joey followed me out, groaning and shaking his head. “You have no idea how hard that night was for me. First of all, seeing you there, in that dress, and thinking you were there for someone else.” He set the bread crumbs on the counter. “And then when you asked to dance with me, I couldn’t resist saying yes even though I knew it would be a bad idea.”