by BETH KERY
Her eyes widened at the subtle threat she heard. He reached again and she heard the ice clanking against the side of the champagne bucket. This time when he returned to her, he held several cubes in his hand. He put his hand at the back of her head and lifted her before he raised his hand to her lips.
“Suck on it,” he said tensely.
She stared up at him, confused, her lips automatically closing around the cubes he’d slid into her mouth.
“Go on. Let me see you melt it. Suck.”
Her heart started to throb uncomfortably in her stretched rib cage, like there wasn’t room for it anymore. She sucked on the ice, squeezing the water out of it like she might the juice out of cold fruit. Everett groaned as she watched her with a steady focus. She drew harder, her cheeks flexing inward, until the last of the slippery, hard, cold splinter in her mouth melted.
Everett slipped his finger into her mouth. He muttered something she couldn’t catch before he gently placed the back of her head back on the mattress. Suddenly, he was coming down next to her on his back. Joy lifted her head. She saw his long legs fly up in the air as he tore his pajama bottoms off them with uncommon haste. Then he was back, straddling her, except this time he came higher, his knees tucking beneath her armpits. He reached again for the ice bucket. He lifted her head again.
Joy stopped breathing, spellbound by the vision of his long golden penis just inches from her face. It seemed to take up her entire field of vision. Her clit pinched so tight in longing, she grimaced.
“Open,” he said gruffly.
But instead of his cock, he slipped more ice between her lips.
“Suck. It’s the only thing that’s going to keep me from fucking your beautiful face and coming in that hot little mouth, so you better chill it off,” he said in a tight voice from above her.
Her eyes widened. What he’d said was raunchy and crude and so erotic, it short-circuited her brain for a second. “Suck,” he prompted again, this time more gently.
Joy stared at the awesome sight of his erect cock and sucked for all she was worth. It was so beautifully shaped. The tapering, fat head; the long, straight shaft; the swollen, blue vein that ran from just below the defined rim beneath the head down the shaft—her tongue longed to taste all of it. His fingers moved, caressing the nape of her neck. His other hand lowered between his thighs. He grasped his cock, stroking the head and upper shaft with what looked like a tight grip.
Joy stilled.
“Suck,” he ordered. “Melt all the ice.”
He jerked on his cock. She saw the skin stretch tight from his squeezing stroke. The bulbous head took on a purplish tinge. Joy’s cheeks hollowed out as she sucked furiously. He continued to stroke himself, sometimes with a loosened fist, sometimes yanking on himself in a manner that struck her as unbearably exciting. She watched, panting through her nose, as he used his thumb to rub a clear drop of ejaculate into the slit on the head.
A few splinters of ice still remained on her half-numb tongue, but she spread her lips wide in an invitation. He grunted and braced his upper body on the cloth headboard of the bed with one hand. Joy thought she’d shatter from the sharp anticipation that gripped her entire body as she watched him lean forward and guide his cock to her lips.
Hard flesh penetrated her mouth and stretched her lips wide. Joy closed her eyes, her entire focus on the sensation of his cock sliding against her tongue.
“Holy fuck.” She heard his voice as if from a distance. “Your mouth is so cold.” Joy’s cheeks and jaw ached, she drew on him so hard. He groaned and thrust between her clamping lips. “And so damn hot.”
She couldn’t move toward him, restrained as she was and with his hand holding her head, but he must have sensed her eagerness, because he fucked her mouth for a moment, pulsing his hips and sliding in and out of her several inches. She wasn’t hungry—she was ravenous. Crazed. Her entire world shrank, becoming the smell and the taste and the sensation of Everett’s cock.
He paused, depriving her of a downstroke. Her nostrils flared for air and she clamped the head of his cock tighter between her lips. She laved at the taut flesh with a stiffened tongue, coaxing him to give her more. He grunted appreciatively.
“Open your eyes.”
She did so sluggishly, light and vision splintering her dark, voluptuous world. He put his thumbs beneath her jaw and gently tilted her head back, thrusting his hips forward so that his cock remained lodged in her mouth. She stared up at the long, muscular length of him dazedly, feeling strange . . . drunk . . . drugged by desire.
“Enough.”
He said it harshly at the same time that his cock slipped from between her lips. He laid her head back on the mattress. She murmured his name through numbed lips. Suddenly, his hands were on her breasts, plumping them in his palms, and one of her nipples was surrounded by his warm, wet mouth. He lashed at her with his tongue and drew on her until she cried out in anguished arousal. She wouldn’t call his treatment rough, necessarily, but it was far, far from being the gentle, teasing awakening of her nerves he’d subjected her to earlier. He made a sound of satisfaction in his throat as he molded her breasts, sucking insistently on one tip. Her hips twisted on the bed in arousal. Her nightgown was still in her lap. The light, flimsy silk was inadequate pressure on her wet, wanting pussy. Everett transferred his mouth to her other nipple and gave it a similarly lusty, insistent treatment. She let out a groan of pure misery.
“Oh God, please.”
He lifted his head and gently nipped at her nipple. Joy ground her pelvis down into the mattress and shifted her weight, desperate for friction.
“Please what?”
“Please touch my pussy,” she panted. If he wanted her to beg, no problem. She had nothing else to do but lie here and twist and drown in excitement. “Please, Everett.”
His mouth lowered. He dragged his teeth gently across her sensitive ribs, raising goose bumps on her skin, making her gasp loudly. She pressed down again on the mattress. Even her anus tingled with electric arousal. Everett’s tongue touched her belly, making the muscles leap. She lifted her head, panting, seeing his back and shoulder muscles bunch as he held himself off her, his head lowering to the folds of yellow silk. She watched him through the mounds of her heaving breasts. She felt it in every cell of her body when he kissed her just above the silk. He lowered it slowly. She felt it sliding over her labia.
She dropped her head back on the mattress. She was having difficulty drawing adequate air into her lungs, the anticipation was so great.
“Oh, God,” she muttered under her breath when she felt his fingers on her mons. She clamped her eyes shut when she felt him spread her labia. Wide. Had she ever been parted so wholly? She swore she felt his gaze on her exposed, wet flesh like a pressing weight. If nerves had mouths, hers would be screaming. The tip of his tongue flicked her clit.
Her entire body convulsed like she’d been lashed with a whip.
He made a rough sound. He kept her parted wide, making her clit entirely exposed for his rigid, rapid tongue. Joy just lay there, helpless under the ruthless flail. He pressed and agitated. It was patently lewd what he was doing to her—pressing, flicking, waggling his wet flesh against hers. He was going to make her come in seconds, his movements were so wickedly precise.
He covered her clit with his mouth and sucked. A curse flew out of her throat. She clenched her thigh and ass muscles so tight, she thought they’d break. Didn’t they say the female anatomical equivalent of a cock was the clitoris? God, she thought wildly as she crested, she so wished she could swallow Everett whole and stimulate every single inch of him with a relentless tongue.
She did break—helplessly against the sharp edge of pleasure, her body shaking with release. He continued to lick and agitate and suck her as she came, seeming determined to milk every last shudder out of her quivering flesh. Her final cry segued into a shaky moan. Her body sagged into the mattress.
She felt like she’d been wrung dry.
She stared up
at the ceiling sightlessly, trying to catch her breath. She tasted the sharp tang of her own sweat in her mouth. Through a haze of disorientation, she felt Everett move, and then the spring in the mattress when his weight came off it. She felt something flick against the arch of her foot and twitched, realizing her left foot was free. Everett was freeing her ankles from the restraints. For a few seconds, she heard nothing but her own ragged, soughing breath in her ears. Her body still buzzed, her nerves still zipped and sizzled. She was having a hard time calming following her explosive climax.
The mattress dipped and she lifted her head. Her breath caught, burning in her lungs for a moment, before she gasped again for air. Everett came toward her on his knees, naked, his already lean, defined muscles looking especially tight and hard. A condom stretched over his enormous erection. He looped his forearm beneath one of her knees and kept coming toward her on his knees until he paused between her thighs. She watched, her breath scoring her lungs, as he lowered his head and gently pushed back her thigh, rolling back her hips. His head lowered, he took his cock in his hand and pushed it into her slit. He flexed his hips, impaling her in one swift, shocking thrust.
Joy shouted out hoarsely. Her body tightened, her muscles rippling at the bold possession. He grunted thickly, gripping firmly on the thigh he held in the air. He lifted her hips several inches off the mattress and began to fuck her. She bit her lip to stop from screaming. The friction was nearly too much for her, but he was clearly enjoying it. No . . . relishing it.
Hadn’t she thought just moments ago that she’d love to be able to swallow his cock and stimulate every inch of it at the same time? Maybe her mouth couldn’t. But her pussy could. She ground her teeth together and bounced her hips in a counter rhythm to his pounding cock. The uncomfortable pressure deep inside her morphed to a burn . . . a delicious friction. She watched him, his glinting gaze, his rigid face, the long, golden stretch of flexing, pumping muscle.
“Harder,” she managed between clenched teeth, even though part of her was screaming silently that she couldn’t take it. “Fuck me harder.”
His chest and arm muscle tightened. He drew her leg up higher and tauter at the same moment she spread her other thigh on the mattress. His hips turned his cock into a fluid, ruthless piston. He pounded into her until she screamed without drawing breath. She felt his cock jerk viciously high inside her. His pelvis crashed against hers with a loud whap. He lifted her, grinding himself against her exposed clit while his cock swelled.
Her scream of barraging sensation segued to a keen of climax. She shuddered in tight, delicious pleasure, but she lifted her head and opened her eyes, wanting to see him as he came, absorbing his primal growls, loving the way his sweat-gilded muscles tightened and loosened, went rigid and shuddered with each consecutive ejaculation . . .
With every beat of his wild, pumping heart.
She’d done that to him.
Savage triumph blazed through her at the thought. She let her head fall back on the mattress as she tried to catch her breath again. It was shocking, how accurately, how powerfully, he could give her pleasure.
But what was truly alarming—and definitely addicting—was how much she loved pleasing Everett in return.
Eleven
Joy’s eyes opened the next morning in a room that had been transformed into a golden, light-filled globe. She remained still, her head resting on Everett’s chest, spying a beam of sunlight escaping around the curtains to flicker across his biceps and reach its luminescent tendrils toward a nipple. His chest moved steadily up and down, teasing the little light fairy; the curtains shifted ever so slightly, and the beam danced along his shoulder.
Joy reached and gently mingled her fingers with the sunlight on his collarbone, making her touch nearly as ephemeral so as not to wake him. The light fairy had warmed his smooth skin. She snatched back her hand when Everett’s facial muscles tightened and his even breathing halted, but he fell almost immediately back into a deep sleep. She carefully extricated herself from his hold and the bedclothes, smiling.
The light truly did love him.
She quietly removed some clothing from her bag and entered the bathroom. When she came out ten minutes later, dressed for a jog, the sunlight-speckled, mussed bed was empty. She found Everett in the cozy little kitchen of the guesthouse, wearing pajama bottoms and scooping coffee into a filter.
“Morning,” she said when he glanced around and caught her eye.
“Hey.” She liked the rough, early morning quality of his voice. He flipped the coffeemaker closed, set down the bag he was holding and switched on the power. He turned toward her, his arms outstretched and his gaze moving over her with appreciative warmth. She went to him, smiling as she put her arms around his neck. “You look like you’re ready for some exercise,” he murmured, his gaze on her mouth.
Her lips twitched. The way he was looking at her, she had a pretty good idea what kind of exercise he was thinking about.
“You have a one-track mind, Everett Hughes.”
He grinned. “So I like to keep things simple. Is that a bad thing?” She laughed and he swept down to kiss her. He transferred his mouth to her neck after a moment, his whiskers and warm lips the ideal combination for making her shiver. She pressed her nose to a pectoral muscle and inhaled. He smelled delicious—lingering soap, a hint of sweet sweat and sex. His kisses on her neck were becoming lustier by the minute. She gave in to temptation and gently bit at dense muscle.
He lifted his head, looking vaguely irritated that she’d interrupted his breakfast on her neck.
“The kind of exercise I was thinking about was jogging,” she said.
“Spoilsport.”
She smiled. “Do you want to come or not?”
“I want to come, all right,” he muttered. She snorted with laughter, not at all concerned about his beleaguered expression. He gave her a glance that assured her he knew he was being highly ill-used as he released her. “Just give me a second to get dressed,” he said, leaving the kitchen.
Joy drank one of the high-protein shakes she’d brought along and made the bed while he was in the bathroom. While she was fluffing the pillows, she noticed the drawer that Everett had removed the cuffs and restraints from last night was slightly ajar. What other naughty things did he keep in that drawer?
She tossed down the pillow and edged toward the bureau. When she heard the shower door open, she fled the bedroom guiltily. By the time he came out to the kitchen again a few minutes later, she was pouring coffee into two cups.
“I don’t know what you put in your coffee,” Joy said.
“I take it black, thanks,” he said, examining the label of her shake. Judging from his expression, Everett didn’t put much stock in health food. Joy glanced down over him, her gaze sticking on his shoes.
“Everett . . . you’re not wearing those jogging, are you?”
He looked down at himself dubiously. He was wearing an ancient-looking polo shirt that had once probably been black but had faded over many washes to a dingy gray, an Army-green pair of baggy cargo shorts that fell below his knees, white socks and a pair of black Converse high-tops with white laces. “What? It’s comfortable,” he said defensively. “The raccoons and squirrels aren’t going to care how I’m dressed.”
“I wasn’t talking about your outfit, if that’s what one actually calls an ensemble like that,” she said wryly. “I’m referring to your shoes. You shouldn’t be jogging in shoes like that.”
“I always do,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee unconcernedly.
“But, Everett—there’s no support in those shoes whatsoever. Your arches are going to collapse.”
He shrugged. “They haven’t so far.”
“That’s not a good reason for you to keep doing it. My running shoes are the most expensive thing in my wardrobe. And here you have all that money, but you’re wearing those pitiful shoes,” she scolded as she walked over to the refrigerator. She opened the door and peered inside the nearly
empty receptacle. “I can’t believe no one in your family has guilted you into buying shoes that are good for your feet.”
“I don’t let people guilt me into anything. Are you looking for cream?”
“I can drink it black,” she said, closing the door.
“We’ll take our cups up to Katie and Rill’s and sneak some.”
“Okay. Wait!” she called when he started toward the front door. She reached for a spray bottle she’d put on the counter and held it up. “Sunblock and mosquito repellent.”
His eyes glinted with interest as he walked toward her. “You want me to put it on you?”
“No. I already put it on. You should put some on, though.”
He shrugged. “I never wear that stuff.”
She shook her head, grinning when she caught his eye.
“You never worry about things like West Nile virus, Lyme disease, skin cancer?” she asked, amused, as they started out the door and across the large yard to Katie and Rill’s house. The forest chirped, twittered and creaked behind them, cheerfully alive and hopping in the early morning light.
“I worry about stuff, but not about those things,” Everett said.
“What things, then?” she couldn’t help but ask as they crept up the front stairs. What did a man like Everett Hughes worry about?
He opened his mouth to answer but paused as he opened the screen door and tested the knob. It was locked.
“They’re probably all still sleeping. I know Seth will be. He’s usually up all hours working and sleeps until ten or eleven. It’s only six thirty,” Joy whispered guiltily as Everett used some keys he had in his pocket to unlock the door. They were both clutching their coffees. The summer day was already so balmy, hardly any steam rose from the hot liquid.
“We’ll be the highest caliber cream thieves—get in, get the goods, get out,” Everett whispered.
She rolled her eyes and followed him into the silent kitchen. Barnyard rose from his reclining position on the floor and trotted up to them on short legs, his doleful brown eyes slightly accusatory. He sniffed Everett’s high-tops and waddled away.
