Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers)

by Brooks, Cheryl

  “You obviously didn’t check all the grocery stores,” he said, chuckling.

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’m the manager at Farmer’s Foods. I’m there almost every day. The rest of the time I’ve been afraid to leave my apartment because I thought you might call.”

  Threading her fingers through his hair, she held his head between her hands, staring up at him, scarcely believing he was real. “I’m so sorry I left you that night. I’ve regretted it ever since. I sent you an email this morning and I’ve practically worn out my computer checking for a reply.” She paused, planting yet another kiss on his delectable lips. “And, to think, my own brother was hiding you from me when he should have introduced us ages ago. I should smack him for that.”

  “Actually, he did offer once,” Alan admitted. “Right after that last girlfriend ran out on me. I told him not to bother, that you’d hate me just like all the other women I’ve ever known. He told me you were different. Guess I should have listened to him.”

  “Obviously he changed his mind when he got my message.”

  Alan nodded. “He called home to check his machine after the game—I’m too technologically challenged to even attempt something like that. We came straight here from the stadium.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “Nope, just said he needed to stop by here on the way home.”

  “Tricky little devil. Remind me to hug him really hard the next time I see him.”

  “I thought you were going to smack him.”

  “Nah, I’ll hug him. He deserves it.”

  Cocking his head, he studied her face. “You seem a lot happier now. What happened?”

  “I have no idea, unless it was a delayed reaction to meeting you. My friend Kathy was telling us this story about squirrels getting into her bird feeder when I felt the change. I doubt that would’ve done it if I hadn’t met you first.”

  “I’d like to think I had something to do with it.” He paused for a moment. “So what do you want to do now?”

  She shrugged. “Wait until you’re ready to go again, I guess.”

  “I’m ready now,” he said. “I just wanted to know your preference.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” She laughed, but a swift downward glance revealed that he wasn’t joking. Not in the slightest. “Did it ever get soft?”

  “You must’ve missed it.” He drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Are you ever gonna take your clothes off, or do I have to do it for you?”

  “I’m not quite as uninhibited as you are,” she said. “Give me a minute and I’ll try to catch up, but—”

  His eyes lit up. “Okay, then. If you’re not ready to get naked, oral sex it is! I like it all, but I like that best.”

  “You and every other man in the world,” she said with a smirk. “Why is that?”

  He arched a seductive brow. “A woman’s mouth is warm and wet, and she can do fabulous things to a man’s cock with her tongue. Plus, getting to watch while she sucks your dick appeals to the voyeur in all of us.”

  “I must have a little voyeur in me,” Emily confessed. “I kinda like watching a man come in my face.” Even a gay man in a strip club. Stephen had done a great job, but Alan had him beat all to hell and back.

  “Obviously we’re going to get along very well.” Pulling away from her, he plopped down on the couch and leaned back, spreading his legs wide. “Come on over here and suck me, Emily. I can’t wait to watch while you go down on me.” His cock pulsed, spilling syrup all over his belly.

  She hesitated, once again rooted to the spot. “You are such a slut.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Dipping his fingers in the puddle, he spread it along his shaft, putting a shine on the perfectly shaped head. “Take a good, long look at this hard, dripping cock, Emily. You want to lick it, don’t you? Want to make it spew in your mouth?”

  His dick wasn’t the only thing dripping. Moisture flooded her aching core, and her nipples tingled with anticipation. She’d never been so turned on in her life.

  “Hot, hard cock to suck, and your soft mouth on my dick.” Groaning, he licked his lips. “Come on, baby. Suck me off and then I’ll eat your sweet, wet pussy.”

  Although her reply was an inarticulate mutter, he seemed to understand her perfectly.

  “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured. “You like hearing about my tongue licking your cunt, teasing your soft, wet pussy lips.” He gazed up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ll lick it ’til you come, and then I’ll fuck you—from the side, from the front, and from the back. Really nail you, baby—the way you’ve always wanted it.”

  “Do you talk like that all the time?”

  “Only when I’m in the mood.”

  “Yes, but since you’re always in the mood…”

  “Point made.” His wicked grin sent shivers up her spine. “Get your clothes off, Em. I want to see your slick wet pussy, your beautiful ass, and your succulent tits. Then I’m gonna eat you alive.”

  No one had ever said anything like that to Emily before, and she wasn’t quite sure how to react.

  Be careful what you wish for…

  “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “You can’t say you weren’t warned,” he reminded her. “I told you what to expect. You could have locked me out, but you didn’t. And if you think you liked that…” He nodded toward her semen-stained sleeve. “Wait until you’ve got it all over you.”

  Emily swayed slightly as her knees threatened to give way. What he said was shocking, but no more so than some of the fantasies she’d had.

  “Warm, creamy, sweet…” His eyelids drifted down as his lips curled into a smirk. “You like man-juice—would like to take a fuckin’ bath in it. Am I right?”

  She’d had more than one fantasy where several men covered her with cum. The weird thing was, Alan seemed to know it—almost as though he’d been part of that orgy. He was reaching her on a very basic, primal level, fogging her brain with desire.

  Wiggling his ass down into the cushions made his cock sway back and forth, hypnotizing her with the thought of tasting it, sucking it, impaling herself with it. She blinked, shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear it, but his image was already burned into her memory. Even with her eyes shut, she could still see him sitting there, looking like every dream, every wish, every fantasy she’d ever had all rolled into one.

  Where had he come from, and why had it taken her so long to find him? Was he a gift from God or a punishment from hell? Would she live happily ever after with him, or would she be torn apart one more time?

  Blood pounded a heavy drumbeat in her ears as she stood poised at the brink of the precipice. Her next move was like skydiving with a questionable parachute, not knowing whether the outcome would be exhilarating or tragic.

  Worst of all, she had no one but herself to blame if she failed. The men she’d tried to love before weren’t responsible for her failures. They were only being themselves. She couldn’t change them, any more than they could change her. Alan was different—she could see that much already—but they barely knew one another. This was only lust, not love or genuine affection.

  Then again, couldn’t she simply enjoy him, have fun with him, and perhaps grow to love him? What was wrong with that?

  Nothing, provided everything went well.

  She blinked again, her vision clearing to reveal Alan watching her anxiously.

  “I’m scaring you.” He sounded flat, defeated. “Go on, admit it.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. “But not the way you think.”

  Biting his lip, he turned away, wilting right before her eyes. The seductive bad boy was gone. She didn’t know who this man was, but he wasn’t the one who’d tried to entice her only moments before. Vulnerable, uncertain—possibly even wounded—this Alan was more approachable, more magnetic than the other one had been, and Emily was drawn to him. Drawn by the missing part of herself that needed him to fill t
he void—the reason she’d been searching for him so desperately.

  He sat up, reaching for his pants.

  “No, don’t,” she said, putting up a hand. “I’m okay now.”

  Emily went to him then, pushing him onto his back as she melted into his arms, kissing him as though she’d lost him for a score of years instead of mere days. Rising up, she drank in the sight of him, memorizing his face, the way his eyelashes curled, the way his beard grew, the line of his brow, the contours of his cheekbones.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “So I’ll always remember your face, and if I ever lose you again, I’ll be able to describe you perfectly.”

  “I don’t think you’ll lose me.” His smile was faint, but gaining strength. “I know where you live now, and I hope you know where your brother lives.”

  “Yes, but I want to be sure. Besides, I like looking at you. You have such a nice face.”

  “So do you,” he said. “I’ve always liked green eyes, and you already know I love your hair.”

  “Guess I can’t ever change it, then, can I?”

  He shook his head, threading his fingers through the hair at her temple. “Wouldn’t matter what you did, I’d still get the same comforting feeling whenever I touched it. Everything about you makes me feel that way—your eyes, your shape, the way you move, your voice—and your face...” Tears pooled in his eyes as he gazed up at her. “If love were a woman, she would look exactly like you.”

  Chapter 8

  Emily didn’t protest or question Alan’s sincerity, but her searching eyes held his as though examining his soul. Did she believe him, or would she dismiss his words as a line of bull only intended to convince her to suck him off?

  He held his breath.

  A moment later, she smiled. Leaning down, she kissed him.

  The touch of her lips set off another wave of emotion, the same one Alan had felt when he first laid eyes on her. Lust and desire were nothing new; he knew those emotions quite well. This was a feeling unlike any he’d ever experienced.

  He didn’t question what she’d said about not wanting to lose him again. Even if she’d only done it to placate him, he could live with that—eventually. At the moment, he didn’t care, preferring to believe every word she said, surrendering himself to her completely.

  Passivity was foreign to him, and yet he drifted into a delightful haze while she explored his body with her lips, drinking in whatever it was about her essence that seemed so perfect, so intoxicating. The feeling grew stronger as she moved downward, reaching a peak when her tongue touched his cock. No one else had even seen his dick in more than a year. The fact that it was Emily made it that much sweeter.

  She traced the edge of the crown, eliciting a powerful pelvic contraction that sent fluid gushing from his slit. Covering the head of his cock with an open-mouthed kiss, she sucked up his juice then withdrew, seeming to savor its flavor before going back for another taste. When he obliged her by pumping out more, she bathed her face with it, gliding his cockhead over her cheek in a caress so smooth and warm it triggered another involuntary spurt. Her soft moans escalated to a growl, culminating in a spasm that shook her like an earthquake.

  The timing threw him off, so it was a moment before he recognized her reaction for what it was. Simply rubbing his dick on her face had actually triggered an orgasm. He’d never seen anything like it.

  Alan reached down, tangling his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp until she finally relaxed.

  “Suck me, Em. I want to come for you again.”

  Rising up, she pressed her lips to his cockhead and opened her mouth. Heat enveloped his dick as she went down on him. Using her whole mouth, she sucked him slowly and deliberately, gliding up and down on his dick—tasting, licking, enjoying…

  She paused for a moment, backing off as she slipped her hands underneath him. Grasping his butt, she urged him to take a more active role.

  “Fuck me, Alan. Fuck my mouth.”

  Another first.

  He moved carefully at first, then faster, harder, stronger until his back arched and he erupted again. His eyes rolled back in his head as she skimmed the cum off his shaft with her lips.

  He glanced up to find her green-eyed gaze caressing him. Cupping her cheeks, he held her face in his hands.

  The face of love…

  Gasping in ecstasy, he lost all control, his body gripped with paroxysms even stronger than before. Simply looking at her made him come again, and he showered her with his essence, raining pearly droplets down on her skin.

  Nestling her face in his groin, she inhaled deeply before laying her head in the hollow above his thigh. With a sigh, she ran a finger along the length of his cock. “I could fall asleep like this.”

  Emily was fulfilling his desires in ways no one else ever had, and, to top it all off, she was still dressed. He’d been fairly passive thus far—which made him wonder if she would be able to tolerate being fucked as hard and as often as he liked.

  Maybe that was why women didn’t like him. He was too rough. He tried to be careful, but he had been known to lose control.

  Then there was his dick. Most of the time it was the right size to keep a woman happy—but at home…well, that was a different story. So far, Emily hadn’t seen fit to complain about the size, and he couldn’t wait to drive her wild with it. The mere thought of her writhing naked and sweaty beneath him nearly sent him over the edge.

  Then again, he hadn’t fucked her yet. She might not like it.

  Think positively, Alan.

  But what if his body wasn’t the problem? One girl said he treated her like a cheap slut, which wasn’t true. If anything, he was the cheap slut. He’d never been one to spout poetic phrases, and he certainly couldn’t recall ever having told a woman she looked like love before. He had no idea where those words had come from, though they might’ve been a line from a movie or the words of a song. Still, regardless of their origins, they’d made Emily a little misty-eyed.

  Surely, that had to count for something.

  * * * *

  Emily awoke to find Alan wide awake, his dick rock-hard and dripping. He must have been lying about that six or seven times a day thing. Six or seven times an hour would’ve been more accurate—although she hadn’t consulted her watch to verify that estimate.

  She glanced up, meeting his amused grin.

  “Will you please take off your clothes?” he begged. “My imagination has done wonders, but I’m dying for the real thing—and I wouldn’t mind moving to the bedroom. This couch is a little cramped.”

  Since Emily had actually slid off the edge and was sitting on the floor, her legs tingling from the lack of circulation, she couldn’t disagree—nor could she stand up. She was about to suggest doing it on the floor when he got up and held out a hand. With his assistance, she was able to stand, but had a little trouble remaining upright.

  Alan didn’t seem to mind. Heaving her onto his shoulder, he carried her into the bedroom, dropped her on the bed, and stripped off her clothes.

  “Oh, that’s much better.” Sighing, he crawled in beside her and pulled up the blankets. Drawing her close, he held her tighter than she’d ever been held before, reminding her of his reluctance to let go of her long enough to pay for the ice cream. Confining as well as a bit stifling, she figured he’d let go eventually.

  He didn’t.

  In the end, rather than allowing herself to go mad as a result, with a bit of twisting and fidgeting, she managed to pry herself loose—for about a second.

  “If you don’t want me to run away screaming like a deranged banshee, you’d better give me some space, Alan. I can only stand that for just so long.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help it.”

  “You’re going to have to try. I’m okay with it up to a point, but there have to be limits.” Her tone was firm, as though reprimanding a child. “When I need to move, you have to let me go. I can’t sleep with anyone touching me.”

/>   His eyes widened in horror. “I can’t even have an arm over you?”

  “No. I have to be able to move, and you have to stay on your side of the bed. This is no different than sleeping alone.”

  “But it is different,” he insisted. “I’ll go nuts if I know you’re there and can’t touch you.”

  Time to compromise. “I might be able to stand having a hand on my hip.” That is, if he waited until she was asleep.

  “It’ll have to do—if that’s all I can get.”

  “Would it help if I put a hand on you?”

  “Maybe. We could try it, anyway.”

  “It might have to be over the sheet,” she reflected. “You know how when two people are skin to skin for a while, the sweat tends to accumulate there? I hate that.”

  “Contact sweat doesn’t bother me. I love the skin to skin thing.”

  That didn’t surprise Emily in the slightest. The problem was how to deal with two people who were so diametrically opposed to one another on the subject.

  “Hmm… Maybe we could get you a dog to sleep with.”

  “Too hairy,” he said. “I’d know the difference.”

  Undeterred, she searched her memory for the right breed. “How about a greyhound? They don’t have much hair, and they’ve got adoption programs for ex-racers. We could adopt one, and you could pretend it was me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think I’d already have a dog if I thought it would help?”

  “Oh, come on, Alan,” she pleaded. “Work with me here.”

  “Work with you?” he echoed. “Emily, I want to do more than that. I want to do everything with you.”

  “Everything?”

  He paused as though considering the implications. “Yeah, everything.”

  “Too much togetherness can stifle a relationship.” At least she thought it might. She certainly couldn’t speak from experience.