by Frankie Love
And as I melt under the touch of the sexiest man I’ve ever met, I almost feel bad for romance heroines. Because none of them ever got to have Dane.
Chapter Five
Dane
I can hardly believe my luck. When I came back to my old neighborhood I figured I’d just see the same old faces. People who never moved away; never wished for anything more than what they’ve got.
That’s not Daphne at all. She isn’t one of the old, boring faces I left to get away from. It’s almost funny that I finally find someone as vibrant, full of life, brimming with so much fucking sex appeal, back here in the sleepy town I couldn’t wait to get away from. Not to mention, literally next door.
With my palm skating up her thigh and my tongue between her sweet lips, there is nothing I can think of other than parting her legs and getting a real taste of her.
As I pull back and look into her eyes, my hands trailing along the buttons on her pants, I know that I was wrong before. This woman doesn’t need a man -- no way -- but right now she wants one, and I get to be the one who’s here to give her what she’s asking for.
Like I said: I can’t believe my luck.
I lift her shirt over her head, slowly, taking my time and drinking her in. I bury my face in her neck and graze my teeth over her collarbone then pull back to look at her, topless and looking up at me so sweetly.
“Fuck,” I say. “You’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks turn an even more vibrant shade of pink as I take her in, my gaze raking over her partially exposed body.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replies, running her palms up and over my back, then cups my cheeks as she pulls me back in for a kiss.
I press myself against her, knowing she can feel my need for her against her covered skin. She arches her back and grinds against my already steel-hard cock.
I don’t think I’ll be able to wait another minute to be inside this woman.
“I, uh, I just want to mention that I don’t do this very often,” she says, pulling away from me for just a moment, her palm on my chest, and her lips pressed together. She has a sparkle in her eyes that shows me she isn’t fully serious about caring what I think.
“I don’t do this that often either,” I assure her with a grin, wondering if that was the assurance she was looking for.
“I just mean… I write about sex way more often than I actually, you know, have it? I have so many ideas, but I never get to try them.”
She’s so damn cute.
“That’s interesting,” I say, and flick open the top button of her pants. “Wanna show me what you write about?”
She squirms against my hands as I gently pull her pants off, revealing impossibly sexy matching black lace lingerie. My girl was hoping she would be seen without her clothes on tonight.
That thought only makes me harder, if that’s possible.
Music drifts from one of the houses nearby and the air is uncharacteristically warm. The lighting is low and soft, and as my hands trail over her curves and my lips map out the line of her neck, I wonder if Daphne has ever written a scene as hot as the one about to play out in real life.
“What kinds of kinks do you write about that you’ve always wanted to try?” I whisper against her earlobe, feeling her shudder at the words. I love how easily I can get her worked up. It’s like we were made to fit together. My cock longs to be inside her, but I want to make sure this is everything I know it can be. Especially if this is the only time I can be with her.
But she just shakes her head, and her long hair ripples around her shoulders, glowing red and gold in the porch lights.
“I just want to be with you,” she says, and presses a soft kiss against my lips, making me twitch. “For now.”
“I can do that.”
I close my teeth around her neck, only just hard enough to make her pull in a breath, and at the same time, I push her panties to the right with my fingers, brushing across her wetness. She bucks against my hand and I know she wants this as badly as I do.
“Can anyone see us?” she gasps as I press my tip against her slick pussy.
“No,” I murmur, feeling her heartbeat thrum under my lips.
“Hmm…”
She sounds almost disappointed? This girl is secretly kinky as fuck… so secretly that I’m not even positive she knows it herself.
“The neighbors would have to be looking out their windows at exactly the right time and the right angle. They’d have to be drawn right to the light from this porch. It’s unlikely.” I push into her a little more, and my cock head slides an inch inside her. She gasps and then bites her lower lip. Her hips roll in my direction, and another inch of my rigid manhood slides inside her.
“Yeah?” she encourages.
“Maybe they’d look out if they heard a noise,” I whisper, and she groans right on cue as I bottom out inside of her. “So, we better keep quiet.”
As I begin to thrust in and out, she begins to whine and writhe beneath me. Her noises, her kinky excitement at the thought of being watched, and her perfect tits bouncing combine into the sexiest image I’ve ever fucking seen. I’m already so damn close.
“I want you to fill me up,” she pants, matching my thrusts with the bucking of her hips, and I fuck her until she clenches me so tight, groaning and clawing at my back. My girl orgasms so easy and so quickly around me that it’s like we’ve been waiting to do this forever. Like she’s been ready for this for far too long.
Her words, her moans, and her clenching cunt bring me over the edge I was already teetering near. But I obey her command and fill her the fuck up.
Spent and breathing hard, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, I lie on my side and pull her onto my chest while she recovers. I kiss her everywhere I can reach as she comes back down to Earth again.
I’m already thinking about what I can do to her next. I thought I might think about her a little less after I slept with her, but I can already tell she isn’t leaving my mind that easily.
Chapter Six
Daphne
“So,” he says, while my body still trembles from that crashing orgasm I had around his perfect cock.
The air is cooling down, but his skin is so warm I barely feel it. I could lie here all night. Looking at the stars and dreaming of more of what I just had.
“You didn’t answer before, what kind of kinky stuff do you write about?”
I look up into his gorgeous dark eyes and resist the urge to ignore his questions and just kiss him again. Touch him until he’s hard and keep going all night. But it’s a fair question, and he seems genuinely curious.
“All kinds,” I answer honestly. I’ve tried all corners of the market by now -- pushed my own interests and preferences to the limit and explored myself thoroughly through the medium of my writing. “I have a pretty extensive… collection at home,” I admit. For some reason, it thrills me to tell him about this.
“Of books?” he asks, and I shake my head slowly.
“Of inspiration.”
He squeezes my butt as I say that, and I press tighter against his hard, hot body.
“Tell me more,” he says. I hesitate just for a second and he looks me in the eye. “Seriously, Daphne. Tell me more.” I laugh at his eagerness. I was a little worried Dane wouldn’t be interested in a repeat performance after he had me once, and I’m working up the courage to ask him for a fling… but I might not even need to. He seems as into the idea of more as I am.
“I can do better than that,” I say, and brush another kiss against his soft lower lip. “Come over tomorrow night, and I’ll show you my toys.”
“Jesus, your toys,” he repeats, his voice hoarse in an almost comical way. I appreciate the way he seems to feel about me; to be attracted to me. I feel the same way.
“Yep. You want to?”
He squeezes my butt again and then leans forward and pushes his tongue between my lips. We kiss deep and slow and I feel his cock press against me again. I unwrap myself from him
, though, and pull my shirt back on. I laugh at the look on Dane’s face.
“Tomorrow,” I say again. “Dinner at my house.”
“And toys,” he says, unblinking, like he can’t think of anything else right now.
“And toys,” I assure him and get up to finish getting dressed. I stand there, looking at his perfect form lying on that sofa and I suck in a deep breath, wanting to stay there with him all night but not wanting the questions from his mom in the morning. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” I say, with exaggerated politeness. He responds by quirking his lips up into a smile.
“Toy collection. Toys plural?”
I laugh and shake my head. Because he has no idea.
Now I’ve finally found the fling I needed, there is a lot I need to get out of my system. Out of my imagination and into reality.
I say goodbye again and leave through the house to get to my own door. Quickly, because there’s something I need to do right now.
Dane’s body -- and what he did with it -- knocked some stuff loose in my head just the way I needed it to, and as soon as I get home, I head to my laptop with a mug of hot tea.
And I write.
Hours later the tea is untouched and cold, and I’m pink-cheeked and wet all over again, with pages and pages of my novel written out. The sun is starting to rise and I’m not ready to stop yet. I have so many feelings, thoughts and descriptions I want to capture and put down on paper.
Suddenly my heroine seems a lot more like me. And the hero is a lot more solid, stoic, strong, and effortlessly hot. They fuck outside under the glow of the porchlight, muffling their noises so they don’t get spied on by nosy neighbors.
More time passes, and my book has new life breathed into it. It’s hot, vivid, immersive, and -- if I might compliment myself for a moment -- it’s really sexy.
So much better than what I had before. My publisher is going to freak out. She’s going to love the direction I’ve gone in with these characters.
I only take a couple of breaks to go to the bathroom and wash my face, do a little stretching, and make another cup of tea. Then I get back to my little world and keep on writing. I haven’t binge written like this in years. I’m starting to remember why I loved romance writing so much.
The heat, the passion, the intrigue. The happy endings.
I type out the next chapter header and lean back with a smile on my face when my thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.
It can’t be.
My smile falls, and I look at the time on my computer screen -- for the first time that day. It’s dinner time already. I haven’t had any sleep. Riding the high from great sex last night I stayed up all night and then all freaking day writing my novel. I haven’t showered properly. I haven’t brushed my hair. I’m just wearing thin pink PJs -- and not the sexy kind, either.
The doorbell rings again.
Oh shit.
Dane.
Chapter Seven
Dane
The door swings open and Daphne’s hair is piled messily on the top of her head in a last-minute bun, her eyes are wide and a little smudged with dark makeup, and she is wearing cute pink pajamas and slippers and nothing else.
“I, um…” I reach up to rub my beard and check my watch. “We said dinner, right? Did I get confused? I was pretty distracted at the time.”
She cracks a smile, which cuts through the bewildered look on her face and makes her look more like the Daphne I know -- in control and enjoying life.
“We did, you’re right on time,” she says, reaching up to tuck a strand of beautiful red hair behind her ear, which is flushed a bright pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry… I just, I completely spaced on our date.” She blushes even redder and flicks her eyes to the ceiling. “I mean…”
“No,” I interrupt quickly before she can dig herself a deeper hole of embarrassment. “It’s fine.” I peer past her into her home, seeing that it actually has a completely different layout from my mom’s -- it’s newer, fresher, more fashionable looking -- and also seeing the laptop and mugs.
“I was working and lost track of time,” she explains, seeing my wandering eyes. “Should we do this another day? I’m really sorry.”
I think about it, or I pretend to.
Truth is I’ve been antsy as fuck all day thinking about tonight. I even caught myself literally pacing up and down at one point, just watching the clock. Time was going so goddamn slowly. I don’t want to wait another day.
So, I just stride into her house and look around. Nothing is cooking; that’s expected, though. She looks like she hasn’t even thought about food all day.
“Right,” I say, and point at her. “You get in the shower. I’ll get started on, uh…” I open and shut a couple of her cabinets while she stands sheepishly, rubbing her arm and watching me.
I open her fridge, glancing first at the pictures from vacations and the cute magnets she has stuck to it, and then close it and turn to face her. She bites her lip, knowing what I’m about to say. “Daphne, darling, you don’t have any food in this house.”
“Not true,” she says. “You saw there was some cheese. And there are crackers in the cupboard.”
There’s a pause.
“Yeah, I planned on going shopping today, but time just got away from me.”
She gives a small shrug and I can’t help but notice, again, how fucking adorable she is. My cock stiffens but I fold my arms across my chest anyway.
“Get in the shower. I’ll call for takeout.”
“You sure you don’t want to--”
“No, we’re doing this,” I say, and almost to my surprise, Daphne turns around and makes her way to the shower. I pull out my phone, at the same time listening to hear the water turn on in the bathroom.
When I’m done ordering -- I have no idea what she wants so I just get a bunch of different food to share -- I hear the sound of the water lessen as she steps underneath it, blocking its journey to the ground.
I can’t help but imagine her perfect body, the water sliding down her curves and contours, her fingers in her long hair, her back arched. Suddenly I’m hard as a goddamn rock, and I need her more than I thought possible; more than I did yesterday, even.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand is trying the bathroom door and finding it not only unlocked but ajar. It swings open easily and I look through the swirling steam to lock eyes with Daphne, water cascading down her generous breasts, eyes dark with the same desire I have.
Her hand slides down her stomach and then between her legs, and while she continues to look me in the eye, she slowly moves her fingers up and down, trailing over her shaved pussy and driving me instantly crazy.
“You are so fucking sexy,” I tell her, pulling the door shut behind me to keep the steam in.
“You think so?” she asks, moving her fingers faster.
“I think you’re one of the hottest women I’ve ever met.” I don’t want to say the hottest. I know she just wants a fling. But honestly, I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever been more attracted to than her. Especially right here, right now.
“Why don’t you prove it?”
It takes me a second to internalize what she’s saying. My attention is so drawn to her rhythmically stroking fingertips. I’m hard as I’ve ever been, and I need her right this second. Without answering, I pull my flannel over my head and throw it to the floor without another thought. Then I unbuckle my belt and kick off my pants, gripping the base of my thick cock with my hand and then sliding my fist slowly upwards to the head.
“Mm,” she groans, grazing her teeth over her lower lip as her hands move faster over herself. “Don’t tease me, Dane. I want you.”
I glide my thumb over the bead of precum at the tip and move my fist down my shaft again, taking a step towards her. In the small bathroom, I can pretty much cross the room with my long legs. She’s just one step away. Just one step and I can sweep her up in my arms and do whatever I want to her.
The thought -- just the thought -- brings me so fucking close, I need to pull in a deep breath for a moment to collect myself before I step past the shower door and stop right in front of her.
Her face is red, no longer from embarrassment but from the warm water pounding onto her from above and the feeling of her fingers circling her clit while she looks at me.
I’ve never seen anything so fucking hot in my life. I need to take it slowly, whatever happens next, or I’ll get some kind of a reputation with this girl for being fast. And that’s so not me. I need to take the time to make sure this beautiful girl climaxes as many times as she possibly can before I’m done with her.
Under the shower head, soaking my body in hot droplets, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her deeply while she touches herself, my cock brushing against her hips, urgently; needily. I drive my tongue between her lips while I thrust gently to put pressure on her fingers. I let her know, without words, that I want to replace her hand. I want to be the one to make her come.
She seems so close already, shaking and breathing fast, her nipples hard and pointed. I sink to my knees and she gasps at the unexpected movement. Without using my hands, I nudge her fingers with my tongue until she moves them out of the way, exposing her sensitive nub so I can lap at it.
My tongue moves over her fingers, wet from the shower and from her own juices, and I taste her while she quivers. She slides her middle finger in and out of her slick pussy and I lick upwards from her slit to her clit while she pants.
I wrap my lips around her and flick my tongue lightly until she whines and squirms, her fingers moving faster. My cock is untouched but leaking precum that quickly gets washed away by the streams of water from above. I twitch, needing to be inside her so badly, while she comes against my mouth and her own hand, throbbing and groaning my name in a way that makes me so fucking horny for her.
I release her when the trembling stops, and get back to my feet, wrapping my arms around her waist.
