by Rissa Brahm
“Plan?” he asked, locked into her deep golden eyes.
“I think it’ll be more like five or six. Not to be selfish, but I can see it won’t be any trouble for you,” she said, as if he’d read and understood her thoughts.
“Five or six what, angel?” His brain was clouded, the rhythmic motion of her lower lips further hardening his pulsating rod, driving him wild, making it impossible to think.
“Orgasms,” she stated in a breathy rasp.
Sweet obliterating orgasms were certainly the plan, but he was a sky’s-the-limit kind of guy.
“Oh no, darlin’, don’t place limits. Not with me.” He rolled her from the couch to the floor. Dragged her to the rug in front of the tall frameless windows. Fifty floors above Vallarta, as if on stage, a show for the world, and for her. It was his sense of pride inciting him to deliver to the fullest.
But when he looked down at her, his frame now hovering over her, caging her, owning her, she met his gaze, held it, owning him right the hell back.
Her soul-deep eyes drilled into his, shards of her heat piercing his heart with that look. And all he wanted now was to please her. Screw the outside world, and screw his own needs. Fuck his pride! All he wanted was her pleasure, her release. Jesus, he wanted her happiness, above all else.
*
With full and utter focus, he tended her.
And teased her. With the dripping tip of his solid-steel cock, he tickled her mound, then her folds and pulled back to line her inner thigh. Shifting his cock forward again, he rounded her velvety lotus. But only for a moment. He pulled away again, wedging his steel this time between her welcoming ass cheeks, slowly dragging a warm line of pre-cum along the way.
“Fuck me!” she cried out. “Fuck me now, damn it!”
“No, no. Not yet, angel.”
He shifted far up on her writhing body, his hands holding firm her fleshy breasts. Then he thrust his engorged cock between them, his shimmering crown pressing up against her chin. She bent her head and flicked her tongue at his tip. He gasped. She tickled him again, leaving her sweet saliva on the sensitive spot at the start of his ridge. The massive suite’s icy current gave him a chill, forcing him to blow out a hard stream of air, his cock’s heightened sensitivity just too much to take.
On his knees, straddling her gossamer body, he paused, in awe, not believing the view beneath him. On stage again, he loved this play, he loved his part in it, and he was enamored by the woman who played opposite him.
*
His thumbs tapped at each of her hard pert nipples, teasing her, making her squirm. His throbbing erection remained cushioned between her weighty tits which glistened with her perspiration. She writhed under his heft, so he reached back with one hand and lodged it between her thighs, cupping her achingly hot mound, keeping her cunt anchored with pressure, just until he was ready to partake.
With her full breasts surrounding his cock, he slid himself forward and back, coming to the edge, too close to exploding over it. Then she brought her fingers to the root of his length, then lower, lightly brushing and kneading his sensitive sac, driving him mad, making him thrust faster and faster.
“Not…yet,” he said to himself out loud. He wanted her hot clenching cunt gripping him endlessly when he did finally go.
But he was too goddamn close.
He grabbed her shoulders and flipped her over like a pillow in the middle of the night. His stiff cock hovered, elevated in the air, bobbing until it slapped down on the dip of her lower back. Her birthmark, his missing piece, stared up at him, and he smiled, slowed himself down, remembered how hard it had been to find this angel again. He hadn’t even found her, he’d just happened upon her again. Thankfully.
He leaned back, taking her smooth mocha body in with his eyes and into his hands. His hands caressed her arms and her back, massaged her sweet round ass, then, reaching behind him, they slid down her silky thighs, calves, ankles, feet, brushing her skin with just his fingertips.
Her breasts pressed against the floor, spilling out from under her. He tilted forward, pressing his needy cock into her as he traced every inch of her with his fingers. She shivered and arched her back from the chill.
Smiling, living for each and every one of her on-cue reactions, he sat up, grabbed his raging hard-on and dribbled his pre-cum down her spine. Then he leaned in and blew a light stream of air over the shimmering trail he’d left. She quivered again, flat on the carpeted floor—a deep, resounding purr trembled out of her.
He leaned down. At her mouth, he kissed her and traced her luscious pout with his anguishing tongue. He was ready, ready to focus on being locked into the angel beneath him, getting as deeply connected as humanly possible.
His mouth still at hers, he drew his hips back then swiftly jammed his thick shaft between her ass cheeks, making her gasp. He inhaled pure pleasure at the sounds she made. He pressed his body into hers, needing her heat, then suddenly pushed up with his arms, planked over her, hovering. A disappointed moan rumbled from her throat, but was replaced with a sated hum the next instant as he dragged his cock down the curve of her ass crack. His magic wand tickled her starburst with its tip on the way to her screaming, velvety core.
She lifted her ass up into the air for him, her hole visibly tightening and opening, calling to him so loudly he could hardly control himself. Then his crown reached just outside of glory and held there, trembling with an overpowering need.
He reached for a condom from the rear pocket of his pants which had been discarded on the floor just feet away. Isabel panted below him while he worked to catch his own breath, his chest heaving from the impossible view she had on display just for him.
Racing against his impending explosion, his teeth tore opened the packet. He rolled on the rubber, parted her luscious folds with the tip of his voracious cock, and slammed into her glorious, oozing sex.
*
Savage fucking sweetness.
Tight and hot—just as he’d dreamed she’d be, an all-encompassing heaven—while, at same time, her canal hugged his length, warm and tender, like he was fucking home.
He pushed himself in just a bit farther and got a guttural moan of delight out of her. Oh God, her noises, they made him lengthen all the more. And the bliss of her clenching cunt, it made him lightheaded. Then he hit her depth. Fucking divine! But his lustful greed for her had no end. No end in sight.
He slid out, slick and wet, then pushed back into her perfection fast and hard. Keeping that rhythm, relishing it, he pushed his throbbing staff to her depths again and again and again.
His surprise ability to hold out was only balanced by the infinite joy of filling her with everything he had. His cock inside her was a perfect fit, and at that moment, he swore he could’ve gone on inside her forever.
But he had brought her to the point of no return without realizing it, while he almost lost it to her cries. Her body trembled, jerked through her second climax.
“Keep fucking me! I have more…in me. Don’t you dare stop!” she demanded, writhing under him, her fists pounding the floor.
“I wouldn’t dare, Isabel. Fuck—I wouldn’t”—he groaned—“dare”—he grunted—“stop.” Hell, I’d go on for eternity if you’d let me.
He continued his torrent—glad, proud, elated to put her high peak before his own. He infused her with his everything. And delivering full and complete satisfaction gave him renewed energy, control, stamina. He would goddamn earn his release, that he knew. And if he could time it right, he’d come in on one of her waves—her biggest wave, her typhoon.
His onslaught drove on. Judging by her new round of screams, he was bringing her to the ends of the earth. And by proxy, he was right there with her.
She breathed his name over and over while frantically clawing at the carpet. With desperation, she lifted her delectable, full backside to meet him, his steel still inside her warm, wet pussy.
She pushed up, now on her hands and knees. “Now like this,” she said panting,
showing him how she wanted to get fucked. Zack loved it, her initiative, her ever-sexy goddamn confidence.
Arms straddling hers, he leaned forward and kissed her hard, a second endless and deep connection. Through their mouths’ clash she panted, “More. Give me more of you.”
Fuck me! He tore his lips away. “What this woman wants”—tongues re-tangled, then a gasp for air—“this woman gets.” Choppy words, rasped.
Give, he would. He pushed himself up to kneel and braced to pound her harder. With utter focus, his eyes absorbed the view—her curves, her edges and lines, her smooth juts and ledges and cliffs to pure bliss. But his eyes needed more. The pleasure-assault continued while he leaned left to watch her breasts rock and sway with his rhythmic thrusts. They were just begging for attention. He straightened for balance then took one delicious handful, her rock-hard nipple wedged, squeezed between his fingers, while his other hand gripped her hip to jerk her ass back to slap against him. His cock, then just inside her entrance, rocketed into her like a torpedo. She gasped with awe-stricken delight. Mmmm-hmm. More fuel, more momentum to keep driving and drilling into her.
And, holy fuck, that echo of slapping skin! It sent a jolting current through him. He needed more of it, more of that cracking sound—like lightning. He slapped her right ass cheek. She squealed. Fuck, is this a dream? His desire to fill and fulfill her, rocketed to beyond never-ending. He glanced down at his thrusting hips meeting her beautiful bare ass, and, damn, the reverberation of her quaking buttocks and the slight mark of his hand there on her perfectly smooth skin, it was more than enough to send him over the cliff.
But no, not yet, Zack. Don’t go yet.
While pumping her still, she twisted her head, mouth gaping for him. He leaned forward and around, his tongue primed to catch hers. Their tongues flicked and twirled and teased—a dance—until he caught her eyes. Hungry eyes with a glint of contrasting sorrow as deep as the sea. His chest filled hot and wide for her. He slowed his plunging hips and kissed then brushed her lips with his. A touch of tender to go with their raging lust.
But her left hand flew to his ass, leveraging for balance, grasping for force. Now she owned a fistful of his hardworking ass cheek, slamming him harder into her, each thrust a torrential attack of his hips, his thighs, his booming, ever-hard cock into her almighty center, her celestial goddamn cunt.
Out of his control—and all in hers—frantic tongues tangled once again. His breath got heavy, hurricane force. She somehow turned her gasps and moans into words, her voice weaving through their desperate and savage kiss. “My God, you…go on forever…inside me. So thick and…long. So good…so right.”
And that did it. For Zack, nothing else existed in the world. Roaring from the depths of his chest, electrified and in time, he glided in and out of her toward his brink. Knowing that she felt, and loved, every extensive inch of his manhood was too much for him to bear.
And as his eruption threatened, the sound of her rapid breathing froze, caught in a long inhale. He knew her dam was ready to break again too, the impending dive from her ultimate peak. And he felt her shiver in his grasp as she held her breath in until…
Simultaneous eruption.
He dove headfirst with her.
Ecstatic streams of creamy fire shot from him—full, fast, forever. Each and every one of her pussy’s tight crushing spasms sent a kinetic shock through him while milking his cock of the forever-flow of thick, hot cum.
He felt her exhale and gasp for oxygen while her glorious body shuddered beneath him.
A final jolt grabbed him as he shot the last of his liquid lust, his hips smashing against her sumptuous behind all the way through.
She looked back at him, her eyes wide and intense, searing into his. A sweet, exhausted smile claimed her face before she surrendered into the floor, shattered.
Sweat-drenched and spent, he gently fell onto her, his chest sticking to her back. He shuddered from the aftershocks. Feeling her intermittent trembling, he mustered up the energy to shift to his side, rolling her bare, limp body with him, keeping her wrapped in his arms while his vibrating-albeit-sheathed cock still reveled in the vast hot pool of her sweet cunt’s liquid ecstasy.
“See?” he whispered. “No limits.”
She smiled then nodded her agreement. “Now let’s move to your bed. I want more.”
He shook his head in awe. “You are perfection incarnate, woman. Sheer fucking perfection.”
CHAPTER 17
Zack had ravaged her, or more, she’d ravaged him—twice more in the comfort of the plush penthouse bed, and although he should have been delirious, he lay propped up on his elbow watching her sleep.
He tittered to himself. However clichéd, she really did look like a shimmering bronze angel. Renaissance-relaxed on her back, one elbow out, hand behind her head—like Venus in Giorgione’s masterpiece. And her stunning breasts brimmed over, on display for him. He focused more closely on their rise and fall, as she took slow, deep, quiet breaths, breaths of their shared air. It was a connection he still had with her without being in her.
He had a strange desire to feel her pulse, to feel her physical heartbeat. Her other arm rested along her side, just next to his body. He shifted her snug cuff bracelet up just a bit to access her wrist…
Then he flinched and recoiled. The long thin scars shocked him. Near sickened him.
What the hell had she done to herself? What could have motivated her to attempt—he stopped his thought. His strong, confident, idealized angel had taken to slicing herself, and the image didn’t fit. No. He wouldn’t let it.
It killed him to know she had ever felt that much pain. What agony had led her to this? He took a gulp of mind-clearing air. Swallowing back the knot of this knowledge echoed in his ears.
He watched her more closely. Her soft lids twitched, maybe from a dream. This peaceful angel sleeping next to him was here with him. And that’s what mattered, history didn’t. Hers or his. Everyone has skeletons. And hers wouldn’t frighten him away. The opposite, in fact. If Isabel would let him in, he would be there for her—constant and committed, he’d be there. By choice, he’d be there.
With his mother, he’d had no choice. When she fell into her own downward spiral of depression, Zack had been a scared-shitless teenager who had to suck it up and deal. But at least his mother had made no overt suicide attempts––her prescription drug abuse was subtle, hidden behind the door of the well-decorated master bedroom his father had left behind.
He swore to himself then that whatever pain Isabel hid or held or had before would be rooted out, so help him. She goddamn deserved nothing but pure contentment, happiness, pleasure. And he was the one to ensure that. Of that he was positive.
*
Isabel woke up. The clock on the side table read 2:00 AM. Shit! She’d fallen asleep in his arms. She should’ve been gone hours ago. But she didn’t want to leave then, and she didn’t want to leave now. She wanted to stay and wake up in his grasp, tight against his wide protective chest.
Damn it. Stay or go? Go with her gut, her heart, her desire, or go with her reason?
She looked out to the bay through the bedroom’s balcony doors. The view and the promise of the fresh night air coming in off the water were calling her. In the name of procrastination and opportunity to see her beautiful Vallarta from so high up, she got up to head out there. Zack was still asleep after all.
With the bedsheet wrapped around her, she opened the French door to the balcony, but the night chill pushed her back inside. So brisk for Vallarta in late May. She reached for the closest thing to her, a light jacket of Zack’s draped over a side chair, and threw it on.
She made her way back outside and blinked at the expansive view. Instantaneous calm. Banderas Bay held her heart, her sweetest memories, and from this high up, it took her breath away. The vastness amazed her.
Then she looked back inside through the French doors at Zack, curled up, sleeping with a pillow in place of her body. His auburn
hair was strewn over his sculpted cheek, hiding his sweetly sleeping eyes. He amazed her too. Being in his arms, in his gaze, in his bed––also amazing. And when he was inside her, well, that was implausibly amazing.
Damn it, Isabel.
A cool gust whipped a chill through her. She gripped the collar of the jacket with one hand while she put her other hand into the pocket.
From it she pulled a folded receipt with a handwritten name and number scribbled on it. Her heart froze.
None of your business, Isabel.
But wasn’t it? She’d just slept with the man after all, the man who’d supposedly been hunting for her. And now in her hand was another goddamn woman’s love note! She looked down at it. Destiny, it read. She unfolded the paper and flattened it out in her hand, then flipped it over: The Inferno Club. Nearly eight thousand dollars? Dated last week. Well-after they’d first met. After she’d left his suite the first time she’d been insulted by this scumbag. Oh, and after his “desperate search” for her had already begun.
Desperately seeking Isabel—yeah, right.
*
He jolted awake when his arm fell hard on the empty mattress beside him instead of landing on the heavenly body that had been rising and falling with every deep, sleepy breath she took.
Now she was nowhere. He hadn’t even felt her slip out of bed.
A three-minute search of the entire penthouse made him know she’d left. Without a trace.
And goddammit, he hadn’t gotten her fucking number! Again! How had he forgotten? Because just like last time, he’d lost his damn mind around her.
But shit, how the hell would he have known she’d damn skip out on him? In the morning he would’ve remembered to get it, and her fucking last name too.
Why’d she leave this time? Not a word, not a note. Nothing. A commitment-phobe, okay, and with a history of some deep-seated despair, yes. But to damn leave him in the middle of the night after they’d made such a connection? Beyond a connection—a symphonic fucking masterpiece!
And now, goddammit, he sounded like a woman…a woman scorned! What was more, he was suddenly, shamefully aware that he had put countless women in this very position, this same exact spot that had him screaming at the walls of his mind. As bad as that fucker in the bar his first night in town. As bad if not worse even, because Zack James knew better. Was better. Fuck!
