by Penny Wylder
My mouth goes dry at the promise, just as the elevator doors ding open again. He steps away from me, and cool air floods back in between us, making me ache to be in his arms again. But apparently our night has only just begun. For once, I’ll have plenty of time to enjoy that.
9
Russ’s apartment surprises me. It’s not a penthouse with a crazy view like I might have guessed—like I’m sure my father would have bought, if he didn’t have the wife and kid to think about, the way Russ doesn’t. Instead, Russ’s place is a cool mix of vintage and modern. Exposed brick walls in a huge loft space, with his bed on an open platform above and behind his ultra-sleek and modern looking living room. The kitchen is in another section of the apartment, along with a guest bedroom and a bathroom that looks like something straight off a spaceship, with a huge rain head shower and jets along the walls.
Not to mention a jacuzzi tub…
But I don’t have much time to take it all in. We’re barely inside the door before Russ’s hands find me, sweep under me. I laugh against his chest as he picks me up and carries me toward the steps.
“We’ll save the tour for later,” he says as we start up the stairs. “First, I need to show you my bedroom. Or rather, I need to peel off all of your clothes in it…”
I grin and lean in to kiss his neck softly, before I let my cheek rest against his chest. It never ceases to amaze me what great shape he’s in. The way he can just pick me up like this, as if I weigh nothing at all. I can feel his chest muscles tense against my side, and it only makes me want to peel off his shirt again, to savor his naked body the way I haven’t really been able to since the night we hooked up in my childhood bedroom. And even then, we weren’t totally free to enjoy one another.
“At least here I don’t have to try to stay quiet,” I murmur.
Russ chuckles, and the laugh vibrates through my body as we reach the top of the landing. His bedroom is simple and sleek, too—a huge king size bed with white sheets, one dresser, and a closet of flannels and T-shirts. Like me, Russ rarely dresses up. Though he definitely looks amazing when he does. “Oh, I intend to make sure you can’t be quiet tonight.” Russ’s eyes sparkle with amusement. Then he leans down to lower me onto the bed, following me down, so his warm, strong body hovers over mine.
I arch up against him impatiently, my arms wrapping around his neck to try to draw him toward me. But he resists, and I pout a little, impatient.
He presses a finger to my lips. “I’m taking this slow, Maggie,” he says, in a low voice that makes me shiver.
Then he rolls off of me and reaches down to undo one of my heels. He leans in at the same time, kissing the sensitive skin right at my ankle. I shiver, and he lets the first shoe drop, before he kisses his way up my calf. He switches legs and trails his tongue down the inside of my calf to my other shoe. Undoes that one, slow and steady.
“You sure know how to tease a girl,” I whisper. My breath hitches then, as he slides back up my body to catch the hem of my dress. He teases, running a hand up my inner thigh and back a couple of times before he suddenly flips me over. I gasp, and look back over my shoulder at him as he draws the zipper of my dress down.
“You look hot as hell in this,” he says as he slowly peels the zipper off. “But this dress will look so much better on my floor.”
I feel like my entire body is blushing by the time he has the zipper undone and starts to drag the dress down over my arms. He rolls me back onto my stomach as he pushes the dress off my legs, lets it puddle onto the floor. I reach up, then, and grasp at the buttons on his shirt. He lets me undo them, one at a time, and my eyes widen at the sight of that firm, sculpted chest.
I run my hands from his pecs to his abs, tracing the outline of his muscles. He reaches down, his hands slowly traveling down my stomach to toy with the hem of my panties.
But I reach down and stop him, my eyes dancing. His eyebrows rise in surprise, but he lets me move his hand away from me. “You always get to go first,” I tell him, grinning. “My turn.”
He just lifts a single eyebrow, clearly amused. “If you insist.”
“I do,” I reply, before I push up off the bed and turn to gently push him down where I was lying. He sprawls easily across the bed, his hands above his head as he watches me work.
“You look even better from this angle,” he remarks with his trademark grin, and I flash him a smile of my own in return, before I lean down to trace my tongue over his clavicle, and trail kisses over his chest. His skin is so smooth, his muscles strong. I can’t get enough of his scent, either, or the way he tastes just how he smells. Heady with a hint of musk, a masculine scent that drives me wild.
I kiss my way lower, to his stomach, and tilt my head up to watch him as my hand slides up his thigh, toward the hem of his boxers. “I want to taste all of you,” I murmur, echoing his sentiments. His stomach tenses under my hands, and even from this angle, I can see the flare of heat in his eyes.
“You want to suck my cock, is that it?” he replies, eyeing me steadily, although I can see by the thick bulge in his boxers that his casualness is entirely feigned. He wants me to do this as much as I want to do it.
“Exactly,” I whisper, and inch lower along his body, my hands following me. I hook my fingers under his boxers and drag them down his legs. He arches up off the bed to help me, and when his cock springs free of the fabric for the first time, it makes my breath catch in my throat.
Fuck. I knew he was big. I could feel it every other time I touched him, or when he fucked me. But this close, I’m appreciating his cock in a whole new way. It stands straight up off his body, a thick vein running along the side, swollen and rock hard with want.
“See how hard you make me, Maggie,” he whispers, as if reading my mind. “Every fucking time.”
I flash him a sly smile and push his boxers the rest of the way off his legs before I lie along his legs, my mouth inches from his cock. But I’m not going to let him have me that easily. I’ve learned a thing or two about the power of teasing from him.
I trail my tongue along the creases where his thighs meet his hips. I make sure to nip gently at the skin there. “I love watching you get hard for me,” I murmur, and he reaches down with both hands then to stroke his hands slowly through my hair. His fingers curl in my hair, and I flutter my eyes when I peer up at him, my eyelashes brushing against his cock, I’m so close to him.
I hear him suck in a breath through his gritted teeth, and I know I’m having the effect I want. Then I lean in again to trail my tongue around the base.
God he tastes incredible. Like salt and sweat and sex.
He watches me with hooded eyes as I move, tracking everything I do. “Have I mentioned before that you have a magic mouth?” he asks at one point, when I gently suck one of his balls between my lips and trace my tongue along it, toying with it.
I chuckle, and I’m rewarded with another sharp intake of breath from him, as my mouth vibrates against his balls.
Before long, I’m feeling more comfortable, and really exploring. I part his legs, and he obeys the movement. I trace my hands under him to squeeze his ass, and then trail my tongue up along his whole shaft, from base to the tip. When I reach the tip, I find a drop of precum dangling there like a drop of fruit, salty on my tongue as I lap it off.
He groans again, a little deeper this time. I feel his hands continue to stroke my hair, the fingertips curled, as if he’s resisting the urge to draw me down.
So I continue to tease. I lick him in long strokes, base to tip and back again. I lock my eyes on him at the same time, and it feels so hot to watch him from this angle, to see the effect I’m having on him.
After a few long licks, though, Russ’s patience runs thin. His hands tighten in my hair, and his voice is commanding when he speaks again. “Open your mouth, Maggie.”
I flash a smile. He’s back in command. The way I like it. I part my lips, and he positions his cock at the tip of them. Slowly, I bend down to take him into
my mouth. I move slow, just a centimeter at a time, savoring every inch of him. His cock feels velvety soft along the sides, and rock hard at its core, a contradiction that sets me aflame to feel it.
At the same time, I toy with his balls, my hands gently tugging them away from his body, rolling them between my fingers softly. Before long, the tip of his cock reaches the back of my throat, and I go to pull away and begin again.
But Russ tightens his hands in my hair. “You can give more,” he says, his voice low and confident.
I moan a little, unsure. Can I?
But his hands are firm, and his smile is steady where it’s fixed on me. So I suck in a deep breath and try to keep going.
My gag reflex kicks in and my whole body tenses, but Russ doesn’t let it faze him. “Breathe,” he reminds me. “And relax, Maggie. Trust me.”
I let my jaw relax, let my whole body go limp, in fact. Russ guides my face closer to him, and his cock slips past the trigger for my gag, just far enough that I feel him tickle the back of my throat. It’s a strange sensation, unique and hot at once. And it makes me proud.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “Look at you taking my whole fat cock at once.”
I moan again, this time in approval, as he slowly lets up the pressure and draws my mouth away again, back up his shaft. I withdraw all the way to the tip, and purse my lips before he pulls me back down again, so my lips create constant pressure around his shaft.
He groans once more, and starts to move my face, faster. He draws me up and down his length, and I let myself go, relax my jaw and my body, let him take control. “That’s it, Maggie,” he murmurs. “Let me fuck that sexy mouth of yours.”
Another moan escapes me, and I can tell without even touching myself that I’m soaking wet from this treatment. From gazing up at him and watching him get off, just from my mouth alone. Before long, he’s moving faster, thrusting his hips up off the bed to drive himself deeper into my mouth. His hands guide my face back and away again, over and over, building up a rhythm until he’s thrusting up into me.
Finally, I feel his body tense, his hands tightening so hard in my hair it brings tears to my eyes, although it’s a good kind of the pain. The kind that makes me want more.
“I’m close, Maggie. I want to come in your mouth.”
I make a sound, not quite a moan, not quite words. His cock goes stiff and taut in anticipation between my lips. I moan again on purpose, knowing the vibrations must feel good. That does it. One more hard thrust and Russ comes deep in my mouth, his cum shooting down my throat.
“Swallow it,” he orders, as I feel my body tense at the response. I do, swallowing hard once, then again, my head still bobbing up and down on his cock as I clean every inch of him with my tongue. I never knew cum could taste like his does, salty and almost a little sweet. It’s fucking delicious.
It makes me want to do this again.
I keep licking him until his cock starts to go soft, my hands still toying with his balls, or slipping down to grip his firm, tight ass again.
Finally, he gently pushes me away and tugs me up toward him. I slither up his body, lying down along him to savor the feel of my bare skin on his. I’m still wearing my bra and panties, a matching, lacy, barely-there set that I bought specifically for the next time I ran into Russ, but other than that, every inch of my skin makes contact with his. He feels like a small forest fire beneath me, white hot.
It makes me eager for more.
When I reach his mouth, he kisses me, long and deep and hard, his tongue invading my mouth the way his cock just did. He pulls back just far enough afterward to catch my eye. “You taste like me,” he murmurs. “I like that.”
“So do I,” I whisper truthfully. “I want you to claim me.”
His eyes flash. Without warning, he flips us around again, until I’m pinned beneath him. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” I breathe, letting my head fall back against the cushions as he starts to kiss his way down my chest, as his fingers slide beneath me to unhook my bra.
“You want to be mine, is that what you’re saying?”
“Fuck yes.”
He tugs my bra off, and I obediently lift my arms to let him draw it off, before he tosses it off the side of the bed to join my dress on his floor. “Good.” He leans back down to suck one of my nipples into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing the areola in a way that makes me gasp and tense. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it’s a new sensation. Toying with the edge of pain and pleasure. His tongue laps against my nipple at the same time, making it harden. “Because you are mine, Maggie,” he murmurs when he draws back again, and his breath is like a flame, licking my wet skin. “You’ve been mine since the moment we first touched. And I intend to keep it that way.”
His words ignite me. I arch up against him, unable to resist, savoring the feel of him, and the way he makes me feel when he talks like that. I want that to be true. I want to be his, now and for good.
For once, for tonight, I can forget about all the ifs ands or buts. I can just be with him, here and now. I can just be his.
And for this one night, it’s enough.
10
A few days after our sleepover—one I explained away to my parents by pretending that one of my friends had come back from her trip to South Africa with little notice—I still can’t get Russ out of my head. We spent the whole night barely sleeping, waking up again and again just to touch each other, as if both checking we were still there. And then those touches would turn into more, with him slowly exploring me, his hand slipping between my thighs and stroking me over and over, sliding inside me to find my G-spot, until I came undone with a cry.
By the morning, I was aching and sore, especially since we woke up only for him to roll me on top of him, letting me ride him slow and steady until we both came at nearly the same moment.
But now, it’s been four days since, and I’m dying to touch him again. I want to have nights like that more often. Hell, I want all my nights to be like that, safe at his side. Knowing I can reach out and touch him whenever I want to, and that he can do the same to me. I want him to whisper commands in my ear the way he loves doing, telling me exactly what to do, where to bend, how to move against him.
I want him to teach me everything he knows about my body, and I want to explore every inch of his too. But we can’t. That beautiful one night together is fading behind us, and we’re back in reality. Back in the daily grind of desperate kisses when we can steal them, and longing stares when we can’t.
Hell, for the past four days we haven’t even been able to steal enough time together for a quickie in the stairwell or to make each other come in the break room. I feel antsy, jittery. It’s like Russ is a drug I never knew existed, and now that I’ve tried a few hits—and then some, really—I can’t go without it. I’m addicted to him, I’m pretty sure. I’ve always read about how chemical attraction can be as addictive as some drugs, but I’ve never believed it until now. With guys I’ve dated in the past, I enjoyed the hookups, but I never craved seeing them again. I never missed them every second we spent apart.
My phone is filled with texts from Russ, some just asking about my day, others explicit and dirty, dirty enough that when he texted me this morning I had to duck into the bathroom in the nurse’s area and lock myself in a stall for some alone time.
But it looks like any alone time I’d be able to steal has come to an end. Because when I step out of the bathroom, somehow still jittery and anxious even in spite of the fact that I just fingered myself to orgasm thinking about Russ’s hands on my body, the whole wing is in an uproar. I stop one of the passing nurses—Lionel, who’s still angry at me, I think, but at least he speaks to me on occasion now.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Without thinking about it, I start to follow him, automatically, toward where everyone else seems to be rushing.
“Emergency,” he manages. “There was some kind of train accident a few blocks away. They’re bringing about two doz
en patients in now with smoke inhalation damage, blunt trauma, all kinds of stuff.”
My face pales. Shit.
Lionel is jogging now, and I keep pace with him. When we reach the main area where our nursing staff director passes out assignments, it’s flooded with people. Everyone on-call or not already attending to patients who require immediate attention seem to be here. Our boss starts to bark out assignments. When my name is called, I dart out to receive a clipboard and my assignments.
For once, I’m given just as much work as anyone else. It doesn’t feel good, this time, though. Because right now, so many people are hurting. But I’ll do whatever I can to help save as many as we can.
I spend the next few hours on high alert, rushing between patients and rooms. The hospital is flooded—normally we don’t have this much room for people, but we make do, the way we’ve been trained to in events like this. I don’t envy Russ right now. Down in the OR, he’ll be dealing with a lot of the more grievous injuries. Up here in pediatrics, we don’t get as many of the life-or-death cases. A lot of the kids with smoke inhalation damage, though, who need stabilization, and families with broken limbs and minor concussions. Things they still need to be treated but that won’t kill them, as long as we do our jobs.
My adrenaline runs high all day, throughout the chaos. It helps keep me focused, working through everyone in my roster in a steady rotation. It feels like my on call beeper buzzes every other second, though, as patients request everything from more painkillers or medical attention to waters and toothbrushes. By the time the early evening rolls around, the balls of my feet actually throb with every step I take. I’m pretty sure if I checked my phone, it would tell me I’d run the equivalent steps to a marathon around these halls today.
I’m swinging back through the central nurses’ hub to pick up a chart for a doctor visiting a young couple when I run smack dab into my father. He looks grim, but then again, we all do today. It’s one of those days.
