Big Love Abroad (Big Girls Do It Book 11)

by Jasinda Wilder

  I lifted up on my toes and stole a kiss. Smiled against his lips. Dug my hand between the denim of his jeans and his skin, gripped a handful of hot hard cock, used my other hand to free the snap and lower the zipper. Stroked him slowly, smiling still against his mouth. “I love you, Ian.”

  “Cheater,” he murmured.

  “Can’t make it too easy on you.”

  He snorted. “Nothing about you is easy, Nina.”

  “You got me in bed pretty easily.” I slid my fist down his length, savoring every inch, watching his eyes droop in pleasure, his hips flex ever so slightly.

  “Keeping you there, though…” He pulled away, out of my grip. Stood with predatory eyes gleaming, jeans opened, cock bared tall and proud and begging for my mouth and hands. “That’s proven to be more challenging.”

  He snagged my wrist in one hand, then the other, gripped my wrists in front of my body, between us. Sandwiched them between our bodies as he pressed in against me, reached around my back with his free hand. Without taking his eyes from mine, he deftly unhooked my bra—pop…pop…pop—one clasp at a time. Then he slid the undergarment down my arms, released one wrist long enough to let the strap fall free, then the other, and then it was on the floor too.

  And then he let me go, backed up four long steps. Chest heaving, cock swaying with each breath. He wanted me. He needed me. But he was determined to play the game out. Which meant fighting his own desires, clearly.

  He just stood there, waiting.

  I was determined to play the game too, now. “I love you, Ian Stirling.”

  “Ooh. The last name. Extra points for that one.” He prowled back over to me. “Hands behind your back. You touch me again and it’s over, because I’m holding on by a thread here, sweetheart.”

  “I’m in no hurry. You come too soon, I’ll have you hard again in no time.”

  He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “God, you temptress.”

  “On my tits?” I suggested. “On my face? All over my hands?”

  His breath on my face, lips touching cheek, chin, throat. “I’ve gone nearly a month. I want to come inside you. I’ll wait.”

  “Then reward me, already. I said it. Now give me my due.”

  “Your due, hmm? What would you like that to be?” He touched one of my nipples with a fingertip. “My lips, here?” The other nipple. “Or here?” The same finger, tracing down my belly to slither under the elastic of my panties, tracing the seam of my pussy.

  “Take the underwear off.”

  “I’m not wearing any,” he said.

  “Mine, you idiot.”

  “Now, now,” Ian scolded. “No name-calling.”

  “I need you.” I breathed out as he knelt in front of me, drew my panties off without any further preamble. “You said you’d kiss away the last month of our lives.”

  “And I will.”

  Something he’d just said registered. “The last month…you’ve—there’s been no one?”

  “I knew how I felt,” he said, his hands still on my hips. “It was your feelings I doubted. And until I knew for sure, I wasn’t about to waste my time with anyone else.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. So no, there’s been no one since you. Unless you count my own hand.”

  “You masturbated?”

  “Jesus, yes. Furiously. Like a teenage boy.”

  “What were you thinking about?” I asked. I had to know.

  “So many things. Those lush lips of yours, wrapped around my cock. Taking me into your mouth and sucking until I came. Your hands, touching me like you just did, only in my thoughts I didn’t make you stop. I just let you touch me until I’d shoot off everywhere. Or I’d think about your pussy. The way you tasted. I’d picture having your sweet pussy and tasting you, licking you—” He traced the tip of his tongue upward along the seam of my opening, and I shivered, felt my knees tremble, felt my thighs involuntarily part and my pussy split open under his probing tongue, and then he lapped up the essence of my desire as it leaked out of me. “Just like this. Licking you until you came, hearing your voice as you come apart.”

  “All that?” I said, between gasps.

  “Oh, Nina. That’s just the start.” He feathered a finger into my opening, traced up and back down, and then found my entrance, pierced me with his finger and curled it against that spot high inside, added a second finger, crooked them both in a ‘come-here’ motion, and my knees nearly gave out. I cried out loud, rocked my hips against his touch. “I pictured you on your hands and knees in front of me, that beautiful, juicy round ass of yours spread out for me, ready to be taken. I’d imagine that a lot. Sliding into you from behind, fucking you like that until you collapsed.”

  And then, on those words of erotic promise, he withdrew his touch. Palmed my ass and stared up at me, expectant.

  “God, Ian. I love you. Have you heard it enough, yet? When does this game end?”

  “End? Oh, Nina. It’ll never end. I’ve a feeling I’ll be teasing those words out of you for the rest of our lives.”

  “I don’t think so, Ian.” I ran my hands through his hair. “You’ve unlocked me. Opened the floodgates. I’ll say it a thousand times a day until you get sick of hearing it.”

  “I never will.” He dug his fingers into the flesh and muscle of my ass. “Say it again, three more times. Slowly. Whisper it. Say my name.”

  I gazed down at him. “Ian, god, you’re crazy. I love you, you ridiculous, beautiful man. I love you. I’m finally not afraid to own it. With all my heart, I love you.” My hands in his hair, gripping, crushing him against my pussy as he dove in, tongue slicing, spearing, fluttering, taking me from zero to sixty in three seconds flat, from needy and breathless to groaning and bucking against him in the space of a heartbeat. And now the words poured out of me on their own, unprompted, pouring out of my mouth directly from my heart. “Yes, Ian, yes. Lick me. Tongue-fuck me. Eat me. Take me. I need you, I want you. I love you. God, oh Jesus yes, right there, baby, faster, oh god—I need your fingers in me too.”

  “Mmmm. I like it when you call me pet names.”

  “Shut up and make me come. I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, just shut up and keep going.” I clutched the back of his head and rode his mouth, hips rocking, unashamedly begging with my body and with my words. “Baby, sweetheart, love, honey—oh Jesus, oh fucking hell, yeah, just like that—”

  And then I couldn’t do anything but scream as he fingered me and licked me into a writhing, bucking mess of orgasmic boneless flesh, limp against him. He stood up, cradling my weight against his chest.

  I wanted to collapse, wanted to let him drag me into my room, onto my bed, and let him have his way with me. But he’d daydreamed about me. Fantasized about me. Jacked off thinking about me. He’d waited for me. Held out for me. Come after me. Forgiven me for being a stupid cowardly asshole. One with obviously compromised morals. But, as long as he was the only one compromising my morals from then on, I was fine with that.

  So, instead of letting him keep control over the situation, I decided to have a little fun of my own, by way of easing some of the painful tension in his balls.

  I straightened, pressed my naked body up against his still mostly clothed one, and kissed him. Felt his tongue on mine, tasted my essence on his lips. Used the distraction of the kiss to divest him of the shirt. He grabbed for me, caught my arm, pulled me closer. Crushed his lips to mine and our tongues danced, mated, tangled.

  It was the work of a moment to unfasten his jeans the rest of the way and let them fall in a pool around his ankles.

  And then I was on my knees, and Ian was watching me, not stopping me. He did protest, though. “Nina? You don’t have to—”

  It was a token protest, though, methinks. Evidenced by the fact that his words ceased as soon as my lips wrapped around the plush, plump firmness of his glans. My tongue slid against the very tip of him, and I tasted essence. Precome. Salty, musky, the taste of readiness. Need. I gripped
him in one hand, drew his erection down, away from his body, cupped his taut, heavy balls in my other hand. Stroked him, using my lips around the head, suckling, tasting.

  “Jesus, Nina.”

  “My turn to hear it.” I let go, took my mouth away.

  He stared down at me, eyes narrowed, hooded. “This wasn’t the game.”

  “Is now, buddy.”

  “I’ve said it.”

  “Once, to my twenty.”

  A lick, then. The flat of my tongue across the tip. He flinched, gasped. “I—I love you, Nina.”

  I pulled him down, sank lower so my heels dug into the backs of my thighs, staring up at him. I plunged his cock into my mouth and took him deep. He groaned, a deep, relieved sound. And then, one full stroke into my mouth, and I pulled away. Eyed him, licked my lips. Licked his length, root to tip, and then waited.

  “I love you.” His eyes on mine as he said it, a smirk on his lips, some equilibrium found from somewhere.

  Another long, slow slide of lips around erect cock, another, two, three, four, my lips and tongue tasting and feeling his firm dick and musky essence. When his hips began to rock, I stopped.

  “Fuck, Nina.” He reached down and gently removed the elastic band around my ponytail, shook out my hair, dug his fingers into it and combed through the long black locks. “Want me to beg?”

  I shook my head. “No, Ian. I’m the one who should be begging. I just want to hear it once more. With feeling. And say my name when you say it.” One quick stroke of my hand. “And then tell me where you want to come.”

  He groaned at the slide of my fist around him. “Ohhhhh god.” He stared down at me, fingers in my hair, eyes on mine, his cock at my lips, my hands around his thickness, watching his chest heave. “I love you, Nina Herrera. I love you.”

  “Tell me where.” I bobbed down on him, stroking with my fist just beneath my lips, taking until I couldn’t take any more.

  “Anywhere.”

  “You decide.”

  “I want to be inside you.”

  “You will be. But not yet. I want this first.”

  “Why?”

  Instead of answering, I focused on the rhythm, fist down, mouth up, fist up, mouth down, lips meeting fist in the middle of his length. His balls cupped in my hands, massaging gently, finding his taint with my middle finger and massaging there, feeling him tense. When I knew he was rising, getting close, I removed my mouth, kept stroking with my fist.

  “Where, Ian?”

  He forced his eyes open. “Remember when you did this to me, in—in London? I came in your mouth, and on you.”

  “On my face.”

  “And your tits.”

  “So…everywhere?”

  He groaned wordlessly, hips flexing. “Yeah. Shit, I’m close. Yeah. I want to mark you. You’re mine. I want you to feel me on you, in you. So you know, so you’ll never forget.”

  “How could I forget? I’ll never forgot.”

  “Nina—” His grip tightened in my hair.

  “I know, baby. You’re close. So close.” I slowed down. “Tell me I’m yours again.”

  He could only groan and sigh and curse. When my pace threatened to slow to a stop, he stroked the top of my head, thumbed my temple. “You’re mine, Nina Herrera.” His voice was a guttural rasp.

  And that was all it took. I squeezed his cock at the root, wrapped my lips around his plump, leaking head, and sucked, my tongue fluttering against him.

  He exploded in my mouth with a grunt, filling my mouth with salty come. “Fuck, fuck…Nina, Jesus—”

  “Nope, no Jesus here, just me.” I used his own words against him as I drew him out of my mouth and felt his come spurt onto my chin, against my lips, felt it dribble down my neck.

  Felt the marking, the claiming. And then he spurted again, and it splashed hot against my tits. I watched him, all the while, watched his gorgeous face contort in ecstasy as he spasmed, thick white hot sticky come on my face and neck and tits, and then I slid his throbbing dick into my mouth again and sucked the last drops out of him, one last surge of come on my tongue.

  I kept sucking as he twitched and flexed. When he was finally done, I sank back to sit on my heels, not wiping his come off my skin. I left it there, to mark me. Left it there, so he would have to clean me up and take me to bed.

  His gaze locked on mine, skipped and stuttered over my face, a smile on his lips. “Mine.”

  “Yours,” I agreed.

  He bent, grabbed my T-shirt from the floor and used it to wipe me clean.

  “Um. That was my shirt?”

  “You won’t be needing it anymore.”

  “No?”

  “No. Not for some time.” He helped me stand up. “I’d have used mine, but I only brought the one, and I’m assuming since this is your dormitory—” he said it dorm-ih-tree, “that you’ve got clean ones.”

  “So. How long are you thinking?”

  “How long?”

  “Won’t I be needing a shirt?”

  “Well, it’s Friday, so…never? Or, barring that, at least until Monday morning.”

  “What about meals?”

  “You’ll stay here, naked, in bed, and I’ll run out and grab takeaway. And I’ll feed you.”

  “Oh.”

  He dragged me into the bedroom, giving me a gentle push toward the bed. I landed on the mattress with a bounce and a giggle. “How many times d’you think I can make you come before I’m hard again?”

  “Three?”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Maybe. Think you can do better?” I grinned up at him, smiling deliriously, giddy with anticipation.

  He was above me on his hands and knees, hovering over me. “I do. I think I can get four.”

  His mouth descended to my nipple, his fingers to my core. And, within seconds—one. Or no, maybe that was just the tremors of desire, pre-quakes. Something. It was a tightening, a flush across my skin, lighting inside me, a rush through me. When he bought his lips to my core, I knew it hadn’t even been one, just a brief glimpse of what would be. When the first orgasm hit me, it was with avalanche swiftness, hard and sudden and unstoppable—not that I was trying to stop it. No, I embraced it, fell back into it. Let my voice go, felt it all through me. Rode it, gasping, calling Ian’s name.

  And then he positioned my feet up on his shoulders, and I hooked my heels together at the back of his neck, felt his stubble on my inner thighs and his hair tickling me, and then I felt his free hand—the one not currently with two fingers three knuckles deep inside me—steal under me, slide down past my opening and his busily writhing fingers finding a way in. He found the taut bud of my asshole, and entered me. His middle finger pressed in against that tight knot and I, naughty and willing and wanting, let him in. And I screamed. And came. Hard, curling forward, thighs clenching, everything exploding.

  “That’s two,” he murmured against my thigh.

  “I—mmm, god, yeah.” Incoherent mumbles were the best I could do.

  Especially because he was still stroking me inside, back and front. And his tongue, once he’d stopped using it for stupid wasteful nonsense like talking, was flicking against my clit and I couldn’t stop helping Ian get me to number three by rolling both of my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, pinching just a little too hard, rolling them in time with his surging fingers and flicking tongue.

  THREE. Oh fuck, three. That one had me breaking out in a sweat, cursing, writhing against his face.

  But then, without warning, he was gone.

  “Ian?” I felt a bolt of panic. I sat up, ready to go crazy.

  But there he was, coming back through the door. Letting a condom wrapper flutter to the floor, rolling the rubber onto his erection with a fist, tossing the rest of the strip onto the floor beside the bed.

  “There’s only six,” he said, standing at the edge of the bed. “I’ll have to go get more later.”

  “Six won’t be enough?”

  “Not hardly. M
aybe for tonight, but that’s it.”

  “Ambitious, aren’t you?” I scooted back to the head of the bed, watching his muscles flex as he approached, watching his cock sway, watching his eyes devour me.

  His eyes on my body was all the affirmation of my beauty that I needed. If his hungry mouth and roaming hands weren’t enough, if his insatiable appetite wasn’t enough, the way he looked at me, that alone made me feel beautiful.

  “Ambitious?” he questioned. “No. Making up for lost time.”

  “Oh.” I lost my train of thought, had it derailed by the primal prowl of his leonine body across the bed, hands clawed in the sheets, eyes roving my body, tits and face and pussy and back to my eyes, watching me watch him.

  “Yeah. I’ve a month of fucking to get in this weekend.”

  “Just fucking?”

  His lips curled in a smile, and now he was over me, and god, I was where I belonged, beneath my man. Wrapping my arms around his neck, scraping my palms on his shoulders, fingers tracing the knobs of his spine, needy hands finding his ass and cupping it, holding it, clinging to it as he fitted himself between my thighs, nudging my opening.

  “No, Nina. Not just fucking.” He pushed in, slowly. “This. You and me. Us.”

  “Oh god, Ian.”

  “Yeah. Baby, it’s not just fucking. It’s never been just fucking. It’s been lovemaking. That first time, when all we did was grope each other and come all over the place like horny kids, that was love. I made love to your pussy with my mouth. I felt it, and so did you. That’s why you’ve always been so scared of us. Because you knew the moment you touched me, it was more. You made love to my cock with those lush lips of yours. Yes, the lushest.” He plunged deep, held there, hips to hips. Eyes on mine. “And when we finally fucked, when I finally felt that sweet tight pussy of yours tight around my cock, you knew, and I knew. It wasn’t just fucking.”

  He punctuated that last word with a thrust—pull out, push in, agonizingly slowly, yes, savoring every inch of wet slide, the way I’d savored the taste of his cock in my mouth, the feel of his thickness stretching my jaw, the ridges of his skin against my tongue. God, now those ridges and that thickness were in me, and I was home. Fuck, I couldn’t imagine ever being anywhere else, feeling anything else, wanting anyone else.