by Liz Crowe
And now, I was the one who had to make the first move, which made me feel even better about this crazy decision I’d made. At last, our lips met, his tongue teased, then got forceful, as I sensed something in him rise and meet me in a way that went beyond our bodies. Without breaking our kiss, he eased me back onto the bed, his hands now stroking my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples.
The bolt of near pain hit me hard, making my back arch. He pulled away, concern in his odd-colored eyes. “No, no, please. I liked it. I just… Don’t…oh… Mi Dios.”
He grinned and pushed me all the way back and lowered his face to my breasts. Lips. Tongue. Teeth. Fingers. All combined to drive me insane. I sensed my hips moving in a way that embarrassed me but that I couldn’t stop. All the pain and pleasure in the world seemed to be centered in my nipples, and there was a line of nerves that connected them to my pussy. I spread my legs. Made strange sounds deep in my throat as he kept stroking, licking, sucking.
“Oh. I… It’s…”
“Sh, mi amor,” he whispered, letting his lips trail up my neck until he kissed me again, in that way he had, that shut out the world and made me want to cry. I clutched at him, trying to pull him over on top of me. My body needed more. It required a connection.
His hand dropped to my stomach, teasing me in little circles with his fingertips. My hips thrust up as he placed tiny kisses down my neck. I sensed myself writhing, forcing parts of my body closer to him. Driving out the voice that tried to interrupt my pleasure, to call me a slut, a whore and all the things I’d been called during all my previous experiences with sex, I grabbed his hand and shoved it between my legs. I felt his smile against my skin, which was now slick with sweat.
“Quiero. Quiero que estés dentro de mi. Por favor. Mi…”
Trent propped himself on his elbow next to me, and moved his hand back to my stomach. “Did you just say what I think you said?” His teeth grazed my earlobe. That hand I wanted elsewhere tickled its way up my torso and tweaked my nipple, making me gasp.
“Stop teasing me,” I demanded. “I need…”
“I know what you need, bella,” he whispered. “Relax. Let me work. Okay? Trust me.”
I nodded.
“Now lie back, and lift your arms up over your head.”
A shiver of anticipation joined all the other many shivers running through me. He was kinky, Evelyn had said. Kinky. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
As if reading my mind, he smiled and kissed me gently, softly, without any rush or urgency. His hands cradled my face, slid into my hair. And any fear or worry flew from my mind. He kissed his way down my neck again, gave each of my nipples ample attention, making my hips thrust up again. Shameless.
Yes. Totally.
To my surprise, he began to kiss his way down my stomach, tickling me, shocking me, tantalizing me in ways I’d never felt in my sorry life. He was murmuring something in that musical voice of his. He shifted so he was on the floor, between my legs, which were already spread wide. The pulsing sensation between my legs got stronger, more urgent as his mouth moved across the mound of my hair. Fingers gripped my hips, digging in hard, pulling me down the bed, toward his face.
“Oh, no. I…can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he whispered. But instead of doing what I thought he was going to do, he bent one of my knees, gripped my foot, straightened my leg up and started kissing—starting at my instep, working his way down my ankle, spending some time sucking the skin behind my knee. I gripped the bed cover, trying to understand what was happening to my body.
I hurt, but I was also zinging with something strange. His lips moved again. He bent my leg up to my chest, then, of all things, sucked my big toe into his mouth. I watched him, fascinated by the many sensations slipping and sliding around inside me, all over me. He let go of my toe. His gaze met mine. I reached out to stroke his head, loving the soft skin under my fingertips. He let go of that leg and did the same thing with my other one, drawing out the extreme pleasure—pulling it like a bit of yarn he’d found on a sweater, tugging it until it lay between us, connecting us.
This time, after bestowing all that odd, yet incredible oral attention to the skin behind my knee, he kept going, nipping at the back of my thigh. Then, without warning, he tossed my leg over his shoulder and dove between my legs.
“Ay! Papi!” I yelped when his lips touched me in a place that made actual fireworks explode behind my closed eyelids. He had some part of me in his mouth and was sucking it. I was shoving myself up and into his face. My fingertips were dug into his scalp. When it happened, I screamed, I’m embarrassed to say. But at that moment, everything in me was focused between my legs, where my man was showing me what heaven looked like.
“Oh. Oh…oh…” My voice came from far away as my body seemed to settle back into itself. He stayed down between my legs, riding out my first orgasm ever. Finally, I lay gasping for breath, arms and legs spread. He rose, his smile wide. His lips slick. I refused to let embarrassment ruin this for me. Because I was not done. Not by half.
“Please tell me you didn’t call me your daddy,” he said, flopping back down onto his side with a small wince.
“It’s a Spanish thing, mi amor.” I stroked his cheek, then put my fingertips to my lips, tasting the delicious tang of his sweat. “I don’t think you’re my daddy, don’t worry.” I rose on my elbow mirroring him, and hooking my leg over his hips. “But you are my papi now, guapo. Deal with it.”
Face pensive, he took a lock of my hair and put it to his lips. “I love everything about you,” he said, his voice rough. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I think I may change my mind.”
“Sweet talker,” I said. But something in my chest expanded at his words.
“Too soon?” He smiled.
“Probably.” I wanted to touch him, to stroke his flesh, to hold his cock in my hand. But I was frozen with shyness all of a sudden. “Thank you,” I said, putting my fingers to his lips.
“Oh, mi angelito, that is only the beginning.”
“Good,” I said as my fingers touched his neck. They were shaking, which made me feel like a stupid fool. He grabbed my hand, kissed my knuckles and pushed my shoulder until I was on my back again.
“Would you like more?”
“I… I want to…touch you.” He stood between my spread knees, still fully dressed. It was too dark for me to see much but I noted when his hand dropped to his belt. My mouth actually watered right then, which shocked me almost more than the force and beauty of my first orgasm.
“Not sure I’m ready for that, bella,” he said, even as he lifted his shirt up and off. “But I’ll muscle my way through it.” The light from a full moon hit the side of his face, giving me a sense of how he really felt. His eyes gave him away every time. They were wide, shining, a bit wary. And I loved him for it.
He unbuckled, unzipped, pushed his jeans down. He stood there, looking sheepish in a way that made my heart pound. This man was waiting, holding back, for me. I sat up fast and yanked his underwear down—or I tried to. They got hung up for a few seconds, which made him chuckle and me horrified at my rookie move.
But finally, he was naked. And I could see he was exactly as I’d imagined him. Defined chest muscles, an honest-to-God six-pack. And his cock… I exhaled as I sat up, reaching for him.
I’d seen a penis before. I’d felt what it could do, ripping me from innocence forever. I’d had one in my mouth, as I’d told him. It had gagged me, made me cry and sickened me.
A wave of terror engulfed me as I observed this most intimate part of him. He stood still, not saying a word. Letting me draw my own conclusions, make my own moves. I hesitated, closing my eyes and reminding myself that this was Trent. This was the kind, gentle, perfect man who’d just bestowed a mind-bending climax on me.
He tilted my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. “We don’t have to take this step yet, angelita. If you’re not ready.”
I blinked, parsing my emotions. I close
d my eyes and felt something come roaring up and out of the mire of fear and disgust I’d inhabited relative to my own sexuality. I wanted this. I wanted him. I would have him—over and over again. This woman—the true Melody—had been cowering inside me for years. Trent had found her, pulled her from her hiding place. She took over my mind, my body, most specifically my hand, which rose again. My fingers wrapped around the amazing thickness of Trent’s cock.
He sucked in a breath at my touch. I—and she, my new self—observed a bead of fluid form in the slit at the top. I took a breath, sucking in the essence of him—of his raw, masculinity. Time slowed to a crawl as I leaned forward, wanting to taste him. The new Melody urged me on. She was a healthy, sexual creature and we had a lot of time to make up for.
“No,” Trent whispered as my tongue touched the tiny pearl of fluid.
“Yes,” I—and she—whispered back. “It’s fine,” I said, before lowering my lips over the beautiful, most intimate part of him I held in my hand. His groan was low and loud and seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. His fingers twined in my hair. His hips thrust forward. I slid my lips as far down as I could, then retreated, loving the taste and feel of him.
I—me—because I was this new woman now. She and I had become one, finally. Thanks to Trent. I owed him so much. It was time for a bit of payback. I looked up at him as I teased the edges of the head. He was staring down at me, sweat beaded up on his face. My body was rising again, filling with blood, not unlike his erection.
I had so much to learn, I thought as I slid my fingers underneath his heavy balls. And I couldn’t wait to get started.
Chapter Eleven
Trent didn’t know what was worse—needing to come so badly he could taste it, or realizing he was about to come in her mouth. He wanted to come somewhere else. But her sweet, inexperienced lips and fingers were making him wild. His hips pumped forward, as he gripped her hair, grunting with the effort of holding back.
Then, she did it, shocking him to his core. The sensation of the head of his dick bumping up against the back of her throat, then actually entering it made his eyes open wide as his brain went into reflex mode, releasing the tight hold he’d kept. He cried out, barely hearing it but feeling every sweet pulse deep in his balls. But he held some back, having trained himself how to do that—so he could put his cock where he wanted it and finish. She slid her lips up and off his dick which sent him stumbling backward.
“Wait,” he said, reaching down to tug the condom from his jeans pocket. He never went anywhere without one. Not that he did not love his daughter, but he had zero intention of having any more like her. Melody grinned as he rolled the thing down his cock. He ran a shaking finger down her cheek and tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes.
She smiled, rising from the bed like a Latina Venus. His Venus. His Goddess. He grinned and launched himself forward with a low growl—a sound he didn’t think he’d ever made before. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, gripped her ass, turned them and dropped back onto the bed. He tasted his cum on her lips, which mingled with the delicious taste of her that he doubted that he’d ever get enough of as she straddled his hips.
“Oh, Mi Dios,” she gasped into his mouth.
“Call me Papi again, bella.”
She rose, her hands on his chest, her dark eyes shining. “Quiero que me des duro hoy, Papi,” she whispered, shifting her hips. Her full, now slightly swollen lips parted. He held back, loving the sweet sensation of her clit, full and plump, rubbing against the head of his dick. He’d gone out of his way in the last few days to listen to Spanish language recordings. And had sought out some fairly specific terms and phrases.
“Oh I plan on it, angelita,” he said, yanking her down so he could suck one of her huge, sensitive nipples into his mouth, roll it around in tongue. She sighed and pressed her clit harder against him. She was hot and wet and ready for him. But he wanted to make this a night she’d never forget. So he started reciting baseball stats in his head even as he sucked one of her nipples and pinched the other one, making her writhe harder on top of him. When her hips angled in such a way that he found himself entering her body, he gasped and dropped back on the pillow, gripping her thighs.
“I need to finish, mi hermosa diosa,” he said, as his brain went into serious shut down mode. He felt her hand on the top of his head, surprising him with how sexy it felt to have her soft, teasing fingertips along his bare scalp. She ground down, taking him deep inside her, yanking him toward climax. Her pussy gripped him so tight it hurt. And he loved it. “Roll your hips,” he said, clenching his jaw with the stress of not blowing, wanting to feel her orgasm on his dick first.
“I… I’m going to… I don’t know…”
“Roll your hips, mi diosa,” he said, pushing her up so he could cup her breasts. He was getting a sense of her triggers, her more sensitive spots. “Put one hand on my chest, the other one behind you and take whatever you need from me.”
She moved faster in that position, and he felt it, smelled her orgasm approaching, which caused his brain to fog over. He loved this, of course. What man didn’t love to come inside a beautiful woman? But something felt different. Something scary was roaring up from a deep place inside his soul. “Don’t hold back,” he demanded, sensing her withdrawing, as if afraid of it too. “Don’t you dare hold back from me, Melody. Give it to me. Give me all of it.”
Her eyes were wide as she bucked and ground down on his body. He saw the tears forming in her eyes even as her walls tightened around his dick and a spasm inside her seized him, dragging them both into the bright light of a loud, glorious, climax.
Trent gripped her thighs as his hips thrust up, allowing himself the glorious release. Her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out of it. She shuddered from head to toe, even as her body kept a tight hold on him, pulsing over and over again.
Finally, a loud sound burst out of her, as if it had been trapped inside her somewhere. It was a beautiful sound—a cross between a sigh, a groan and a cry of pleasure. Trent had bestowed plenty of loud, wet orgasms on more women that he could even recall some days. And it had always been there, in the back of his brain, a point of pride and a reminder that he had purpose.
But now all that shit was gone, vanished, no longer important. Nothing was important anymore. He rose, keeping their bodies connected, and dragged her legs to either side of his hips. Her head was thrown back, exposing the long line of her neck to him. He pressed his lips to that delicious dip between her collarbones, and his palms into the small of her back as he rocked them, sensing his cock going even deeper into her body.
She draped her arms over his shoulders and raised her head. Her raven’s-wing black hair was wild around her shining face. Her eyes were filled with tears. Her lips trembled. “I… I… I’m afraid,” she said, even as her lips covered his and the small tip of her tongue breached his lips. He opened his mouth to her, opened his soul, opened his whole life to the beautiful creature in his arms.
He broke the kiss, brushed the tears off her face. “You never have to be afraid ever again, Melody.”
Chapter Twelve
The nightmare approached, threatening and grumbly like a distant summer thunderstorm. I faced it, as I usually did. Head bowed, heart pounding, body tensed for the dream-memory of pain and humiliation. I waited, knowing that I’d get through it. Just like I’d gotten through the ugly actuality of it.
I raised my face to it. Wanting to move past it and get on with the dreamless part of my sleep.
But when I looked up, expecting to get slammed square in the brain with the odors, sights, sounds and sensations of that long-ago afternoon, all I saw, heard or felt was Trent.
In my dream, I blinked, trying to clear the fog in front of me, willing the evil to hit me. I deserved it, after all, acting like such a silly slut that afternoon. For trusting the shithead banker boss. I’d dressed in short skirts. Let my blouses gape open. Worn sky-high heels. What else did I expect from him
?
The long years I’d spent after quitting the well-paying bank job, keeping my head down, trying to rebuild my own shattered psyche had meant years of reminding myself that I’d gotten exactly what I’d deserved. In the dream, I set my jaw, ready for the pain and horror, even wishing for it, in some sick and twisted way. It was all I’d known. All I had to anchor my sexual self.
I felt something on my arm, but I brushed it away. “Come on, god damn it,” I yelled into the dream-fog. “Come and get me. I’m here. Yours for the taking. Hurry up. Get it over with.” A loud, growling sound emerged from the swirl of mist around me. A face emerged. I glared at it, and stamped my foot. “Go away. You’re not part of this. This is mine. I own it.”
“Melody.” The lips on the face moved, saying my name. “I’m here. Give it to me, bella. Mi hermosa diosa.”
“I can’t,” I yelled, my throat aching like it had for days after the gang rape. I had screamed. But that had seemed to make the boys want to hurt me even more. “I’m not your fucking goddess. I can’t give it to you. It’s horrible. I can’t let you see it.”
“You can. And you will. You already have, remember?” His kind, compelling eyes, softened. His full lips parted in a kind smile. “Come on. Come with me.” His hand emerged from the fog. “Come with me, now.”
“I won’t,” I said, backing away from him. “You won’t want me. I’m ruined.”
“I already have you, my love. Don’t you know that?”
I forced myself to wake, gasping in the bright morning sunlight. My hands were balled into fists, gripping the soft fabric of my sheets. I shivered in the air-conditioned air, as sweat dried on my face. Terror slowly exited my consciousness, leaving behind a strange sensation of fullness. Followed closely by a distinct pain in some of my more intimate body parts.
