Sinful Longing

by Lauren Blakely

  She moved to her bra next, freeing her tits. His breath hitched. There she was, down to nothing but her beautiful bare self and the shimmer of desire evident in the flush on her skin. Her eyes, so dark and hungry, told him that she had indeed been one tortured woman all day long.

  “I almost feel bad for making you think about me for nine hours straight,” he growled, as he pressed his hands on the insides of her thighs.

  Her legs parted, and he groaned as he drank in the sight of her wet pussy. She was so fucking sexy, and so damn turned on, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. “But I can’t find it in me to feel bad when you’re this worked up already.”

  She ran a hand through her hair and panted. “I am. Oh God, I am. You’re the only thing I could think about. I’ve been so turned on since I saw you this morning, and I’m dying for you.”

  Her words stoked the raging fire in him. It crackled and burned with rampant desire as he opened her legs further, savoring the utterly intoxicating view of this beautiful woman arching her hips toward his mouth.

  His dick ached. His erection throbbed against his boxer shorts. His mouth watered as he settled between her legs, hooked them on his shoulders, and at last, at long fucking last, he kissed her sweet honey center.

  * * *

  Oh God.

  Oh dear fucking God in heaven.

  She rocked into him the very second he touched her sex. It was like a match on tinder, igniting her instantly. She groaned, she moaned, and she cried out his name. She was a live wire, exposed, ready, and waiting. She’d wanted this for so long, had pictured it often, and had fantasized about it so many times.

  Sure, they’d had sex on a handful of occasions, and she’d taken him deep in her mouth twice, but this was virgin territory.

  It was a first for them, and if it happened right, it would be a first for her.

  She’d never come like this. Sam hadn’t been into it, and she hadn’t been with many others. This was her ultimate fantasy. The one she devoured in her erotica. The one she dreamed of, rode her fingers to, and fucked herself with toys to images of.

  As he swept his tongue across her pussy, she bowed her back, so ready to sing, to shout, and to scream. He was a fucking dream. His lips were soft, and his stubble was rough, and his tongue was insistent as he flicked it up and down along her swollen, aching clit. She grabbed his hair as if her hands were a steel grip and she couldn’t let go. She wouldn’t let go. She rocked into his face. Electricity crackled through her, lighting up all her nerves, sizzling her skin.

  She cried out his name, and for a second he broke contact to look at her—his eyes were heated, full of the same wild longing. That moment was like a thread between them, a tight, neat line that tethered her to him. To share in this lust for another person was the greatest high, the sweetest intoxication, and, hell, did they have it. She wanted his mouth as much as he wanted to consume her.

  “Tell me what you say when you fuck yourself,” he said in a dirty growl. “Talk to me like you did all the times I devoured you in your fantasies.”

  Another wave of desire crashed through her, and she dug her nails into his scalp. Gladly. She’d gladly tell him. She’d used him so many times; she’d gotten off to him countless nights; she’d come to his image over and over.

  “Fuck me with your tongue,” she said, panting as she thrust into him.

  He moaned as he licked her, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. His tongue explored her. His sinfully delicious lips devoured her, and she’d never felt so lavished, so cherished, or so utterly craved. His hot kisses turned her into a wet, writhing collection of sparking nerve endings and rushing blood cells.

  She closed her eyes, sharing with him all the dirty things she’d said in her head as she’d masturbated to him. All the filthy words she imagined she’d say when she finally felt him do this. “I want to ride your face. I want to fuck your face so hard,” she said, in broken gasps. His tongue kicked into some kind of overdrive, flicking her wildly. He let go of his grip on her ass and grabbed her hands, clasping them tight, clutching them as he feasted on her. Hands in hands, this act became all the more intense.

  Closer. She felt closer to him than she ever had before as he held her tight, their fingers laced together, while he drank her in. Her muscles tightened. The first wave of pleasure crashed over her, and it was happening.

  “I want to come all over you, Colin,” she said, as the sensations rolled through her, overwhelming her, flooding her brain with nothing but beautiful bliss.

  “Oh God,” she cried out, losing control, letting go, and giving in to everything she felt with him. “I’m going to come on your face. Just like you want.” He gripped her hands so damn tight as he ravaged her. “Just like I’ve pictured. Oh fuck. Oh God. It’s so fucking good.”

  Then she screamed, and nothing else existed in the whole damn world but this perfect moment of pleasure, this unparalleled ecstasy with this man who was so unbelievably good to her in every way.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rock. Hard.

  His dick was steel. His stubble was coated in her gorgeous, glorious, delicious wetness. He could still taste her on his tongue. Like sin and honey. Like longing and lust. Like the woman he had to have completely.

  She sighed happily as her eyes fluttered open, so dreamy and sexy.

  “Hi,” she whispered as he rose up. “That was…”

  “You are…”

  Neither one of them could seem to finish their sentences. She scooted back into the pillows then lifted her hand, tracking the lotus design on his chest. She traveled lower, over his abs to his waist. She pushed down his briefs. He was sitting on his knees, still between her legs. No better place to be.

  She ran her tongue across her lips as she freed his cock, then took it in her hand and stroked him. Shuddering, he felt a bolt of desire tear through him as she rubbed her hand slowly up and down his dick. He loved how she touched him. Absolutely fucking loved everything about it, from the way she ran her fingers over him to how her breath came fast and heavy as she gripped him.

  Mostly though, it was her eyes. It was the way she gazed at him. She looked at him with so much want, so much desire, and so much more. Like she wanted him in all the same ways he wanted her.

  His breathing turned erratic the more she touched him, the more she rubbed her hands all over him. The craving inside him multiplied; it rose exponentially as she stopped at the head of his dick, spreading a bead of liquid over him. He groaned.

  She whispered his name.

  “Yes?” he answered, as he pushed off his briefs. His voice was soft, but it echoed, the only sound in his quiet home. It vaguely occurred to him that he hadn’t stopped to turn on music or anything. He hadn’t needed it though. The noises she made were all he wanted in his ears.

  “I want to know how it feels without any barriers,” she said, wrapping both hands around him now, leading him closer to the promised land.

  The prospect of flesh against flesh, skin on skin, electrified him. But a kernel of worry set up camp, too, and he remained stock still as he asked, “Are you sure? I mean, should we?”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “But…”

  “I wasn’t when I was younger. The condom broke. The pill has been fantastic. But we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

  “No, I want to. I just want to make sure it makes sense.”

  She nodded. “It does. It works.”

  He positioned his cock between her legs and rubbed the head against her wetness. Roping her arms around his neck, she drew him closer. She spread her legs, wrapping them around his hips as he sank into her. He trembled from the absolutely exquisite feel of her hot pussy gripping his dick. “You’re so fucking wet,” he said as he hitched her leg up higher, giving himself a better angle.

  “I always am with you,” she said, then raised her face to his and claimed his lips. She kissed him, and he fucked her, and soon that was all
he knew. The deep and primal drive to fill her. The heat flooding his body. Her fingernails running the length of his spine. And her mouth, her decadent, sinful lips fused to his, kissing him greedily as he took her.

  Hard.

  Deep.

  Rough.

  She let go of his mouth and yanked him closer, kissing his neck, his face, moving her lips to his ear. “I love the way you fuck me,” she whispered, her voice fevered.

  So fiery. She was so damn fiery and passionate. It drove him wild. “Fucking you is amazing. Do you have any idea why it’s so good?” he said in a heated voice as he stroked.

  “Tell me.”

  “Because it’s more than fucking.” The words tumbled from his lips. He hadn’t planned to tell her now, but he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t pretend. She was more than this. She was so much more than the physical. He pulled back to look at her. Maybe he’d scared her. Maybe she’d freeze up again. But her lips were parted, her eyes were wide open, and she gazed back at him, not letting go.

  “I know it is,” she whispered, the words like poetry to his ears. Sweet, gorgeous music.

  “It’s more than what it used to be.”

  “So much more,” she murmured as she moved with him. They were finishing each other’s sentences, filling in what the other was saying. They both felt it. There was no other way.

  Their bodies coiled together. She was slick and hot, and so was he, and he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough of her, couldn’t imagine this stopping at just sex. No, this was way more than fucking. It was fucking and falling at the same damn time, and nothing—no drug, no drink, no high-flying parachute dive—had ever felt as good as coming together with the woman he desired madly.

  Coming together…and falling apart.

  * * *

  She shivered as he ran his fingertips over her sparrows. “These are my favorite,” he said, kissing them.

  She trembled in his arms, her back to him as he held her. She barely felt like herself. She was some other version of Elle Mariano in these stolen moments with Colin. And she loved this version. She savored being this woman. Not a mom. Not a social worker. Not a woman with secrets that couldn’t be shared. She wore only her bra and panties, and he was clad in his briefs. They’d eaten Thai while watching the final ten minutes of Goodfellas, reciting the closing lines together. Then they’d managed one more quick round, and now the clock was racing closer to the end of the night. She had to leave in thirty minutes.

  “Why do you like them?”

  “Because I love your neck, and these birds are like a homing beacon to me.”

  “That’s why I got them.”

  “To draw me to your neck?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “No. Because in olden days, sailors would follow birds to land. That’s how they knew when they were coming close to shore. There’s a legend about a sailor who found his way home by spotting sparrows. I just love the idea of finding your way home.”

  “When did you get this one?”

  “Five years ago. Things were really rough with Sam then. It was his third or fourth rehab stint. I lost count. But I needed the reminder that I could find my own way home,” she said, glad it was a topic she could freely discuss. Though they’d talked about their ink before, they’d never delved into it in great detail.

  “I like that idea. I believe that’s true. You can find your way home,” he said softly, and she craned her neck to look at him. The sun had dropped below the horizon, and night had fallen. Dark shadows lined his face from the waning light in the windows; he’d only turned on one lamp.

  “I believe it, too. And sometimes you have to rely on something outside of yourself to do that.”

  “Who or what did you rely on?”

  “My mom, my sister, my son. Basically, my family,” she said.

  “I love that you’re so close to them. It’s the same with my brothers and sister,” he said, and she tensed momentarily, wondering what would happen to that tight-knit foursome when they learned they were five.

  His hand dropped to her hip, traveling across the cherry blossom tree that decorated her side up to her rib cage. That had hurt like hell, given the location, but she loved the intricate design and symbolism of it. “Wait. I was wrong. This one is my favorite,” he whispered, dusting a kiss across the blossoms. “It’s beautiful and sexy, like you.”

  “I had this one done in San Diego when I took Alex there a few years ago. The tattoo artist who did this gave me a similar design to the one he made for his wife. It’s on her neck, and it’s gorgeous. He said in Japan it’s a symbol for the preciousness of life. With tattoos, it represents femininity and beauty.”

  “Both are perfect.”

  He traveled across her body, landing on the script-y T on her wrist. “But this one truly is my favorite. Titanium. You told me you got this after Sam died.”

  She nodded and swallowed. Her throat hitched with the memory. “Yes. My reminder to stay strong. Obviously, since that’s what titanium is.” She inched around, facing him, meeting his eyes. There were other truths she’d been sworn to protect, but her life, her past, and her pain were hers alone to share. She’d never told him all the details. And now, as they came closer together, the time seemed right. “He died in my arms.”

  His jaw dropped. “Shit, Elle. I’m so sorry. I knew he OD’d but didn’t know the details.”

  “We weren’t together. We hadn’t been for a long time. But he showed up at my house, smashed, sick as a dog, white as a sheet. He stumbled inside, and I started to call my mom, since she’s a nurse. But then he just started convulsing.” The cruel memory flickered in her mind—Sam’s eyes bugging out, his breath coming in spurts, his chest seizing up. She’d called 911 immediately then crouched on the floor, holding him, desperately waiting for the ambulance to show up. It was too late. The medics pronounced him dead on the scene. “Alex saw the whole thing.”

  Pain sliced through her, and she winced from the memories.

  Colin wrapped his arms around her. “That’s such a terrible thing for him to see. I didn’t watch my dad die, but I saw his body a few hours later, when my mom found him. I’ll never forget the image. It must be so hard for Alex.”

  “It was,” she said. Her voice broke and a tear slipped down her cheek.

  He kissed it away.

  “Colin,” she said, her voice thin as air. “That’s why I’m scared.”

  “I know. But that’s not me. I won’t be like that.”

  She nodded, though she was certain they both knew no one could make that guarantee. But it wasn’t fair of her to ask either, especially since he’d already proven that he could rise above. He was the best man she knew. The kindest, smartest, most thoughtful gentleman she’d ever met. The guy who helped the boys at the center. Who drove them to tests. Who helped them study. Who inspired them in gaming strategy and tracked down history apps. He was the man who treated her like a queen.

  She placed her finger on his lips. “You can’t make that promise. And I can’t ask you to. But…”

  “But?”

  The fear escalated, whipping through her. She hadn’t come here tonight expecting to want so much more from him, but she couldn’t walk out that door the way she came in. Every second she spent with him, naked or clothed, she became more connected, more linked to this man. This was no longer about sex. It was about why the sex between them was so spectacular. Because of how they felt.

  She looped her hands in his hair and tried to push past that fear. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt.”

  “It’s the same for me. I’ve never felt anything like this,” he said, and the look in his eyes was one of pure joy. She wanted to remember it always. She clutched that emotion tighter now, because it was giving her the strength to say the next thing—to tell him she was ready to try.

  She’d just parted her lips to speak when her phone buzzed.

  Fuck a duck.

  “That might be Alex,” she said,
sitting up and reaching for her purse. “As you learned earlier, he texts a lot. Which is good. I want him to. But—”

  She stopped speaking when she saw her mom was calling. Her mom never called when she was with Alex. Worry flooded her and she answered instantly. “Hey, Mom. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine. I just dropped Alex off at home though, because the hospital called. They’re short-staffed tonight, and I need to get to work an hour early to fill in. But he’s totally fine by himself. He’s not even playing video games. He’s practicing his history facts. I think he wants you to quiz him tomorrow,” her mom said.

  Elle breathed easier, but still stood up and started hunting for her clothes. “Did you have a good time?”

  “The best. We always have the best time. I beat him at bowling, but he beat me at some crazy motorcycle game. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I won’t be there when you get home, but you still are under orders to have a good time.”

  Elle found her skirt and pulled it on. “I had an amazing time,” she said, locking eyes with Colin, who’d tracked down a pair of gym shorts. He smiled at her as she slid into her shoes.

  “Then you need to do it again.”

  “I do need to do it again,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “I love you, Mom. I’ll see you soon. Are you coming to my match on Friday night?”

  “As soon as my shift ends I’m there.”

  She said good-bye and turned to Colin. “I need to go. I know he’s old enough to be home alone, but I don’t feel right being here and doing what we’ve been doing and just leaving him on his own. You know?”

  He nodded. “I get it.”

  She pulled on her tank top, wishing she could have finished what she’d started to say. But maybe this was the universe’s way of slowing her down. Elle had been prone to rash decisions before. Perhaps, she needed to meditate more thoughtfully on what to say. Or maybe what she really needed to do was talk to her son. She’d been protecting him, keeping him safe from the kind of hell he’d witnessed with his father. Rather than tell Colin she wanted to try with him, she should tell her son what Colin meant to her.