Switching it On

by Lexxie Couper

  She blinked at him, trembling.

  Denied.

  Dragging his hands through his hair, Mike shook his head again, turning farther away from her. He muttered something she couldn’t hear. Bunched his hands into fists in the thick strands of his hair.

  “Fuck,” he said again.

  He released his hair, straightened and—fixing his stare on the ceiling—sucked in a deep breath.

  “Do you remember the last time I looked at this ceiling, Lena?”

  The unexpected question sent a cold lick of disquiet through her.

  She knew the answer. Knew it all too well.

  Unbidden, an image of Mike, gym bag at his feet, fury etching his face, came to her. A memory. Of the last time he’d stood in the very spot he stood now.

  The day she told him to leave.

  “I take it by your silence you do.” He turned back to her, jaw clenched, expression unreadable, eyes…haunted?

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth.

  In that one second, in that one moment, she hated herself.

  “Mike…” she whispered. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t know what she was sorry for. For being incapable of believing his continued declaration of innocence? For humiliating him at work today? For bringing him here with the sole purpose of using him?

  For denying them both that which had once been so perfect?

  For all of it?

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, snagging the ball pendant between her breasts with shaking fingers. Breasts not contained by a bra.

  Christ, what kind of woman was she?

  Mike’s nostrils flared. His Adam’s apple jerked up and down the strong tan column of his throat. “So am I, Lena,” he declared, the words a strained rumble. “And yet, that’s not going to stop me.”

  He moved.

  With a sound bordering on animalistic, he circled her waist with one strong arm and hauled her to him, crushing her lips with his own.

  Lena’s body erupted with instant pleasure. She groaned into Mike’s mouth, all too aware she should stop him, but incapable of doing so.

  She wanted this too much. She wanted him.

  Wrapping her arms around his back, she gave herself over to the kiss. Found his tongue with hers. The wet friction sent fresh heat flooding to her pussy and she groaned again, tangling her fingers in his hair as she deepened the kiss.

  Another of those carnal growls rumbled in Mike’s chest and he hauled her off her feet, grabbing her arse and wrapping her thighs around his hips.

  A delighted laugh burst from her, followed by a thrilled gasp as he spun on his heel and rammed her back against the closed door.

  “Oh God, Mike,” she rasped, writhing against him as he dragged his lips down the side of her throat to nip at the top of her shoulder. “We’re going to…”

  He lifted his head, kneading her butt with his hands as he stared into her eyes, his own ablaze with hunger. “Regret this? Probably.”

  Lena’s tummy twisted at the fact he knew exactly what was on her mind. And the fact he felt the same way. This was crazy. They both knew it. Both recognized it for the base stupidity it was.

  And both didn’t care.

  Not at this one moment.

  “Mike…”

  His jaw bunched. “Let’s just go with it tonight, okay, babe? We can go back to being resentful and angry and hurt when the sun comes up. Deal?”

  “Deal.” The word left her on a breath. Her pulse pounded. Her pussy throbbed. “Now, make me—”

  He took possession of her lips again, the kiss wild and hungry and uncompromising.

  Sex with Mike had never been any other way.

  Nothing compared to it.

  His hands cupped and squeezed her backside as his tongue and teeth and lips worshipped her mouth, her jaw, her throat.

  She clung to him, pressed to the door, her ankles locked behind his back.

  He moved his lips to the little dip below her ear, nipping the skin there.

  She shivered, rolling her hips forward. Her clit throbbed, impatient for attention. Since their separation she’d been on two dates, determined to show the world she was over him. Both dates had ended with some heavy petting at her door that had rolled her stomach. She’d endured the kisses and the groping, waiting for the explosion of sheer concentrated pleasure she’d experienced with Mike, and come away lacking.

  Both times she’d cursed his name, hated him even more, even as a part of her—not just the sexually aching part, but a part she couldn’t truly fathom—wished he was there with her, and not the perfectly sweet, hopeful men who’d taken her out to dinner.

  Even her vibrator, a state-of-the-art rabbit with rolling pearls beneath its pink silicon sleeve and a clit stimulator that moved faster than her eye could track, left her curiously unsatisfied.

  She’d gone through a ridiculous amount of batteries switching that damn thing on every night…and despite the orgasms it gave her, she still wanted something more.

  Mike. She still wanted…

  “Mike,” she rasped, rolling her head as he nipped and then sucked on the skin beneath her ear. “Don’t leave…don’t leave a mark.”

  He raised his head and caught her stare with his. “Are you going to regret this later, Button?” There was no hesitancy or apology in his voice, only strained desire and arrogance.

  She nodded, teeth worrying her bottom lip, body thrumming with need.

  “Then let’s make sure we make it worth that regret.”

  He captured the side of her neck again and sucked.

  She cried out, bucking in his arms, liquid electricity shooting through her at the wicked sensation. “Oh God, yes,” she whimpered, clawing at his shoulders.

  He licked at the throbbing brand, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. “Fuck, I’ve missed hearing that,” he groaned, moving his lips to hers and giving them a gentle nip. “Hearing it my head, my dreams…it’s not the same.”

  Lena’s breath caught at the confession. Her heart smashed faster in her chest. She bit back a groan. Christ, she didn’t want to know he dreamt of her. She didn’t.

  Bullshit. You dream of him. Almost every—

  Raking one hand over his shoulders, she snared his jaw with her fingers and shut him up with a fierce kiss.

  No talking. She didn’t want words. Words would confuse her. Fuck with her head, her heart.

  She just wanted sex.

  Lots of it.

  Lots of Mike-induced orgasms.

  Enough to fuel her feverish, battery-powered orgasms for the rest of her life.

  If he sensed her unraveling control, he didn’t react to it. Instead, he met the ferocity of her kiss with his own, his hands on her butt growing just as fierce.

  She rolled her hips, desperate for pressure on her clit, against her folds, as their tongues battled.

  When Mike suddenly tore his lips from hers, she cried out in frustrated fear.

  No. Don’t say anything. Don’t—

  He didn’t. What he did was unhook her ankles behind his back and drop her feet to the floor.

  Holding her stare, his eyes half-shuttered and burning with lust, he skimmed his palms up the outside of her thighs, shoving up the hem of her skirt with them.

  Cool air kissed her newly exposed pussy lips.

  She drew in a wobbly breath, pressing her shoulders to the door and pushing her hips toward him as he moved one hand back to her arse and the other to cup the curve of her sex.

  He didn’t comment on the fact she wore no underwear.

  The only reaction he gave her was a slow moan of appreciation as his fingers encountered the wet seam of her pussy.

  She rolled her hips again, granting those fingers complete access to her most intimate flesh.

  He took it. Without hesitation.

  With a mastery she’d yet to forget, he found her clit and teased it with increasing strokes.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. A sigh fell from her. “Oh ye
s…” she whispered, circling his wrist with the fingers of her right hand. Aching for him to penetrate her. Trying to coax him to do so.

  He denied her, continuing to stimulate her clit with exquisite pressure.

  “M-Mike…” She writhed, attempting again to fill her clenching pussy with his fingers. “I want…you inside me.”

  The hand on her backside travelled slowly over the round swell of her left butt cheek, down to the back of her thigh and then back to her arse. “Where, Button?” he asked, drawing his fingers closer to the puckered hole of her anus, even as he slowly slid the fingers of his other hand along the seam of her sex, parting her folds. “And what part of me do you want?”

  She opened her eyes, her breath a ragged pant. “Whatever part is going to make me regret it the most.”

  His nostrils flared at her declaration.

  His chest swelled with a sharp inhalation.

  “Fuck me, Lena,” he ground out. “You have no idea…”

  He didn’t finish.

  Instead, he dropped to his knees, shoved her thighs apart, pulled the folds of her sex likewise with his thumbs, and swiped his tongue over her exposed clit.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh yes!” she cried, a rush of concentrated pleasure shearing through her.

  He swiped at her clit again, this time sinking a finger into her wet channel at the same time.

  Lena bucked. Clawed at his hair. Fisted her hand in it and rammed her sex harder to his mouth.

  He laved her clit, fucking her with his finger as he did so. His other hand kneaded her backside, teasing her anus with soft jabs of his fingertip on every squeezing grip.

  “Is that…” She paused, licking lips both dry and tingling. “Is that the best…you can do?”

  He burst out laughing against her pussy, and then punished her for her mocking question by closing his teeth around her clit and biting.

  A hot rush of moisture and pleasure crashed through Lena. She moaned, fisting her right hand in his hair, cupping her left hand over her breast. Massaging it.

  Between her thighs, Mike sucked on her clit and slipped another finger into her pussy. Scissored it against the other within her walls. Stroked her G-spot with perfect pressure and precision. The way he used to every time they made love when they were—

  A tingling heat rippled up Lena’s spine a heartbeat before a bone-shuddering orgasm claimed her.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, balling her hand tighter in his hair as her pussy contracted around his fingers. “Oh God…”

  She was aware she sounded like a porn star. She had to. If she let the real words in her soul, her heart, come out, it wouldn’t just be regret she’d experience after.

  Sex with Mike…it had always brought out the romantic in her. How many times had she told him she loved him, over and over, as her orgasms rocked through her, as her body was consumed by the rapture of his touch?

  If she didn’t resort to the cliché, she feared those three words would spill from her again.

  “Oh God,” she repeated, riding his hand, his mouth, her breath little more than panting gasps.

  He didn’t stop. His tongue worked her clit with increasing flicks as his fingers stroked her G-spot over and over.

  “Oh God!” she cried as a second orgasm crashed through her, this one more powerful. “Oh, M-Mike…oh God, Mike, I…I—”

  He yanked his fingers from her sex, his tongue from her clit and—before she could utter another sound, rose, and silenced her with a brutal kiss.

  She tasted herself. Tasted her release on his tongue, his lips.

  And then, without a word, he hauled her off her feet again.

  Slung her over his shoulder.

  She let out a yelp of surprise, her head spinning at not only the sudden shift in orientation, but at his powerful strength.

  “Mike!” she squeaked, scrabbling to snare some kind of anchor on his back as he strode through the apartment’s living room. “Mike, what?”

  “I’m going to fuck your fucking brains out, Button,” he answered, his voice a low growl. “And I’m doing it in the bedroom so every night when you go to bed, you’ll remember it. The only way you’ll ever be able to forget how fucking amazing I made you feel is to move.”

  Wet heat flooded Lena’s pussy at the audacity of his claim. Not because it was so caveman-possessive and arrogant, but because she knew it was true.

  Damn him.

  Damn her.

  They had to stop. They had to—

  “Mike.” She tried to dislodge herself from his shoulder. She failed. “Mike, we need—”

  He threw her on the bed.

  In the space it took her to gasp, she went from his shoulder to the mattress. On top of the pile of clothes there.

  She didn’t care. He didn’t seem to either.

  In the space it took her to whimper, “Oh God, yes,” he’d shoved her thighs wide and licked a fierce path over her seam to her clit.

  She writhed. And then moaned in denial when he straightened from between her legs.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered. “Not an inch.”

  She did as instructed, lying flat on her back, her legs spread, her pussy exposed to his inspection.

  He stood at the foot of the bed, between her ankles, his chest heaving, and—slowly—released the buttons of his shirt.

  Lena’s clit tingled. Her nipples ached, hard points impatient for the feel of his lips, his tongue and teeth.

  He’d once made her come just by sucking on her breasts. No man had ever done that to her before.

  Lying there now, on the bed she’d bought the day after she’d kicked him out, she craved that kind of orgasm again.

  “I want you to make me come by sucking my tits,” she said.

  Mike’s hands paused on the last button of his shirt. Something hungry flickered in his eyes. “Do you now?”

  She nodded.

  His jaw bunched. “Tell me, Lena,” he released the last button and shucked his shirt from his torso, “who makes you orgasm since I left?”

  Lena didn’t answer.

  For a moment, all she could do was devour the sight of his naked chest and shoulders and stomach.

  Holy fuck, she’d forgotten how incredible his body was.

  He’d once been a pro field-hockey player. Once played for Australia in the Olympics. That was how he came to sports journalism. An injury ended his hockey career and he was snapped up almost the day he came out of the hospital by the country’s second-highest rated sports channel.

  That’s where she’d met him.

  He’d stayed fit after the injury. He enjoyed exercising. She, in turn, enjoyed the benefits of it. How many times had she lain beside him during their marriage, just trailing her fingers over the sculpted perfection of his abs? His powerful chest and his shoulders? How many times had she lingered behind him when they were doing the grocery shopping, just so she could check out his arse in his jeans?

  In the months that had passed since their marriage dissolved, she’d pictured his body often. Every time she did, a pang of almost physical pain would grip the pit of her stomach and she’d get angry with herself for being so weak.

  Now, as he stood at the foot of her bed, devoid of his shirt, she accepted she was going to be weak all over again.

  Mike’s body was as exquisite, as hot as ever.

  Maybe even more so.

  Christ, she could stare at him forever.

  “Lena?”

  She blinked at the low utterance of her name. Jerked her focus up to his face.

  Their eyes clashed.

  She swallowed. He’d asked her a question. What was it?

  “Tell me,” he said, his fingers moving to the button of his jeans. Popping it open. “Who makes you orgasm since I left?”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. Her throat grew thick.

  She could tell him she’d had numerous lovers all better than him in the last seven and a half months. She could tell him it was none of his busines
s.

  But neither answer was truthful, and above all else, in this interaction with Mike, honesty was the driving force.

  Carnal honesty. Perverse honesty.

  Honesty about their base animal desire for each other to be sure, but honesty all the same.

  “Not a who,” she answered, holding his gaze. “A what.”

  His Adam’s apple jerked up and down his throat.

  Lena’s belly fluttered at the sight of its path. Or maybe it fluttered at the raw lust that flared in his eyes at her admission.

  “Vibrator?”

  She nodded at the blunt one-word question. Her nipples pebbled, rubbing against the soft silk of her shirt. Her breath fell from her in shallow puffs. Her body thrummed, craving his touch more with every passing second.

  “Where is it?”

  She swallowed.

  Mike’s nostrils flared. “Where is it?”

  Mouth dry, pussy flooding with moisture, she flicked a glance at her bedside table. “Top drawer.”

  Without a word, Mike strode around the bed, slid open the drawer, and withdrew her candy-pink rabbit.

  Lena swallowed again.

  Holy crap, the sight of Mike holding the only thing that had given her any sexual pleasure since he left turned her on more than it should.

  Turned her on so much it frightened her.

  Had she asked him to make her regret this? What about surviving it? Heart and sanity intact?

  Turning back to face her, Mike rested the pink shaft of the vibrator against the fingers of his right hand and switched it on.

  It came to life, the distinct hum of three AA batteries powering its tiny motor sending dark need to Lena’s sex.

  Lifting his stare to meet hers, he turned the rabbit off.

  Handed it to her.

  “I want,” he said, “to watch you almost make yourself come with that, Button.”

  Lena’s pupils dilated at his command. Her lips parted in a soft hitching breath.

  Mike stood motionless, fighting the crushing need to snatch the vibrator from her hand, throw it aside, and bury himself in her sweet pussy.

  When he sank into her, however, he had no doubt his fraying control would shatter. Before that happened, he wanted Lena to suffer in the most pleasurable way imaginable.