After he rinsed off the dishes and refreshed my wine, he took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. He’d given me a tour of the house already and I’d marveled at every room, each having been decorated in a charming yet rugged outdoorsy kind of style. “There’s one room I’ve saved for last,” he said breaking into a wide grin that melted my heart. “Come.”
His bedroom. I gave him a shy smile but my heart was racing inside my chest, my body shivering with excitement. “Why, Mr. Fitzgerald, “I said as he pulled me along. “Do you think you can have your way with me, just because you wined and dined my little ass?”
He didn’t answer but gave a half-hearted chuckle as he took my hand in his so he could lead me up the stairs. As we walked into what I assumed was the master bedroom I didn’t know whether I should follow or throw rose petals at his feet. It was not what I expected.
With higher ceilings than the rest of the house, tapestries everywhere below our feet, and a gauzy white curtain that fell in a sort of canopy over the bedspread, the king sized bed reminded me of a Sultan’s. I half expected two men to be fanning us with palm leaves or feeding us grapes while we lay gorging ourselves on fresh cheeses and raw oysters. The walls were covered in tapestries too and a crystal chandelier, the likes of which I’ve never seen in my life, glittered with hundreds of tiny colored lights. It was breathtaking.
Seeing my reaction, Brock smiled. “My mother’s room,” he explained. “The only room my father didn’t tamp down on her wild tendencies for extravagance.” I murmured my agreement as I took it all in. His mother must have been something, a woman who obviously was willing to make sacrifices to be with the man she loved. But roughing it with all this waiting at home for her? It was a far cry from crawling through caves, braving the elements, and climbing the highest mountains. She must have been one complicated woman. Either that or they were very much in love. My heart squeezed thinking of what they’d gone through. I could only imagine what it must have been like to see her husband die before her eyes. And Brock too.
We paused before the bed while Brock undressed me slowly, taking the time to taste, caress, and marvel over my curves every step of his sexy way. His tongue was like velvet, his fingers like feathers and when he removed my bra, it dangled from two fingers as he gave me a wicked grin. “Should I throw this out as well?” he asked glancing at one of the windows.
I giggled. “No. No, it can stay.” I unbuttoned his pants, and then pulled them down roughly, reveling in the glory of his magnificent cock which weeping at the tip. His thighs were like tree trunks, thick and dark and I ran my hands up and down them, feeling the chorded muscles.“Oh god,” I breathed, heat coursing through my core. With one hand cupping his full exploding balls, I stroked him and then dropped to my knees, ready to do more. “No,” he said, stopping me before I could take him into my mouth. “I want to try out the tub.” He pulled up his pants, but didn’t zip them, leaving the belt strap loose and hanging like a long rough tongue down the side of his leg.
“The tub?” I peered toward the back corner of the room where steam already puffed like fog between a half open doorway. Was it a whirlpool tub? One of those hexagon shapes with the little seats on the side? The perfect orgasmic chair for a woman! Next to the Adirondack chair, that is. I loved hot baths, but I’d never had company in one. The hairs around my clit tingled with desire.
Oh yeah. This could get interesting.
Pulling me to my feet, Brock kissed me hard before releasing me and turning me around, my back flush against his chest. I could feel his erection nestled between my hips as he pinched and kneaded both nipples. Endorphins skittered across my skin as visions of what he would do to me danced through my dirty little mind. The heat of the water as it caressed my naked skin. The smoothness of the soap as he washed me from head to toe. The way his seed floated on the bubbles. God that was hot! I could almost get myself off just thinking about it.
I wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but I was breathless with anticipation.
When he flung the door open, it smacked hard against the wall making me jump. He looked at me and chuckled, his face apologetic. Brock was strong. Real strong.
The first thing I saw was a deep marble bathtub with the faucet in the middle. Not a cool wooden Jacuzzi like I’d pictured, but honestly I didn’t care. “I love bubble baths,” I exclaimed, my skin all tingly. Softly, I kissed his neck, his chin, and then reaching on my tippy toes, kissing his full lips, teasing him with my tongue. A hand on his chest, it slid slowly down his deliciously hard body, but before I reached the bulge inside his pants, he grabbed my buttocks fast and pulled me close, assaulting me with his mouth with so much force, I couldn’t breathe. I gasped. “Bathe much?” I giggled.
Brock Fitzgerald knew what he wanted and who was I to deny him? He took my breath away every time he kissed me.
“I love your bubbles,” he said palming each one. Taking one nipple in his mouth, he swirled his tongue around the tip, biting it gently. He rolled the other between thumb and forefinger eliciting a deep primal moan from deep in my throat. “I can’t get enough of you, Amy Lynn.” His breath on fire, he kissed me again, only this time slower like he was savoring a good meal. Then he sat me on the tub. “Don’t move, little girl. Just watch and then I’m going to watch you. Later I’m going to lick your pussy until you come.” He growled into my neck.
“Mmmm,” was all I could say.
He stepped back a few feet and finished undressing—first letting his shirt slide off those glorious pumped shoulders. There was an undershirt beneath and that came off as well revealing a beautiful tattoo of an eagle on his right shoulder and nipples that were hard as dark caramel. I wanted to lick them in the worst way but he kept me at arms reach.
Brock finished undressing. He was all man— from the mysterious Indian tattoo on his beefy left arm—to the hard sculpted six-pack that dipped into the triangle of dark hair just above the tip of his sensational manhood. It was the first time I’d seen him naked from head to toe. His body breathtakingly beautiful and when he stepped out of his boxers revealing that deep-veined hard as a tucking stone cock there was weeping on the head. Just for me.
“Oh god!” His eyes mimicked my smile.
I’d seen naked men before. Maybe not in person, but I’d had a subscription to Playgirl magazine since the age of sixteen. The models were gorgeous and hot, leading me to do things I’d rather not speak of, but they’d never affected me like this. If Brock’s body was simply a dream I was having, I didn’t want to wake up. If it was love, I was in big, big trouble.
How had I been this close to the man and not known how gorgeous he was under his clothes? The entire body of Brock Fitzgerald was magnificent. The first time, it had been dark and during our last lovemaking, I was too close to appreciate what him. I marveled at the firmness of his ass, the contours of his thick powerful thighs, the plumpness of his balls drawn up close to those hard swaying hips. His skin wasn’t white, but it wasn’t olive either, more of an amber color like his eyes. I wanted to lick him all over and then fuck him until we were both too sore to walk. I had a feeling he wanted to do the same. He stepped toward me. Like a god, taking a new fledgling into its flock.
He sat down. Seated on the side of the tub and gripped my hand, kissing it first and then guiding it—sliding my fingers along the inside of my own thigh. “Touch yourself, Amy Lynn.” His voice was strong, masculine, commanding.
As he pushed my fingers toward my core, my face heated, and I shuddered when the tips of my fingers grazed my sex. This was something new, more intimate than even my own nakedness. I’d touched myself in the past. Absolutely. But never in front of someone else. It was…private. Something one did behind closed doors but when he looked at me like that I wanted to please him. His eyes darkened with desire, willing me to do his bidding. “Feel how wet you are, baby. You’re fucking drenched for me.” I leaned into him, loving the way he talked. So dirty and wrong my pussy was already throbbing.
“
I want to touch you too.”
He caught my hands. “No. That’s not how the game is played.” He snapped his gaze up and down me, and then dropped to his knees. He pushed my hand between my legs, urging my fingers there. There. Deep into my crevice. When I started to moan, my body going stiff with the beginnings of release, he grabbed my hand, preventing me from coming, and I almost cried with the loss of my own touch.
Taking the moist fingers of my hand, he sucked the tips one by one. “Mmmm, you taste so good.”
Still seated on the tub, he guided me in our sex play. I was aware of how close his face was to my crotch. I urged my hips forward. “Please…”
“Not yet.” On hand on my stomach, he peered up through half lidded eyes, giving me the most devilish smile I’d ever seen. “Now touch those perky tits for me. Play with them. Pull them and pinch them.” My hands slid upwards, cupping my breasts. “You’ll like it, baby. I promise, especially when I do this.”
“Oh.”
He’d licked one finger and plunged it inside, sliding the blunt tip of it up and down my clit. “Oh god. I’m gonna come. ” Steam sizzled along my skin. Sticky juices creamed my inner legs. “Oh my god.” He slipped out of me when my hands stopped to hold his head, urging him toward my pussy, wanting his tongue.
“I like watching a woman pleasure herself,” he said. I cupped my breasts and threw back my head moaning when he resumed between my legs, coasting up and down while directing me with that dirty edgy voice of his. When he found the little bundle of nerves, I thought I would lose my mind, especially when he pulled out right before I came. “What…No!”
He licked a finger and then grabbed me by the hips “Touch your pussy while I watch.” He slid his fist down that beautiful cock and stroking it until it cried a single tear. My eyes popped, fresh juices flooding my core, my nipples growing harder as I tickled my own clit. I wanted him inside me though.
“Please.”
“Not yet, little girl.” He stood me up and turned me around, placing my hands on the tub, my hips tilted upwards. So that’s what he wanted. I was more than happy to oblige and happiness flowed through me. I felt the tip of his cock along my crease, his breath upon my neck. “I want you to come. I want you to scream. Understand?”
I nodded my ascent, pushing toward his manhood. So close. So fucking close. The heat of him felt like a hot poker as it slid downward, hovering just above my entrance. I lifted on my toes, whimpering for more contact.
“Lean down until your arms rest on the tub. And spread your legs more. Yeah. That’s it. God, you’re fucking sexy. Cross your arms crossed.” He slapped me on the ass, sending endorphins mixed with pleasure pain coursing through my body. “You are so fucking gorgeous and you’re mine. All mine.” Holding me by the hips and with no further foreplay, he plunged forward, sinking himself from tip to root.
“Oh!” I wasn’t prepared. Not completely. I felt as if I’d been ripped in two.
“All right, baby. I’ll go slow for a bit.” I felt him move in and out of me, caressing my tender folds as if he had all the time in the world. Gently. Smoothly. With barely any effort. I could tell by his breathing it wasn’t easy. In fact, he sounded like he was holding his breath.
And then it got better. Much better. For me. Every nerve inside my body began shouting for more stimulation. More friction. More everything. An orgasm started at the base of my toes building and building until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Harder. Harder Brock. Harder!”
I lifted my hips a little, giving him more depth. He took that as a sign I wanted it faster, his balls slapping against my ass, grunting with the effort as he filled me. I was still sore there, but then I relaxed. I could feel his fingers digging into my hips as he plunged forward from behind, his breath leaving a trail of steam along my skin.
“Say my name, baby.”
“What?”
“Say my name or I’ll stop.” I doubted that would happen but I squeaked out, “Brock,” in the middle of one of his thrusts.
I barely could breath, let alone speak, the searing along my core robbing me of oxygen and I kept losing my grip along the tub.
“Say my name,” he said again. “Fucking call my name, Amy Lynn.”
I screamed and shuddered. “Brock. Brock. Oh god, Brock. Oh!” I panted, my whole body pulsing like live wires as an orgasm grabbed hold and shook me but didn’t let go.
My hands were numb from gripping the tub so tightly and so was one leg. They’d gone completely numb, yet the rest of me was on fire.
His hands tightened around my hips and then slid across my ass. I was rising. Rising into the clouds. Rising over the valley below the house. Rising in sensation so keen, so acute, all I could do was ride out the brilliant emotion until spent. Exhausted.
Brock kept going though. And going and going.
Finally, I felt the loss of his cock as he slid out of me. One brown large hand grabbed hold of the tub and I felt something hot along my hips.
He’d come all over my buttocks covering me in hot pulsing bursts of white cream that dripped between my ass cheeks and slithered between my thighs.
“I told you..” I started but then stopped, intending to reaffirm that I was indeed on the pill and he had nothing to worry about. I loved this though. This feeling of dominance he had over me. Although, I liked him filling me too. But today…Today it was good.
I felt branded. Branded by a fireman!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brock
The next morning, I rolled over to find a cold spot in the king-sized feather bed. It left my blood running cold.
I glanced toward the bathroom, saw that the door was still cracked, the light dim with no sign of movement. Even though I knew it ridiculous, sudden doubt overwhelmed me. She couldn’t possibly have left unless… I’d been rough with her. Very rough. I probably left bruises all over her skin. And her a virgin! Fuck, I was a total asshole! What the hell was wrong with me?
I couldn’t help it. I wanted to devour every inch of her perfect soft body. Claim that tight pussy just for me. And I did. Violently so she’d remember. So she’d never think of another man. Even now, I yearned to be inside her and my cock twitched on its own volition. Give it a rest, buddy. We screw up enough for one day.
The loss of Amy in my bed left me cold. Cold after so much heat, sex, and electricity, it surprised me there wasn’t a hole in the three-hundred-thread count sheets.
Sex with Amy had been more than I deserved.
She was sweet, giving, and hot as fucking hell. What she lacked in years she made up in willingness to let me lead the way. I had a feeling she was adventurous. That she would allow me to do anything. And would.
When I thought of her soft curves, I grew hard as a fucking stone. The way her skin melted beneath my hands reminded me of velvet, her sweet spot a jewel, her voice a symphony. I wanted to bury myself inside her and never come out.
I’d never been so happy, so satisfied, so…alive and I didn’t want it to end. Was this really me? Most people who knew me wouldn’t think so.
We’d not just fucked, we’d talked into the wee hours of the morning. As it turned out; we had a lot in common. Things like history, science, and even religion or lack thereof. We had more things to discuss than what position seemed best, or how long each of us took to reach climax, which actually surprised the shit out of me. How the fuck did I do that? In the past, I could get myself off in just seconds, but with Amy I wanted to last. For her. For both of us.
I thought about her age. I knew why she wanted me. She wanted someone older, more experienced for her first time but we’d gone way beyond that. Now what…? Would she experiment with other guys? Maybe men her own age? The thought left a sour taste in my mouth.
I told myself I was the only man for the job. That sweet little package was a mass of raging hormones. Her body so hot I worried about pleasing her although judging by her moans, the way her body wriggled beneath my hands, the rush of wetness to her clit,
it hadn’t been a problem. And she wasn’t selfish. The woman dazzled me with her awareness. Awareness of me. She touched me in places I didn’t even know I liked being touched.
I found myself opening up to her about my past. The good and the not so good. All of it. She’d listened attentively, asking me details that I left out or laughing at the appropriate times. Our time together wasn’t just sexy, it was goddammed glorious. It surprised me that she could talk on a variety of subjects and not just about things I was interested in like sports, geology, or how many fires I’d fought in my career. Because she was a voracious reader, she knew a lot. Five times more than I ever did at her age. Fuck, she knew more than I did right now. She was a female Einstein and it didn’t hurt that once she was stretched, her body was an undeniable fit for my cock. Like we were made for each other. Fucking perfect. Our bodies became one—like puzzle pieces.
Sweeping the sheet off my fevered body, I threw my feet over the bed, slid into my slippers and threw on a robe. I headed down stairs to find my love goddess. Just thinking about her lips on my dick, the way she swallowed me like a champ, the tiny nubs of her nipples that stood out like freaking cherries, made me delirious with desire for her. My cock grazed the fabric sending tiny thrills inside my groin. I didn’t walk downstairs, I hopped. Like a little kid I skipped steps and then jumped third one from the bottom, landing with a single plop on the hard flagstone floor. I threw up my arms in the pose of an Olympic champion but there was no one to see my fete. And then I started whistling. “Where are you, baby?” I made my way into the kitchen where I smelled fresh coffee brewing, the percolator bubbling away.
Pikeman: A Billionaire Romance Page 8
