Bring On the Heat

by Eden Bradley

  Crap. How could she have not thought of that? “You have days off.”

  He grinned, pushed his jeans down to his feet, stepped out of them. Clad in boxer briefs, he regarded at her with amusement twinkling in his eyes. “True.”

  Warmth radiated through her but not because he looked scrumptious in his underwear. “Did you call me Carm?”

  “I hope that’s okay. Carmela sounds so formal and there is nothing formal about what I want to do with you today.”

  Being the daughter of a business mogul not even her close friends called her Carm. Everyone insisted on the formality of her full name. “It’s more than okay.”

  “Good. Why did you buy this complex?”

  She tore her gaze away from the bulge between his legs and focused on his face. The grin was now a full blown smile. “I needed to strike out on my own. Irish dad, Italian mom. I’d been the good girl for so long I wanted to see if I could have fun without feeling guilty.”

  “It must have cost you a pretty penny.”

  Though the rents were high, tenants didn’t need to be wealthy to live in Keyes Manor. But to own it was another story. Another reason she didn’t like to tangle with commitments or relationships. Thorough background and credit checks didn’t come back with reports of who would be a gold digger.

  “It wasn’t cheap.”

  He whisked off his briefs. Semi-hard, she could tell his penis would be long and thick when fully erect. Her hands itched to circle him, make him engorged, slide her hands along his shaft until he was close to coming. She sat on her hands and looked him in the eyes.

  “And can you have fun without feeling guilty?” He asked.

  “With you, not an ounce of guilt.”

  He swaggered over, grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Your turn.”

  Heat rushed from her hand to her pussy, her satin robe brushed against painfully hard nipples. He took her spot on the sofa, an intense lustful look on his face. She quivered before him. The rabbit waiting to be pounced on and humped. Her legs trembled, her stomach fluttered, her heart palpitated. All her life she’d gone after and attained everything she’d wanted. Independence, a career, a casual encounter with a hot guy she only wanted for fun. This was different. One day of pleasure would not be enough to satisfy her, she could see having a relationship with Declan.

  Too late to turn back now, she loosened the belt on her robe and let the garment fall, the satin cool as it slid off her shoulders.

  ~ * ~

  Declan drank in the sight of her, smooth creamy skin a stark contrast to the ruby colored satin robe sliding from her shoulders. The smile on her face told him she inched the garment down her body with deliberate slowness. When she reached her breasts she stopped, the anticipation nearly killing him, then let the robe fall to her feet with a swoosh.

  Standing in the pool of red she grinned, hands on her hips, feet slightly apart, unashamed of her nudity. He took in her body, a hungry gaze that started at her feet and slowly traveled up her shapely calves to slightly muscled thighs. A flat stomach gave him pause for a second then he moved up to her plump breasts. He yearned to run his hands over her body, yearned to squeeze her breasts, suck her nipples until he pulled a moan from her plump lips.

  Since she’d never actually gone through with laundry day before he doubted she knew what should happen next. He knew what he wanted but she needed to set the pace. If he had his way he would carry her upstairs and fuck her hard until neither of them could move. But the music, the candles, the playfulness in her eyes told him the day would be sweet torture. Nothing about the sex would be fast and frenzied.

  He said the only thing that fit the situation. “Wow.”

  Her smile widened. “You’re wow yourself.”

  The music switched to another slow beat. With the curtains pulled tight, a candle on the living room table flickered, casting a warm glow across the room. The scents of cinnamon and pumpkin pie teased his nose. Would she have candles in her bedroom? At that moment he wished she lived in one of the other apartments. One with no second floor and a short hallway to a spacious bedroom.

  He stood. Her eyes grew wide but she held her ground. “I gotta say it’s tough standing here not touching you.”

  “Soon.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs.

  He ogled her as she walked up the steps, her ass swaying with each step. If she bent over he would lose any hold he had on his willpower. The smooth curves of her ass taunted him as she climbed the stairs. He gripped the banister, forced himself to study his feet to get the image of her tantalizing curves out of his head. His erection grew more painful with each step. The torture had just begun.

  Inside her room, she bent over the bed and yanked the blanket and sheets off the bed. Her breasts jiggled enticingly as she moved. He longed to cup them, feel their weight, flick her nipples until they puckered. Instead, he pulled the pillow cases off the pillows and tossed them into the pile of bed clothes she’d started on the floor.

  “We’ll wash these first, make the bed and then have some fun while we wait for the rest of the laundry to be done.”

  ~ * ~

  Carm’s stomach fluttered, her heart pounded. Half full glasses of champagne, remnants of chocolate covered strawberries, a glass bowl full of condoms covered her bedside table. Freshly laundered bed clothes lent an aroma of lavender to the room. She’d stalled as long as she could, now there was only one thing left to do. No more excuses for procrastinating. After watching each other traipse around the apartment naked for an hour and a half it was time for what she’d been waiting for since he moved in. Many times during the past ninety minutes she’d caught him looking at her like he was starving and she was a gourmet dish.

  At the foot of the bed, she sat on the edge, reached out her hand for his. Warmth from his fingers swept through her when they touched. He stood between her legs, cupped her face, brushed her lips with his. His tongue probed her mouth, sliding along her tongue. A flutter of sensation raced along her spine and settled between her legs.

  He deepened the kiss, pushing her back into the mattress. How well did she know him beyond the background check she did on all tenants before she accepted them to Keyes Manor? He looked good on paper but he could still have closets full of skeletons. A moment of panic set her heart racing. If he wanted to hurt her physically he could have done that many times over already. If she kept her heart out of the equation the afternoon promised to be satisfying.

  She shoved all doubts aside and focused on the sensations going through her body. Declan caressed her cheek while his lips continued to tease her mouth. He broke the kiss, moved to her neck, peppered kisses across her breasts, down to her stomach. She sucked in a breath when he lapped her clitoris. Each flick of his tongue induced a tingle that shot to her stomach. When a finger slipped inside her wet, aching pussy she almost cried out. A second finger followed the first, stretching her, probing her. Every time he flicked with his tongue he pulled his fingers out then slid them back inside. Impatient for his cock, she writhed in rhythm to his skillful fingers.

  He withdrew his fingers then sprinkled whisper light kisses up her stomach. He stopped at her breasts, his cock dangling teasingly at the entrance to her pussy. A smile tugged his lips.

  “A little impatient are you?”

  Would he go faster if she said yes or prolong the torture? Desire to have him inside her clouded her head. She didn’t know which one she wanted. “I can be patient,” she lied.

  When his lips clasped onto her right breast she braced herself. When he suckled, hard, she sucked in a breath as pulsing sensations shook through her. His teeth grazed her nipple pulling it into a harder, painful peak. Each time he sucked a jolt went straight to her pussy. Every inch of her ached and tingled at the same time. Instinctively she knew the only thing that would ease the ache was Declan inside her.

  She wanted to wrap her legs around him and pull him inside her. Instead she gripped the bedspread on either side of her until her f
ingers hurt. Finally she heard a rustle from the bowl beside her bed. He slipped into her, her pussy wrapping tightly around him, gripping him as he pumped in and out. Pressure built inside her with each thrust. With each thrust the ache grew. Desperate to come, she arched into him, matched his rhythm, wrapped her legs around him to pull him in further.

  “Tell me what you want, Carm.”

  She shook her head, clutched at him, afraid she would fall apart. “Don’t stop.”

  He slowed his thrusts. “That’s all you want?”

  She arched into him again, tightened her legs around him. She’d thought the torture would stop once he entered her but he held all the cards. Next time she would be on top and drive the moment. But if you didn’t ask there was no chance you were going to get what you wanted. There would be plenty of time for her other fantasies. For now she needed to stick with the matter at hand.

  “I want you to fuck me harder, slowly, as deep as you can go.”

  He plunged harder, burying himself deep inside her. He drew out with agonizing slowness then thrust deep again. Each thrust brought her closer to coming, but didn’t push her over the edge. Sweet torture. With the next thrust she tightened her legs around him, holding him there. She arched into him, released her grip around him slightly, allowing him to pull out an inch, then pulled him into her again. She alternately gripped him and arched into him with quick, desperate pulses. Finally the dam burst. A shattering orgasm rippled through her body.

  He gathered her in his arms and pumped into her harder, faster, her orgasm throbbed in time with his thrusts. His body arched, a groan ripped from his lips as he came.

  Still inside her, he caressed her breasts. Every inch of her body tingled, too sensitive to be touched. Her breathing heavy, she sucked in air trying to slow her pulse. When he pulled out she scooted to the head of the bed and flopped down, limp.

  “That was...wow.”

  He crawled up the bed to lie down beside her. “That sums it up nicely.” He pointed to the condoms. “That bowl is a challenge I intend to win.”

  “It could take a long time to get through,” she said, a smile on her face.

  Warmth spread through her at the thought of him coming back for another laundry day. No matter how great he was, how much stamina he had, they would not be getting through a whole bowl of condoms in one day.

  “I’m up for that.” He grinned. “Or I will be after I recharge a bit.”

  “I can help you there.”

  She pushed herself off the bed, her limbs languid. They both needed to recharge. She had plans for him all afternoon. On auto pilot, she went for her robe, remembered where it was and the rule of the day. Now that the day was a reality she wished she’d thought the naked all day part through a little more. In hindsight she should have done a dry run, with no one around, to work out the logistics. How the hell was she supposed to cook something for them to eat without risking third degree burns where she really didn’t want to burn?

  ~ * ~

  Naked, sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, Carm studied Declan as he pulled his clothes out of the washing machine and tossed them into the dryer. Spending the day naked with a hot guy had seemed like a good idea when she’d first dreamed it up. But after so many months with Declan not applying she’d almost given up on the laundry day she envisioned. She shifted on the sofa wishing she’d put down a towel. While comfortable when fully clothed, the blue fabric irritated bare flesh, making her itch. If she stuck with the naked all day rule she needed more comfortable furniture.

  She resisted the urge to cover herself. Being modest now would shatter the confident impression she’d given earlier. Finished loading the dryer, he began sorting through the clothes on the floor in front of the washing machine. He grabbed a pile of her delicates and a pile of his boxer briefs and threw them into the machine. The image in her head of their intimates rolling around together brought to mind them rolling around on her bed. The play of candlelight across his back emphasized corded muscles. She could stare at him all day but she wanted him inside her again.

  If they were going to repeat their performance they needed food. Now that the next load was in she stood and marched into the kitchen. She eyed the stove, fleetingly rationalized wearing an apron to make a hot meal but tossed the idea aside. Start breaking the main rule and they’d start breaking other rules. There had to be something in the apartment they could eat that wouldn’t risk third degree burns.

  Microwaved foods held no appeal to her. As a consequence she had almost no canned convenience meals except soup. Soup screamed sick not sex. A fresh loaf of bread from her morning shop provided the only solution. Determined to gather everything at once, she opened the fridge, grabbed cold cuts, a jar of mayonnaise, bent over to get lettuce out of the crisper. And yelped when the frigid food pressed against her naked flesh.

  “That’s a great angle.”

  She spun around, barely managing to juggle the food. With a sigh of relief she dropped them on the chopping block. “I bet you say that to all the naked women bent over peering into a fridge.”

  “All the time. How can I help?”

  She studied his body, all hard planes and muscle, the hint of stubble on his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes. A distraction like that in the kitchen could be dangerous if she brought out any sharp objects.

  “You’re doing the laundry so the least I can do is make you lunch. Go sit and I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He turned to leave, stopped after one step, turned around. Cupping her face in his hands, he pulled her in for a slow, deep kiss. The brush of his tongue across her lips sent a shiver up her back. Had she still been holding the food it would have been a pile at her feet. He left the kitchen, Carm wanting more of those lips.

  She slapped the sandwiches together making sure each one had a good sized portion of protein. She pulled the sports drinks out of the fridge, then, deciding to get fancy, she found two clean glasses in the dishwasher. A waitress could carry the entire meal in one trip without spilling a drop. Experience convinced her two trips would be a safer bet. She hurried in with the sandwiches first, flashing Declan a smile. He lounged on the sofa where she had been sitting. How did he do that and not look uncomfortable? She raced back to the kitchen and got the drinks.

  Setting the glasses on the table, she sat beside him. Not so close that they were touching but close enough that his heat seeped into her.

  “Looks good.”

  “I hope you like turkey with lots of mayo.”

  Eager to get on with the sex they hadn’t talked about anything significant. What if he was allergic to turkey? Or eggs? Her heart raced, her palms started to sweat. She cursed her own rule of no clothes and waved her hands back and forth slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. If he did notice he didn’t say anything.

  They ate in silence, wolfing down the food like starving animals. And she was starving, she realized. Not for food but for his touch. Saving herself for him instead of participating in the monthly key parties had left her craving a warm, male touch. When they finished she stood to clear the dishes away. He sprang off the sofa.

  “I can help.”

  “I can manage.” The washer buzzed. “Laundry’s done.”

  She watched him saunter over to the washing machine, sucking in a breath when he leaned over to scoop out the clothes. Between his legs she caught a glimpse of his dangling penis. Her mouth watered. Her pussy moistened.

  A mental shake to clear the distraction and she rushed the remnants of their lunch to the kitchen. Before they went back upstairs she had plans for christening the living room. She searched the fridge, found what she wanted and hurried back to the other room.

  Still folding laundry, Declan had his back to her. She’d always wanted to try this and there was no time like the present.

  ~ * ~

  Declan tossed the delicates into the dryer, picked the appropriate setting and pushed the start button. A creak from behind him divulged Carm’s approach. Even with
the advance notice the shock of hard nipples rubbing against his back delivered a shock to his groin. A slim arm reached around him, delicate fingers snapped up a beach towel. Her other arm reached around the other side of him. Her breasts pressed into his back. Heat and moisture from her pussy warmed his ass. She flicked a wash cloth as she grabbed it from the shelf above the dryer.

  “Sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “Carry on.”

  Laundry the last thing on his mind, he forced himself to finish the task. Warmth from her body retreated when she returned to the living room. It was a test. It had to be. How long could he hold out before he lost control? Did she want him to lose control? Fuck. They should have discussed that before jumping into bed together. She didn’t strike him as the adventurous type but then again appearances could lie.

  A thwap from the towel being unfurled intrigued him. He kept an ear tuned into the goings on in the living room while he sorted clothes for another load. A schrrrr and then the clink of metal on the glass table forced him to look. His cock snapped to attention at the sight of Carm reclined on beach towels covering the sofa, mounds of fluffy whipped cream concealing her breasts and pussy.

  Dessert.

  Quickly he threw in the next load, added detergent, fabric softener and set the washing machine to permanent press. In three strides he was at the sofa, hovering over her. He started with her breasts. Lapping up the whipped cream as it started to lose its shape. The slight vanilla flavor teased his tongue while his tongue teased her nipple. First the right breast, then the left, he devoured all the cream.

  “I’m glad you like whipped cream.”

  “I love cream.”

  And he wanted her cream. He knelt in front of her, parted her legs slightly and licked at the whipped cream covering her pussy like a cat lapped milk. Once all the whipped cream was gone he kept licking, parting her folds to flick his tongue over her clit. She squirmed under him, her hands curled into the towel. He licked faster, circling the swollen nub mercilessly. Her hips began to move. She arched off the sofa, into his mouth. Still he lapped, kissed, lapped her pussy until she pushed at his head. But she didn’t tell him to stop so he kept going.