Lisa Wells - Dib

by Lisa Wells

  A thought popped into his head. He quickly shut it down as being ludicrous. Too far fetched for consideration. This was a weekend. An unexpected weekend of pleasure. It wasn’t a long term possibility. Sure, he was looking for a wife. But, he’d made it clear to Lacey he wasn’t. She chose to act out her fantasies based on his honesty. He always kept his word.

  He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever broken a promise. Lacey and he had shook hands on a nostrings-attached weekend. A man’s handshake is his honor in Texas. The pit of his stomach churned. Had he shook hands on their deal too quickly? Would he regret the decision to grant her the stringless demand?

  Although his heart kept giving off funny vibes, the only thing between him and Lacey was sex. Finding a sex partner wasn’t what he’d promised his grandmother. He’d promised her that he’d look for true love.

  He watched Lacey tangle a strand of hair around her index finger and twirl it painfully slow. His gut knotted. She ignored the effect the act of innocence was having on him and licked her lips. Then, she brought up her index finger and slid it slowly into her mouth tilting her chin down slightly letting the finger slide out and in, out and in. She was demonstrating a blow job. His dick begged to replace her finger.

  Desire slammed through him knocking him off balance. The thought of her sliding him deliciously in and out of her mouth was mind rattling. This was definitely a wild-virgin fantasy she was unveiling in front of him.

  “I’m here,” she murmured.

  Her words were spoken so quietly he had to lean forward to catch them. Her breaths were quick, little gasps.

  She was wearing perfume. He hadn’t noticed it before. It had a summery smell. It enticed him to bury his face between her legs to see if she was one of those women who dabbed her fragrance in the crease between her legs and her mound.

  You could tell a lot about a woman by where she placed her perfume.

  With his head bent, he had a magnificent view down her blouse. Round globes were spilling out of a pink, lace bra.

  Her brain freezing breasts were there for the taking. They had been getting in the way of his concentration since he walked out from behind the curtain to be introduced to her. He could see the rosy tops of her nipples straining to escape the restraint of lace. They were dark pink, thrusting pebbles.

  He cocked his head sideways to look at her. She was staring at her breast with the same look of utter fascination they aroused in him. He gently touched one breast with his middle finger. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  She gasped. “No one’s ever touched my breasts before.” Her eyelashes fluttered gently.

  He explored the globe slowly with a stroking touch. The skin was soft. Sparkles rubbed off on his finger. Where else would he find sparkles? “I’m honored to be the first.”

  When he nudged the material of her bra slightly, he was rewarded with the sight of a tan line. A triangular outline gave bloom to visions of the bottoms. What would they look like? Minimal was his guess.

  “Mmmm. That feels good. Are they big enough for you?” She tilted her head back and a soft sigh, originating somewhere deep in her throat, floated out sounding like a sexual invitation. Her back arched and his fingers, still cupping her mound, slipped between her delicate folds. She gasped.

  “They’re perfect,” he whispered. His fingers dipped under the lace of her bra. It suddenly seemed quite normal to be seducing a woman in the back of a moving limousine? With one hand, he rubbed her sex while the other found a nipple, and he squeezed it gently letting his fingertips rub intimately against its hard nub. Her nipples were large. Perfect for suckling.

  She groaned and closed her eyes. “What did you say your name was?” She kept her eyes squeezed shut.

  The question startled him. Did she really forget his name or was this more of a game? He wanted her to open her eyes so he could read their sultry depths. Her hips shifted on the seat in another invitation of sex. He slid a second finger inside of her. Her creamy wetness enticed him to bury himself into her.

  “It’s Covey.” His tongue found the temptation to taste her lips too tempting to ignore. Leaning forward, he licked the gloss off her full bottom lip. The light scent of her gloss filled his nostrils. Its glossy sweetness tempted his tongue to greedily take it all. “What flavor is this?” His voice sounded heavy to his own ears, thick and full of desire. Her eyes, her crystal blue eyes, blinked. A blanket of desire covered her face.

  Her lips trembled under his tongue. He stamped down the desire to ravage with no thought to her pleasure. His tongue touched hers with tiny pushes of playful exploration. A gluttonous need goaded him to stop asking and take. He captured her mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue thrust past hers, igniting a groan from deep in her throat. He pulled back and his eyes locked with hers. He was ready to claim her; he needed to know if she was ready to be claimed.

  She broke the eye contact. “Cherry. Do you like it? I have another cherry you can have.” Her fingers came up and tangled in his hair as her body arched up to meet his in open invitation. Their lips touched again.

  He opened her mouth with his tongue. He let it glide over the fleshy inside of her lips before tracing her teeth. Her tongue found his and demanded attention.

  They fought for power using their tongues as weapons. The dance was intimate and fierce; her nails scraped his scalp as she struggled to win. He let her win; for now.

  “Yes,” he answered. Desire swam through his blood demanding he taste every inch of her. Her perfect white teeth begged for their own attention. Her nipples were calling his lips.

  “Covey, I’m having the funniest sensation going through my body. I think it might be desire. Have you ever fantasized about having sex with a college virgin?”

  Her voice was sexually inviting, while her eyes were shouting pure virtue at him. The mixed message was killing him. “Are you sure it’s not triumph you’re feeling?”

  She laughed a perfect seductress laugh. Rich, throaty, inviting.

  This woman had potential to hold his attention past the normal week or two most women held it. How was he going to get enough of her in just one weekend? “Let’s just say, I’ve had my fair share of fantasies about bedding women,” he responded honestly.

  “I’d like to make your fantasy come true. I want you to be my first.” Her fingers came up, and she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. The tip of her tongue was poking between her lips, and she was biting it with perfectly white teeth as she concentrated on the task.

  Did she have any idea the fantasies he was wrapping around her tongue?

  He reluctantly removed his fingers from their resting spot and pulled back into the plush cushions of the limo. He watched her languid movements of disrobing. The tongue movement had him on the verge of a code blue.

  Giving her oral sex was on his mind. He was heading south just as soon as she gave the go ahead. Before the weekend was over, she would be dependent on his tongue. She would beg for his long torturous strokes on her clit. She would beg him to enter her over and over again. She might know about fantasies, he knew about sex. Pleasing her was something he would enjoy.

  When the shirt was no longer a barrier, he leaned forward and slid it off her shoulders. He buried his face between her breasts and inhaled the scent. His tongue explored the valley between them.

  His groan of pleasure collided with hers. Sounds of sexual excitement filled the back of the limousine.

  She arched her back and unsnapped her bra giving him full access to do with as he pleased. He had no problem plundering the bounty she was thrusting at him. He would take all she offered. And more. Much, much, more.

  She grabbed his shirt roughly, their eyes locked in foreplay. Slowly, she pulled apart each snap. Her fingers raked down his chest with just enough pressure to leave their mark.

  “Is this a research fantasy?” he asked while shrugging out of his shirt and pushing her back on the seat cushion.

  She looked at him. A sexual glaze clouded her eyes.

&nbs
p; Not waiting for an answer, he held her in place with one hand and shoved her skirt up around her waist with the other. Sparkles highlighted the soft skin at the top of her inner thighs.

  His eyes sought hers. “Lacey, I have to warn you, this is going to be ugly sex.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O. “What do you mean?” She looked back at him with worried eyes.

  “I mean…” He paused and rested his forehead against her abdomen, “you have me so aroused, I can’t promise you a lot of foreplay.” He raised his head to see how she would react. He wanted fast, hard sex. He wanted to ravish her.

  The O melted. “But, I was hoping you would give me my first orgasm. I’m new at this, you know. I was told it was best if the man took his time.”

  He bit back the groan her words evoked. His lips brushed across her stomach. “I see.” His fingers roamed over her and she jumped. With his index finger, he found her clit. He went down on his knees and bent forward.

  Her hand came down to his forehead to stop him. “Wait,” she pleaded, pushing him away.

  He looked up at her and saw doubt in her eyes. “Why?” he asked. His tongue flicked out and touched her. She groaned.

  Her masked crumbled away, and he saw, for the first time, what he was sure was the real Lacey.

  “I’m scared you’ll fail,” she whispered.

  She wasn’t acting. He moved up. His lips recaptured hers, more demanding. It was ecstasy when he kissed her. He would give her ecstasy in return. “Trust me. Just relax.” He’d never not given a woman an orgasm.

  She shook her head vehemently. “It won’t be your fault, if you don’t. I’m a virgin. I hear they don’t often have orgasms the first time. You should just know that up front.”

  “I promise, if you’ll just try and relax, I can help you reach orgasm. I’ll take my time. A girl should remember her first time,” he whispered. There was more to Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator than met the eye. His lips slowly descended down her body.

  She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  She was wet, ready, willing. He just needed to give her contentment. “I’m going to taste you now.”

  “Yes, you do that.” She exhaled sharply when he nudged her legs open with his head.

  His tongue delighted in her as it pleasured her. With the movements of a man who had a lifetime in front of him, he slowly tasted and teased. Nipped and tugged. Her body squirmed beneath his mouth. He played around with the length of the strokes, the direction, and the friction until he found the combination that made her hold her breath with anticipation. Then he kept it there, driving her toward the edge of no return.

  “Oh, oh.” She bucked wildly on the seat when his tongue finally dove into her. A moan of pleasure filled the limo. He didn’t let up on the assault. His thumb found lubricant in the moisture along her lips. He used his thumb to trace her bottom, searching for other ways to take her over the edge. His fingers were busy caressing her swollen nub when another moan of pleasure exploded from her. The limo was filled with the smell of her perfume mixed in with the musty smell of sex.

  She was all woman, and he had just claimed her in the most intimate way a man could claim a woman.

  Her fingers groped for his head, they tangled in his hair, and she pulled roughly, urging his face back up to hers. “God, you’re good,” she said with her eyes shut.

  He moved his lips away from their haven. “Open your eyes,” he ordered. He looked into them for evidence of success. He was startled by what he saw. She looked like a woman who had deep secrets. Were those tears in her eyes?

  Her fingers shook as she unzipped his jeans. He quickly forgot about the tears. He forgot his name. His hard cock was sticking out of his briefs waiting for attention. Her eyes gazed dreamily at him. He guided her hand to himself. As her fingers enclosed around him he inhaled sharply.

  “Does it matter?” she asked in a throaty voice.

  Does it matter? Covey didn’t recall asking her a question. “Does what matter?”

  “Does it matter if this is research?”

  “No.” Had they mentioned research? “How long do we have?” he asked, while looking out the windows watching the crowded New York streets crawl by.

  “Not very.”

  She watched him as he undressed. When he went to put the condom on, she took it from him and rolled it quickly down his cock like a woman who knew her way around a man’s anatomy.

  He raised his eyebrow in surprise. A surge of famished desire spiraled though him.

  “I’ve been practicing in my dorm at night,” she said with a laugh.

  He groaned, roused to the peak of no return. When she turned her back to him and sat on her knees with her bottom temptingly swaying back and forth he wasted no time in following her lead. A moving vehicle and a naked woman asking to be entered through the back door. He was in heaven.

  Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator was an enigma. Did she or didn’t she need the traditional trappings of sex. She was a woman who wasn’t afraid to ask for pleasure from a man. He found that hot.

  She reached an arm back and pulled her skirt, very slowly up over her ass. Fireworks exploded in his head.

  His thumb did a tour of its treasures. It was perfect. There were no tan lines down here. Interesting. He liked the way her breathing got ragged when he touched her in moist places. A moan slipped through her lips. “Are you ready?” he asked, in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. He was ready to enforce his will upon her, his desire upon her.

  “Yes.”

  Not sure he could have waited had she said no, he spread her open and entered her from behind. It was a raw act of possession. Her soft gasp of pleasure encouraged him. He gently pushed in and out as his fingers explored her hidden treasures.

  “Harder,” she pleaded. She reached a finger between her legs and rubbed her sex in self-stimulation.

  The knowledge that she was touching herself was erotic. The ardor of his passion mounted. He was lost. “Come with me,” his growling demand was whispered hotly against her neck.

  “Oh, oh my.” Her gasping moan of pleasure occurred just seconds before his own sigh of release.

  She collapsed on the seat and looked up at him. Her lips quivered and flames of passion burned in her eyes.

  As if on cue, the car slowed to a stop. Covey reluctantly pulled away from her. He watched as she quickly pushed her clothes back into place. He cursed that there was no time for a gentle landing from the experience. Later, they would enjoy slow sex with one another. Later, he would ask her about the tears.

  “We’re here,” the chauffeur warned them without opening the blinds and exposing them.

  Lacey reached forward and grabbed tissues. She handed him several.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “To dispose of the evidence,” she said, grinning wickedly at him.

  Gone was the innocent virgin. In her place, a vixen. He could feel her eyes upon him as he took his time taking the condom off and wrapping it in a tissue.

  “Hurry,” she urged him.

  When he looked at her, he was glad to see her hands shaking slightly as she smoothed her hair back into the barrette.

  Covey was glad to see she wasn’t as calm as she would have him believe. He wanted to keep her off balance. It gave him clearer glimpses of the woman behind the act.

  She leaned forward and knocked gently on the sliding window. It magically slid open. “Mac, I’ll be getting out here. My friend, Tom, will be taking flight 2436 from gate 122, Northwestern.”

  Mac opened her door for her and she slid out fully clothed and outwardly composed.

  Covey stared. Mouth dropped open.

  Tom? She had called him Tom. Who in the hell was Tom? Was that the guy who had pushed her to a weekend of revenge sex?

  There’s no way in hell she was thinking about some guy named Tom just now. Or was she? Of course she wasn’t. Tom was an unwanted intrusion in his plans. Tom needed his ass kicked.

  She leaned back in. “
When you get on your plane, there will be a letter waiting for you.” She blew him a kiss with lips devoid of all gloss, swollen from his own. “It’ll tell you what to do next. It was arousing, Tom.”

  “Who in the hell is Tom?” he barked.

  She didn’t answer. She just smiled sweetly at his own glaring frown.

  She sure as hell had better not been fantasizing about some guy named Tom when she was with him. “The name’s Covey,” he said between clenched teeth.

  She turned around and grinned at him. “Whatever.” The word was flicked at him with a nonchalant attitude of indifference. “By the way, you might want to rub off the sparkles on your cheeks before you go out in public.” Then she strolled slowly toward the entrance to JFK airport and disappeared into the crowd.

  Covey looked at the chauffer who shrugged his shoulders and got back behind the wheel. “I’ll drop you off next, Tom.”

  “It’s Covey,” he snapped. He grabbed for another tissue and dragged it roughly across his face.

  When this weekend was over, his name would be permanently tattooed to all of Lacey Valentine’s fantasies and maybe even her ass.

  Chapter 10

  Lacey walked through the revolving doors looking like a woman who just had sex in the back seat of a moving vehicle with a stranger.

  A gusty sigh of frustration escaped her lips and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. Words pushed at her lips, demanding she open her mouth and let them be heard.

  The man was skilled. The sex was great. But, still not a damn thing. She was a woman without an orgasm.

  I’m the innocent party here. Why am I being punished? This is freakin’ not fair. The thoughts bounced around painfully inside her skull, giving her the start of a headache.

  Her backseat experience wasn’t a moment to write about in her Great Moment’s journal. The experience should have consumed twenty pages in her Great Moment’s journal.

  Oh, she’d write about it in her daily journal. The one with the boring, day-to-day stories. Stories with no endings or bad endings. Or, so-so endings. The sex between her and Covey was good. It was everything she should have needed to be drenched in orgasmic energy. So, why wasn’t she feeling the glow?