She blushed—a sweet, rosy pink, some of her bombast deflating. “Kiss me again. Like you did outside.”
“You liked that?” When she nodded, he took her face in his free hand and bent down, covering her mouth with his, turning them as he did so and leaning her against the hallway wall.
His hand covered the side of her head, his fingers threading into the silk floss of her hair. When he’d kissed her outside, her lips had a lingering gloss of spicy barbecue sauce, which he’d found adorable; this time, they were smooth and soft and lush, and he sucked on her lower lip until she moaned. He still had her hand in his, but now she wriggled it free and wound her arms around his neck. Her tits pressed against him, and he wrapped his now-free arm across her back, bringing her even closer. She opened her mouth wider, pushing her tongue between his teeth.
Bart didn’t get serious with women. He hadn’t had an actual girlfriend since his sophomore year in college. No particular reason, except that he didn’t really live a life where there were a lot of women he was interested in. Signal Bend was small. Even reaching out to the closest neighboring towns, which weren’t all that close, didn’t deepen the pool much. Most of the fuckable girls who could handle who he was and what he did were already pussy on tap at the clubhouse.
Since the club girls were sure things, and since he wasn’t actively looking for more than that, he hadn’t seduced a woman in years. He’d flirted plenty; flirting was fun, and it was more or less his default approach to any conversation with a woman. Any woman. But he hadn’t had to make an effort in a very long time. The Horde girls liked him, even fought over him some.
It didn’t seem like he would have to make an effort with Riley, either, but he wanted to. He wanted to treat her well and make sure she got everything she wanted out of what they were doing. When she’d told Isaac she wanted to bang his brains out, Bart had felt a little thrill, and not because of who she was. He liked the thought that this girl liked him. Liked him enough to take on Isaac, even.
Or maybe he was just an easy fuck to her. That would be okay, too.
Without pulling away from their ever-more intense kiss, Riley unhooked her hands from his neck and ran them down his chest. When she got to his waist, she lifted his shirt and pushed her hands around and then up his bare back. Shit, they were warm and soft, and small. She had some nails, though, and she curled her fingers in and strafed his skin lightly. He shivered, and his cock strained for freedom. He had to get her out of this hallway.
She whimpered a protest when he pulled her hands away, but quieted when he grabbed her tight little ass and lifted her up. She weighed next to nothing. When she circled his hips with her legs and his neck with her arms, he finally pulled back, releasing her mouth and trying to meet her eyes. They were both panting. Bart felt lightheaded, and he wasn’t even close to drunk.
She was, though. He didn’t think she was full-on drunk, but she was definitely looser than she’d been when she’d gotten to the party.
“Open your eyes, babe.” Babe. Huh. That wasn’t something he usually said.
She opened her eyes. They were sparkling and beautiful, a light kind of dusky green, with a gold rim around the pupil. Her mouth was puffy and red from their kiss, and he couldn’t resist leaning in again to run his tongue over her lower lip. She smiled a little as he did so.
“Around the corner and down the hall, there’s a bed. Mind if I head that direction?”
“Hurry,” she whispered and tucked her head against his neck. He felt her mouth on him, sucking at his skin. Yeah. Hurrying was a good idea.
As Bart rounded the corner, with Riley snug in his arms, he nearly collided with LaVonne, who was making her way from one of the rooms on this side, probably Vic’s. LaVonne was one of the girls who knew how to handle Vic and didn’t mind the things he wanted to do. She’d been around awhile. As she backed up and sidestepped their near collision, she gave Bart a wry little grin and a wink. Riley couldn’t have noticed; she was still sucking enticingly on his neck, flicking her tongue over the wet skin. He smiled back at LaVonne and continued on his way.
When he got her into his room and closed the door, he practically fell on the bed with her. He’d wanted to be smoother about it, but as he fumbled for his key, she’d started flexing her hips against him, making these tiny little moans against his throat, and by the time he finally got her into the privacy of his room, he was about ready to just fuck her against the door.
She was still wrapped tightly around him. He could feel the heels of her fancy cowboy boots—the kind no one in the country would actually wear, but pretty—digging into his ass where she’d crossed her ankles. That was kind of sexy, but they weren’t going to get busy with all these clothes and fancy boots between them. He pushed up on his hands, breaking her grip on him, and looked down at her. He hadn’t turned on a light. That wouldn’t do, so he pushed all the way off the bed and turned on the gooseneck lamp sitting on the dresser that served as his nightstand.
She covered her face. “Don’t. I like it dark.”
That was disappointing. He hadn’t pegged her for the bashful type. “Why? I want to see you, and see what I’m doing.”
“I don’t look like you think I do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just…” She dropped her hands and looked him steadily in the eye. “All those pictures? I don’t look that good in real life. You’ll be disappointed. It’s better if it’s dark.”
“No.” He bent and grabbed a booted ankle, pulling her leg straight and easing the boot off her foot. She was wearing plain white socks; that charmed him, seemed normal and a little vulnerable. “I’m not here with those pictures. I’m here with you. You’re who I want to see.”
After he took off that simple cotton sock—an anklet, all the cuter—he laid her foot back on the bed and picked up her other foot. When she was barefoot, he stepped back and removed his kutte, walking over to hang it on its hook near the door. Then he reached over his shoulders and grabbed his t-shirt by the back and pulled it over his head, tossing it in the general direction of the plastic laundry basket in the corner.
Riley drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, damn. Look at you.”
He grinned. He worked hard on his body. Most of the Horde did a lot of time in their weight room. It was a point of honor for them, with Isaac and Show at the head of the table, both of them ripped to shit. Only Vic and C.J. were lax about it. C.J. was past seventy, so no one was gonna give him trouble if he got flabby. And Vic was farmer strong, his big gut belying the things he could do. Also, he was crazy and fought dirty.
“You like?” He resisted the urge to stroke his own chest.
She sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed. “I do. You’re gorgeous.”
He walked back to the bed and unwound the scarf that was still looped around her neck and draped over her chest. “You would have missed this if I’d turned out the light.” He dropped the scarf to the floor. She shrugged out of her suede jacket, and he folded that and laid it on the dresser.
When he came back to stand before her, she snagged her finger through his belt loop and pulled him between her legs. Then she put her hands on his belly and let them wander up and over his pecs, and back down the same path. He couldn’t stop his muscles from twitching under her light, sensual touch. He brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears, and then let his hands rest on her slim shoulders.
“You really have an amazing body.” With one finger, she traced the letters arcing over his belly: H-O-R-D-E. “I’ve heard it hurts a lot to get tattooed here. Does it?”
“Not much more than this one did.” He shrugged and turned his right arm out, showing the ink on the inside of his forearm, which was his steel horse, a flaming horse/motorcycle hybrid. Then he lifted his left arm and turned a couple of degrees, showing his ribs on that side. “Of the ink I have, this one hurt most.”
“I don’t understand that one.”
“It’s binary. Spells a w
ord in computer code.”
“What word?”
“Remember.”
“What does it help you remember?”
“Something it would be easier to forget.” Bart didn’t want to keep traveling down the road this conversation was on. He wasn’t sure why he’d pointed out that ink in the first place. What he wanted to do was finish undressing her—and himself—and get busy. She was wearing a nearly sheer, nearly silky kind of top, with a little black thing under it, almost like a bra. He knew there was a name for it, like a teddy or something. Whatever—it was sexy. Pinching the top shirt at her shoulders, he pulled it up, and she raised her arms and helped him, shaking her hair out as the shirt cleared her head.
What with the jacket and the scarf, he hadn’t gotten a good look at her tits until now. Not in person, anyway. There were lots of pictures online of her in not very many clothes, so, even discounting photo manipulation, he knew they were pretty and round, not overly large—but then, she was little, so big tits would have looked wrong. He had no idea if they were real, but he was very much looking forward to finding out.
Hooking his hands under her arms, he lifted her a little, turning her and laying her back down on the bed with her head on his pillows. He undid her jeans and pulled them off. She lifted her hips to help him, and then she was lying on his bed wearing only little black boyshorts and that pretty black camisole. His lingerie vocabulary had returned, and damn, she looked good. Maybe a tiny bit curvier, her legs a little fuller, but that was a good thing in his book. He didn’t know why she thought he’d be disappointed, because right here, lying in his bed, with her pale hair spread out over his pillows, she looked better than any picture he’d ever seen, no matter how aggressively photoshopped.
“You’re making me self-conscious, staring like that.”
“You’re beautiful, babe. Really beautiful.” He turned and opened the top drawer of his dresser to pull out a couple of condoms and set them on the bed, then dropped his jeans and boxers and lay down next to her.
Propped on his side, he bent down to kiss her, but she shrank back a little, putting her hand on his shoulder to hold him off.
“I know it sounds lame, and you probably won’t believe me, but I don’t usually do this—sleep with someone I just met. I’m not a slut. In fact, I haven’t…I…never mind. I just wanted to say that I’m not a slut.”
To his ears, she sounded shy, a little nervous. Not at all the spitfire who’d faced Isaac down. He wondered if the tequila buzz had backed off. Maybe she was regretting this. “Riley, I don’t think you’re a slut. I believe you. No reason not to. If you want to stop, we will. Don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”
She shook her head, her eyes steady on his. “I don’t want to stop. I just wanted to say…what I said.”
“Okay, then. Relax for me, babe. I want to make you feel good.” Her arm relaxed and slid along his side to his back, and he bent his head to hers and claimed her mouth, pushing his hand under her top, over the smooth, firm skin of her belly, her ribs, to her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just this camisole, that had a band of some sort across her tits. He pushed that up and took a handful—almost a handful—of tight, round, real tit. She gasped under his mouth and pushed her chest toward him, and he felt her nipple tighten under his palm. Ah, fuck. This was hot as hell.
One thing about the sure thing that was club pussy, they’d seen and done it all before. They were willing, and they could get off (or at least do a decent impression of it), and they could damn sure get him off, but they didn’t exactly get excited. It had been a long time—Christ, since college—since he’d been with a woman who was trembling under his touch. It made his cock ache.
As he pushed her top higher, clearing her tits, he broke from their kiss and urged her up so he could get her topless. She took matters into her own hands and pulled the tightly bunched fabric over her head, and then she was bare and beautiful, her tits dotted with small, pearly pink nipples, so fair they were almost an illusion. Again he marveled at her self-deprecation. She was almost ethereally pretty.
Once he’d looked his fill, he took one small nipple into his mouth and suckled her. Again she gasped, and he felt her fingers sliding into his hair and knotting into fists, holding his head where it was. He was happy to stay, until he wanted to taste the other. When he moved, she didn’t let go, but moved with him, still holding him close. He put his hand over the tit he’d just left and tweaked that damp, swollen nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She writhed under him, her hips flexing to rub herself against him. He could feel her arousal in the hot slide of silk against his skin, and she was making the sexiest little sounds, not quite whimper, not quite moan.
“Bart, please. I’m so wet. God, it almost hurts. I need you to touch me.”
Let no one say Bart Elstad couldn’t take direction. He released her nipple and slid that hand over her flat little belly and into her panties, finding a silky-smooth shaved pussy that was dripping wet for him. Raising his head from her chest, he smiled down at her.
“Jesus, babe. You’re so ready.”
“I am. I so am. I need it. God, please.”
“With my hand? That’s what you want?”
“I want all of it. Please.” She was staring fixedly into his eyes, all shame or self-consciousness gone. Her expression was desperate. Voracious. He flicked a finger back and forth over the firm little bud of her clit, and she came right up off the bed.
“God, yes! Please don’t stop!” He didn’t. He stayed on her clit, stimulating it fast and hard until she bent her head back, the muscles in her throat straining. Her fingernails embedded into his bicep, and her arched body went completely taut, thrumming with the tension of her not-yet-achieved release. She was silent—he wasn’t even sure she was still breathing. He changed his motion then and rubbed a tight, hard circle instead, and she went over like a champ, dropping suddenly to the bed, her hips flailing under his hand. But he stayed on her, following her erratic motions until she was done—which wasn’t easy. He was pretty proud of himself, actually.
When Riley settled, her chest heaving, her skin brightly flushed, she grinned up at him. “Holy shit! You’re great at that. Like, you should get an agent and go pro!”
He was insanely pleased at the compliment, so much so that he felt his face warm with a blush. He covered with a chuckle. “Glad I could help out.”
Still gasping, she pushed on his shoulder. “Flip.” He laughed at the order but obeyed it, rolling to his back. She rose to her knees with a mischievous light in her eyes. Her attitude had shifted dramatically again, from self-consciousness to fiery desire, and now to self-assured playfulness. Damn, she was sexy.
She scooted out of her panties and straddled him, wrapping a soft, little hand around his cock. The touch made his balls tighten.
“This is very nice, you know. Good shape, good size, good girth. You’re kinda an Adonis. Except he had a teeny winky, if the statues are to be believed.”
“Winky? Please don’t call it that.”
“Oh, yours isn’t a winky. Yours is definitely a cock.”
To emphasize her point, she slid her hand up and down his length. He closed his eyes and groaned. “You understand how hot it was to get you off just now? It was really fucking hot. So I don’t know how much playtime I can deal with.”
“You want to be inside me?” She put her other hand between her legs. The sight of her own hand where his had just been made his mouth water.
He nodded.
“Can I put the condom on?”
He nodded again. Whatever the fuck she wanted, if she’d just get on his cock.
She couldn’t reach the condoms while she straddled him, so she crawled over and got one and crawled back, resuming her position. With her eyes locked on his, she tore open the packet and pulled the latex circle out. Then she wrapped one hand around his base, and he watched as she rolled the condom on with the other. Slowly. Very slowly. So slowly that he
groaned and lifted his hips toward her, trying to hurry her along. Smiling smugly, she rolled it all the way out at that same, slow pace.
“All the way to the serial number. Very nice. I’m impressed.” She lifted up off his legs then and came forward, hovering. Bart thought his cock might grow arms so it could grab her and pull her down. Failing that, he grabbed her hips in his hands.
“Come on, babe. You got me wild here.”
She took him in her hand to hold him steady and slid down, slowly again, but this time he didn’t fight it. The sensation of easing into her tight body, feeling it make way for him, surround him, clasp him, was something he didn’t want to rush. When she finally landed on his hips, she gasped. Her mouth a little pink circle, she whispered, “Oh!”
“You’re so hot. So tight.” Holding her firmly on him, he thrust up into her, making himself grunt and her cry out and drop her head backwards. And then she started to move, rocking slowly at first, then following his lead as he tried to move her with his hands on her hips, encouraging her to go faster. She kept up with the demands of his hands, putting her own hands on her tits and plucking at her nipples. Bart had to close his eyes against the sight, lest he blow his load too soon.
Because fuck, she was everywhere in his head and on his body, all of his senses engaged—the feel of her tight, lush pussy around his cock, of her legs flexing on his hips, her little ass sliding back and forth on his thighs. The sound of her moans and cries as she came closer and closer to another climax, the smell of her juices, the sight of her—her hands playing with her pretty tits, her eyes closed, her teeth biting down on her lower lip, her hair swinging against her back. All that was missing was taste—but he could still taste the sweet skin of her tits, like a memory on his tongue. He had to close his eyes or simply explode.
A heartbeat before she quickened her pace, he felt her tighten around him. She was going again, and he opened his eyes, unwilling to miss it. Damn, it was a sight. Her hips drove down on him, harder and harder, faster and faster, and her face was a mask of furrowed concentration, until her eyes flew open and locked with his. Then she fell forward, her hands on his shoulders, and moved even faster, her firm little tits bouncing a scant inch from his chest.
Alone on Earth Page 7
