DirtyInterludes

by Jodie Becker

  He brushed his mouth over hers before taking her in a gentle kiss filled with reverence. He tasted her passion like rain on his tongue. His hands skated up her spine to cup the back of her skull. Tendrils of hair tickled the back of his hand. Slender arms wrapped around his neck and Max silently damned the jacket that kept a thick layer of fabric between them.

  Panting, he pulled from her. “Come home with me.”

  Eyelids fluttered open. “Convince me.”

  Before he could draw her back into his arms, she pranced away. Max held out his hands, palms out. “How can I convince you if I can’t touch you?”

  Bridget winked. “You can touch me when you get to my place.”

  As she sauntered away, her hips swinging, Max rubbed his mouth. Damn she had a nice ass. Fishing out his keys, he hurried toward his car. Too impatient for the elevator he took the stairs and all but sped back to his house. He caught up to a familiar white car along his street and grinned. As she pulled into her drive, he pulled into his. He ate up the distance between them just as she reached her front door. She giggled and he licked at her earlobe. His dick throbbed with the need to be in her.

  The door swung open and he shuffled her in. He searched blindly for the door and shut it. Encased in darkness, he pushed her against the wall. Their panting cut through the night and he delved his hand beneath her blouse, skating his palm along her smooth stomach. Bridget whimpered, her hot breath touching his lips. Groaning, he kissed her, rapaciously tasting the passion on her tongue. Through the flimsy lace bra he rolled her nipple, pressing his hips against hers, pinning her to him. Her arms settled over his shoulders, her hands in his hair.

  Behind his jeans, his cock thrummed with a deep ache only she could relieve. He rocked into her and silently cursed the pencil skirt that kept her luscious body from him. Ruthlessly, he clasped the hem and pushed it up, exposing her smooth, white thighs and plain cotton panties. Damn, he never thought they were sexy, but looking at them now made him pant with desperate need. He cupped her through the panties, finding her heat and plying her with a gentleness he didn’t feel. He wanted to plunge into her and hear her scream.

  Bridget parted her legs, her arms quivering as they tightened around him. Her moans pierced him with sensual needles of torture. In the darkness, he could barely make her out, the moonlight piercing the night enough to highlight her pale skin. He wanted to watch her eyes glaze, but instead satisfied himself with her wet pussy. Shoving aside the fabric, he thrust two fingers inside. A shudder rocked through his frame even as she screamed. Through the small tuft of hair he found her clit and circled it with his thumb. The scent of her sex filled his nostrils and he grunted as nails dug into the back of his neck. The sting heightened the urgency within him and he fished out the condom from his back pocket. The packet crackled between his teeth as he freed his hand to unbutton his jeans. They barely slid below his ass before he rolled it on.

  Her sleek thigh hooked over his hip, the soft skin adding a new layer of torture. Grasping her ass, he brought her up and buried himself inside her. Their gasps intermingled, her arms tightening around his neck. Max stilled, embedded so deep he could feel every quiver of her sweet pussy. They remained together, still, taken by the sudden shift in what just happened. The urgency had disappeared and was replaced by…by what? He didn’t know. His heart thundered and he felt a weird ache in his chest. She brushed her lips over each eyelid, then down his cheekbone, sparking a warm fire along his skin. Goose bumps skittered down his back as her lips hovered over his. The unspoken command he not touch her whispered in the air.

  She traced her tongue along his upper lip and he groaned. Everything went on high alert as she learned the contours of his mouth. She suckled his lower lip and Max’s fingers clenched over the cotton of her panties. Damn her. His control could only stand so much. He captured her mouth, thrusting inside. Hips rocked into her and pleasure seared his cock. Bridget’s breath hitched and he pushed her against the wall to free up his hands. Pinned by his hips, he jerked at her blouse. Buttons popped and bounced off the floor. He pushed aside the lace and cupped her breasts. Angling his head, he captured one sweet nubbin and rolled it between his teeth, plying his tongue over the hardened tip as he thrust into her.

  Desire took root, enveloping him in sweet fire as she met his thrust. Her canal tightened around him and she rocked back, her whimpers turning into moans as she came. The wet sound of their sex made him hot and his balls tightened. Damn, he wanted to hold out. He brushed his thumb over her clit, keeping the circles tight and soft. Bridget’s nails bit into his neck and she screamed. Her breasts bounced in a beautiful display of a woman in the throes of an orgasm.

  Max exhaled through clenched teeth as he plunged ruthlessly into her. The sharp tingles at the base of his shaft intensified and he ignored them. He wanted more of her and he’d have it. Fingers tightened over her waist and he tipped his hips slightly, finding the sweet spot and pounding into her. Bridget’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in sweet surprise. A feral grin pulled at his lips as he raced toward the wild passion gripping them both.

  Blissful flames circled his cock and sluiced down his spine and he cursed, desperate to hold on to what little control he had. Her sweet pussy clenched over him, suckled him as she came. Bridget wailed, her features tight. Max let go, relentlessly seeking his release. It came in a blaze of white light and erotic fire. His breath was knocked from him by the force of his orgasm.

  The world slowly came back to him, his skin cold from sweat cooling on his flesh. One of Bridget’s legs slid downward and he held her steady, keeping her near him. Carefully he eased from her and kissed her forehead, her nose, then her mouth. A soft, reverent kiss.

  The musk scent of their sex filled the night and he inhaled it as though it was some exotic perfume. Brushing a wet lock of hair from her face, he stared into her shadowed features. She was everything he didn’t know he wanted. Thoughts of what lay outside the house threatened to spill forth and he shut it down.

  Bridget cupped his hand that rested over her cheek. She leaned into his touch and his heart did a weird trip-up. A smile pulled at his mouth and he brushed his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. She sucked the digit into her mouth and Max’s dick surged to life. Damn, he was insatiable with her.

  “Stay the night?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  * * * * *

  The notes of a cello filled the air and pulled Max from sleep. The cadence was low and heavy with the undertones of something sensual. Max inhaled, eyes firmly shut as he held on to the last vestiges of sleep. The music slid up several scales, reminding him of fingers dancing up the spine of a woman. It marched downward again and hovered low. The notes were sensual and intoxicating, singing softly, imitating a woman’s climb toward release.

  Max opened his eyes and found Bridget playing her cello at the foot of the bed. Naked. Awareness spiked and the air stalled in his lungs. Damn she looked sexy. The smooth wood pressed over her flesh and breasts moved with each sway of the bow over the strings. Her thighs pressed over the cello as if the instrument itself was a man. Holy shit. Max sat upright, pleasure skimming over his dick. Sheet tucked around his hips, he rested his elbow on his knees, absorbed in the erotic play of emotion on her face and the sensual story she told through her cello.

  Her hand danced over the bar, the bow sliding over the strings. Back and forth. Back and forth. She moved her fingers along the base, rocking it with quick efficiency that reminded him too much of a woman massaging her clit. God damn. He wiped a hand over his mouth, his cock bobbing in anticipation. Bridget’s mouth dropped open as though she was in the throes of a climax. A flush touched her cheeks. The cello rubbed against her exposed flesh. He wanted to climb out of the bed and take her in his arms, but he sensed she wanted to show him this. Damn, classical musicians were sexy as hell.

  Notes climbed higher and higher, then dropped a beat to hover sensually there. Fingers flew over the neck of the cello, the thrusting
of the bow seeming frenetic but pushing out erotic sounds that teased his imagination and tortured his libido.

  Finally the cadence sped up to a crescendo of sensuality, mimicking the orgasm. It finally dropped away until the room echoed with sexual tension. Bridget opened her eyes, panting as if she’d run a mile. Max was in awe of her.

  “Wow. What was that?”

  Bridget licked her lips. “My own composition.”

  Something like pride filled his chest. “That was amazing. Sexy and amazing.”

  “That’s what I wanted it to be.”

  She put the cello aside and Max tensed as a wave of desire crashed over him. Gloriously naked, she approached the bed. Her knee dug into the mattress as Max cupped her waist, bringing her into his body.

  “Oh it was sexy all right,” he rasped.

  Bridget tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You were my inspiration.”

  A brow notched up. “Was I?”

  Her lower lip tucked between her teeth and she nodded somewhat shyly. Max’s fingers tightened and he dragged her across his lap until she settled over his linen-covered dick. Her gasp chased the air, eyelids drooping.

  “Well, you’re my inspiration for this.” He rocked into her, the desire for her warming him.

  Tight with need from playing her cello, Bridget pressed her hands against Max’s warm shoulders. Her pussy settled over his shaft and she whimpered at the flimsy sheet separating them. Max grinned, slowly sliding her over his shaft. Her clit hummed and her womb tightened. The devilish gleam in his eyes made her breasts feel heavy and she rolled her hips. Max arched, his moan coalescing with hers. He cupped her breasts and plucked her nipple. Titillation and need spiraled along her chest down to her pussy. Fingers dug into his shoulder while his hand caressed her waist. Rolling forward, her hair created a shroud as she leaned over him, her mouth only an inch from his. The fabric was moist from her juices, plastering itself to every curve of his dick. Bridget whimpered, feeling the contours of his dick against her sensitive flesh.

  Passion seared her and she trembled with desperate need. Max cupped the back of her neck, his features tight with lust. His thumb pressed behind her ear, caressing a sweet spot that sent tingles down her spine. Hot breath skittered over her lips a moment before he kissed her. He intoxicated her with every sweep of his tongue, the slow circles of his thumb behind her ear scintillating and erotic.

  Suddenly she found herself on her back, his lower body pressed against her as he lunged forward in ruthless abandon. Her knee hitched up and he grasped it, holding her still. Bridget whimpered as a wave of pleasure trembled beneath the surface. She flung her hands back and pressed against the headboard, desperate to find leverage.

  “Come in me,” she whispered.

  Max pushed back, jerked the sheet from between them. His erection bobbed and he planted his hand by her shoulder. She clasped his shaft and pumped, exploring every curve. She wanted this. Him deep inside as she experienced his mastery of her senses. With a tug, she brought him toward the mouth of her womb. Max paused, his features stiff as though something pressed between his shoulder blades. Bridget writhed restlessly.

  “What is it?”

  “Condom.”

  Bridget knew he was right. They couldn’t risk it in a moment of passion. He reached for her bedside table and found a packet. Rolling it on, he spread her wide, dipping two fingers into her sopping, aching canal. He circled her clit, his fingers shoved deep as he plied a hidden place inside. Sparks of ecstasy shuddered through her and she bit back a cry as little fireworks went off in her.

  A curse pierced her haze, and she felt the broad head of his penis slide into her. Bridget’s back arched as he settled into the cusp of her hips. His palms pressed above her shoulders and he reared back. Knees clamped over his waist, she met him thrust for thrust, absorbing every electrical burst of erotic sensations. She rocketed toward release. The wet sound of sex filled the air, cut only by her moans of delight. Max barely made a sound and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her with an intensity that tugged at her heart. Their gazes caught and held and he slowed, gentling the thrusts, bringing her down from the precipice. He dropped to his forearms and her breasts rubbed against his skin. Pleasure sluiced down her torso and collected in her womb.

  Max pulled out until only his head remained inside before he eased back into her. Bridget clenched her hands over his ass, silently commanding him to take her to release. He ignored her, continuing his steady and torturous thrusts. Sweat coated her skin, and the musk scent of sex curled around her. Max watched her with an almost heightened sense of awareness. As though he wanted to memorize what he was doing to do her. It should’ve scared her, but it didn’t. It made her need sharper. Made her feel gloriously sexy.

  Every nerve lit up. Her skin flushed with need. She couldn’t take much more and she shuddered. “Oh Max. Max, please.”

  Lips curled back over teeth and he hooked her leg over his shoulder. He pounded into her with so much driving force it pushed the breath from her. They slid along the bed, and she pressed her palms against the headboard. He gripped the top of the bed and used it to power every thrust. White-hot pleasure seared her and exploded deep inside. She tensed and she screamed his name as waves and waves of euphoria crashed over her.

  She was barely aware of him pulling from her until he grasped her hips and rolled her over. Knees barely held her up and she pressed her forehead against her forearms as he parted her ass cheeks. Cool air touched her exposed skin. Max fingered her swollen and sensitive pussy and she jerked at the sharp sting of decadence. Pressing her lips together, she held back another moan as he pressed into her tight vagina. He pushed and pushed until he was embedded so deep his balls kissed her clit.

  Bridget groaned with need. Hands on her hips guided her as Max fucked her. He pushed her body until she shattered again, her cry a ragged sound of delight. Lights burst behind her eyelids, muscles quivering with every glorious orgasm. Flesh slapped together and she begged him to stop, to keep going, to come with her. She was mindless with desire.

  Max’s hand pressed into the mattress and his hot breath slid along her shoulder. She accepted his kiss. A kiss filled with desperation and passion. He stabbed his tongue in time with every plunge of his cock. He fisted her hair, holding her still, and she gasped at the sting that merged with the pleasure he gave her.

  Bridget whimpered, tears of joy breaking free as yet another orgasm rocked through her. Her womb clenched and she quivered. Behind her, Max’s thrusts became frenetic, his fingers tightening over her hips until he pushed deep and held still. His cock bobbed and the hot gush off his orgasm was felt through the contraception.

  Bridget dropped forward in a boneless heap, her lids drooping as Max settled down beside her. She smiled sleepily at him as he shifted toward her.

  He brushed aside a lock of hair and kissed her shoulder. “You’re amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stared deeply into her eyes, a wealth of emotion there. “But do you believe it?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”

  “Baby, you are amazing and talented and deserving of great things.”

  Tender emotions warmed her at his words. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe, you know?”

  “Why? You have first chair and that’s something pretty big from what I gather.”

  Bridget grinned. Not long ago Max hadn’t known the first thing about the importance of being a classical musician. “I guess it’s hard to break. My mom never thought too much about my career. I worked two jobs when starting out. Stayed up hours on end practicing. Working on the weekends in a stringed quartet. It’s not as glamorous as she thought.”

  “But if she heard your original stuff…”

  He trailed off at the shake of her head. “She never approved. She wants me back in Boston to find a ‘real job’. Some days I think, why do I bother? It wasn’t until I got first seat that I thought I’d make her see. But she hasn’t.”<
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  He glowered. “Forget what she says. Blaze your own trail. Living up to other people’s expectations is just going to make you unhappy. Music makes you happy so you should stick with it.”

  Indecision weighed on her. She’d always wanted to have her mother’s approval and maybe she played it too safe. “You think?”

  “Yeah. If that composition is anything to go by, you should have the front of the stage, soaking up the limelight.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  He grinned. “I’ll be there and cheering the loudest.”

  She looked at him with mock censure. “People don’t cheer during performances. It’s not a rock band. It’s classical music.”

  “Still. I’ll be your biggest fan.”

  She snuggled closer into him, loving the confidence he had in her. His warmth surrounded her and he placed a kiss by her ear. “You’re amazing,” he said again.

  This time she smiled, basking in his words. Maybe he was right and it was time to blaze her own trail.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bridget woke sometime later. The sun had risen higher as most of the morning passed them by. A warm arm wrapped around her waist pinned her to Max’s side and she skimmed her hand along his muscular forearm, enjoying the sensation of being held as though she were precious. His breath skittered along the shell of her ear, disturbing locks of hair. Briefly she contemplated rolling over and seducing him, but the rumble in her stomach reminded her they hadn’t eaten yet. Shuffling to the edge of the bed, she eased Max’s arm from her. He grunted a sound of protest and she rolled toward him, caught by his drowsy stare.

  “I’m going to make us breakfast,” she whispered.

  His lids dropped and eased open again as the vestiges of sleep clung to him. “Stay.”

  “I’ll be back. Go to sleep.”

  He fell back into a slumber and she grinned, her lungs filling with joy. Pulling on a light shift, she trudged down the stairs, holding back a yawn. Muscles twinged and her pussy felt raw from a night of lovemaking. She made her way into the kitchen and pulled out some eggs and bacon. It felt unusual to make breakfast for another, but Bridget embraced the next step of their relationship. For the last couple of weeks, they’d spent time together and she’d learned Max was not only a bit of a prankster but had a caring streak. He talked of his and Bryce’s friendship and hinted at Christmas. It was only two months away but she suspected he wanted to take her with him to his family Christmas. The idea should’ve worried her since they’d only been dating for such a short while, but the time spent as his neighbor prior helped blur the lines between a new romance and a progressive step in their odd friendship turned relationship.