Body Heat

by Unknown

  “I’m just glad you’re finally having some fun again,” Nova says to me.

  “Me too, me too,” Caroline says. “You deserve it after everything.” She leans over and gives me a side hug. “Have you had any contact with Matt?” she asks quietly.

  “God, no,” I say, “they won’t let him contact me.”

  “They weren’t supposed to do a lot of other things, but they always seemed to happen. That’s why you don’t put the fox in charge of the henhouse.” She sees the tired look come over my face and squeezes my hand again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. I’m just happy things are okay.”

  “For the moment, anyway,” I say.

  Nova senses my discomfort and deftly changes topics. “What do you and Mr. Handsome have on the schedule for today?”

  “He’s going to call me when he gets back from his run and we’re going to see what develops.” I glance down at my phone again. Still no text. Damn.

  “Where are you meeting?”

  “I’m going to his place.” Caroline gives me a wary look and I feel the need to explain myself. “I feel totally comfortable with him. And even though I probably shouldn’t trust my spidey sense after everything that’s happened, I still do. He makes me feel safe and sexy, and I can’t wait to see him again.”

  Nova chimes in. “He’s one of the founding members of Overwatch Consulting. You’re in good hands. I’ve known Parker Morris, one of his business partners, for years.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Nova has “known” enough men to populate a small city.

  She shoots me an amused look over the rim of her glass. “Totally platonic, I swear. Those guys are all fascinating men. And good at keeping secrets.” My stomach rumbles and I look around for our server. I know the place is packed and the kitchen is still trying to get in a groove, but damn, I’m hungry.

  “He mentioned something the other night about being in the army.”

  Nova’s bark of laughter is loud and harsh.

  “Oh, I’m sure he was much more than that. CIA or Special Forces. Black Ops of some sort, I’d wager.”

  “Seriously?” That explained a few things. Like the mess of scars on his body I noticed last night when I pulled his shirt open. I didn’t care. Not one damn bit. I had scars, too. At least his were there where you could see them. Mine were hidden, buried deep, and rotting.

  “You need a very special skill set to work for his company. There’s no way he was sitting behind a desk or ladling out hash in the kitchen when he was overseas.”

  “He seems like a good match for you,” Nova says. “He’s strong and confident without being some hard-headed oaf. He seems to be a bit of a Renaissance man, actually. He held up his end of the conversation surprisingly well when we met and discussed his application, even when I went on a bit of a tangent talking about the arts.”

  My phone buzzes and I want to do a happy dance in the middle of our upscale brunch. I don’t care that my stomach is rumbling and our food hasn’t arrived yet. I don’t care that I’ve hardly touched my drink. I’m so damn excited and it feels good. It’s been a long time since I’ve been excited about anything. I look at the screen.

  I’m home. Get your ass over here. I need to taste you.

  Caroline reads the screen over my shoulder and slaps my thigh playfully.

  “Forget breakfast,” she says. “If someone sent me a text like that, you’d already hear my tires squealing in the parking lot.”

  “Get out of here,” Nova says. “I’ll keep this one entertained.”

  Be there soon. I text back. Don’t get started without me.

  I toss my cell phone in my handbag, kiss them each on the cheek, and head for the exit. As I walk away, I hear Caroline renew her request.

  “Nova,” Caroline says, “just tell me who I have to kill to get to the penthouse.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She polishes off her Bloody Mary. “Maybe we can outsmart the old man and get you laid.”

  HE SENT ME HIS address and it wasn’t far from where we were brunching. I drive like a bat out of hell and arrive at his front gate in minutes. I punch the code he had texted me into the keypad and the gate swings open. I negotiate my car up the drive and park where I won’t block the garage. I have to stop myself from running to the front door, telling myself to breathe deeply as I saunter casually up the front steps. A yellow note on the front door catches my attention.

  Ivy. Jumping in the shower. The door is unlocked. Come in and get comfortable.

  I press the latch. The heavy wood door opens and I step inside. I take in the hardwood floors and leather furniture. It is tastefully decorated, but a bit bland and a little too heavy on the masculine elements for my taste. And everything is so clean! It looks like a model home, not like one that has been lived in. I know it’s the work of a determined housekeeper, but it’s still equal parts impressive and sad. My abode is nowhere near as grand, but my identity is stamped all over it. This place is nice, but it feels a little sterile.

  I notice the fresh flowers on the foyer entryway table and wonder if they are for my benefit, an attempt to add a touch of femininity and color. It’s an impressive arrangement and they’re lovely. It’s always flattering when a man tries, especially when he knows you’re a sure thing.

  I venture farther into the house and hear water running. The thought of catching him in the shower sends a surge of heat to my core. I still haven’t seen him fully unclothed, and I bet he looks godlike with warm water coursing over his body.

  I kick off my shoes and walk in the direction of the shower, shedding my clothes along the way. I stop in his bedroom and pull a thin white undershirt from his closet. It’s a bit baggy, but I know it will cling to me like a second skin when wet, showing off my curves. I creep into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of him standing in a marble-tiled shower the size of a small car with his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping away. His face is a mask of pleasure as he thrust his hips against his tight fist.

  “Shouldn’t I be doing that?” I open the heavy glass door and walk into the steamy interior. The t-shirt is pasted to me within seconds. I turn my back to him and ease the glass door closed, giving him ample time to enjoy the way the wet fabric clings to my voluptuous ass cheeks. He gazes at me with a wicked smile and I’m wet in seconds.

  “You’d think I’d get used to how beautiful you are. But you take my breath away every fucking time.” He continues to stroke his cock in a leisurely manner. I like that he didn’t stop. That he isn’t ashamed. That he owns his sexuality.

  I step under the pounding water and stretch up on my tiptoes to adjust the shower head. Hot rivulets of water rush over my body and his shirt clings to me everywhere, from my generous breasts to the puffy little cleft between my thighs.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he says in a husky voice.

  “We’ve only been apart twelve hours,” I say.

  “Immaterial. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. And, in related news, I’ve jerked off so much today I feel like I’m 16 again.”

  “I see that,” I say as I move closer and replace his hand with my own, kissing his chest and fitting myself into his arms. He takes my pert breasts in his large hands and cradles them as he strokes my nipples with his thumbs. I can feel the slickness building between my thighs. His hands move lower and cup my ass cheeks; he gives them a delicious squeeze that pulls me against his hard cock.

  “God, you have an insane body,” I say as I let my hands roam over his muscled form. His arms feel like they were carved from iron, and his torso is just as solid.

  “Right back at you, babe,” he says as he kneads my flesh. “Why don’t we take this shirt off so I can take in every perfect inch of you?” He takes the hem of the fabric in his hands and raises it over my head as I lift my arms. He tosses it aside with a wet smack.

  His throbbing shaft is tight against his stomach, begging for attention. I rake my fingertips up and down his hips and ass, carefully avoiding any co
ntact with his dancing member.

  “Oh, Ivy.” He says my name as he exhales and it sounds like a plea, a prayer, an exaltation. I feel cherished and I love it. I have missed this so much. I lather my hands with soap suds and wrap a fist tightly around him. He groans and thrusts into my hand. His entire body tenses and I realize I have misjudged how close he is. I loosen my grip and slow my strokes. I’m not ready for him to come just yet.

  “Not yet.” I reach down and cup his balls with my other soapy hand. “There’s so much more I want to do to you. Just take a few deep breaths and relax. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” He comes down from the brink and relaxes into my rhythm.

  I stroke him low and slow, with my hand barely wrapped around the base of his cock, avoiding any contact with the bulbous, swollen head. Not letting him get too close but wanting to keep him just hot enough. I let the hand cradling his heavy sac trail lower, searching between his legs toward that tight pucker he’s so eager for me to explore.

  “Oh, fuck,” he rasps, and I know I’ve found it. I run the pad of my finger along the edge of the sensitive, crinkled skin, tracing a circle around his secret place.

  “Do you like it when I play with your asshole?” As if I have to ask. His chest is heaving, his brow is furrowed, and his eyes are glazed and heavy lidded with lust. His cock, which was impressively hard to begin with, feels like it just received an injection of molten steel.

  “Fuck. Yes.” His pleasure turns me on even more.

  “Turn around,” I say, and he does.

  He looks spectacular with his toned back and shoulders, thick ass cheeks, and meaty thighs. I reached up and knead his muscled ass, letting my thumbs occasionally graze against his tight pucker.

  “Spread your legs and take your hands off your cock. I want to see how sensitive you are here.”

  He groans and shifts his feet wider apart. I spread his cheeks until I can see his sensitive pucker. I rub against it with the pad of my thumb, and his body shudders. Having enjoyed anal stimulation myself, I know to go slow. But I can’t wait to plunge my finger deep inside him and stroke his P-spot until he empties himself. I test the waters, easing the pad of my index finger inside the tight ring of muscle.

  It’s so sexy to see him so lost in pleasure. To know that I am the one doing it to him. I’m making his legs tremble, making his chest heave. I’m the one reducing him to a caveman capable of issuing only deep moans and guttural grunts.

  I press against his prostate with every stroke of my finger. His body is jumping and jerking with my every move. He’s so damn close and I’m not even touching his cock. He shivers and gasps as I massage and milk his place of pleasure.

  “Oh, God, don’t stop,” he whispers.

  I don’t stop. I slide a second finger inside him along with the first and massage his prostate until he’s right on the edge.

  He turns around, and his cock is still hard and nearly purple. He pulls me to him and kisses me. Hard. He turns me around and fits his thick cock in the seam between my ass cheeks. I reach behind and knead my cheeks together, sandwiching myself around him. He wraps his arms around me and goes to work on my pussy. He’s so close and I want us to come together. He spreads my swollen lips apart with one hand and attacks my engorged clit with the other. He rubs it furiously as he thrusts against my hips. He starts to pinch and tug at it, and I feel shivers go through me and I start to see stars. I’m lost in a haze of pleasure, relying on his strong arms to hold me up, when I hear his guttural cry and feel his warm deposit coat my seam.

  He collapses onto the shower bench and pulls me into his lap. He holds me close until he has recovered verbal abilities.

  He kisses my forehead. “Goddamn, Ivy, I don’t know what to say. That’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.”

  “I can think of a few ways you can show your appreciation.” He hoists me over his shoulder, turns off the shower, and carries me to his bed.

  HE TOSSES ME INTO the middle of a bed the size of a boat. The mattress is at least three feet thick, and I’m still bouncing and laughing when he climbs next to me and takes me in his arms. My damp hair is fanned out around me, but I’m not cold. On the contrary. I’m warm in all the right places. Milking that orgasm from his amazing body had me turned on like nobody’s business. I had forgotten the sense of power that comes with reducing a strong, powerful stud to a grunting caveman.

  I growl and throw a leg around his hip. I grind against him, against the velvety softness resting between his thighs, and I feel his cock twitch back to life. He’s warm and masculine, and the full-body contact is exquisite. Just what I need. I’ve been hungering for a man’s touch, my body has been aching for it, without me even realizing it. I’m happy to be in his bed. Especially when we lock eyes and I can tell his only concern is my pleasure.

  “I love the smell of your skin,” he says as he lowers his mouth to my neck.

  My swollen nipples brush against his chest. His wiry hair tickles them, and I feel a bolt of pleasure surge through me when my crinkled peaks make contact with his. I feel so small and feminine next to him. His arms are like tree trunks and he wraps them tighter around me. I part my lips to moan, and he covers my mouth with his own. His tongue plays with mine, stroking and exploring and sucking. I want to touch every inch of him and proceed to do so, running my hands lazily over his taut flesh as he works his mouth expertly against mine. No limp fish kisses here. I’ve never been with anyone so sensual.

  “I can smell your pussy and it’s making me crazy.” He rubs his rapidly hardening cock against me. “Everything about you makes me so fucking turned on.” He smashes his lips against mine.

  He pulls away suddenly, and I feel the loss keenly. I bring his hand to my mouth and suck his thumb, running my tongue over it as I suck and imagine it is his sweet, thick cock instead. He lowers his head and tends to the sensitive skin of my neck. I don’t know how he’s already figured out this is a favorite spot of mine, but it’s clear he has my number as he nibbles, licks, and sucks the tender skin there before moving lower.

  I gasp at the pleasure and rub my throbbing sex against his meaty thigh. He grinds his leg back against me until he’s slick with my juices. He cups a small globe of ivory flesh in each hand and sucks each rock-hard nub into his mouth. His cheeks hollow as he feasts on my nipples and my hips buck against him involuntarily.

  He kisses his way lower, tracing every soft curve of my stomach and hips with his tongue, until he reaches my freshly waxed mons. I melt into the mattress as he spreads my thighs and settles his face between them. My breath comes in shallow gasps as I wait for that first sweet touch of his tongue on my pussy. I arch my back, silently begging for his touch. He holds back, kissing the silky skin of my inner thighs as he inhales my scent and devours me with his eyes.

  “Please,” I whisper. “I need your mouth on me.”

  He puts his hand against mine, palm to palm, and interlaces our fingers. “I’ll always give you what you need. Always.”

  He laps at my puffy lips, easing his tongue between them in search of my clit. I moan and shift my legs even wider. I can feel my juices coating the inside of my thighs and dripping between my cheeks. If I cared, I’d be mortified at how wet I was. But all I care about now is the god between my thighs who seems happy to feast on me forever.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says as he pauses to spread my lips apart with his thumbs. He tastes me with a long slow lick that runs the length of me. I twitch when he passes over my clit and feel him moan against me. The flat of his tongue is so soft and it strokes me so gently. I feel cherished and treasured and worshiped.

  He turns his head and places his lips over my swollen labia in the perfect kiss. It’s the most erotic thing someone has done to me. And it turns him on as well; his hips are thrusting against the mattress, rubbing his now engorged cock against the duvet. He swirls his hips as he makes love to me with his mouth. I can’t stop grinding against him. And I don’t want to. I’m so close.

 
He turns his attention to my swollen clit. He sucks the swollen nub into his mouth and batters it with his tongue. I howl with pleasure and twist a hand in his brown hair, holding him to me.

  “I’m so close. Please don’t stop.” I’m spasming like I have an electric current coursing through me. He clamps down on my hips with strong hands that won’t let go and fastens his mouth to me like a vise. I’m seeing stars and then a jolt of pleasure rockets through me. I’m lost. Completely and utterly lost. My mind goes blank and I lose time. The waves of pleasure pulsing through me are too strong to fight; I have to just go with them. When I come back to earth, Max is between my thighs, looking up at me with a wicked smile as he lazily laps at my pussy, being careful to stay clear of my ultra-sensitive clit.

  “Want to keep going? See if we can drain another one from you?”

  I sit up and slide a hand between my legs, covering my pussy. I feel perfect right now and I don’t want to push it. “Once was great. It was perfect. Really.”

  “Why are you so uncomfortable when the attention is on you?” he asks as he plants a kiss on my inner thigh. “You’re so beautiful, don’t you know that?”

  “I . . .”

  He rolls onto his back in the middle of the bed. “I need to taste that sugary pussy again. Come sit on my face.”

  “I’m fine, really. I think we should start slow.” But he’s right. I do feel a little uncomfortable having someone lavish me with so much attention.

  “I want you to ride my face until I’m drenched in your sweet pussy juices.”

  I sit there, unmoving and unconvinced. He lifts his head to look at me.

  “Come on,” he says. “I miss the taste of you already. And your sweet scent and the silky feel of you against my tongue.”

  I feel so wanton. I walk on my knees until I hover over his face. I’ve never sat on a guy’s face before. I would hesitate, but he doesn’t let me. As soon as I’m in position above him, he takes my ass in his hands and forces me onto him.