by Anthology
When his gaze finally drifted down my body, I watched as the sexiest grin spread over his face.
“Fuck me,” he said softly, “you’re perfect.” His hands slid up the back of my calves, pulling me forward ever so slightly. They continued up my thighs and stopped when each of his hands was palming my ass. My hands wound in his hair at just the same moment as he pressed the lightest of kisses just above the strip of curls between my legs. His mouth continued upward along the path between my breasts, his hands following, gliding over every part of me. When his lips finally connected with mine, the fire had become an inferno. Long gone were the slow and sultry kisses; we’d moved on to the deep, passionate, frantic kisses that stoked the flames.
He pulled me into him and my hands got busy unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and throwing it to the floor, all while his tongue swept through my mouth and his hands pawed at my naked body. I had never really tried to unbutton a shirt without looking before, but it turned out I was pretty good at it. With even more haste, I pulled off his undershirt and then started working on his belt. I managed to get his pants unzipped and down his legs, and while he kicked them off I slid my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs. I pulled away from him, wanting to give him the same image of me kneeling before him, so I looked him in the eye and then slid down to the floor, taking his underwear with me.
There was so much to look at, so much to take in, but I held his gaze, loving the way heat and lust crept into his eyes as I rested back on my ankles. But I could only keep my eyes from his body for so long before I broke down and let myself take all of him in. His cock was magnificent, long and thick, slightly intimidating but not big enough to make me hesitate. It was just big enough to allow for a small pep talk. I know this dick is the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, Vagina, but you’ve got to take this one for the team.
And then there were his thighs. Good God. Clad in denim they’d been my undoing, like blocks of muscle just defined enough to make me want to sit on his lap for all kinds of various reasons—both sex related and not. But bare, those thighs were begging to be handled. I reached forward, my hands coming to rest on the mound of muscle above his knees, and they felt amazing.
“Ever since I saw you sitting next to me at that Blazer game,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these.” Feeling more confident and brave than I ever remembered, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his massive thigh, letting my hands move around to his ass. I knelt up, pressing kisses up his leg, letting his cock brush against my breast, trying not to seem too much like a tease but enjoying the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch.
Before I could take any more action, I was suddenly lifted from the floor and tossed onto my bed. I bounced a little, but all momentum was stopped when Camden’s hard and heavy body pressed me into the mattress.
“One day, I’ll let you take the lead. I’ll lie back and let you do whatever you want, let you have your wicked way with me.” I let out short little puffs of air, my lungs apparently forgetting their one and only job, as Camden’s mouth moved to my neck and his nose moved gently up the side of my throat, stopping just at my ear. “But tonight, I’m in control.” He kissed me just below my ear, and then he moved south. Lips, tongue, and teeth all moved along my throat, along my shoulder, down my chest, and in between my breasts. He palmed one of them, bringing the other to his mouth, greedily sucking my nipple in and hungrily using his teeth and tongue on it.
He stayed there for just a moment, but moved on once I’d gotten accustomed to his mouth around my nipple. His large, strong hands followed his mouth and he left more open kisses down my belly. His fingers gripped my sides and I didn’t know if he was holding me down or just holding me. His hands felt purposeful and possessive. This was no sloppy hookup, this wasn’t some booty call; this was intentional and thoughtful.
He finally settled himself between my thighs, staring at me, spread open and bared to him, with so much intensity I almost couldn’t watch. But the idea of missing the show, of not watching Camden Rogers use his mouth on me, wasn’t an option in my book. His arms wrapped under my knees, hands coming to rest on top of my thighs, both holding me open and pinning me down. His eyes flicked up to meet my gaze, and without breaking it, I watched as his tongue moved against my opening.
My eyes fluttered, nearly closing, but I forced them open, forced myself to enjoy every aspect of what he was doing to me. I wanted to watch him, to feel him, smell him—everything. His tongue swiped over my clit, making my hips jump toward him, and I saw his eyes smile even though his mouth was occupied. He alternated between circling with his tongue and sucking with his mouth, all the while he used his chin and stubble to grind into me, causing my hips to move to a rhythm I’d never found in the past. I was circling my hips, my fingers had found their way to his stupidly soft hair, and my cries were getting louder and more insistent. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself on the cusp of a fantastic orgasm.
“Cam,” I whisper cried. He only hummed in response, the sensation against my clit sending me over the edge of sanity and into the crevasse of ecstasy. My back arched off the bed, my head rolled back, my mouth gaped open, and I prayed—absolutely begged inside my mind—that he would do that to me a million times before he got tired of it. All the while he still held me down, his strong hands gripping my thighs, his mouth not letting up one bit.
When I’d finally stopped convulsing beneath him, his hands loosened up and he pressed soft kisses to the insides of both my thighs while I caught my breath. Then he moved north again, splaying kisses up my center, making his way back to my mouth. When his mouth came back to mine, the kiss was gentle and sated, almost as if he’d gotten as much out of my orgasm as I had. Never had a man gone down on me and then kissed me on the mouth, and for a reason I couldn’t completely grasp, it was the sexiest fucking thing. I tasted a mixture of him and me, tasted the arousal he’d given me, and I was lost in the way the entire experience was making me feel.
He kissed me for ages, it seemed. His hands moved all over me, lightly caressing me, forcefully palming me; each moment it was something different, something better. Each passing second with Camden was better than the last.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and could instantly feel his erection at my core, the length of it fitting perfectly against me. We both realized the connection at the same time, both our bodies going still. His forehead rested against mine, both of us panting, eyes closed, and then he ever so slowly slid his length over me, his cock cradled by me, his head applying the perfect amount of pressure to my clit, and we both groaned at the same time.
“Fuck, Riley, I’m not even in you yet, and I can tell you’re made for me.” His voice was low and raspy, like each word was a chore to get out.
“Please,” I said, my hands fisting the sheets at my sides, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. “I need more.” The sensation of his cock moving over my clit was deliciously agonizing. I loved it and hated it simultaneously. It was everything, but it wasn’t enough.
He thrust against me a few more times, his breathy grunts only pushing me past a sane level of arousal, when he finally pulled away and hopped off the bed. It occurred to me instantly what he was searching for, so I rolled toward my side table and pulled a condom out of the drawer.
“Here,” I said, holding it out to him, watching his mouth turn up into a smile. He stood at the edge of my bed, rolling the condom down his shaft, and it was possibly the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. The image was just so male and he was so entirely beautiful. He finished and then climbed back on the bed, crawling toward me, his eyes starting at my waist and then moving up until they met mine.
When he was over me, he paused for a moment, just looking at me, both his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of my face, my legs spread to accommodate him. When his lips met mine, it was the fucking sweetest kiss, and if I hadn’t been so turned on, I would have simply melte
d into it.
“You okay?” he asked, his face just a hair’s breadth from mine.
“Yes,” I breathed, squirming beneath him, aching for contact.
He kissed me again, but this time, as his tongue swept through my mouth, his pelvis tipped and he slowly slid into me, inch by fucking inch.
I moaned into his mouth, not even caring, just feeling. My pep talk to my vagina hadn’t been enough; I hadn’t warned her that she’d be ruined for all other penises. Because in that moment, when Camden was buried in me, pushed so far into me I never wanted him to leave, I knew it would never be the same with anyone else. I was a goner.
And then he pulled out.
And then he thrust back in.
Fuck.
Me.
He slowly built a rhythm, finding a pace that was both punishing and wild. He fucked me and kissed me at the same time, and I couldn’t keep up. He was always one step ahead of me and I was lost to sensation, completely and utterly useless. But I think he liked that about me. I think he got off on the sight of my eyes fluttering, of my fingers gripping the pillow behind my head, and my voice spewing unintelligible words. He was grunting and biting and saying small words like “Yes,” and “fuck,” and “goddamn.”
When he grabbed my ass and pulled me higher onto his cock, I knew he had to be close. His momentum changed, his urgency. Suddenly he was chasing something. He thrust quicker and quicker, and every time he moved inside of me it was like tiny sexual fireworks detonating within me. Then the bastard moved one hand to my clit, rubbing circles around it with his thumb, and that was officially the end of me.
I exploded into a million tiny fractals, scattering, pulsing, electrified.
And then Camden’s hands gripped me, collected me, and pulled me back together, holding me close to his body.
He thrust wildly and then, with a groan, finally came.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, moments later, before I could even fathom putting together a two-word sentence. “Oh, fuck,” he repeated, with a little more enthusiasm. This was the moment I was used to the men rolling off me and making an excuse as to why they had to leave. But Camden simply pulled his face far enough away from mine so that I could see his clear eyes and said, “We’re doing that again. All the fucking time.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that broke from me, shot out of me like a cannon, then turned into a fit of giggles. He’d rendered me stupefied.
“Jesus,” he whispered, his hand brushing my crazy hair from my face as he smiled at me with such sincerity. “Where the hell have you been all this time?”
I managed to shrug, not finding any words suitable for the emotional whirlwind inside my body.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. From now on, you’re with me, yeah?” I nodded, holding my breath, knowing that committing to a man while he was still inside of me for the first time wasn’t the smartest move. “You’re gonna go to the game with me later this week. We’re gonna find the guy who operates the kiss cam, and I’m gonna buy him a beer.”
I smiled at the thought, the idea that there was actually a real person out there responsible for all this.
“Just so long as it’s a Hef,” I said with wink.
THE END
About the Author
Anie Michaels lives in Portland, Oregon and is an author of contemporary romance, erotic romance, and women's fiction novels. She's been writing professionally since 2013 and loves spending her days stalking the people who live in her head. She is the author of The Never Series, The Never Duet, The Private Serials, and the stand-alone novels The Space Between Us, The Absence of Olivia, and Instead of You. Anie spends her free time raising her two children with her husband, drinking coffee, reading, spending time with friends and family, and generally causing mayhem.
Amazon Author Page - http://www.amazon.com/Anie-Michaels/e/B00H5VZVSS/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1454951098&sr=1-2-ent
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Honest Liar – Anna Brooks
If there ever was a day for me to walk along the street with an open bottle of champagne, today was it. Instead of this glorious sunny afternoon in Portland being the first day for a fresh start, it’s turned out to be shit.
Literally.
Not only was I stuck in traffic for four hours, but I got a flat tire and discovered I didn’t have a spare. Therefore I had to ride into town next to a creepy tow truck guy who smelled like fried chicken and motor oil.
Luckily I was only six miles from my new house, so he dropped me off there, where I proceeded to step into a nice steaming pile of poo. It was fresh. I could tell because it was warm.
I dragged my feet up the walkway, sans shoes, and onto my creaky porch, then reached under the mat to grab the key the landlord said he was going to leave for me, only to find nothing. When I called him, he apologized and said he forgot to leave it before he went on vacation. As in, in another state. He’d be back in a couple of days.
Not like I was going to break into the house, even though it was tempting, so on my way to the hotel I saw a little over a mile away, I ran into the liquor store and grabbed a bottle of bubbly. I’m supposed to be celebrating, after all.
Now I’m standing at the front desk bare footed, holding an open container, and leaning on a ratty suitcase. Any dignity I had just vanished, because I stomp my foot when the guy tells me with a scowl on his face there are no rooms available; his obviously fake nose points up at me.
“Come on, are you serious?”
“Sorry, ma’am. I have availability tomorrow.” I want to punch the entitlement right out of this punk.
My purse slides from my shoulder and lands on the floor. Of course everything falls out of it and rolls around. “There has to be something. Please.” I hold my hands together and pray to him like he’s Jesus himself. “I’m begging you. I just need a place to sleep; I’m so freaking tired. I drove down here from Seattle, got stuck in traffic, got a flat tire, found out my landlord abandoned me, and I stepped in dog shit. I don’t even have shoes. Come on, please, there has to be—”
“Harvey, get me an extra card.”
I whip my head around to find the source of the unusually deep voice, and swallow. Loud. Holy mother of… I look up, and up, and stop on his dark hair. It’s all messy and should look unkempt, but instead, he might as well have just walked off the damn runway. How can a guy have bed head that’s sexy? His dark eyes remind me of all the evergreens I passed on my way here, and his lips, the one on top slightly thin, remind me that it’s been almost two years since I’ve gotten laid.
“Sir…” Harvey’s snooty voice is hesitant now, and I turn my eyes back around at him.
“Key. Now.”
A tingle starts at the base of my neck and slides all the way down my spine at the commanding tone. Harvey’s eyes are about as wide as mine feel and I stutter over my words. “I. Um. That’s nice, but—”
“Here you go, sir.”
The man reaches past me to take the key card from Harvey, then he grabs my suitcase and begins to walk away with it.
I scramble to throw everything back into my purse and run to catch up to him. “Hey,” I whisper-shout, and he stops, which makes me slam into him. My ghetto fabulous champagne in a bag hits his back, and bubbles fly up and soak the back of his white button down shirt. “Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head and continues walking. “It’s okay.”
What’s an idiot like me to do but follow him? So I do. He holds the elevator door until I step in, and then he slides the card in the slot and pushes the letter P.
“You can stay in the guest suite. I’m going out of town for business for the next two days.”
I muster up the courage to turn and face him. “Thank you, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable staying in your room. I don’t even know you.”
“It’s a pent
house. Not a room. You’ll have privacy, and aside from me, you are the only one who will have access to your side.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
For the first time, he smiles. His teeth are fucking perfection. Like something you’d see on a toothpaste commercial. “Probably not. But just as well; I won’t even be here.”
The elevator dings, the gold doors slide open silently, and I follow him out and into a freaking mansion. “Uhh…”
“Bedroom is over to the right, the master bath is attached. You can see the kitchen and dining room.” He points to the full chef’s kitchen and the dining room with an ebony dining set and a chandelier that I’m pretty sure is made with real crystals. “Second bathroom and living room are around the corner.”
“Listen, Mr…”
He turns and rubs his chin between his thumb and index finger. His tongue slides between his lips and I clench my thighs together.
“Owens.”
“Mr. Owens, look, I—”
“My first name is Alexander.”
“Okay, Alex, I appreciate your hospitality, but I couldn’t possibly stay here.”
“Why not?” He releases my suitcase and crosses his arms.
“Because this is too… nice. I just need a bed and a shower.”
“Both of which you can get here.”
“But—”
“Listen, I have a flight to catch. Make yourself at home.” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and sets a business card on the table, then lays the key card next to it. “My cell is on the back. Call me if you have any problems.”
