Frenched

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Frenched Page 11

by Harlow, Melanie


  “No. It’s two right hands, see?”

  I stopped hunting for my camera and looked closer. “It is two right hands. I didn’t even notice that.” For a moment I stopped to consider how it was possible for two right hands to join that way. “What do you think they’re doing?”

  Lucas stood right behind me and whispered in my ear. “Well, I have a dirty mind, especially today, but if you ask me, those hands belong to two people having sex. There’s a tension there, like they’re just about to clasp, that makes me think…” He stood so close, I could feel his breath on my shoulder, his chest on my back, his hips right behind mine. My whole body was intensely aware of him. He brought his right hand up, palm toward me, just in front of my right shoulder. “See?”

  Biting my lip, I brought my right hand up to meet his, mirroring the sculpture in front of us. My mind whirled with thoughts of him naked, pressed up tight against my bare back.

  Standing up.

  Against a wall.

  Plunging into me.

  Maybe even in the shower.

  All wet.

  I felt the rise of an erection against my tailbone.

  My clit tingled. My core muscles clenched

  Fuck.

  Woozy with desire, I had to close my eyes for a second. “Jesus, Lucas.”

  He laughed softly, dropping his hand. “Told you I had a dirty mind. Now you better walk in front of me for a few minutes. I don’t want to scare anybody with what’s in my pants right now.”

  Smiling at him over my shoulder, I pulled my camera from my bag and took a picture of the sculpture. It might not capture the artistry or the light, but dammit, I wanted a memento of the time Lucas nearly gave me an orgasm in the middle of the Musée Rodin.

  #

  There were plenty of other works of art in that museum that were unbelievably sensual and romantic, but as we strolled outside into the garden, it was the image of the hands I couldn’t get out of my head.

  Or maybe it was the feel of Lucas’s stiff cock on my ass.

  I was so hot and bothered, I wasn’t sure I would last much longer. As we paused in front of The Thinker, probably Rodin’s most famous work ever, I felt guilty that all I could Think about was fucking Lucas in the shower. I cleared my throat, prepared to banish niceties to the Gates of Hell, which was another of Rodin’s masterpieces I couldn’t concentrate on.

  What, it’s full of naked writhing bodies!

  But before I could suggest we go back to his apartment, get naked and writhe, he asked me if I’d like the see the gardens, and I felt too ashamed to say no. Come on, Mia. You can give it ten more minutes.

  “Sure. I’d love that,” I said.

  As we walked toward the large fountain at the back, I wondered again if it was only me having a hard time remaining patient. Lucas kept making jokes about his dirty mind and tented pants, but I was beginning to think my imagination was the filthier of the two.

  Then a moment later we reached the edge of the gardens, and Lucas pulled me between two rows of hedges, where a narrow gravel path made a little secret passageway. “I’ve been waiting to do this all day and I can’t wait any longer.” He turned me into his arms and kissed me, slanting his mouth over mine and plunging his tongue between my lips like he was starving for me.

  I threw my arms around him, pushing my chest against his, desperate to feel his hard muscle on my soft curves. He dropped a hand to my waist and slid it up to one breast, over my camisole. I shivered.

  “Mmmmm,” I moaned. “That feels so good. I love your hands on me.”

  That’s when the first few splats of rain hit my head. Both of us glanced up and noticed the huge dark clouds moving in. Thunder rumbled softly.

  “Perfect timing.” Lucas kissed me quickly. “I’m ready to go.”

  “Me too.” We started walking back toward the house when it began to pour, the rain coming down in steady sheets. “Hold on, I have an umbrella.” I stopped to dig through my bag.

  But it wasn’t in there.

  Frantically, I rummaged through the contents of my bag, but there was no umbrella to be found.

  “Shit, I forgot my umbrella.”

  And then I began to laugh.

  Closing up my bag so the gifts inside wouldn’t get wet, I laughed hysterically and twirled in a circle. “Lucas, I fucking forgot to pack an umbrella! Do you know what this means?”

  “Um, we’re both going to get very wet?” He had to think I was crazy, but he didn’t hurry us out of the rain, even as thunder echoed above us again. Instead he just stood there watching me dance, waiting for me to explain my soggy euphoria.

  “That’s OK! In fact, it’s fucking awesome!” Overwhelmed with joy, I rushed at him, took his chin in my hands and kissed him hard on the mouth.

  He laughed. “Does rain turn you on or something?”

  “No. Well, it does now, but it never did before. See, I’ve always had this fantasy about kissing in the rain, but I’m always so well-prepared, I’ve actually never been caught in the rain on a date without an umbrella.” I jumped up and down, my wet hair flapping in my face. “The fact that I left the hotel without one today means that I was so distracted by other things—good things—that I didn’t even think to plan ahead for shitty weather! I don’t even think I checked it today!”

  I’m not sure Lucas appreciated the monumental nature of the statement, but he grinned and pulled me close, kissing me as if he’d never get enough, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Not the people giving us strange looks as they rushed for cover. Not the rain soaking our hair and clothing and streaming down our faces. Not the fact that we’d only met two days before and had less than a day left together.

  Or maybe it was as if only the last reason mattered.

  He kissed me as we waited for the Metro, his arms wrapped around me from behind, his lips soft on my neck. He kissed me on the train, where it was so crowded we had to stand, our damp bodies pressed together at the front of the car, our mouths so close we couldn’t resist bringing them lightly together. He kissed me hard in the stairwell of his building, grabbing me as I tried to race up the steps and pinning me to the wall between the second and third stories, my hair dripping on his arms.

  “You’re all wet. I like you that way,” he said, his mouth searing a path down my throat.

  We were both panting, hands groping, our sodden clothing too heavy on our bodies. “I’m wet everywhere,” I whispered.

  With a groan he tore his mouth from me and pulled me up the final flight of stairs so fast my feet barely found purchase on the cement. The ten seconds it took him to unlock and throw open his apartment door felt like an eternity, and the moment we were inside, I dropped my bag, he slammed the door, and we went at each other like feral wolves.

  Tongues and teeth gnashing, we tore off every shred of each other’s clothing, a cyclone of four hands, frantic breaths, and hammering hearts that mocked the storm raging outside. Rain pounded against the windowpanes as Lucas shoved me back against the door. Dropping to his knees, he forced my heels apart and plunged his tongue between my legs, hooking his arms under my thighs. Gasping, I put my hands in his hair as he tongued me relentlessly, swirling hard circles over my clit before closing his mouth over it, sucking greedily. Then he brought one hand to my belly, flattening his palm over my abdomen and rubbing me with his thumb while his tongue drove inside me again and again.

  Oh God oh God oh God, it’s happening too fast. I moaned and cursed and clenched my fists in his wet hair, feeling the vortex build low in my stomach and my legs weaken. “Fuck, Lucas, I can’t stand, I can’t stand.”

  His mouth traveled up my body, warm and wet on my stomach, my ribs, my chest. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, while filling his hand with the other breast. I writhed against the door, flattening my palms back against it as I arched into him. It was too much and not enough. My body yearned for everything he could give me with an urgency I’d never felt before. I felt almost violent in my need to
have him.

  I reached low between us, taking his solid cock in my grasp, sheathing it with both hands. He gasped, growing harder and thicker and driving me mad with the need to feel my lips on him, to lick him up and down, to taste him. By no means was I an experienced giver of fellatio, but I’d done enough research in the attempt to liven things up with Tucker that I had a few ideas.

  Yes, this means I googled blow job advice from guys.

  Several times.

  I was totally prepared to test out the top tips, but what really knocked me out was how fucking ecstatic I was about it. Before, I’d kind of approached it like an actual project, but I was jumping out of my skin to go down on Lucas.

  Falling to my knees at his feet, I pressed my lips to his upper thigh, and dragged my tongue across his lower abs, keeping his erection firmly in my grip.

  Then I looked up at him, with the head of his cock poised just before my open lips.

  His mouth was open, his eyes on fire.

  Without looking away, I touched my bottom lip to the velvety tip and shook my head slightly from side to side.

  “Christ, Mia.” His chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

  I took him in between my lips, one hard inch at a time, and he tipped forward, hands bracing against the door. Thunder growled in the distance, blending with Lucas’s low groan of pleasure as I slid him in deeper, stopping only when he hit the back of my throat. Moaning softly, I kept him there and gave him several slow, tight pulls with one hand.

  “Oh my God. Fuck yes.” Lucas inhaled and exhaled loudly as I eased my lips up and down his cock and then circled my tongue around the underside of the tip. “Fuck yes, you’re unbelievable.”

  I looked up before taking him all the way in again, jerking him into my mouth a little quicker, and my heart pounded at the way he couldn’t take his eyes off me, the way he breathed so heavy, the way he spoke.

  “God, Mia, you’re so fucking beautiful. I love watching you.”

  It was even hotter than I’d imagined, pleasing him this way. And I loved it as much as he did—my skin burned and heat pulsed through my body. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so unabashed, so free to do anything I wanted, so confident that what I was doing felt good. I reached between his legs, teasing and playing and touching him everywhere, watching and listening to see what he liked best.

  It was hard to tell.

  Everything I did, every inch of his body I explored, made him tremble and curse and moan. “You fucking gorgeous woman, I can’t believe the things you do to me. You make me crazy.”

  I raked my nails down one of his thighs, then slid my palm around to grab his ass. He began to thrust into my mouth, never taking his eyes off the sight of his cock plunging between my lips and exhaling quickly with each drive of his hips. I was so turned on, I reached down to touch myself without event thinking about it—something I never would have done before.

  Lucas sucked in his breath. “Yes, God yes. Touch yourself. Let me watch you.”

  Shamelessly, I rubbed myself where his tongue had been before, dipping my fingers inside my dripping body and feeling how wet he made me.

  “Good girl. Now let me taste you again.” He reached down and took my arm, lifting my hand to his lips and sucking my fingers.

  His cock twitched in my mouth.

  “Oh fuck. That’s it. Come here.” He dragged me to my feet and picked me up beneath my arms, setting me down hard on the kitchen counter. “Now don’t fucking move.”

  He strode from the kitchen into the bedroom and returned just seconds later rolling on the condom.

  “Spread your legs.”

  My belly flipped wildly at his command, and I widened my knees. Reaching around my back, he used one hand to pull me toward the edge of the counter and the other to guide his entrance into me.

  “Mm, you’re so wet.” He kept one hand on my tailbone as he slid in deep, eyes closed. “So tight, so hot.”

  “Yes,” I murmured, snaking my hands around his waist. “It feels so good, Lucas. Don’t stop.”

  “Never,” he said, opening his eyes and pushing into me with deep, hard strokes. “I want to be inside you all night.”

  Our mouths crashed together, a hot tangle of tongues and panting breaths before I grabbed his shoulders and arched back, tilting my hips to feel him in just the right spot. Within minutes, I felt the tremors close in, and I wrapped my legs around his thighs.

  As soon as I felt his teeth on my nipple, the orgasm ripped through me, and I cried out, one long, continuous sound of pure pleasure as my body seized up—my hands squeezing his shoulders, my heels digging into his leg muscles, my insides clenched around his pounding cock.

  I wanted to pick my head up and watch him come but I couldn’t. Instead I fell flat on my back across the counter, my fingers curled over the edge.

  “Fuck. Oh my God, look at you.” Lucas flattened a hand over one breast and kept the other one locked on my hip, slamming into me harder and faster until his body went rigid and still, pulsing inside me.

  Right fucking there on the kitchen counter.

  I don’t think I need to tell you that this was new territory for me.

  As was the kitchen floor a short while later (me on top).

  And the living room rug not long after that (we took turns).

  Eventually we made it into the bedroom, where we collapsed on the bed in a heap of sweaty, exhausted limbs, sore muscles, and really, really fucked up hair.

  And all I could think was, How soon can we do it again?

  We fell asleep, and when I woke up, I watched Lucas for a few minutes. His bedroom window was open slightly, allowing a cool breeze to blow through, and I could still hear the rain, although the thunder had ceased. I rolled onto my belly and set my chin in my hand, breathing in rainy-cool air and the scent of sex on our bodies.

  Lucas’s skin was a little olive in tone, not very hairy except on his legs, and unmarred from what I could see, except for a small scar on his stomach. The inch-long slash sat just below his bottom left rib. I was tempted to run my finger over it, but I didn’t want to wake him.

  He lay on his back, one arm tossed above his head, the other across his belly. I take it back. His armpits are little hairy too. I stifled a giggle. But his chest was nice and smooth, his nipples the color of wine—couldn’t stop the smile now—and his stomach a delicious meal of muscles and lines and that happy little trail that made my mouth water. The sheet was pulled up to his hips, or I’d have had more to enjoy.

  “You’re awake.” Lucas’s eyes were open, his voice scratchy. “And you’re staring at me.”

  I laughed. “Sorry. Nothing creepy, I promise. Just enjoying the view.”

  He closed his eyes and smiled. “Carry on.”

  Giving him a swat on the chest, I let my head fall onto my upper arm and stretched out next to him. “Mmmm. That was amazing.”

  “The sex or the nap?”

  “Both.” I wasn’t really a napper—I usually felt guilty about them, like there was always something I could be doing. But waking up next to Lucas on a rainy evening felt even better than crossing something off a list.

  “Agreed. But now I’m starving,” he said, scratching his stomach.

  “Are you? Yeah, I guess we sort of skipped dinner. Poor baby. You had to work so hard without enough energy.”

  He looked at me. “You. Are not. Work.”

  I smiled shyly, and he reached out, pulling me close so my body aligned with his and my head rested on his chest.

  “But,” he continued. “I do need some energy if we’re going to keep this up—which I hope we do—so we should probably get something to eat. It must be nine o’clock.”

  My heart beat hard against his side. Could he feel it? “OK.”

  But neither of us moved, and in a moment our breathing synced in a way that had me warm and drowsy again. I wrapped an arm around his stomach and Lucas’s hand traced spirals on my shoulder. When his stomach growled, it startled me.
r />   “Your body has spoken,” I said, sitting up. “Shall we eat?”

  “Definitely. What do you feel like?”

  I shrugged. “Surprise me.”

  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “What?”

  It split wide open on his face. “Your hair is awesome right now.”

  Groaning, I wrapped my head in my hands. “I know. So is yours.”

  “I figured.” He swept a hand through his and sat up as well. “I guess I should comb it.”

  I dropped my arms and feigned shock. “You own a comb?”

  He tackled me, throwing me onto my back and hovering above me, my wrists pinned to the bed. His curly mop of hair fell forward, but rather than make me laugh, it had me chewing my bottom lip again, imagining his head between my thighs. What the hell was I going to do when I had to go home? What if I never had this again? Lucas lingered above me a moment, studying me, and both our chests started to expand more rapidly. I felt his engorged cock on my thigh, hard and ready.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  “My stomach can wait,” he said, lowering his mouth to my neck. “My dick is more demanding. It wants you now.”

  Desire oozed between my legs as he sucked my earlobe and began to slide his body over mine.

  “Lucas.”

  “Yeah.” His breath was warm in my ear.

  “Let’s take a shower.”

  #

  4 Insanely Glorious Things

  I Realized In The Shower With Lucas

  (& 1 Terrifying One)

  1) Lucas is Dangerous When Wet. Because when I saw him with his hair soaked and slicked back, it only emphasized the cut of his cheekbones, the arch of his brows, the angle of his jaw, and I nearly hyperventilated with the need to put my mouth EVERYWHERE.

  2) Having someone else wash your hair and soap your body feels more decadent than indulging in molten chocolate cake —especially when that person is naked, sexy as hell, and massages your scalp in a way that makes your toes curl.

 

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