Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  “I like that,” she whispered, after tracing the scar to the end, just below his nipple.

  “What?” His thumb edged her night rail off her other shoulder. Goose bumps chased the soft slither of material over her skin.

  “The way you react to my touch.”

  “Sunshine, you make me burn just by being in the room.”

  “Good.” She slid her arms out of the nightdress, leaving the top caught on the hard peaks of her breasts.

  “I’d be obliged if you could just wiggle the slightest bit,” he hinted.

  She knew why. She could feel his eyes like a touch, heavy on her breasts, making them swell and the nipples bead harder.

  “I bet you would,” she said as she pushed his shirt off his broad shoulders. It didn’t slide off his arms like hers did. There was too much muscle on the man for that. She had to stand on tiptoe to nudge the fabric off his biceps, trailing her fingers along the crease in his upper arm, dipping her finger into the dent of an old bullet wound. So many scars on his hard body. So many times he might have been killed.

  When she settled back down, her nightdress fell to the floor. She was naked before him. There was a heartbeat when she wanted to cover up, but then she looked into his face, drawn tight with desire for her, his nostrils flaring as if he were scenting her arousal, and she did the opposite. She stepped back and squared her shoulders.

  His response was immediate. “Son of a bitch.”

  She’d never heard a curse said with such reverence. The blush she couldn’t control seared her skin. His dark gaze followed the path from her stomach, over her breasts up to her cheeks and then back down to her breasts, where it lingered. His tongue dampened his lower lip.

  “Come here, Sunshine, and let me ease some of that heat.”

  She shook her head, feeling very daring, very feminine. “No. This is my time to play and if I come over there, you’ll take over.”

  “No I won’t, but I can see how hard your nipples are. Wouldn’t you like me to take them in my mouth? Suck them a little? Tease them?” Her knees almost buckled at the thought. He pressed his advantage. “I can make them feel so good. Bring them here, baby, and let me nibble.”

  Need arced out from the hard tips, shooting through her body before rebounding to her breasts, flaring outward at the tips, creating a searing ache that only he could soothe. She cupped her breasts in her hands to contain the demand.

  His curse echoed through the room. Surprise had her attention flying to his face. His gaze was locked on her hands. His fingers were on the fly of his denims, working the buttons over the bulge of his cock, the shirtsleeves caught on his wrist hampering the effort.

  “Do you like it when I touch myself, Clint?”

  His “yes” was a guttural expression of hunger.

  “How?” She slid her fingers along the underside of her breasts toward the tips. Her hands weren’t as big as his and didn’t give the satisfaction of his, but his open sensuality and the heat coming from his heavy-lidded gaze fueled her passion.

  “Touch those pretty nipples, baby.” He kicked off his boots.

  She did, pinching them lightly, watching his tongue flick over his lips as she did and his lids drop lower over his eyes.

  With a simple flex of his arm the shirt ripped up the back. He tore his arms free, before shoving his pants impatiently down over his hips. The material caught on the thrust of his shaft. He swore as she pinched her nipples again, harder this time, moaning a little as the shot of pleasure took her by surprise.

  “Did that feel good?” His smile grew broader. His gaze hotter.

  She nodded, her breath coming in short bursts as she watched him lever the long thick length of his cock free of his pants. Even from here she could see that he was full to bursting, his heavy balls drawn tight to his body, the broad head of his cock dark and glistening with his seed.

  She forgot to move, to breathe as he cupped his shaft in his hand, dragging his palm up the heavily veined length, lifting it to her gaze, letting her see how it jerked beneath his touch.

  Her palms itched to touch him, to hold all that power in her hands. She took a step toward him. He kicked free of his pants, standing before her, unselfconscious in his nudity. The shadows from the lamp highlighted the dense cuts of muscle across his big frame, the power inherent in his touch and the sexuality he radiated so effortlessly. With his hair swinging freely around his face, shadowing his eyes and emphasizing his cheekbones, he looked every inch the dangerous, sexual man that he was.

  Everything inside of her thrilled to the knowledge that he was hers. She pinched her nipples again, holding them the way he did, drawing them away from her body, lifting them toward his mouth.

  His cock leapt at the sight. His tongue ran over those delicious lips and he moaned. For her. Juices flooded her pussy along with the knowledge that she did this to him. He saw her as something he couldn’t resist. She took a step closer, lifting her breasts higher.

  He frowned. “Gently, baby.”

  She didn’t want gentle. “I like this.”

  “Damn it, come here.” His fingers twitched on his cock. He stared at her mouth, her breasts, her pussy, like a man starved. Clear fluid spilled over the tip of his cock, dribbling down the wide shaft.

  For the first time in her life, she refused an order from a man. She stood where she was and pinched harder, lifted higher. He gritted his teeth and shuttled his cock though his fist, fluid coming in a steady stream, easing his way as he watched her.

  “This is not a good time to be teasing me, Jenna,” he warned in a deep, dark voice.

  She disregarded the warning. There was nothing he could do to her that she wouldn’t welcome. The way he handled his cock enthralled her, fascinated her with what it revealed. He wasn’t nearly as careful with himself as he was with her. There was an expediency to his touch when he handled his flesh. Not at all the way he touched her. On her, his hands had a tendency to linger, to savor. To pleasure. The way she wanted to touch him.

  He stroked the length of his cock again and grimaced. She knew his touch, knew how his calluses scraped deliciously against sensitive skin. Knew the pleasure he was giving himself. And wanted it for herself. She slid one hand down her stomach, moving gently on the soft flesh, inching toward her pulsing clit.

  “Son of a bitch, you’re tempting me,” he growled in the back of his throat.

  Yes, she was. And enjoying it. Her pleasure must have shown in her smile, because with one last muttered curse, he was on her, lifting her against him, one hard, muscled arm hitching under her buttocks, anchoring her hips to his as he strode to the bed. He fell with her onto the mattress, laughing when she squealed, catching himself on his hands, his lips still aligned with hers, his cock edging the cleft of her pussy, sliding easily along her lubricated flesh, teasing her clit with a slow, gliding pressure.

  This time she was the one who moaned. And he smiled that wickedly dark smile and dipped his head, his hair stroking her breasts in a silken caress as his lips hovered above hers.

  “You shouldn’t tease a starving man, Sunshine.”

  “Why not?” she whispered into his mouth, the last syllable ending on a moan as he pumped his cock along her labia again.

  “Because you might get more than you bargained for.”

  “How much more?” She bit her lip and arched her neck as the pleasure whipped through her.

  He paused. “You’re in a strange mood tonight.”

  Yes. She was. For the first time in her life she was free and she was in a rush to try everything, but how could she explain that to Clint, who’d probably never felt trapped in his life? She slid her hands over his shoulders, running her nails along the swell of muscle, arching her back into his shiver.

  “It’s like there’s been something weighing me down my whole life and suddenly, it’s not there anymore.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you’re ready to fly?” He kissed her mouth, the right corner, the left, and then the end of her
nose.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s dangerous to tell me that now.” He rested his forehead against hers.

  “Why?” She titled her head back to facilitate the kisses he was spreading down the line of her jaw. She loved his mouth. His kisses. Firm yet soft, each kiss accented by the prickle of his beard. That edge of danger heightening her excitement.

  “I’m holding on by a thread, Sunshine.”

  “Holding onto what?” Oh God, when he sucked on her neck she could barely hold a thought.

  “Control, baby, control.”

  “Do you need it?”

  His laugh buffeted the curve of her shoulder. “Sunshine, I’m a hair’s breadth from either fucking your ass or paddling it.”

  That did not sound good. “Why?”

  “Because you could have been hurt today.” He plumped her breast into his callused palm. “Because I could have lost you.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “The near miss is driving me crazy.”

  His hot mouth closed over her turgid nipple searing her with the heat of his need. Against her, his body was taut with the same desire. She pushed his hair back, watching his cheeks flex as he suckled her. She traced the arch of his brow. She remembered back to their wedding night. His excitement. His kindness. She traced the line of his right eyebrow. He looked up at her, for a split second his soul bare in his eyes. She’d never seen such emptiness in a man’s eyes before. She’d do anything to remove it from Clint’s.

  “I don’t think I’d like to be paddled,” she whispered, taking a leap of faith.

  He froze, releasing her nipple with an audible pop, hitching himself up so he could see her face. “Excuse me?”

  It was harder to say with all of his attention on her. “I don’t think I’d like to be paddled.”

  He cupped her burning cheeks in his palms, forcing her gaze to his. “Baby, are you telling me that you want me to fuck your ass?”

  “I don’t know.” She caught his wrists in her hands, holding tight to him. She just didn’t want him to look so empty. Against her pussy his cock throbbed. Against her chest, his ribs expanded with the effort it took him to breathe. Oh God, he wanted this.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked, hating the quaver in her voice.

  He kissed her hard. “Not in any way you’ll mind.”

  She didn’t find that reassuring. “Will I like it?”

  “I’ll make sure you like it.”

  “How will you fit?” She flexed her hips against him. He was huge.

  “Nice and easy.” He drew his hips back. His cock slid down her slit, brushing her anus in a soft kiss before nestling into the crease. A forbidden pulse of excitement crept into her desire. “Just a little bit at a time.”

  Her bottom cheeks spasmed against his cock, hugging it to her as if trying to tempt him.

  “You like the thought of that.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in his tone. He pressed against her. She sank her nails into his wrists as the pulse spread to an ache. He moved a little and the sharp flare of desire took her breath. “Damn, you’re as sensitive there as you are in your breasts.”

  “That’s good?”

  He kissed her then, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, twining with hers, taking possession. He pushed harder, settling his cock more firmly against her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but press back and try to understand the gamut of emotions tearing at her control. When he allowed her to breathe, he said, “Very good.”

  “I’ll need my cream.” It was half question, half statement of fact.

  He shook his head, his hair swishing against her cheeks. “I have something better.”

  “Better?” She trusted her cream.

  “Yes. Better.”

  She followed his hand with her eyes as he reached for the bedstand drawer and pulled out a jar. It was white and plain and not the least impressive.

  She bit her lip. “I’d rather use my cream.”

  “Trust me, baby, you want this.” He nudged his cock against her anus, her muscles contracted with pleasure and fear. He propped himself on his elbows and opened the jar. She sniffed. It didn’t smell nice like hers.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather use my cream?”

  “I’m sure.” His grin was sin personified. He put the lid on the bed. She caught her breath and closed her eyes as he scooped out a dollop of cream. He kissed her softly as his fingers replaced his cock with a smooth coolness. “This is going to make you feel good, Sunshine.”

  She thought he meant the act, but as his fingers parted her that first stubborn bit, a strange warmth began. She twisted her hips, arching up into it, impaling herself just that much more.

  “Can you feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s going to get warm and then you’re going to want to move.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes. Just go with it. Move against my fingers.”

  “Fingers?” The one he had in her stretched her to the point of pain.

  “I need to stretch you, baby.” He pushed his finger in deeper. Her muscles tensed around the knuckle. It burned. She would have cried out except the warmth from the inside burst into a tingling itch.

  “Oh, heavens.”

  “Shh, don’t tense. Just relax.”

  She couldn’t help but tense. His finger was in her and the heel of his hand pressed against her clit and that itch was demanding she scratch it. Oh God, she needed him to move. He did, but not in a way she wanted. He removed his finger from her rectum, dragging exquisitely along the sensitive inner tissue, temporarily soothing the maddening itch.

  “Clint, please.”

  He scooped out another dollop of cream. She caught his hand as the hot, maddening itch began again.

  “No more.”

  “We’ll need a lot more.” He slipped her grip. She twisted her fingers into the comforter by her head as he pressed his fingers against her ass. “Relax now.”

  His finger touched her. Oh God, it felt so good. She bent her knees and braced her feet against the mattress.

  “Right there, Jenna?” He circled the rim of her anus with his finger, soothing her itch, but spiking her need. She bit her lip and nodded. “Don’t hold it in, baby. I want to hear what you feel.”

  He pressed in slightly, still circling her anus, opening her. A second finger joined the first. One big hand splayed over her stomach, down low.

  “Hold still now.” A sense of fullness invaded her rectum. There was a bite of pain that quickly blended to pleasure as he seated his fingers to the first knuckle. He began to fuck her slowly, in and out, rubbing and stretching her, keeping her between heaven and hell until with a hard push, he seated his fingers to the base, sending mixed signals of pleasure and pain to her brain, which seemed only interested in the pleasure and its need for more.

  “Please.” She arched her neck and screamed. It felt so good, but she needed more. So much more.

  “What is it?”

  “I need you to move.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Give me more.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Now!” She fought the restraint of his hand, her very womb aching for him.

  He shook his head, lashing her abdomen with the thick dark silk of his hair as he kissed her stomach, her hipbone, her pubic mound, and lastly, her clit. The pleasure shot like pain outward, sensitizing all her nerves to the potential for more. She hung with breathless anticipation on the hot wash of his tongue over that straining nubbin, her pussy clenching in an agony of need, her breath suspending in her lungs.

  She grabbed his shoulders, seeking purchase against the sensations destroying her world as she groaned, “Oh God. You’re torturing me.”

  He nipped her clit with his lips, restraining her jump with his hand, keeping her in place for the light scrape of his teeth. “I’m making you feel good.”

  And he was. Every word whispered against her clit stoked her passion, every brush
of his breath held her hostage to the need for more. He gave it to her, scissoring his fingers in her ass, the agony and relief driving her hips up into the descent of his mouth.

  “Clint!”

  “Right here,” he murmured against her, the soft folds between her thighs muffling his drawl, but not his impact on her senses. He was her husband, her lover. He was everything to her, made her want to give everything to him, but he wouldn’t take it. Wouldn’t let her go. He just kept lapping at her pussy, drinking in her juices, swirling figure eight patterns on her most sensitive spots with that wickedly agile tongue, nudging her passion higher but not high enough. Seemingly content to feast on her forever, while his fingers worked her ass.

  Oh heavens, his fingers! She needed more, so much more than he was giving her. More than the throbbing combination of burn and relief. She needed his cock. Driving deep, filling her full, soothing the agony of unfulfilled desire he was feeding. She needed him.

  “Please.” She arched her neck, her back, striving to break the restraints of his hand, wanting to shove her whole pussy into the hot cavern of his mouth. “Help me, Clint.”

  She’d never felt this way before. As if with just a little more, a little something more, she’d disappear onto the swirling hunger that consumed her. It scared her. Even as she wrapped her fingers in Clint’s hair and dragged his mouth harder into her pussy, moaning when she felt the pressure of his teeth, she was pulling back mentally. Afraid of this pleasure, so intense that it had to be a sin.

  “Please.”

  There was no mistaking the fractured knot of fear in Jenna’s high-pitched plea. Clint stilled his fingers and mouth. Her juices spilled over his tongue as she moaned and shifted. He traced a path from her clit to her ass with his index finger.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Clint soothed, spreading her sweet cream around her tightly stretched anus. Damn, she was so small she was going to have trouble taking him. He touched the taut flesh with his tongue. She gasped and jerked, no doubt shocked, and then more of her sweet juices spilled to coat his hands and his tongue. He let them flow around his fingers. If he were a less selfish man, he’d use one of the smaller toys in his collection to stretch her, but he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t. Not with her. Not this first time. This time it had to be him. And her. And nothing else.