Her hips punched forward, seeking what she needed, and he rolled against her, reveling in the small, frantic mews she made at the contact. It had been a while for him, and maybe it had for her, too. Scarlett’s hands moved to his shirt, tugging at it as her core continued to rock against his erection.
Fuck waiting. His hand slipped between her legs, stroking her through her pants. Her knees trembled, and he slipped his free arm around her waist, holding her up as he rubbed the spot that had her head falling back against the door. Heavy breaths and moans filled the air from both of them, but she didn’t pull away. No, Scarlett leaned into his touch, taking her pleasure. Connor felt himself harden further and a bead of precum formed on the tip of his dick, still tucked away in his pants. Scarlett wantonly getting herself off against the palm of his hand was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
He met her gaze, heating further at the arousal blazing within them, and she nodded. Yes.
She wore linen slacks, professional but tight enough to show off her spectacular ass. They also had a handy front opening. He pulled the clasp free and slid his hand down, seeking out her heat. His fingers brushed over her curls before finding her sensitive nub. He rubbed her there while using his fingers to part her folds. God, she was soaked. He took her mouth again as he explored her sex, but it wasn’t enough. When she came for him, it was going to be spread open where he could watch as she screamed her pleasure.
Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand. She didn’t pause, tugging at his belt and fly as his lips moved down her neck and across her shoulder. Somewhere along the line, the top several buttons of her shirt had become undone and his knees nearly buckled at the sight of the creamy mounds of her breasts against a pale blue, lacy bra.
Without missing a beat, he took her in his arms and moved them over to a rug he’d seen lying on the floor in the living room. There was no way they were making it to a bed, but she deserved better for their first time together than being fucked against her front door. He would take his time to taste her, worship her, even if it killed him in the process.
Laying her down, his lips found hers again as he made quick work of her clothing, opening her shirt all the way before slipping her pants down her toned legs. She lifted her hips and then pushed at the waistband as he slid them down, shimmying them down her legs, as if she was as desperate to get herself naked as he was to get her naked. When he looked down at her after dropping the pants on the floor, Connor nearly came in his pants. The lacy bra was matched with tiny pale blue lace panties, barely enough to hide anything from his view. He dipped his hand inside the barely-there fabric, stroking her. Scarlet alternated between kisses and moans as her hips rolled against his hand, and she pulled roughly at his shirt. He finally paused long enough to reach behind him and pull it over his head, throwing it somewhere across the room. He didn’t care. He was too taken by the sight before him.
Scarlett lay before him, her legs wide and her pussy covered only by a scrap of lace. The front of her shirt hung open, similarly sheer cups being the only thing hiding her breasts from his gaze. He touched her core again, grinding his palm against her clit, and was rewarded with a look of intense pleasure. She went soft against his grip even as she pushed back against his touch.
Connor pushed her bra cup down, and Scarlett arched her back, pushing her flesh toward his mouth. He obliged, sucking the hardened nipple into his mouth while his fingers returned to stroking her folds. Her breaths turned short and sharp as wetness slicked her pussy at his touch. He attacked her other breast, sucking it into his mouth before flicking her with his tongue as his hand moved faster against her folds. One finger slipped just inside her core, and Scarlett cried out, her head falling back and eyes closing as her back arched against his hold. Her breathy sighs became deep moans, and Connor reveled in the sound. His dick was so hard it could pound nails, but there was only one place he wanted to be that day. The thought of sliding into her tight, warm heat was nearly enough to undo him, even as she writhed against his touch.
He kissed his way down her body, swirling his tongue in her belly button, before moving back to her mouth, possessing her there as he slid his finger deeper inside her.
“God, yes,” she mumbled against his lips. Connor pressed his palm down against her clit, grinding against her as his finger pumped in and out of her pussy, earning him another rush of wetness that slicked her thighs. That was it. He needed to taste her.
He moved, kneeling in front of her on the rug. Connor watched as her eyes sparkled when she realized what he was doing. She didn’t try to pull away or cover herself up, but instead spread her legs wider, making a place for him. Fuck, could she get any more perfect?
For the first time since he’d taken her mouth against the door, he slowed down. As much as he wanted to be buried inside her heat, there was no way he was rushing it. The first moment she’d be bared to him was one he was going to savor. He had no idea if she would give him a second chance to make her scream his name, and at least this way, he’d have the memories to hang on to while he jerked himself off in the shower.
Gently, he hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties, resisting the urge to tighten his hands and rip them from her body. Already, he could smell her arousal. God, the taste of her would explode on his tongue. Until then, it would be fun to torture her a little. The hotter he made her, the sweeter she’d taste in the end.
His hands stayed where they were, fingers skating lightly over her hips, tugging the scrap of lace down inch by inch until Scarlett’s legs were quivering with need and his touch raised goose bumps in its wake. Finally, her pussy was exposed to him and her thighs slicked with her arousal, and Connor couldn’t wait a moment longer to discover her unique flavor. Her panties hit the floor at the same speed as the rest of their clothing and he dropped to the floor, lying on his chest in front of her, and his tongue parted her folds as he licked her all the way along. She shuddered beneath him at the contact, and his hand moved to find her clit, circling around the hard nub as his tongue continued its assault.
Scarlett’s hands flew to the cushion behind her head, gripping it tightly as a litany of words fell from her mouth. Yes. Faster. There. Oh, God. They spurred him on.
Connor licked her folds once more and then moved his mouth to her sensitive clit, sucking it inside as he thrust a finger deep into her core. Her pussy spasmed around him as he withdrew and pushed back inside, and his cock twitched in his pants, begging to be let free and replace his hand. No. He was going to get an orgasm from her before anything else. If she tasted like this now, he couldn’t wait to find out her unique taste when she came on his face. He wanted his eyes open and no distractions as he watched her come apart for him for the first time.
He alternated hand and tongue, moving from swirling around her clit to thrusting his tongue inside her while rubbing her most sensitive part, bringing her closer and closer to the edge but switching each time before she came. After the third time, Scarlett growled and her fingers threaded through his hair, grasping him tight enough that tendrils of pain danced across his scalp.
Connor got the message. She was done playing, and he was more than ready to make her fall apart in his arms.
He placed his mouth over her clit, sucking the sensitive flesh between his lips while thrusting two fingers deep into her core, pressing against the spot deep inside her that had made her quiver. Once, twice, and then her pussy fluttered around his fingers. He thrust as deep as he could reach and flicked her clit with his tongue, and Scarlett’s head pressed into the pillow as her grip on his hair tightened. “Fuck, yes!” she yelled and her core pulsed around him, locking him inside as her orgasm overtook her. He rode her through, licking up every drop of fluid she gave until finally her hips stopped bucking against his hand and she opened her eyes, her gaze still hot as hell despite the sated, satisfied look on her face.
“More.”
He didn’t need any additional words. Connor quickly shed his jeans, grabbed a condom from his wallet
, and sheathed himself. Lowering himself down over her, he braced himself on one forearm. He leaned down, taking her mouth again, and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth at the same time as he brushed the tip of himself along her folds. Scarlett arched her back, pushing herself toward him and finally, he pushed inside. Wet heat engulfed him and it took every ounce of control he had not to shove inside her up to the hilt. Instead, he began with short strokes, punching his hips. In and out, and again, until Scarlet was flushed and writhing beneath him, meeting him with every thrust.
Placing a hand under her knee, he lifted her leg up to rest on his shoulder, groaning when the position made him slide deeper within her. Her mouth opened in a silent “oh,” followed quickly by a moan as he pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting deep inside her again. He repeated the motion, and Scarlett’s eyes nearly rolled backward into her skull. Connor grinned. He’d found the spot. Now it was his job to hit it, over and over again. Her moans turned into sharp, sweet cries, and he sped up his thrusts, one hand moving to massage her breast as he continued to piston in and out of her pussy. It rippled around his dick, caressing him.
As much as he wanted to see her come undone again, Connor almost wished he could freeze that moment in time. Feeling her tighten around his cock as he pumped in and out of her sex, her breathy sighs and moans as he hit every magic spot—it was pure heaven. He slowed down, thrusting just as deeply but languidly, taking his time to watch the expressions of ecstasy that moved across her face with each slide of his cock against her sensitive flesh. The heat between them was almost a tangible thing, and he felt his balls tighten as her pussy clenched.
She must have had the same idea as she reached around, grabbing ahold of his ass and squeezing, digging in her nails as she pushed him tight against her, sliding him balls-deep inside her. She looked at him, biting her lip, daring him. Connor obliged, circling his hips against her clit, grinding himself against her as he continued to move deep within her core.
Scarlett’s cries returned, and her face tightened with pleasure. He increased his speed again, pushing into her and then repeating the circle-grind, until she was mewing with want. “Fuck. I need to come. Connor, make me come.”
There were no sweeter words. He rose to his knees, hooking both legs behind her knees and raising her up to hit the spot that would start the explosion. She leaned up and he took her mouth in a searing kiss, his hips moving without conscious thought as he reveled in the feel of her.
Scarlett’s cries became louder and her breaths faster until her mouth fell open, and she shuddered beneath him as her pussy rippled and clenched around his cock, sending him flying after her over the edge. He kept thrusting, bliss rushing through him as his dick pulsed inside her. He held himself against her core, groaning his release.
Recovering from her orgasm, Scarlett reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, spending yet more pleasure sparking through him. He stayed buried inside her heat for a moment longer, letting the pleasure seep through his bones as he moved languidly inside her until the last of the ecstasy faded.
Connor leaned down and touched his lips to hers in a long, slow kiss, before reluctantly withdrawing from her and standing. “I’ll just take care of this.”
Connor had no idea what happened between leaving Scarlett resting on the rug while he found the bathroom to take care of the condom, but when he came back, she was lying on her side, all evidence of the pleasure they’d created together erased from her face. Her expression was tight, emotions shuttered, and she said only one thing. “Thank you. Now please leave.”
4
Scarlett
Scarlet felt like someone had rubbed her entire eye area with sandpaper. Her lids were sealed with some kind of gritty shit that tore at her eyelashes when she wrenched her eyes open. By the fall of the sun across the room, it was mid-afternoon, when she normally woke up after a night shift, but still, something was off. She was confused for a moment, until she realized her view was of her living room sideways and not her bedroom walls, until how she’d spent her early morning came flooding back. Her head alternated between a pounding between her eyes and an ache at the back, where it pushed against the rather unyielding floor. Apparently, she’d spent the entire morning asleep on the rug. The rug where she’d completely freaked out after Connor had given her the most mild-blowing orgasm she’d ever had. From the look of the throw draped over her legs, she’d had the presence of mind to pull that down over her, but that was it. She was completely naked beneath it, a slight stickiness of sweat—and probably other things—covering her skin as a reminder of the colossal mistake she’d made.
Her hand flopped over her eyes, shielding them from the sun’s assault, and she groaned low in her throat as the memories flooded her mind. Connor. God, why did he have to be so fucking sexy? All muscle, rippling with every move, and ropy forearms, a vein standing out in sharp relief has he’d held his weight over her on one arm. The man oozed sex and probably didn’t have a single clue what he was doing to the entire female population every time he walked down Main Street. Let alone if any of them saw him naked . . .
She groaned again, flopping the arm back to her side. God, she was such an idiot. She’d been too busy tearing his clothes off that morning for any conversation. It would have only gotten in the way of the frantic seeking of an orgasm. Connor had delivered there, too. More than once. Her core clenched, choosing that moment to remind her of just how good the sex had been. Holy hell. That man knew how to fuck.
She sighed, hauling herself up and running a hand through what was undoubtedly the worse bed-head she’d ever had. It would have to be, Connor’s thrusts were so deep, she’d been sliding back and forth under him as he pounded into her. Was it possible to deeply regret she’d ever touched him and at the same time desperately want to rip his clothes off again the next time she saw him, all at once? The way her stomach was flip-flopping at the thought of seeing him naked again, she doubted even being right in the middle of Main Street would stop her.
She frowned. Perhaps that was just the Bloody Marys she’d consumed. Despite the food she’d had with them, alcohol had won the day. It had been intentional, she supposed. Usually, she drank just enough that she’d forget she was alone, forget she was walking back into an empty house at the end of her shift, with no one to talk to about her crappy day. No one to hold her as she cried when she hadn’t been able to save someone. She didn’t get raging drunk, and it wasn’t every day, but there were some days when going home to a dark, empty house was just too much to bear.
Except she hadn’t that morning. Instead, the alcohol had removed her inhibitions just enough to invite a man back with her. A man who had turned her inside out and her life upside down with the best sex she’d ever had.
Heat spread across her face, and she fought the urge to cover it with her hands again. No one was present to see her gigantic fuckup, complete with mental breakdown afterward. How the hell had she gone from feeling sorry for herself, missing her dead husband, to writhing underneath a firefighter on the goddamned floor while he ignited things inside her that she’d never felt before? Guilt pounded through her, flaring along with every beat of the headache against her temples.
Life with Derek had been good. He’d traveled a lot for work when he’d been picked up to join in by the Feds, and she’d worked long shifts, but when they’d actually managed to be in the same state and both home at the same time, life had been good. There’d been love there, passion, even. Sex with Derek had been good, pleasurable.
But that morning? She struggled up, propping herself against the couch. Sex with Connor was another thing altogether. She’d heard about women experiencing multiple orgasms, but the closest she’d ever come was to silently congratulate the lucky bitches in her head. Sure, Derek had always made sure she got hers, but Connor . . . Connor had played her body like a virtuoso, every touch designed to make her tremble, every kiss, every stroke of his tongue—against her lips and then other places—had made h
er shake with pleasure.
Scarlett dropped her face forward into her hands, giving in to the temptation. Fuck. Why was she feeling guilty? Derek was gone, and he wouldn’t want her feeling guilty. If they’d had any time to anticipate his death, for her to even talk to him that one last time, she was sure he would have wished her well, to live her life to the fullest.
A small smile flitted across his face. If he’d seen her in recent months, he’d probably be extremely pissed off with her. He would have taken a month of grieving, maybe two, before telling her to pull herself together and move on. He’d been a practical man. He wouldn’t have allowed her to wallow, or to waste a moment of her life on wishing for what might have been. He would have told her to grab life with both hands and shake it, take what she wanted.
So why the fuck was she resisting McClellan? She flinched at the thought of his last name. It felt wrong, impersonal. But maybe that was exactly what she should do. Maybe holding him at arm’s length was going to be the only way she would get the hell over that morning and move on.
She stood, bracing one arm on the couch as her legs wobbled beneath her. She hadn’t been that drunk, and so it must be spending hours tangled up in a crappy throw on the hard floor that was making her muscles lax. Either that, or the spectacular fuck she’d had six hours ago. Every muscle in her body had been coiled tight, wrapped around Connor as he possessed her, driving her pleasure to heights she didn’t know existed. They’d been frantic, desperately chasing after the lust that had enveloped them both from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. She’d felt it even then, a beautifully messy firefighter, sooty and damp, perched on the bumper of the fire engine as the wreck of the home smoldered behind them. Water had dotted the sidewalk in multiple puddles, what light there was casting the entire yard in shadows, the emergency lights reflecting off every surface like a beacon.
Under Fire (Southern Heat Book 7) Page 3
