by Tawna Fenske
Before she can say anything else, my mouth is on her. I tease her at first, sliding my tongue over her outer folds, tracing the edges of her sex. She squirms and bucks and claws at my hair, fueling the fire in my chest.
By the time I touch her clit with the tip of my tongue, she practically levitates off the couch.
I grip her ass to hold her steady as I devour her with my mouth. My tongue moves in and out of her, circling back up to her clit before dipping back down to taste her again. She’s sweet, so unbelievably sweet, and I’m certain I could do this all night. I’m almost disappointed when I feel her tense beneath me.
“Oh, God,” she whispers, almost like she’s in awe.
Her back arches, and she presses herself against my mouth. I grip her ass harder, fucking her with my tongue until she screams and gasps and rakes her fingernails over my scalp. I think I just lost a chunk of hair, but I don’t care.
When I feel her go slack in my hands, I sit back on my heels and grin at her. “You seem a little less tense now.”
She laughs and takes a shuddering breath. “I guess you know the secret to relaxation.”
She starts to slide her legs together, but I’m not ready yet to lose this beautiful view. And I’m nowhere near ready to be done. I slide my palms out from under her and stand up. I hold out a hand and she takes it without question, allowing me to hoist her up off the couch.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“I was hoping you’d kindly point me toward a bedroom.”
That sounds dorkier than it did in my mind, but she smiles like she finds it charming and pulls me down a hall. “This way.”
She pulls ahead and drags me toward the last doorway on the left. I get the sense she’s as eager as I am, though a little less sure of herself. She turns in the doorway and gives me a sheepish look.
“Sorry. I forgot to make my bed this morning. I was a little distracted.”
“Not a problem,” I tell her, nudging her backward into the room. “We’re just going to mess it up again anyway.”
I put my hands on her hips again and scoop her up. She’s curvy and lush, and I expect her to protest the way some girls do about her weight or my back or some combination of the two.
But Cassie just laughs. “Thanks for the ride.”
I toss her onto the bed, eager to give her a different kind of ride. She lands softly on her back and her legs splay open. She draws her knees together as her hair falls out of its topknot and across her face. God, she’s beautiful. It didn’t fully register until just now. I’d been so wrapped up admiring the different parts of her—eyes, legs, tits—that I hadn’t stopped to notice how breathtaking the whole package is.
I must be staring too long, because she pats the bed beside her. “Are you coming?”
“Definitely.”
It dawns on me that I’m still wearing my jeans, and I reach into the back pocket to pull out my wallet. Taking out a condom, I toss it onto the nightstand. Then I reach for my belt buckle.
Cassie licks her lips, eyes glued to my crotch. One knee falls to the side, giving me the perfect view of that sweet pussy. She’s lying back on her elbows, looking like the best damn party invitation I’ve ever seen. I shove my pants down my hips and kick them aside. I start to reach for the condom, but she beats me to it.
“Let me,” she says, flipping onto her belly and showing me an ass that’s every bit as delicious as the rest of her.
But instead of rolling the condom on like I expect her to, she sets it on the pillow and grabs my ass. She pulls me closer and I almost stumble as she moves me to the edge of the bed. Her tongue flicks out and grazes the underside of my cock, and I give a gasp of unexpected pleasure.
“Christ,” I hiss as she opens her mouth wide and sucks me in. Her tongue is warm and makes the sweetest cushion for the head of my cock. She pulls me in deep, and I look down, expecting to see her eyes watering.
Instead, she draws back and grins up at me. “I was hoping you’d be like this.”
“Like what?”
She licks her lips, and I see her start to hesitate again. It’s clear she’s not used to talking dirty, to describing in explicit detail what she wants from a lover.
But it’s also clear Cassie is a fast learner. Her eyes flash as she looks up at me. “I hoped you’d have a huge—”
She grins, trusting her expression will fill in the blank. But I want to hear her say the word. It’s not for my ego. It’s for the thrill of watching her bust out of her quiet, studious-girl mold.
“A huge what, Cassie?”
Her cheeks pinken, and for a moment, I think she won’t say it. Then her gaze drops to the object that’s right in front of her. She runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, then meets my eyes again.
“I was hoping you’d have a huge cock.”
Good God. I don’t know if it’s the words themselves that turn me on or the fact that it’s her saying them. I don’t have a chance to respond, because she’s sucking me in again, taking me all the way back into her throat. One hand slips between my legs to tickle my balls with fingertips blessedly devoid of sharp girl-claws. I close my eyes and enjoy the ride, moaning when she sucks harder, then releases me, then does it again.
When a prickly sensation creeps across the back of my neck, I open my eyes. If I’m not careful, she’s going to bring this to a hastier conclusion than either of us wants. Either she senses it, or she’s ready to move on to the next act, because she draws back half a second before I tell her to stop.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re ready,” she says, teasing me with my own words. She reaches for the condom and tears it open. I expect her to put it on with the same bravado she just used to suck my cock, but she seems unsure for a second.
I reach for her hands and help pinch the tip while she rolls it on. “Teamwork,” I say, which makes her giggle.
But she stops laughing when I reach for her again. Grabbing her waist, I roll her onto her back. I ease myself onto the sheets beside her, cupping her breast like I’ve done it a million times before.
“How do you want it?” I ask. “This is your fantasy. How did you picture it?”
She looks a little sheepish as she moves her hand down the side of my body. “Lots of ways, actually.”
“What was your favorite?” I put my mouth close to her ear, wanting to feel her squirm as I talk dirty. “Did you picture someone pinning you on your back and fucking you hard while you wrapped your legs around his back? Or maybe you wanted to climb on top and ride his cock until you came?”
It feels weird talking this way, like I’m speaking about myself in third person. But Cassie’s too worked up to notice. She’s squirming and writhing beside me like she’s aching to have me buried inside her.
That makes two of us.
“Actually,” she says, her breath grazing my shoulder, “I pictured it from behind.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. But that’s not what I want anymore. I changed my mind.”
“A woman’s prerogative.” I brush her hair back from her face, dying to ask what prompted the switch. But I’m also dying to be inside her, and the quickest way to get there involves less talking. “So how do you want it?”
“I want you on top of me,” she says. “I want to see those big arms on either side of my shoulders and feel your chest pressing into me while you pin me down and fuck me hard.”
Her words send a jolt of fire through me, and I realize this is what I want, too. I can’t believe she’s turning out to be like this in the sack. She was adorable in the shop, then shy on her couch. But the way she’s talking now shows me a whole different version of Cassie.
I like this version a lot.
I push her back onto the bed and ease myself down on top of her. Her legs fall open wider, and I slip between them. I hover like that for a moment, nudging her wetness with the head of my cock. She arches up to meet me, and we stay frozen like that for a few heartbeats. I move my cock a fra
ction of an inch, almost inside her now. Her head lolls back and I see her eyes begin to close, but I touch the side of her face.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
Her eyes flutter open, and I get lost in them for just a second. What was I going to say?
Oh, yeah. “I want to watch your face as I slide inside you. I’m going to do it nice and slow, and I want you to keep your eyes open the whole time.”
She nods, but doesn’t ask questions. It seems she’s game for anything. Judging from her list, maybe that’s true.
I ease myself back down, nestling the head of my cock into her slick folds. How does that saying go?
Just the tip.
That’s it, and she seems to love it. Her hands clutch at my back, trying to draw me deeper, but I’m determined to take my time. I pull back just a little, hesitating there long enough to watch her forehead crease with urgency.
“Please,” she murmurs, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I slide deeper this time, slipping the head of my cock all the way inside her. She arches up to meet me, legs twining around the backs of my thighs. Again, she tries to pull me deeper.
This time I let her. Two inches this time, give or take.
“Keep your eyes open,” I urge, holding myself steady. “I want to watch as I slide all the way inside you.”
“Okay,” she whispers, and I get the sense she’d agree to damn near anything at this point.
I draw back, taking my time, hesitating right there with the head of my cock at her opening.
“Do it!” she gasps.
This time, I comply.
I drive in deep, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, and for a second I think I’ve hurt her. But her ankles are locked tight behind my thighs and she’s thrusting her pelvis up to take me in. Her eyes are wide and liquid, and I lean down to kiss the column of her throat so she arches up.
She smells sweet—like honey and cloves—and her dark hair curls around the edges of her ears.
I start to move with a steadier rhythm then, thrusting slowly at first, giving her time to adjust. She doesn’t lie passively beneath me. She fucks back, reaching up to grab the slats of the headboard for leverage. It looks like it’s made out of some sort of recycled barn wood, and I focus on that to keep from blowing my load too soon. This girl is driving me mad, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded.
The next words out of her mouth nearly send me over the brink. “I’m close,” she gasps.
Her hips start to rise, and I drive into her harder. I can’t believe she’s coming this quickly. I can’t believe I am. None of this is what I expected.
I feel her break beneath me and her eyes go wide again.
“Oh, Jesus, yes!” she screams, letting go of the headboard to rake her nails down my back.
That’s enough to tip me over the edge, and when the first wave hits me, something grabs hold of me and pulls me under. Stars burst behind my eyelids, and I drive into her again and again. Her sex is gripping me tight, milking me dry, as I groan and thrust and come my brains out inside her.
When we’ve both caught our breath, I roll to the side and pull her against my chest. Her heart is beating fast, but her eyes are closed. I wonder what she’s thinking.
Then her eyelids flutter open. “Well,” she says and grins up at me. “Looks like we managed to tick one thing off the Fucket List and one thing off the extra-credit list.”
“There’s an extra-credit list?”
“I just made that up in my mind.” She grins, and I get the sense Cassie and I were a lot alike in high school. That we were both the geeky, hyper-focused student intent on getting one straight A after another. I never imagined those qualities would translate to sexual compatibility, but whatever.
“What’s on the Sextra Credit list?” I ask, making her giggle again.
“G-spot orgasm.” She blushes a little when she says it, and I feel an unexpected swell of pride.
“No kidding?” I grin and brush a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead. “I wasn’t even trying for that one.”
“Me neither. You must’ve had the angle just right.”
Something about her words embolden me. Or maybe it’s Cassie herself. Or maybe I’ve just gone crazy. That’s the only excuse for the next words out of my mouth.
“Let me help you,” I tell her. “I want to do the rest of The List.”
Chapter Four
Cassie
Super awesome wild-ass (holy shit they’re gonna kill me) sex stuff to figure out before D-day…
By Cassondra R. Michaels
1. Sex position called the Post Hole Digger (sounds like something to only do once)
2. Hair pulling while bent over kitchen counter and spanking with a spatula or pancake turner or ???
3. Pokey wheelie thing
4. Crazyhawt sex with a dark-haired, anonymous stranger with great abs
5. Outdoor sex in the snow (WTF?!? Frostbite, not sexy!)
6. Sex in public. In a car, in a bar, on a boat…DEFINITELY not with a goat (thank God!)
7. Pop Lisa’s workout ball while having sex on it
8. I kissed a girl, and apparently really liked it (Umm…I don’t even like @#$% Cherry ChapStick)
9. Roleplay (cop and jewel thief? Sexy tycoon and naive college student? Buy schoolgirl costume in case they ask)
10. Naughty spa day at super-snooty place for rich assholes. Mud bath, massage, and wild times in the ladies’ changing room.
I’ll be honest. If I’d known I’d find myself sitting naked in bed with a stupid-hot naked guy determined to fulfill all my sexual fantasies, I might have put a little more thought into my list.
Not that I’d necessarily add or delete anything. It’s just a little—
“Pokey wheelie thing?” Simon looks at me, one eyebrow raised. He’s still naked, but he’s wearing his glasses again and has my green paisley quilt covering his junk.
Pity, that.
I scoot a little closer to him and peer at the screen of my laptop, pretty sure this is the first time it’s been on any lap besides mine. A naked lap at that.
“After three glasses of wine, I forgot what it was called,” I tell him. “Doctors use them for neurological testing to gauge nerve reactions. It’s like a tiny, sharp stainless steel pinwheel on the end of a stick that’s about—”
“A Wartenberg wheel?”
“Yes! That’s it.” I’m pretty sure a guy who looks like Simon knows about it because he has a whole room full of sex toys cataloged in alphabetical order.
Then again, I may be reading him wrong. Yes, he’s confident, but he’s more cerebral than I pegged him at first. It’s not just the glasses, either. There’s the tiniest hint of awkwardness there, like he spent his teen years playing video games instead of making out in the backseat of a Mustang.
The way he’s looking at me now makes me wish I’d put the Mustang thing on the list. Maybe it’s not too late to add it.
“So, you dreamed up all these things over the years,” he says, “but you’re telling me you never did any of them?”
“That is correct,” I reply, a little annoyed by my own awkward formality.
“But deep down, you kinda want to do them? Want to try out being the wild girl you pretended to be for your sisters?”
It’s not until he’s said the words out loud that I realize he just hit the nail on the head. I nod and swallow hard, trying to get my bearings. “Yes,” I admit. “I guess that might be true.”
“Then the offer still stands,” he says. “To help with the Fucket List.” His smile is warm and open as he shifts his gaze back to the computer screen. “Tell me about the ‘pokey wheelie thing,’” he says. “The Wartenberg wheel. Why did you choose that?”
“I used one in biology classes in grad school,” I confess, pretty sure I’m offering up the lamest post-coital pillow talk he’s ever heard. “Then I had ulnar nerve surgery a few years ago, and the neurologist used one on my arm. I got
goosebumps and kind of wondered what it would feel like on other parts.”
“Other parts,” he repeats, looking up from the computer to give me that bemused smile I’m starting to really like. “What other parts, Cassie?”
I order myself not to blush, willing my capillaries to stay calm and keep functioning like normal. I’ve had this guy buried inside me. I should be past the point of feeling embarrassed.
“Clavicle, tits, sternum, hipbones,” I tell him. “In no particular order.”
He laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “I love that you mix slang with the clinical terminology.”
“Science geeks can talk dirty, too.”
“That they can.” Simon clears his throat and looks back at the screen. “The spanking and hair pulling—”
“And the kitchen gadget. Don’t forget that part.”
He grins. “I couldn’t possibly. So, are you wanting to be spanked or do the spanking?”
“Are you game for either?”
I see him hesitate just a little, and there’s something about seeing a chink in his in-control demeanor that makes me smile.
“I’m open to negotiation.”
“Negotiation.” I smile. “Is this a business proposition, then? A la Fifty Shades of Grey? Please tell me you don’t have a contract in your briefcase.”
“I don’t own a briefcase,” he says. “And there’s definitely no contract.”
“Then why are you volunteering for this? Out of the kindness of your heart?”
He hesitates again, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too much. Then again, we’re talking about having this man enter my body repeatedly. I’m allowed to push a little.
“I like you,” he says at last. “And I like sex. A lot.”
“Clearly. And you’re quite good at it.”
“Thank you. I read a lot of sex manuals when I was a nerdy teenager.”
“That’s either the saddest or the hottest thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell him. “Maybe both.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve had time to hone my skills since then.”
“I noticed.”
He grins and shoves his glasses up his nose. I notice the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though, and I wonder if there’s more to Simon’s story than he’s telling me.
