The Private Serials Box Set

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The Private Serials Box Set Page 24

by Anie Michaels


  The heat was back and it came through me like wildfire. The sweet kisses from moments ago, and even the mournful ones we’d just shared, all gave way to the raging heat coursing through me in that moment. The kiss erupted and so did my self-control. I found myself gripping him, wrapping my legs around his waist tighter, trying to bring myself closer.

  Even though the horizon was orange and pink with the sunset, the sky just overhead had turned purple with clouds. Suddenly, we were in a downpour with rain falling from the sky, washing away everything from the last two months. All the anger, the sadness, the heartbreak; it all was rinsed away by the warm rain.

  “Please let me take you home,” Preston rasped against my lips. I knew what he was asking, knew he didn’t just want to drive me to the apartment. My heart sped up at the thought of being with him again, letting him see me vulnerable again. But then I remembered what it was like to give myself to him.

  When I was with Preston, when I gave him control over my body and let him have his way with me, it was the best form of escape. I didn’t have to think about anything when I was with him, and I definitely never worried about a thing. It would be nice to disappear for a while, only concerned with Preston and what he was doing to my body.

  He gently bit my lower lip, tugging on it, pulling it through his teeth. Shivers exploded all over my body, shooting directly to my core, heating me instantly.

  “Yes,” I breathed, bringing his mouth back to mine, tasting the rain water running down his face. “Please.” He kissed me thoroughly, but then I was picked up and plopped down on the ground next to the bike, a little dizzy from the kiss and the movement. He pulled his leather jacket off and wrapped it around me.

  “Put this on, sweetheart.” My heart soared at his words. I slipped my arms through his jacket as he climbed on the bike, pulling the helmet over his head. I mounted the bike behind him and did the same. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on tight.

  He navigated the winding roads back down the mountain, the rain pelting us for nearly half the time it took to get home. The rain was warm – something a native Oregonian had to get used to over time – but the wetness combined with the air whipping past us made every part of me cold.

  By the time we arrived back at the apartment, I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. He parked the bike and took me by the hand to his door, opening it, and ushering me straight to the bathroom.

  He reached into the shower and turned the faucet on, then turned back to me and immediately started taking off my layers of soaked clothes. I was too incapacitated by the cold to argue or stop him, but I wondered why he wasn’t freezing as well. He’d given me his coat and his tee shirt was soaked through, clinging to every contour of his chest. I found myself just staring at how each muscle moved, each one rippled in acquiescence as he moved about the bathroom, shedding me of my clothes.

  By the time he had me in my bra and panties, I regained a little use of my brain and started to pull up on his shirt, trying to help him get warm too.

  His shirt peeled off his skin with a slurping noise and then made a wet plop as it hit the floor, water droplets splattering all around it. I reached for the button of his jeans, threading it through, then pulling the zipper down, all requiring my full attention. When I looked back up to him, his eyes were on me and somehow, even though I would have thought it impossible, the chocolate of his eyes was even darker.

  He toed off his shoes and socks, never breaking eye contact, then walked backward, carefully climbing into the tub, watching me all the while. He held his hand out to me and I didn’t hesitate to join him inside the shower.

  The water rained down on me and I sighed loudly, the hotness stinging against my cold skin. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, running my hands through my hair as the water ran down it. Preston’s mouth was on my neck and immediately a different kind of heat come over me. His mouth worked against my pulse point and his hands slid around my ribs to unclasp my bra. He pulled it off my arms and threw it over the top of the shower, the sound of it hitting the floor outside making me smile.

  My smile was short-lived as it disappeared the instant Preston’s fingers slid between the fabric of my panties and the cold skin of my ass. The combination of his lips on my throat and his hand grasping my ass forced a moan through my lips, and my head to fall back even farther still. My hands found his forearms, sliding smoothly up and over his biceps, feeling the taut muscles twitch beneath my touch, straining as he grasped at me.

  I pulled away slightly to look down between us, relishing the sight of Preston Reid, completely wet, hard, and in black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. His cock pushed against the fabric of his briefs and I wasted no time moving to rid him of them. My hands moved into his underwear at the front of his body, then slowly slid around his waist and I enjoyed feeling all of him. My hands ran over the roundness of his ass as I pushed his underwear down his body. I moved down, dropping to my knees as his underwear hit the floor of the shower. He lifted each ankle one at a time and I freed him, tossing the underwear aside.

  I looked up and was greeted by the sight of Preston’s magnificent cock straining forward, arching toward his belly. All I heard was the pelting sound of the water hitting my back, running down the drain, and the heavy sounds of his breaths, pulling in and pushing out. I placed my hands on his thighs and then met his eyes. His gaze was so intense; it caught my breath in my throat and I had to remind my lungs to function, force my eyes to blink, make my pulse keep a steady, if not racing, rhythm.

  I reached up and gripped his shaft, tugging gently downward so the head was pointing toward me, then lifted my eyes to meet his.

  “Is this all right?” I asked, tentatively.

  “Fuck, sweetheart, yes.”

  I stroked my hand up and down his cock slowly, taking a few moments to appreciate it up close. I’d never seen a more perfect dick. His was thick and long, cut, with one pulsing vein running down the underside. I moved forward and used the tip of my tongue to lick the underside of the head and a hiss echoed through the shower. As I swirled my tongue around the very tip, I heard him groan and saw his head fall backward.

  “Don’t fucking tease me, Lena. Put me in your mouth.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, smiling.

  He’d been very careful with me all day, soothing me, caressing me, talking sweetly to me. But now I was being reminded of the very reason I fell in love with Preston – because he knew what I wanted and made it happen. And right now, I wanted his cock in my mouth.

  I opened and slid my mouth all the way down his shaft until I wasn’t sure I could take him any deeper, then used my hand to make up the difference, stroking him up and down as my mouth took long, sucking drags over him.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, leaning a hand against the wall of the shower, then taking his other hand and pushing the hair out of my face, which had been moved there by the water from the showerhead. “You look so perfect like this, sweetheart, with your mouth wrapped around me.”

  “Mmm,” I mumbled my response, and as my voice vibrated against him his eyes rolled back and his head leaned to the side.

  His taste was addictive and manly. Clean. When he started to taste more of salt, I knew he was getting closer, so I picked up my pace and moved my free hand from his thigh to his balls, rolling them in my palm. I squeezed them, then tugged gently while sucking hard on the length of him, pulling him slowly out of my mouth.

  “Shit, shit, shit. Lena, baby, stop.” His hips jerked back from me, pulling himself out of my mouth completely, and his hands were pulling me up to my feet. “Christ,” he said, running both of his hands over my hair, pushing the water out of my face. Then he dipped, sliding my panties down my legs, leaving them in a pile on the floor of the shower. “I’ve been away from you for two months. I’m not about to come in your mouth the first time we’re together again.” He stood and his hand moved down, grabbing my leg behind my knee, pulling it up above his hip, and he pressed me back up against t
he wall.

  I could feel him hard between my legs, just at my entrance, and my hips instinctually tilted forward in offering, wanting him inside me desperately.

  “Preston,” I whispered. I needed him but couldn’t get the words to form.

  “Shh shh, I know.” His other hand came up to cup my breast, his fingers lightly brushing over my nipple, tugging gently. Then, suddenly, his mouth captured my breast, pulling and sucking on my nipple, eliciting a guttural groan from me. I was panting as I slid my hands over his shoulders, then dug my fingers into him when his teeth bit into my flesh, sending sharp, painful pangs through me, only to be soothed immediately by the warmth of his tongue. “God, I’ve missed your body, Lena,” he said against my skin. His hand left my breast and traveled down my belly, finding my cleft. He didn’t hesitate one second and slid a finger inside, both soothing and aching, creating an inferno.

  “Please,” I begged him.

  “I thought about you every second of every day. And your body was one of the things I thought about the most. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t forget the way your pussy felt against my fingers, the way it gripped my cock when you came, the sounds you made when I finger-fucked you like this in that closet.” He looked into my eyes, slipping another finger into me, curling them both, and making me whimper. “Tell me you thought about me too.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, immediately. I’d do anything he wanted, just as long as he never stopped touching me.

  “Tell me what it was like to be away from me.” He widened his stance in the shower, giving himself more leverage to push his fingers even deeper into me, using more pressure on the spot that drove me absolutely crazy.

  I looked into his eyes and I knew he was hurting, needed reassurance that he wasn’t alone in his feelings for the last two months.

  “I was broken,” I cried. “Shattered.” I breathed the words out and nearly saw the weight lift off his shoulders. It was what he needed, to know I was just as lost as he was while we were apart. That without him, I was in pieces.

  “I’m about to fucking fix you.” His hand was gone in an instant, and then, suddenly, I was full. He thrust inside of me, just once, with such force I cried out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding on. He pushed into me and then stilled, deep inside. We were both still, the only movement our breaths, and I was simply remembering what it was like to feel like all of him fit inside of me perfectly. I was so deliciously full, stretched exquisitely over him, and it was the most glorious feeling.

  “No no no,” I said, panicked when he started to pull out. “I’m not ready. Just, let me…”

  “Shhh,” he hushed me, swiping the hair off my face again. “I’ve got you.” Then he pressed a sweet and soft kiss against my mouth. His tongue swept slowly over my lips and I opened for him, welcoming him in, tasting him. As he kissed me, he slowly lifted my other leg and I wrapped them both around his waist, letting him pin me against the wall completely. He pulled away, but only far enough to speak, his forehead still pressed against mine. “I’m going to move now, okay?”

  I nodded, thinking I was ready for it, but gasped when he pulled out just slightly. My nerves were shot, every fuse inside me blown, all the synapses firing all at once. I was so keyed up; I could feel my impending orgasm just waiting for me, mocking me, teasing me.

  He was moving so slowly; it was agonizing. He pulled out, then slid in, dragged back out. I could hardly take it any longer.

  “Please…faster…”

  He sped up his thrusts, building a tempo, drilling into me, his mouth finding every surface available to assault, his hands gripping my thighs, supporting my weight.

  I was hanging on the edge of my orgasm, keening against his throat, trying desperately to find the release my body was thirsting for.

  “Lena, fuck, you’re so sexy. Reach down and touch yourself. Make yourself come.” I didn’t need any more instruction than that. My hand found its way between us, and feeling him sliding in and out of me was almost enough to throw me over the cliff, but my finger started circling and a loud moan escaped me.

  “Oh, God…”

  That orgasm would forever be remembered as one of the best in the history of orgasms. It was the kind of orgasm that made every muscle in my body constrict right down into my belly, and then, as if on cue, they all exploded in a synchronized burst of sensation that could have blinded me. It was a toe curling, lung seizing, nail scratching, unadulterated, fucking fantastic orgasm.

  Preston pumped into me throughout the entire experience, prolonging it, making it that much better, kissing my screams away. When I’d settled and stopped trembling, he leaned away from me and slowly placed my legs back down, feet firmly planted on the floor.

  “I want you in a bed, sweetheart. This was hot, and I definitely needed to get inside of you, but I can’t touch you the way I want to like this, can’t be as close to you as I’d like.”

  “Okay,” was the only thing I could come up with as a response. He kissed me again, deeply, before he led me out of the shower. He took a towel from a shelf and started at my shoulder, running it down the front of me, moving down my belly. The towel wasn’t anything special, pretty typical in fact, but it made me remember the towels at his condo back in Portland and how they’d been so soft against my skin.

  “You didn’t bring your expensive towels with you to Hawaii?”

  A grin spread over his face. It was a playful grin, almost boyish, and it was beautiful. “No, but these will do for now. We can have something to look forward to when we go back to Portland.”

  My stomach bottomed out at his words, my mind automatically going into overdrive. I hadn’t thought about going back to Portland. Ever. I wanted to be as far away from that place as I could get. The thought of following Preston back there sent me into a panic. He must have noticed my face freeze and eyes widen because he was instantly in front of me with his hands cupping my face.

  “Hey, hey, Lena, it’s fine. We don’t have to think about that right now. It was stupid of me to say that. Please, baby, don’t get upset.”

  “I don’t know if I can ever go back there.”

  “I know. I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I came here and built a life. I started over. I made it, on my own, for the first time in my life. I can’t go backward, Preston.”

  “Lena,” he said, grabbing my shoulders firmly, looking me right in the eyes. “I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do. We don’t have to figure this out right now. Right now, I just want to be with you and I don’t really care where, geographically, we are.” His grin snuck back onto his face and melted my panic a little, and my breaths evened out.

  “Okay,” I sighed.

  He took my hand and led me back into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled me to stand between his legs, his hands sweeping over the skin of my thighs, goose bumps trailing behind his fingers. He leaned forward and laid soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses along my belly.

  “I know I’ve said this a lot today, but I really missed you, Lena.” His eyes met mine and I’d never seen them more sincere than in that moment.

  I swallowed and brought my finger up to run through the hair just above his ear. “I spent a lot of my time trying not to think about you at all.” My hand dropped down so that my palm was flush against his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel your absence. I did. I ached for that person I fell in love with, but it hurt so much because I didn’t think it was real.”

  “The way I feel about you is the most real thing I’ve ever experienced.”

  I moved to place one knee on the bed next to his hip, then lift my other to do the same, straddling him. His hands smoothed over my skin, moving from the front of my thighs to the back, then both of his hands were molding to my ass, pulling me closer into him.

  “Show me,” I said quietly just before I kissed him.

  He kissed me endlessly, or so it seemed, and his hands were ev
erywhere, roaming every inch of my skin. When he moved to lift me, I let him lay me out on the bed, feeling his magnificent weight press me into the mattress and his mouth rained kisses all over my face, neck, and chest. The urgent, filthy mood we’d established earlier was gone, and we were swimming together in a pool of lust and affection.

  When he finally slid into me, we both let out matching groans. His hands moved my wrists above my head, linking our fingers together, holding me down, and his face curled into my neck.

  “God, I love you, Lena.” He nearly choked on the words; they were so full of emotion.

  “I love you too,” I managed, just as overcome as he was.

  From that point on, there were no more words; we didn’t need them. His mouth spoke to me in kisses, his body communicating with panting breaths and tensed muscles. I conveyed my pleasure through touch, urging him on with whimpers.

  His body prayed to mine, worshipped it. I’d never experienced sex in a way that left me so emotionally vulnerable than I did with Preston. Every move he made was a promise to me. Every time his mouth met my skin, I could feel his intentions, understood the meaning behind the movement even without him telling me. We were both wrapped up in using our bodies to connect, to impart our love.

  When he came, I was on my side, legs splayed open, him behind me, with his hand wrapped around my jaw, pulling my mouth to kiss as he switched between biting my lip and sucking it into his mouth between thrusts. He sighed into my mouth as he came, trembling. He didn’t pull away at first and we just laid together, connected, breathing heavy, lost in the reality of us together.

  When he finally moved away, he kissed my temple as he pulled out.

  “Stay there, sweetheart.”

  He came back a minute later with a warm washcloth and ever so gently ran the cloth between my legs. I was moved by his tenderness, but still squirmed at the intimacy of the act. When he finished, rather than walk back to the bathroom, he bundled up the cloth and threw it in the general direction of the door, then joined me under the covers, pulling my back to his front. He splayed kisses along my shoulder blade, and twined his fingers with mine, pressing our hands against my belly.

 

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