Rubbing the head of my latex-covered cock through her folds, I shut my eyes for a moment because I can’t believe I’m in this woman’s house, in her bathroom, ready to actually do what I’ve fantasized about doing to her for the past couple of months.
For a second, I actually wonder if I’m dreaming.
I force my eyes open and take my hand (the one not full of cock) and trace my fingers down her spine. She feels real enough. Smooth and tan, not a mark or a mole mars the perfection of her skin. I lean over, pressing my cock into the cleft of her ass as I skim my tongue back up her spine. Her moan encourages me, so I nip her shoulder blades, then along her ribs, her waist and finally I nibble the top curves of her ass.
“Do you have lube?”
She stares at me in the mirror for a couple of seconds before answering. “Yes. Now?”
“No, for later.”
No, definitely not now. If I sank into that sweet, tight ass right now, it would be over before it began. Again, I just need to take the edge off.
I adjust my cock so that the head presses against her entrance and before I can press forward, she rears back and impales herself on me.
My eyes pop up from where we’re connected back to the mirror. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth is open and I fill her completely.
I intended to take it slow.
Apparently, she didn’t. I can live with that.
She plants her palms flat on the counter and begins to rock against me, slamming her ass against my hips.
That won’t do. Not at all. I need to control the pace or she won’t experience the pleasure I plan to give her.
I need her to want this again and again.
“Stop,” I yell, then smack her ass cheek hard. Her eyes pop open, her gaze is hot and dark as she looks at me with a question in her eyes. “Let me,” is all I can say, hoping she catches my meaning.
Her cheek is turning slightly pink where I spanked her. And, holy hell, that doesn’t help my endurance.
Later, I’ll spank that ass until it’s red. Later, I will tease her tight hole until she’s begging for me to take her there.
Right now... I just need to take the edge off, I remind myself (again).
“Watch,” I tell her as I begin to move, slowly at first because her pussy is like melted butter. It burns my soul. It draws me in.
It fucking feels tremendous. Abso-fucking-lutely spectacular. Why have I gone so long without this? Why did I deprive myself this feeling of luxurious heat that surrounds my cock?
Chapter Four
Skylar:
I suck in a breath as he takes his time, slowly moving in and out of me. I’ve missed this feeling of fullness, completeness, not only being physically connected but having a mental connection with another human being.
I’ve been empty, lonely.
I’m not sure why this man caught my eye (beside the fact that he’s hot), but he did. I’m glad I seemed to have caught his eye, too.
Maybe it was meant to be.
Fate.
I shake that ridiculous thought out of my head. It’s nothing but a physical attraction, I remind myself. The only “connection” we have is sexual.
Even that’s questionable since we’ve only really met each other within the last half an hour.
I raise my eyes to the mirror. Not to watch him fucking me (and he’s doing it very well, if I say so myself) but to look at myself.
I haven’t even known this man for a half an hour yet and he’s inside me.
I should be ashamed.
But I’m not.
This is what I’ve wanted for almost two months. And I’m the type of woman who usually goes after what she wants. I just haven’t seen anything I’ve wanted in quite a while.
His eyes are on me in the mirror and whatever he sees makes him hesitate, messes up his rhythm.
We can’t have that. Because I need to come and so does he. This way we can move on to bigger and better things.
A shower. A bed. A chance to discover what he likes, needs, wants. What turns him on, what turns him off (hopefully, not much).
How open minded he is.
His limits.
And just how far he can push mine.
With that thought and a smile, I clench down on him and his hips stutter again. His chest rises and falls as if he’s sucking in a deep breath, and his eyes become hooded. I do it again, this time I’m not smiling, though. This time, as I hold his gaze, I can’t help but breathe just as hard.
The oxygen slides in and out of my lungs at the same pace he slides in and out of me.
I need to encourage him to go faster. “Fuck me harder.”
He shakes his head, his fingers digging into my hips. “I will. Not yet.”
“Don’t wait. Now.”
“I need to—”
“You need to fuck me harder.”
“Fuck,” he mutters and slams me hard, pushing me forward.
He stops deep inside me and squeezes his eyes shut. I clench around him again, trying to encourage him to move.
“I just...” His words fade off. He tries again, “I just... fuck.”
Then he’s slamming me over and over, my hips jammed against the counter, the slapping sound of our skin filling the small room.
His eyes open. Dark, heated. His jaw appears tight like he’s gritting his teeth.
“Yes, just fuck,” I tell him. “That’s it. Fuck me.”
Cade drops his head and blows out a breath. When his head rises, he studies me, and I see what looks like determination cross his face. He’s gotten his shit together and he’s ready to take it to the next level.
“Up on your hands.”
His demand shoots a shiver down my spine.
Yes.
This.
I straighten my arms, bringing my chest higher, and within seconds he’s cupping my breasts, squeezing, kneading. He rolls both nipples between his fingers and my back arches, my lips part.
The words “that’s it” barely escapes me. “Yes, Cade. Yes.”
He mutters a curse, the cords in his neck bulge, and I watch the play of muscle along his shoulders and chest.
Cade’s a beautiful man. He appears put together but not harsh. Fit but solid, not built like a runner at all, but still athletic enough to make my mouth water.
He’s hitting the end of me with every thrust, and as much as I love his hands on my breasts, I need them elsewhere.
Leaning all the weight on one hand, I grab one of his and shove it between my legs. “Touch me,” I whisper.
He rolls my clit the same way he rolls my nipple and the blood rushes through me as I slam back into him. “Yes, Cade, yes. Yes!”
His other hand finds my hip again, gives it a squeeze, but doesn’t remain there, instead he smacks my ass, then trails his fingers over to the crease.
I suck in a breath before letting it out in a long, low groan as he circles my tight hole. I force myself to relax, even though it’s a struggle since he’s still slamming me hard at the same time. My brain doesn’t know where to concentrate: his fingers on my clit, his cock deep inside me, or his finger circling and teasing my anus.
“I need to...” he drifts off, pressing harder against me.
“Yes, just do it,” I encourage him. “Just—”
I lose my thought as he pushes a finger inside me. Would it be better if we waited for the lube?
Yes.
But it’s still good and glorious and everything I need from Cade. He works me with a sense of gentleness, though as I study him in the mirror, he’s showing anything but on his face.
His expression has become tense and dark. He quickens the pace of his finger to match his hips. And watching him move, seeing him on the edge, drives me to mine.
“I’m going to come,” I groan, desperately trying to keep my eyes open, to hold his gaze.
“Yes, baby, come all over me.”
Yes, baby, come all over me, echoes in my head. And his words spur me to do just th
at.
My body clamps down on his and, finally... finally I have to close my eyes to just ride out the orgasm as it rolls through me.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
The intensity of it makes me lose my breath and Cade becomes still while I shatter around him.
As soon as I can, I open my eyes and see his squeezed shut while he’s biting his bottom lip. He must be ready to explode.
“Don’t hold back.” My voice sounds raspy, low. “Look at me.” When he does I repeat myself. “Don’t hold back. Let go.”
Suddenly, his finger is gone, and he’s gripping my hips hard as he slams into me once, twice before throwing his head back and groaning.
Watching him in the thralls of both pleasure and release, turns me on like nothing else and as I feel him pulsating inside me, I can’t wait for this rendezvous to continue after we clean up.
Cade:
Seriously, my balls are thanking me right now. They haven’t had such an intense release in a long time. Jerking off just isn’t the same. The jagged edge I was riding is now smoothed out and we can continue after our shower.
Or... in the shower.
Or on the bathroom floor.
Once I recover, though. At my age, my body tends to take a little longer to revive. Like more than the five minutes it took at say... twenty. Or, hell, even thirty-five.
When the day comes that I can’t recover at all, it will be one of my darkest moments. But that’s not today and that’s all that matters at this point.
Plus, the day is early yet. As long as she’s willing and patient enough to wait for me, we’ll be golden.
So not only are my balls thanking me, they’re now happy campers. And so am I.
As she leans into the shower to turn it on, it hits me that she has no body issues at all. She seems to love who she is and accept it. I appreciate that.
I’ve dealt with too many women in my life who have hid themselves, worried about what I would think about their bodies, had low self-esteem. Not Skylar.
It’s refreshing.
Even so, I can’t help but like what I see. I like a woman with some flesh on her bones, a fullness in her hips and breasts, a womanly softness to her. Not fat, but curvy, luscious. Sweet.
If I wanted bones and muscle, I’d fuck a man. That’s not what I want.
As Skylar turns to me, her sky blue eyes running down my body, I can tell she likes what she sees, also.
“You don’t like to run, do you?” she asks, catching me off guard.
I bite back a smile on how intuitive she is. “No, I detest it.”
“Why do you do it? It looks like you work out doing other things.”
“I do.” Besides playing basketball with the guys, I play on a baseball team with my coworkers, as well as doing regular sit-ups, push-ups, and squats. I’ve got a pool I live in during the summer. Nothing better than swimming laps to stay in shape.
“So why torture yourself?”
“How’s the temp of the water?” I ask, because we are two people who hardly know each other, standing naked in a bathroom about to shower together. Not that it’s awkward. Okay, maybe slightly. But our conversation can continue in the shower. (I’m a multi-tasker.)
She swipes her hand through the spray, and when she turns back to me she says softly, “Perfect.”
That she is.
“Get in.”
With a slight smile she climbs into the tub/shower combination and with a hand to the small of her back, I follow her. The shower is tight but that just means we’ll get to know each other better and quicker.
The warm spray hits my back and it feels good. But not as good as being inside Sky.
“Can I call you Sky?”
“Sure,” she says as she turns and now we’re face to face in that cramped tub.
I’m beginning to think that showering together may not work. I’m not a small guy. I take up a bit of space and she isn’t a tiny thing, either.
I step back directly under the shower head and let the water rush over me, rinsing me off. Then with a hand on her hip, we do a little shuffle to switch places and I stand just outside the spray and watch the rivulets of water run over her hair, over her breasts, to cascade off her pointed nipples.
Christ, I never want to drink water from a glass again. I only want to quench my thirst from the stream that runs off her nipples. Like a sexy water fountain. One that only I can drink from.
That thought stops me cold.
I have no ties to this woman; there’s nothing to bind us together. To suddenly have the urge to completely possess her and make her mine, keep her as my own, is so unlike me.
I blink the water out of my eyes and stare at the woman who may be my downfall, who may knock down my house of cards.
I hardly know her, I remind myself. Maybe I need to write that down and tack it onto my forehead.
I push these crazy thoughts away, since now I’ve only known her for about forty-five minutes. But who’s keeping track?
“Turn around and hand me the shampoo,” I say. And she does as I ask without a question. After squeezing a dollop onto my palm and handing the bottle back to her, I drag my fingers through her wet hair that clings to her shoulders and back. Her blonde hair is darker now that it’s soaked. I work the shampoo through her strands and I hear her moan as I massage my fingers along her scalp. “You like that.”
“Yes,” she answers, her voice breathy.
“Body wash,” I demand. She hands it to me over her shoulder, as well as a pink nylon loofah. I suds it up and, sweeping her hair to the side, begin to run the loofah all over her body, over each curve, in each nook, along the line of her ribs, between the cleft of her heart-shaped ass, down her legs and back up again. She doesn’t move, she lets me take care of her like she did earlier with my scraped knees. But her head is tilted forward and she’s very relaxed. I reach around her and with my chest pressed against her back, I make sure her breasts, belly and everything lower is clean, too. I’m thorough because I’m enjoying this closeness as much as she is. And I simply like touching her. (So shoot me.)
I hang the loofah on the spigot and help rinse her hair, then press my lips to her shoulder in a kiss before asking, “Why didn’t I trip sooner?”
Her body shakes against me in a quiet chuckle. “I don’t know. I’d have never known you existed if you hadn’t run by my house. What a lucky girl I am.”
“No.”
She twists her neck to look over her shoulder at me. “Hmm?”
“Not a girl.” I slide my hands down her sides and grasp her hips. “All woman.”
“Ah.” Her response comes out as if on a sigh.
Yes, I want to hear many more sighs escape her lips before we’re through today, tomorrow or by the end of this weekend.
I remember this shower was an opportunity to get to know her better, so I ask, “Ever been married?”
Her body jerks slightly under my touch. I find that curious.
“Once,” she says, her voice distant, tense.
“Ugly divorce?”
She shakes her head slightly. “No. Just ugly.”
I wait but she doesn’t explain.
“You?” she asks me in turn, over her shoulder, the one I can’t resist kissing.
“No.”
“Never?” The surprise in her voice is evident. “Ever been close?”
“No.”
“Ah, one of those perpetual bachelors. Not letting anyone steal your heart. You keep it locked away, then.”
“Not necessarily. I’ve just been always looking for the right woman.” I shake my head. “Maybe I’m too picky.”
“Maybe,” she agrees.
Maybe I do have unrealistic expectations. I want a woman who likes to be dominated in bed, but equal everywhere else. She needs to be strong-willed and confident. Smart and sexy. Does she need to clean, cook and do laundry perfectly? Hell no. She needs to be my match, not my housekeeper.
So why haven’t I found anyone in my forty yea
rs? Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. Maybe I liked the search. But again, my career came first and I found that too many women got clingy too quickly and I was always on the go.
Maybe it would have been easier if I had a nine-to-five job. But I didn’t and I don’t.
At least now I have a sane schedule. And if I find the right woman... Quite possibly, she’ll want to swim laps in my pool with me. Or let me bring her breakfast in bed after I’ve spent the night spanking her ass, fucking her hard, and even coming down her throat.
My cock starts to twitch, but isn’t rising to the occasion. Not yet anyway. Soon.
Nothing like a beautiful, wet, curvaceous woman pressed against you to get your blood flowing.
“Turn around, Sky.” I help guide her to face me so she doesn’t slip. We already had one fall today. Once was enough.
When she does, she’s biting her bottom lip in a sexy, but feigned innocence. Her eyes raise to mine. “Cade?”
I’m mesmerized. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to wash you now.”
I can’t hide my smile at her words. “Okay, Sky.” Suddenly, my cock is struggling to wake up.
Soon, I reassure myself, soon. I just need a little patience.
I watch in wonder as she squirts body wash into her palm instead of the loofah and beginning at my shoulders, she begins to soap me up.
And down.
Down.
Down.
Chapter Five
Skylar:
My fingers dig into his wet hair, my nails into his scalp. The shower having been turned off long ago, Cade is now on his scraped knees, my legs are parted and his mouth on me is just...
Fucking glorious.
Two fingers from one hand separate my folds, while two from the other slide in and out of me. And I’m soaked. Not from the shower, but from what he’s doing to me. The tip of his tongue flicks my clit, circles it, then he sucks it hard. My back arches against the damp shower wall and I’m struggling to keep on my feet.
Tempting Him Page 3
