by Cecy Robson
My heart is no longer pounding. It’s brutalizing my chest.
She bites down on my bottom lip, tugging it before staggering away and dragging me into her room.
She slams the door shut and locks it, rushing back into my embrace. My hands explore her, smoothing around her curves as we resume our kiss. They disappear beneath her skirt, stopping over the miniscule strip of silk covering her ass.
I want to strip her bare, and I do, starting with her dress despite my desire to tear her panties off in one bite. I hold back, lowering her zipper slowly as I watch her, giving her every opportunity to stop me.
I want to be sure this is what she wants. That I’m who she wants.
The dress falls in a crumpled mess at her feet, leaving her in her sexy, thigh high boots, panties I could stuff into a tin of mints, and a black see-through bra barely able to contain her puncturing nipples.
“You like what you see?”
I yank her forward, the yearning in her husky voice demanding I ravage her breasts.
She whimpers, aroused when my teeth clamp through the delicate mesh of her bra and graze over her nipples.
She pulls away enough to reach into her bedside drawer and remove a condom, then yanks me free of my belt. I reach around her to unhook her bra, pausing when fear sparks across her stare. My hands leave her back to cup her face. “What is it?” I ask, sweeping my thumb across her bottom lip.
She freezes, but then abruptly looks away and resumes her movements, tugging down my zipper. “Wren . . . I’m not going to hurt you. We can stop if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t want to stop,” she says, appearing to fight the doubt that lingers.
I lift her face, kissing her in delicate passes, taking my time until that fire between us builds.
Our skin heats, boiling my blood with ardor, but I don’t push her. “Are you sure?” I ask between flicks from my tongue, careful to avoid touching her intimate areas.
“Yes,” she tells me. Her head falls briefly to my shoulder. “Evan, I swear, it’ll kill me if I have to stop touching you.”
She falls to her knees, tugging my pants down with her, her hand disappearing into my briefs to grip my growing erection. She starts at the base, travelling up my lengthening staff in a twisting motion. I mumble a curse, my muscles tensing with each pass.
She freezes in place after another few strokes, her eyes widening as I thicken and stretch several more inches. She gasps with apparent shock. I’m almost embarrassed. Almost. She knows I have what it takes to please her. It’s up to her to decide whether to let me.
As much as I desire her, I’ll walk away if she’s not ready.
She slides the condom in place, lifting her chin and meeting my face when she reaches the base. Any semblance of doubt is long past. All that remains is an impish gaze and an unspoken promise to fulfill my deepest fantasies.
I pull off my sweater and toss it aside, not wanting to miss a single moment. “I’ll . . . I’ll respect you in the morning,” I say like an imbecile.
A wide smile claims her features. “Good,” she says. “But it’s not morning yet.”
She licks her lips and opens her mouth wide. I don’t move. I simply watch her take me deep.
“Fuck,” I grunt, curling forward when I feel the back of her throat.
She pops me free from her mouth, strengthening her pulls. “Soon,” she promises, dipping her head down and driving in deeper.
Burning desire engulfs me in an inferno. Every nerve from where she sucks is electrified and shooting jolts of blinding euphoria out to my limbs. My thighs tremble with the desire to pump, the yearning to release turning painful as she intensifies her suction and increases her speed.
But I meant what I said, I won’t hurt her. That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to take her.
I lift her hair away from her face. Her expression is erotic, licentious, yet astoundingly beautiful in her motions. She digs her nails into my hips, encouraging me to thrust and match her speed.
I spit out a slew of swears, ready to come, my heart seconds from detonating. But my need to please and taste her overshadows anything I want for myself. Like a flash of lightning, something switches in me, turning me more savage than man.
My hands wrench her up, lifting her for a sultry kiss as I free her from the last of her clothes. She barely has time to shake her boots off and peel off her socks when my fingers slip between her legs.
“Shit,” Wren says, her head snapping backward as I push in and swirl. I guide her to her bed, attacking her neck with my lips as I explore her slickening core.
Her back bounces off the mattress when we land. I move fast, trailing kisses down her body as I work her.
“Evan,” she moans, her hips tilting rhythmically with my increasing speed.
Fucking hell, never has my name carried so much blatant sex.
My mouth pulls in her straining nipple as I kick off what remains of my clothes. My stare lifts to her face as I nibble, watching her skin redden when what remains of her composure abandons her in a crazed eruption.
I can’t take it when she surrenders to the orgasm that follows. She’s barely finished when another builds.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpers, rocking against my palm. “Please. You’re so fucking hot.”
Her words and actions spiral my aggression. My tongue circles her nipple and my mouth sucks harder, inciting guttural moans. Her legs jerk when she releases, but it’s not enough for me. I prolong her orgasm, easing away when the quivering of her thighs finally recedes.
I ease up slowly, every part of me stiff and hard for her. Despite what I’ve given her, it’s not enough. I want more.
I flip her onto her chest, lifting her lower body onto her knees. She bows her spine backward as I hover over her, meeting me with a grateful and generous kiss. My lips seduce her, passing slowly over her mouth, cheek, and neck as I tease her folds with my thick, throbbing tip.
“Are you ready for me?” I ask.
She trembles as my dense head glides along her velvety core. “Yes,” she whispers, her lids lowering as I make my way in.
It takes time to fill her completely. I stretch her slowly, needing and wanting to make love to her. We groan when I finish pushing through. I angle her chin to see her, kissing her gently as I withdraw and thrust, gradually at first until I find the perfect rhythm.
Her head falls forward, appearing too heavy for her to lift. I pound faster, adjusting my legs on either side of her, alternating from leaning over her with my legs straight and behind her, to bending on one knee, maintaining my pace. But the tighter her body clenches mine, the louder she becomes, and the more she rakes her nails across the sheets, the more I change positions and drive deeper.
I’ve never taken a woman like this. But I’ve also never felt this degree of passion. I’m listening to her body, allowing it to guide me, to show me what she needs to draw out her pleasure and make her scream with bliss.
As hard and fast as I’m going, I can’t stop touching her, kissing her, my mouth tasting every part of her skin I can reach.
My legs bend on either side of her, crouching low as I grip her hips, my pelvis ramming and the sounds of our lovemaking filling the room.
“Jesus, Evan,” she cries out. “Fuck.”
I’m not groaning, or swearing. The animalistic urges she awakens have me roaring. Pain mixes with pleasure in an escalating wave I’m fighting to suppress. But when her body bucks beneath mine and clamps down, I unravel, my release tearing out of me.
My palms smack down on either side of her, barely keeping me from falling on top of her. I can’t catch my breath and neither can she, her shoulders rising and falling harshly. But like before, I don’t want to stop kissing her.
I ease out, cursing and hating the separation as I lower myself to her side. I clasp the back of her neck, seeking her mouth.
“Damn,” she whispers, smiling against my lips when I finally pull away.
“That’s one way to put it,” I
murmur, nuzzling her neck. I slow the tease of my tongue to speak. “Are you all right with everything I did to you?”
“No,” she admits.
“No?” I ask, stopping immediately.
She shakes her head slowly, her eyes feverishly glazed. “Uh-uh. I want more.”
Wren scrambles on top of me into a straddle, fisting her hair out of her way so she can do our next kiss that follows justice.
We kiss for what seems like forever, but I’m finding nothing between us is ever long enough.
“Evan,” she says, pausing to lick the tip of my tongue. “You blew me away, baby.” She scans my face in that way she does when she’s trying to gauge my thoughts. “Any regrets?”
“None.” I push away the hair she releases. Not because it’s in the way, but because I enjoy the feel. Like me, her skin is soaked with sweat and equally heated. “Do you want to take our shower now?” I ask.
She tilts her head as if unsure what I’m asking. “A shower?” she repeats. She circles my chest with her nails, appearing to give it some thought. “I guess that can be hot. But why don’t you make me a little more dirty first?”
Bloody hell, this woman can’t possibly be real.
The sensuality in her gaze surges as she replaces the condom and glides her pelvis over my groin. My spine arches and that stabbing desire to enter her returns.
“You like that, don’t you?” She laughs as she lowers her weight and repeats the motion. “Yeah, you do,” she says, her lashes fluttering as I continue to harden.
All it takes is a few passes for me to become fully erect. She grips the headboard with one hand to keep her balance, reaching between us with her opposite hand. Her eyes ram shut as we merge. I hang onto her hips, steadying her as she falls to one knee, my hands shaking from the flow of adrenaline coursing through my cells.
But as her body lowers onto my lap, there’s no hesitation. She moves quickly, alternating from bouncing to circling. I shove up into a sitting position, hooking her waist with my arm to help maintain her pace. She rewards me by pitching backward and offering a breast to suck. I draw it deep into my hot mouth while my fingers tug and roll her other nipple.
Wren cradles my head against her as our audible sounds take over the small confines of her bedroom. “That’s it, baby,” she whimpers, clutching me closer. “Show me how bad you want me.”
CHAPTER 8
Evan
I turn my head slightly, my closed eyes scrunching when my neck kinks. All I want is to sleep, yet as I blink my eyes open and see strands of tousled black hair draped across my chest, I’m suddenly wide awake.
Last night was more of a dream. A perfect evening spent in the company of the most magnetic woman I’ve ever met. But what followed dinner . . . Fuck. I don’t make swearing a habit, but no other word can describe what occurred more precisely.
My hand skims down her spine to rest against her lower back, a reminder to myself that she’s as real as every kiss and touch we shared.
When I was young, the term “all night long” was referenced repeatedly by my peers, leaving me with the impression it was the sexual standard I should expect and look forward to. When I actually began having sex, “once a night” followed by a polite thank you was more realistic given the women I associated with.
Wren proved “all night long” is possible and ridiculously hot. I put her in positions I would have believed were improbable. She responded in turn, her motions sensual and encouraging, allowing me to lead her in an erotic escapade of sweating and swearing bodies and flailing limbs.
Everything about my time with her was different. We spoke and laughed at length, permitting me to know her on a personal level before she took me into her bedroom and allowed me to commit every aspect of her body to memory.
I stroke her hair when she stirs against me. Even the way she sleeps is different.
My last two lovers would be buried beneath the covers, the more recent one already dressed. Wren and I lie naked. What’s left of the bedsheets spilled over the corner of the bed.
The strands of her hair slip through my fingers as she lifts off me, her eyes swollen from lack of sleep. But when she smiles her delicate features brighten, beckoning me closer.
“Hi,” she says, tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth as I break our kiss.
“Good morning,” I tell her, returning her smile.
She climbs on top of me, bending her knees on either side of me as she stretches and yawns. Her breasts lift, the tips pointing to the ceiling as she arches back. It’s a sight that stills me in place, but that familiar ache surged the moment she straddled me.
Her hair falls forward as she looks down between us. She laughs, leaning in to kiss me. “Well, hello there,” she says, wiggling her hips. “Looks like the big boss is up.”
Perhaps I should be embarrassed how easily she arouses me, but like last night and very early this morning, my body simply responds to hers.
My hands skim past her small waist to cup her breasts and knead them. She covers them with hers and links our fingers, her grin sensually wicked. “Come on,” she says, reaching for another condom and pulling me in the direction of her bathroom. “Let’s get that shower you were talking about . . .”
We stumble out of her glass shower about an hour later. I barely keep my feet, and her, balanced with how weak my legs are. Her bathroom is quite small, fortunately. I manage to grip the edge of the sink to keep us from falling.
We laugh as we straighten, her eyes shimmering as she fumbles through a drawer. She passes me a toothbrush and reaches for her own. I don’t quite have the package open when she pinches my ass.
“I knew you had it in you.”
Without thinking, my stare travels below my waist.
“I didn’t mean that,” she says, laughing. She shakes her toothbrush at me. “That was a very big and very nice surprise.” She glances down, taking her time to look at me before adding toothpaste to her toothbrush. “What I meant was, I knew you were a beast beneath all that business.”
I pause in the middle of squeezing the paste she hands me. “A beast?”
“Uh, yeah,” she replies as if stating the obvious. “Last night was totally hot. Honest to God, I didn’t know I was that flexible.”
“Nor did I,” I admit. I lean toward the sink, thinking back to everything we did and how our bodies reacted. She called me a beast. Perhaps I was, but it’s her allure that set the beast free of his cage.
Wren is a woman comfortable with her sensuality. She’s daring and fearless, allowing herself to enjoy sex without reservations. It’s why I could respond with such fervor and the reason I couldn’t do enough to please her. I thrived on each passionate scream and inviting tease of her hands, and most especially how she couldn’t have enough of me.
“I’m excited you didn’t drown.” She points at the shower. “Considering what you did to me in there.”
I chuckle, not bothering to explain that death by drowning would be worth everything I was doing to her. We consumed each other, but it’s the way her eyes met mine as I lifted her against the tile that momentarily held me in place. She wanted me . . . and she trusted me.
We steal glances as we brush our teeth, our smiles never wavering. She gathers a few towels as I finish rinsing my mouth, passing me one as I straighten.
“Thank you,” I tell her
“Evan,” she says, watching me as I towel off. “About last night.”
I don’t like the shift in her tone, or how she gathers a robe around herself, appearing to shield her body from mine. She was so open, exposing herself freely until now.
“Yes?” I ask when she fails to speak.
“It’s not something I do.” She reaches for a comb and works it through her thick wet hair, growing abruptly silent.
The tension drifting between us isn’t something I’m used to around her. I finish toweling off, waiting for her to speak.
She pauses with the comb in her hand, her thumb passing alon
g the teeth. “I don’t have one night stands. Ever,” she says meeting my face. “And I sure as hell don’t sleep with men I barely know.” She sighs. “But you . . . you made it too easy.”
I’ve seen enough horrific movies with dominant male leads who’d brush aside a comment like this, or perhaps use it to their advantage. But I’m not one of those men. I let the towel fall at my feet and step forward, my hands finding her hips and pulling her to me. “You made it easy for me, too,” I admit.
“Because of the blow job?” she teases.
“No,” I respond. “Because of you.”
My comment draws her smile. “See, here you go again, making things easy.”
“Good,” I reply. “That’s how I want things between us.”
The kiss I give her is brief, allowing her the space I think she needs. I’m exhausted and sexually spent. Yet if she wanted, I’d carry her back to bed.
I imagine she guesses as much when she closes her eyes briefly and sighs. Rather than questioning my intent, she reaches for a bottle of lotion, warming it in her hands before passing it along my shoulders. “Do you do that a lot?” she asks.
“Sleep with a woman I just met?” I shake my head slowly when she nods. “My position in my company keeps me busy. The few women I’ve met work directly for me, and I assure you, none have sparked my interest.”
“None?” she asks.
“Not like you have,” I confess. I stroke her face. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed the company of a woman.”
She tries to hide her smile as her slick hands massage the length of my arm, but I catch it nonetheless. “How long is long?”
I consider her question. “About ten months.”
She stops as she reaches my hand glances up. “You haven’t had sex in ten months?”
“Why do you find it so hard to believe?” I ask.
She reaches for the bottle of lotion. “Because you’re cute,” she says.
“Cute?”
“And smart, successful, and sexier than hell. I’m surprised you don’t open up your office every morning to find a naked woman sprawled across your desk, wearing a smile and nothing else.”
