Only for a Night (Lick)

by Naima Simone

  “Rion,” she pleaded. Flames licked at her, created by a taboo touch that filled her like none had before. God, it shouldn’t feel this good. She shouldn’t feel this…complete.

  “That’s it,” he praised, continuing to thrust in and out of her ass. “I knew you could take this. And you love it, don’t you?” A sinful chuckle brushed over her flesh. “Hell yeah, you do. You love having this ass fucked.” Lowering his head, he shafted his tongue into her pussy, feasting on her like a man possessed.

  She shook, transformed into a wild thing, turned mindless by brutal pleasure. Grunting, he returned his mouth to the top of her sex and drove fingers of his other hand into her pussy.

  She exploded. Cracked down the middle and splintered.

  Maybe she blacked out. Maybe she died for a few moments before resurrecting to a world re-forged and reshaped by ecstasy. Trembling with tiny mewls clawing at her throat, she came back to herself, her skin as sensitive and raw as a newborn.

  Slowly, the shudders eased, her breath softening, leveling out. Only then did she realize the soft brush of lips over her belly. Back and forth. From one side of her stomach to the other.

  Oh God.

  She blinked, sudden moisture stinging her eyes. With a Herculean effort, she forced her arms beside her rather than crossing them over herself, guarding herself from the tender caresses that threatened to break her in a way his fierce passion and eroticism hadn’t.

  Her stretch marks.

  He was kissing her stretch marks.

  She swallowed a sob. Of course he would notice. That perceptive, intense stare didn’t miss anything. Neither did he ask her anything. Just worshipped the pale, silvery lines left behind by her pregnancy. Just like the scars that marked his body, permanent reminders of the life she’d lost.

  The mattress shifted as Rion stood, leaving her shivering. Moments later, a warm, heavy blanket covered her. She didn’t open her eyes, not ready to meet any questions that might be in his. Even when the click of the room door opening then closing reached her, she still kept them squeezed shut.

  His searing brand of passion had consumed her. Yet, it was his gentle, almost…loving affection afterward that left her in ashes.

  She’d agreed to Rion’s terms of walking away after this one night together.

  But for the first time since entering the club, she wondered if she would be whole when she did.

  Chapter Six

  Harper didn’t know how much time passed since Rion left the room. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Lying under the cover he’d spread over her before leaving, she watched the door, instinct deep within assuring her he would return. That they weren’t through for the evening.

  But what would he want when he reentered? More sex? Or answers. Please, God, don’t let it be answers. Tonight was supposed to be about liberating herself, not unburdening her soul. Rion wasn’t a dumb man; he would’ve grasped the significance of the stretch marks. But she didn’t speak about Carlie to anyone. Not her parents and not even the grief support group. And here, in this bed, with her emotional skin so thin, so vulnerable, she couldn’t discuss her baby with him.

  Sighing, she sat up, dragging her tangled hair away from her face. A delicious lethargy from the apocalyptic orgasm dragged at her limbs. Without conscious thought, she rubbed her stomach, the phantom caress of Rion’s lips still haunting her. She trembled, still feeling the whisper of his hair across her skin…

  The door opened on a hushed whoosh. Rion’s tall, wide-shouldered frame filled the entrance, his gray gaze immediately finding her on the bed. Black hair tumbled around his face, brushing the dark strands framing his mouth and shadowing his jaw. A knot of lust pulled tight in her stomach, heat winding through her. Just one glance at his masculine beauty, and she reverted to the school girl who’d secretly wanted to pet and stroke him.

  So focused on Rion, she didn’t notice the figure enter the room behind him. As tall and big as Rion, and light to his dark. Pale blond, closely cut hair. Stark, strong facial bones and a hard but full slash of a mouth that possessed an almost cruel slant. And wolf eyes.

  Sasha Merchant.

  She jerked her attention back to Rion, who studied her with a hooded stare. Silence permeated the room, the only sound her increasingly rapid, shallow breaths. Understanding dawned, creeping past her shock.

  “What’s your safe word, Harper?” Rion murmured, stalking closer. Sasha remained near the door, and she could almost feel his intense scrutiny on her face and bared shoulders.

  “Rosebud,” she whispered, clutching the blanket to her chest.

  “Do you want to use it?”

  Did she? Part of her screamed a blaring warning to stop, at least slow up. To think. Was she really getting ready to do this? How did she go from being celibate for two years to sex with two men? But then the other half of her reminded her of Rion’s stipulation: one night. One night to experience everything she’d fantasized about, everything she had been too afraid and ashamed to ask Terrance for. And if she didn’t do this now, she wouldn’t. It had to be with Rion, the one man she trusted and desired enough to lead her into this new, intimidating territory. But…

  “You don’t mind?” When Rion arched an eyebrow in question, she tightened her grip on the blanket. “Sharing me with another man. You don’t mind seeing him…touch me?”

  An emotion flashed in his gaze, but when he cocked his head to the side, his eyes revealed nothing. “If I said yes, would you go through with it?”

  “No.” Even though she had no claim on him past the next couple of hours, the idea, the mere thought, of his face buried between the thighs of another woman sucker punched her in the chest, the blow swift and bruising. She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  He quietly regarded her, his expression as enigmatic as the Sphinx. “Tonight is about pleasure. Yours and mine. And seeing those pretty eyes dilate, hearing you scream my name, and making you come is my pleasure. But make no mistake, Harper. He might join us, he might eat your pretty pussy, he might even fill that sexy mouth with his cock, but it will be me giving you what you need. Me. So no, I don’t mind.” He crossed his arms. “Now. Do you want to use your safe word?”

  “No,” she breathed, the images he’d painted with his words flickering across her brain in a vivid, pay-per-view-only reel. “But…” She hesitated. “Only you inside me. I want…only you.”

  Once more, something she couldn’t decipher flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. But it was darker…fiercer. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Then stand up, and come here,” he ordered, his voice deepening, roughening.

  The lassitude that had weighted her body disappeared, replaced by a hum that buzzed under her skin like a live wire. Anticipation, arousal, and tendrils of fear twisted and coiled, winding through her veins. Her attention solely fixed on him, she slid across the bed and stood, her feet sinking into the plush carpet.

  “Leave the blanket.”

  Her fingers clutched the cover as if in protest before she dropped it to the mattress and padded over to pause before him. She curled her toes into the carpet and fought the urge not to fidget under two pairs of unwavering gazes.

  Rion shifted back a step, then another. Giving Sasha, who hadn’t moved from his position against the wall next to the now closed door, a more unobstructed view of her. Dragging her focus away from Rion, she flicked a glance in his friend’s direction and clashed with his eerily bright stare. She swallowed a gasp, stunned by the desire burning in that wolf gaze.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she, Sasha?” Rion murmured to the other silent man, never removing his smoldering regard from her. Over Rion’s shoulder, she caught the blond’s short nod. Rion continued as if his friend had spoken aloud. “Wait until you taste her. Like honey. Sweet. Thick. Addictive.”

  She shivered at his description of her sex. At the almost impersonal way he talked about her as if she weren’t there. That should piss her off—under other circumstances it would
have. But here, with their hot gazes on her, studying her, raking over her breasts and hard nipples, her exposed pussy and quivering thighs…anger was the furthest emotion churning inside her.

  “Touch yourself.” The demand, though silken, carried an underlying thread of steel. “Go on,” he urged. “You touch yourself, don’t you, Harper?”

  That voice—midnight, tangled sheets, sex, and sin. “Yes,” she said, helpless to do anything but answer.

  “Are you gentle or rough? Do you rub or circle your clit until it’s slippery and aching? Do you slide one or two fingers in your pussy? Show me,” he purred. “What do you think about when you touch yourself? What pushes you to the edge?”

  You. She bit her bottom lip to keep from spilling that secret, glancing at Sasha, who silently studied her. But why was she hesitant about admitting she envisioned Rion’s face? After tonight, it wouldn’t matter if he knew. His stipulation granted her a pass to speak her mind without emotional repercussion, because when the morning arrived, she wouldn’t see him again. Keep telling yourself that, sister. Ignoring the sibilant voice, she met his hooded stare. “You,” she confessed. “I think of you.”

  Rion’s mouth firmed, and the skin over his sharp cheekbones seemed to tauten. His eyes… The gray deepened until they almost appeared black with lust and something…wilder. “Then close your eyes and imagine it’s my hands squeezing those gorgeous tits and sucking your nipples. Imagine it’s my fingers you’re coming all over.”

  Heart pounding, she did as he commanded, not asked. Lashes lowering, she cupped a hand over her breast, and hissed at the pleasure that arrowed straight to her clit, as if a conductor connected the nerve endings. She squeezed her flesh, sliding the other hand down her fluttering belly and between her thighs. Dipping a finger between her already damp folds, she moaned, drawing a lazy circle around her clit and pinching a beaded nipple. Twin darts of electric need shocked her, and she flinched under its lash. So good…

  “Yeah, it is,” Rion rumbled. God, had she uttered the thought aloud? “Harder, baby. Tug on those nipples, rub that pussy. Show us what you like. What you want our mouths and fingers to do to you.”

  His instructions enflamed her, emboldened her. Casting aside any lingering shreds of modesty or fear, she rolled the tip, tweaked it, loving that he—no, they—followed every movement. With a groan, she swept another caress over the pulsing bud at the top of her sex before tracing the wet cleft. The smooth, swollen lips parted under her fingers, and she gathered moisture and thrust deep into her pussy. She gasped, her head falling back on her shoulders. Slick walls sucked at her fingers, and she withdrew, stroking inside again. Lost in the dark arms of lust coiling around her, she edged toward orgasm. Another pull on her nipple. Another polishing rub over her clit. Another hard thrust into her pussy. Another…

  A hot, wet mouth closed over the fingers at her nipple while a wide, hard chest pressed to her spine and big, long fingers tangled with hers between her thighs. Oh Jesus. Her lashes fluttered open, and she clasped the dark head to her breast, watching his lush mouth draw on her. She cried out as his tongue lashed the aching peak, curling around it and tugging. Another mouth trailed down the side of her neck and over her shoulder even as her hips writhed and undulated under the tormenting strokes to her clit.

  Sasha.

  Even if her eyes were still closed, she would be able to tell the difference between the two men. Rion’s touch had been firm, deliberate, but with a hint of tenderness. Sasha rode his fingertips over the nub in a determined, almost ruthless rhythm that sent bolts of lightning to her clenching sex, lower to her puckered asshole, and zinging back to her clit. He didn’t let up, and she couldn’t help but think even if she screamed and pleaded, he might not. Not until she shattered. Rion had relentlessly eased her into orgasm; Sasha would catapult her there.

  Switching breasts, Rion engulfed her flesh, stabbing the tip of his tongue at the neglected nipple. His fingers plucked and rolled the wet tip, and she bucked under the twin caresses, crying out, digging her nails into his scalp. Closing his teeth over the tendon running alongside her throat, Sasha drove two large fingers into her pussy, and she surged to her toes with the force of it. It was too much. It wasn’t enough…

  Rion lifted his head, his eyes blazing with lust. “On the bed. Hands and knees.”

  The heat at her back disappeared, and she stumbled, her legs the consistency of hospital Jell-O. Two pairs of hands shot out and steadied her, one at her elbows, the other at her waist. She stood there for a long second, her breasts, nipples, and sex throbbing in protest of the abrupt departure of mouths and fingers. But one glance into Rion’s stern face, and she turned and hustled to the bed. The cool air in the room brushed her swollen, drenched folds as she crouched on the mattress, as he’d ordered. He shrugged free of the shirt he’d slid into before leaving the room and approached the far side of the bed. Sasha remained at the foot, but his hot gaze branded her skin, and she shivered, the weight of his stare causing her clit to pulse. Rion beckoned her with a curl of his fingers, dragging all of her attention back to him. She crawled across the bed, halting when her fingers brushed the edge.

  He traced the seam of her mouth, and with a moan, she parted her lips and sucked his finger inside, licking from the tip to the base. She curled her tongue around him, groaning at her first taste of him. Earthy, potent, sinful. A part of her was aware of Sasha, recognized his presence there with them, but at this moment, Rion captured most of her focus, her senses. His flavor and scent overwhelmed her and demanded almost all of her attention.

  A low growl emanated from Rion, and he lifted his other hand to her head, tangling his fingers into her hair. “Just like that, Harper. You’re going to suck my cock just like that, you understand?” He added another finger, sliding it between her lips, thrusting lightly back and forth along her tongue. “This mouth was created to be fucked,” he murmured.

  He removed his hands from her and lowered them to his thin, black belt. His slow movements held her mesmerized as he pushed the leather through the buckle, unbuttoned his pants, and lowered the zipper. She glimpsed black boxer briefs before he pulled his erection free.

  Holy. Hell.

  Good God, he was huge.

  And beautiful. And intimidating. Long and thick, his cock jutted from a nest of black, coarse-looking curls. The ruddy, almost brutish column tapered into a fat, swollen cap that glistened with drops of pre-cum beading at the small slit. She slicked the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, already craving the taste of him. Her pussy quivered, clenching in anticipation or anxiety. Probably both. His fingers had been a tight fit. No way in hell could she take all of…that. But damn if her flesh didn’t heat and spasm with just the thought of him prying her open, filling her, stretching her until no part of her sex remained untouched. The breath stuttered in her throat. She craved the burn. Wanted it. Just like she hungered for him in her mouth.

  “You’re staring at my dick like you need it sliding over your tongue and down that virgin throat. Because it hasn’t been taken, has it?”

  God, no. She shivered as he trailed a fingertip down the front of her neck, his other hand wrapped around the wide, flared base of his erection. Slowly, he slid his hand up the heavy shaft, giving it a healthy, slow pump, the tip disappearing in his fist. When he retreated, his flesh shone with the cum he’d slicked over it. Rion watched her through hooded eyes, as if feasting on her reaction to his stroking himself. Did he see the arousal that set her on fire inside? The damn near desperate need to touch him, lick him, suck him deep? She didn’t want to leave here tonight and not have one part of her claimed, marked by his mouth, teeth, tongue, fingers, cock. He could fuck her any way he wanted. She was his.

  For tonight, a small voice whispered.

  Yes, for tonight.

  And if the thought of never again being touched by Rion sliced tiny cuts into her heart, well… She was no stranger to having her heart broken and bruised by him.

  “It’s mine t
onight, Harper,” he warned, scraping his nails over her head before gripping the strands in a firm, not-so-gentle hold. She moaned at the minute stings along her scalp, the tiny bites of pain adding to the excitement racing through her on warp speed. “Your mouth, your throat, and anything else I decide to take.” With the ruthless hold on her hair, he tilted her head back and shifted forward, the damp tip so close she could catch the tangy, musky, delicious scent of the cum welling at the top. He tapped her bottom lip with his flesh, and she couldn’t stop herself from licking at the moisture left behind. Her eyes drifted closed, and she moaned, his flavor bursting over her tongue like a sorbet cleansing her palate of all other tastes but his. “Damn,” he growled, rubbing the head over her mouth, painting her lips with his cum. “You look so goddamn hungry. For me. Open up, baby. I’m going to fuck this pretty, good girl mouth now.”

  He pressed forward, and she parted for him, allowing him to breach her. His heavy length slid over her tongue, and she groaned, swirling her tongue around the broad cap and under the flared rim. His moan mated with hers, his hips jerking before he withdrew, leaving her aching and greedy. Once more, two more times, he treated her to those shallow thrusts, granting her just enough of him to tease and work the head and first few inches of him. But the measured strokes weren’t enough. God, they just weren’t enough. She craved what he’d promised. To fuck her.

  “Please,” she pleaded, greed for more of him burning away pride, modesty, and any lingering hesitancy. “Please give me more.”

  “Do you know what it does to me to hear you beg for my dick?” he snarled, rolling his hips forward, shafting her mouth with a demanding thrust, surging deeper than his previous strokes. Almost touching the throat he’d been threatening to breach. Whimpering, she stretched her mouth wide, taking more of him, translating without words that he could use her, dirty her, corrupt her. He captured her head between both hands, holding her still for a steady, hard pace. “Do you?” he growled. “Makes me want to give you—” He bit off the rest of the admission, his face set in stark, forbidding lines, his gray eyes gleaming. “Wider. Show me you want more.”