by Ember Cole
“Jesus,” I breathe as my hands close around them and my mouth starts to water. She gives a soft moan as I squeeze gently, testing the weight of them in my palms.
Am I a dick if I admit I wondered if they might be fake? Because real breasts can’t be this perfect, but holy shit they are. And they’re in my hands like luscious scoops of the best dessert I’ve ever tasted. Her nipples press into the tips of my fingers, and I lower my head to claim one with my mouth.
Bekka gives a soft hiss as I stroke her with my tongue. It’s my turn to drop to my knees, and I grip her ass with both hands as she claws at the top of my head.
“Please,” she pants, moaning again as I claim the other nipple. “Please, Adam. I want your cock inside me.”
Not yet. I’m nowhere near done here. I take my time on her breasts, sucking and licking and nipping the underside of the left one. Her breath comes faster, hoarse and tinged with soft whimpers that are making me crazy. God, I can’t get enough of her. She smells like some kind of flowery lotion, or maybe that’s just her. She’s the perfect combination of sweet and tart, of soft curves and sharp angles.
Her hips move like we’re already fucking, like she can already feel me inside her.
“Let’s get these off you.” I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her panties and drag them slowly down her legs. “And then let’s get you off, hmm?”
She groans as I cup her ass in one hand and gently graze her clit with my tongue. I wonder if she waxes or shaves or how she got so perfectly smooth. Those perfect pink pussy lips are begging to be devoured, so I do.
I already know how she likes it, so I bury my tongue in her soft folds. She cries out and clutches the back of my head, fucking my face again. I let her ride my tongue, angling up to give her access to whatever she needs. She tastes like a dream, and I can’t wait to feel her explode again.
“Don’t stop.” Her words are a breathless gasp, and I know that’s my cue. I slide two fingers inside her, rewarded by a shriek that’s going to have neighbors leaving nasty messages on my voicemail.
But that’s the last thing on my mind as I finger her through another explosive orgasm that sends her rocking backward into the table. I steady her with a hand on her hips while my tongue stays with her until she comes back down to earth.
I’m still kneeling in front of her when she blinks at me and smiles. “Have I mentioned you’re really fucking good at that?”
“Maybe a time or two.”
I’ve gotta admit, it’s a specialty of mine. I love eating pussy, but I’ve never enjoyed it as much as I do with Bekka.
But we’re nowhere near done here. We’ve hardly gotten started.
She grabs her little black purse off the table and whips it open. She pulls out a condom—that same condom we almost used in the elevator—and holds it up. “Please, Adam,” she says. “If you make me wait any longer I’ll explode.”
“That’s kind of the point, babe.”
She laughs as I get to my feet and tear open the wrapper, kicking off my shoes and jeans in a tangled heap that probably includes my boxers, too. I have no idea. All I know is that I’m finally naked, and desperately ready to fuck her.
I have the condom on in seconds and start to reach for her. But Bekka steps back, and shakes her head.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as she moves away from me.
She grins, then boosts herself up on the dining room table. “Absolutely nothing.” She spreads her legs and oh my God, it’s like every fantasy I’ve ever had rolled into one hot package. That pretty pussy is ready and waiting, and I step forward like I’m being pulled by gravity.
“Please fuck me, Adam.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grins. “I love it when you talk military to me.”
I laugh and move into the circle of her thighs, the tip of my cock poised at her entrance. I already know she’s dripping wet, but I glide a finger through her folds anyway, making sure she’s ready.
The grin falls from her face. “Adam,” she whimpers, squirming against me. “Please. I need to feel you.”
God, I love how she begs. I love that she’s as turned on as I am.
“Is this what you want?” I grip the base of my cock.
She nods and licks her lips. “Put it in. Please, now.”
As I ease the tip in, she groans and rises up to meet me. I move slowly at first, letting her get used to the sensation. She clenches tight around me as I lose myself in all that delicious, slippery heat.
But Bekka’s not in the mood for slow. She tips back on her elbows and gives me a heated look. Then she thrusts her hips forward, burying me to the hilt.
“Fuck,” I gasp, and fall into her.
She claws at my hips as I start to move, and I swear to God I’ve never felt anything so fucking good in my life. She’s slick and tight and so unbearably soft.
Her red-gold hair falls like a shimmering curtain over her face, but I can still see her lust-glazed expression. She tosses her head back and meets my eye with a sharp cry of pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She wraps her legs around me, heels scraping my ass as she meets me thrust for thrust. It’s like we’re made to fit together like this. I can’t get enough of her, even though I’m buried as deep as I can go. If someone had told me two hours ago that I’d be balls-deep in the hottest girl I’ve ever met, I’d never have believed it. My brain couldn’t have imagined anything this hot, this fucking amazing.
Something crashes to the floor behind us but neither of us flinches. Nothing in the world could make me stop now. The goddamn building could catch on fire and I’d stay thrusting inside her just like this.
Bekka gasps my name. “Adam—Adam I’m close—”
So soon?
But yeah, I can tell by how she clenches around me that she’s there again. That she’s already at the brink.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “I want to feel that tight pussy come all over my cock.”
She throws her head back and screams, clutching the edge of the table. A stack of papers hits the floor, but I don’t stop. Not even when my knee hits a chair, delivering a sharp crack of pain that swirls together with unbelievable heat waves of pleasure. I don’t stop. I could never stop. I order myself to hold on, to keep from toppling into the chasm with her. I need this to last. There are so many more ways I want her.
When she finally stops screaming, Bekka opens her eyes and looks at me with a shy smile. Her eyes drop to the place where our bodies are still joined, then widen with surprise. “You didn’t—”
“Nope.”
Her smile gets bigger. “So you’re still—”
“Yep.” I shift my hips so she can feel I’m still hard as fucking granite and ready to go again. That’s assuming she is. Maybe she needs time to catch her breath.
But she sits up and kisses me full on the mouth. “Good,” she says, drawing back until my cock slides out of her. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Thank God.
My dick gives a twitch of protest as she jumps off the table, but the disappointment doesn’t last long. Bekka strides over to the couch in those hot-as-fuck heels, and I know the sexy sway in her step is for me. She bends over the back of the sofa cushions and tips her perfect little ass into the air. Propping herself on her elbows, she turns and throws a devilish look over her shoulder.
“What are you waiting for?”
Jesus. Does she know about the thoughts I was having in the stairwell? How desperately, urgently, I want to fuck her from behind? How I haven’t stopped thinking about it since before we got to her apartment?
I reach her in two steps, though my dick gets there a little quicker than the rest of me. Wrapping my hands around her hips, I nuzzle the back of her neck. Her skin is damp and tastes like honey, and I graze her earlobe with my teeth.
“Tell me exactly what you want,” I murmur in her ear, breathing in the flowery scent of her p
erfume. “In explicit detail.”
“Well,” she says, giving a breathless little laugh. “I want you to spread me open—”
“Yeah—”
“And I want you to slide that huge dick inside me and fuck me until neither of us can stand.”
Christ. I love dirty talk, but especially when it’s spilling from a mouth this sweet.
She arches her back and reaches behind her with one hand. Her fingers close around my dick, and I lose myself in the gentle pressure of the squeeze. “Anyone ever tell you that you have the perfect cock?”
I’ve heard that before, but no way in hell am I saying so. “It’s dying to be inside you again.”
“Then let’s not disappoint it.”
I almost laugh about the fact that we’re discussing my dick like it’s a third party in the room, but any trace of laughter leaves my lungs as Bekka guides me into her again. I thought it wasn’t possible to be deeper than I already was, but I was wrong. So wrong.
And this feels so goddamn right.
This time, I don’t hold back.
I ram my cock in hard, rewarded by the sharp smack of flesh against flesh, by Bekka pushing back against me to take every goddamn inch as deep as she can.
She gives a sharp yelp, and I stop thrusting. “Did I hurt you?”
“No way.” She grins. “I love how big you are.”
She knows how to stroke a guy’s ego, but I don’t think that’s what this is. If this feels even a tenth as good to her as it does to me, we’re both in fucking nirvana right now. She arches her spine and tilts her head back, spilling all that red-gold hair in a shimmering cascade down her shoulders.
I reach out to grab a fistful of it. “Tell me if I get too rough.”
“You can fuck me as hard as you want to,” she breathes. “As hard as you need to.”
So I do. I growl and grip her hair tighter, using it to pull her into each thrust. She moves faster now, riding me like a goddamn pogo stick. I shift from being afraid of hurting her to wondering if I can keep up.
But I can. I can and I do, grabbing her hip with my free hand. My fingers press hard enough to leave marks, but Bekka just moans with pleasure.
“I love this,” she pants. “So much.”
And I love that we’re on the same wavelength. That she’s meeting me thrust for thrust, seeming to relish the tug of my hand in her hair.
She slips a hand between her legs, nails grazing my balls as she starts to tickle her clit.
“Keep touching yourself,” I urge. “Take yourself to the edge.”
I slam into her again, loving the push and pull. Savoring the soft suction, the sweet clutch of her pussy around me. I grip a fistful of her ass cheek and wonder if she likes to be spanked. Not now, not our first time together, but someday.
Someday?
The fact that I’m thinking of this as more than a one-time thing should freak me the fuck out, but it doesn’t. Everything about this is crazy, including the fact that I can’t fucking hang on much longer. I’m going to come if she doesn’t stop bucking against me like I’m a carnival ride.
You told her to use you. That’s exactly what she’s doing.
“Bekka—”
“Come with me,” she urges. “Please.”
She slams back against me and I lose it. I fucking lose it. Something explodes behind my eyes and I drive into her again and again, coming for longer than I ever thought possible.
Bekka cries out, too, and I feel her spasm around me. Her whole body goes rigid, and even though I’m spent, I keep thrusting until I’m sure she’s done.
Both of us lie panting for a moment, like we’re not sure what hit us. Her lithe little body is draped over the back of the couch like all her bones have melted. After a few beats, she lifts herself up on her elbows and throws a surprisingly shy smile over one shoulder. “Well, that was amazing.”
I laugh and slip out of her, grabbing a tissue to get rid of the condom. There’s a trash can next to the couch, so I take care of business fast and reach for her again. “That was incredible.” I spin her around so we’re facing each other. “Seriously.”
I wrap her in my arms, loving the fast thrum of her heartbeat against my chest. We stand there like that for a long time, waiting for our breath to return to normal. For our bodies to stop tingling.
I’m not sure that’ll happen anytime soon.
Releasing her, I take her hand and lead her around to the other side of the couch. I’m gentle as I lower her to the cushion, then fold my body around her so we’re lying spoon-style together.
“Ooh, I love the snuggling part,” she says.
“Me, too.”
See? That’s what I dig about her. I half expected her to be all wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, but instead she’s down to cuddle. Does it make me a total lameass that I’m into it, too?
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo as my heart rate returns to normal. Her skin is soft and damp with sweat, and we’re both still breathing like we’ve run a marathon.
After a few minutes of lying like that, Bekka turns in my arms and smiles up at me. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For letting me—uh—burn off some steam.” She lifts a hand and tucks her hair behind one ear. “For not judging me.”
“I’d never judge you.” I plant a kiss on the side of her temple. “Seriously though, best sex of my life.”
“Really?” She looks so surprised that I wonder if I even made her top ten. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
She must see something in my expression, because she giggles and pulls me in for a kiss. “Me, too. Seriously. I just thought—someone who looks like you—I—God, I’m botching this, aren’t I?”
“Not at all. You’re fucking adorable.”
She laughs and kisses me again.
I know she thinks that I’m blowing smoke up her skirt. That “best sex of my life” is just some line I feed all the girls, something I think I’m supposed to say.
Fine, maybe I’ve used that line once or twice. Maybe I’ve even meant it. But I’ve never had sex like what just happened here. Never in my life has it felt like that.
She nuzzles my neck and looks up at me with amazement in her eyes. She’s feeling it, too, I’m sure of it, and I can’t help thinking this changes everything.
Bekka Zoler just blew my fucking mind.
And as I plant another kiss along her hairline, I can’t help wondering if I’ve blown hers, too.
7
BEKKA
Holy God.
That was seriously the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.
I know he probably thinks I’m just saying it because he did, but seriously—that was insane.
I struggle to sit up, too mind-whacked to be still. Not that I don’t totally love lying here in his arms, but something about it makes me feel vulnerable. Like that dream I have sometimes where I walk naked into math class wearing nothing but a pair of yellow rubber boots.
Adam rises with me and opens his arms, an invitation I’m glad to accept. I let him slide an arm around me so we’re sitting together like a married couple watching a game show. As if.
“You okay?” He nuzzles the side of my head, planting a feather-soft kiss beside my left eye.
I nod and shiver, even though I’m not cold. “I’m good.”
“Chilly?”
I don’t answer right away, so he pulls my favorite fuzzy green blanket off the arm of the couch. He tugs it around us so we’re snuggled together with one side pinned down under his thigh. I wriggle so the other edge is tucked under my butt and curl against Adam’s chest again. God, he has a great chest. His heartbeat sounds like thunder beneath my ear, and I stroke a hand over those glorious pecs.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Is it lame that I keep thanking the guy for getting me off? I’m not usually this grateful. This desperate.
Not that there’s anything about Adam Black that
screams desperate. On the contrary, the man is hot. Hot and sexy and so fucking amazing at doling out pleasure like he’s pulling it from a bucket of Halloween candy.
But he’s more than that. Sweet and tender and sensitive, too. How did I never know guys like this were a thing?
He kisses the edge of my hairline, pretty much proving my point. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he says. “That wasn’t some charity act. I promise you it wasn’t a sacrifice on my part.”
A nervous giggle slips out, and I angle back to look at him. There’s an intensity in his expression that I can’t quite read. “I just—I, um—I appreciate what you said. About letting me take what I needed?”
He grins and kisses me again. “I’m glad you were feeling especially…needy.”
Ouch. It’s dumb to get hung up on semantics, but isn’t there a difference between needing something and being needy? I’m probably overreacting, but the word pokes at me like a hot needle to the solar plexus.
Probably because I’ve heard it dozens of times before. The last of which being CJ.
The reminder is sobering. It sets me on edge. Makes me feel like maybe I’ve made a wrong move here.
Calm down, Bekka. Don’t ruin the moment. Don’t freak out.
Adam brushes the hair off my forehead and smiles at me. “You know, I was pissed when my dad told me to go check on you,” he says. “Now I’m feeling like I owe the colonel a thank-you note.”
I laugh and land a soft punch on his shoulder. “The last thing I need is the landlord thinking I’m some floozy who threw myself at his son.”
“You’re definitely no floozy.”
I’m not. I know I’m not. There’s nothing wrong with a woman taking what she needs sexually.
Still, there’s that twist in my gut again. That needle of guilt telling me I might have acted hastily. It’s not Adam I’m uncomfortable with, I realize. He’s not CJ or any of the other assholes I’ve tried to date. No, I’m uncomfortable with myself. What kind of person uses someone as nice as Adam for something as shady as rebound sex? Shouldn’t grudge fucks be reserved for assholes?
