More Than Pleasure You: A More Than Words Novella

by Shayla Black

  When we arrive back at Aloha Rainbow house, I pull the sedan under the carport, then dash around to open her door. Skye steps out, her big, dark eyes gleaming up at me in the moonlight. It’s obvious she has something heavy on her mind.

  As the wind starts to howl and the surprisingly cool rain blows in to splatter us, I slide my hand across the small of her back, shelter her from the elements with my body, and guide her inside.

  If she halts our night together, I wouldn’t blame her. We haven’t known each other for long, and from what Finn said flings aren’t her thing. She doesn’t know about my interest in this property. Or how seriously I’m starting to feel about her. She’s a girl who leads with her heart, and my fucked-up life probably makes me look like a bad decision.

  Closing the door behind us, I turn to her in the entryway. “Skye, honey, I—”

  “Are you changing your mind?”

  “No.” Is she insane? “Absolutely not. But—”

  “Thank god.”

  With a sigh of relief, she kicks off her boho beaded wedges, tosses aside her purse, and plasters herself against me, pressing her lips to mine.

  I’m all too happy to open up and kiss her. I’ve hooked up more than my fair share, but I don’t remember ever deriving such singular pleasure from simply kissing a woman. There’s something about Skye… She’s sweet but slightly exotic. The way she fills my mouth boldly one moment, then retreats coyly the next makes me so hot.

  She pulls back, panting. “You’re sure?”

  “Honey, the only thing that will keep me off you tonight is if you say no.”

  “When it comes to you, I’m afraid I don’t know that word.”

  Is she feeling this insane desire, too? The same inexplicable gut-sense of rightness and inevitability, like we met because the stars aligned and this was meant to be? It sounds hokey, and I’ve never believed in any power beyond one’s own intelligence and good planning. But I didn’t scheme this seduction at all, and my feelings aren’t logical. None of that changes how much I need to touch this woman.

  “Good.” I lift her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. “Put your arms around my neck.”

  Instantly, she complies, and I start up the stairs. By the time I reach the top and flip the switch to turn on the bedside lamp, I’m breathing heavily, and it’s not just the physical exertion that has my body going haywire. Anticipation, thick and ripe, hangs in the air. I have this sense that whatever happens next will change everything.

  When I cross the threshold to the bedroom, I set her on her feet, slowly brushing her body against mine. Without her heels, she barely reaches my shoulders, but that doesn’t stop her from cupping my nape, pulling my mouth down to hers, and opening beneath me.

  I sink into her and lose myself in everything that makes Skye uniquely her. Frantically, I tug on the pins that keep her silken hair from spilling into my hands. She nudges my fingers aside, then quickly dismantles her ’do and gives her tresses a wild shake before she attacks my suit coat and tears it from my shoulders.

  As she tosses it on a nearby chair, I kick out of my shoes and lay into the buttons down my chest, slipping them free one after the other, and yanking the tails from my pants until my shirt hangs open.

  “I want to touch you…” she murmurs.

  The second her fingertips skate up my abs and across my chest, I shudder. “You’ve massaged me for sixty minutes every day since we’ve met. It’s my turn to touch you.”

  She sends me a breathless little smile. “That’s an unfair comparison. I tried to look at you academically.”

  “Did you succeed?”

  A pink flush crawls up her cheeks. “Notice I said tried.”

  “So that’s a no.” I grin. “For the record, I’ve never looked at you as anything other than a woman. I’m dying to get my hands on you.”

  Her eyes slide shut. “When you say things like that, it makes me flash hot everywhere.”

  “Oh, honey… If you like what I’m saying, wait until you feel what I can do for you.”

  “I don’t want to wait. Hurry.”

  “On it.” I shrug my dress shirt onto the floor, not giving a shit if it wrinkles.

  Her eyes widen and she consumes me with a greedy stare as I untie the bow at her waist and put my fingers to work unfastening the little buttons down the front of her dress.

  It seems to take endless patience, but soon the ruffles lie askew. I see the lace of her ivory underwire bra. The pretty pink of her puckered nipples are a shadow beneath. I’m desperate to thumb them, pinch them, suck them, spank them. God, how pretty would they be pierced? The thought makes me unbearably hard.

  I want her naked, not just physically. I need her emotionally bare for me. Once she is, I have a feeling she’ll be everything—and more—I’ve fantasized about for four seemingly endless days.

  “Stephen, do something besides stare at me.”

  “I will. Right now, I’m trying to decide how not to scare the hell out of you.”

  “Scare me?”

  “You don’t understand the way I want you…”

  A little smile flits across her face. “Show me.”

  There’s no stopping this. I don’t want to. Apparently, neither does she.

  “Any other fastenings or hooks on this dress?”

  “No.”

  “If I rip it, will it be the end of the world?”

  “No.” Her voice shakes. She bites her lip.

  My restraint is toast.

  I yank the belt from her waist and toss it aside. Then I tug the short, peachy dress over her head and fling it to the other side of the room. She stands in front of me wearing so little, it can barely be called lingerie. I swallow my tongue as I trace the edge of the scalloped, low-cut lace cradling her breast, dangerously close to her nipple. But the tiny panties with a peekaboo keyhole above her pussy turns the heat up on the blaze inside me until it’s close to an inferno.

  “Holy fuck,” I breathe.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Like isn’t the right word.” I lust. I hunger. I covet. I need.

  “I bought it this morning, hoping…” She swallows. “You know.”

  I file that interesting factoid away. “I’ve been hoping, too.”

  But I don’t know precisely what it means to touch her. I don’t know what it means to be inside her, getting lost in her, feeling ecstasy with her, giving her the kind of pleasure that makes her whimper and scream. And I don’t know what it means to have her love, to hold her heart in my hand, to call her mine.

  And I can’t fucking explain why—it makes no sense—but I want to know.

  “Stephen?” She looks nervous. She’s probably wondering why I still haven’t pounced on her. Or is that her impatience talking?

  I smile as I circle behind her, trailing my fingertips across the swells of her breasts before I pause, pressing myself against her back and settling my lips at her ear. “You feel the anticipation?”

  She nods.

  “Does it make your blood sing?”

  “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

  “How long have your nipples been hard?”

  “Most of the night.”

  I slip an arm around her waist and dip my hands between her legs. The lace covering her pussy is more than damp. “You’re wet.”

  “You do that to me,” she moans.

  Her answer makes me smile. “Tonight isn’t the first time?”

  “No. Stephen…” She juts her hips forward, pressing in to my touch.

  “I’m not rushing, honey. We’ve got all night.” When she whimpers, I circle my fingers over the wet fabric right where she’s sensitive. “And I’ve been hard for you for days.”

  She reaches back and digs her fingernails into my thigh. “Why are we still waiting?”

  Normally, I would torment her a little longer because her wanting me is so delicious. But her impatience is destructive to my self-control.

  I reach for the hooks
of her bra and unfasten them before letting the flimsy contraption fall at her feet.

  In the next moment, I hear a mechanical click as the air conditioner kicks on. Cool air blows from the overhead vents. As I hover over her shoulder, I skim the side of her breast with my knuckles—and see her nipples draw up even tighter.

  She shivers. Her breathing turns choppy.

  “If you haven’t been kissed properly in two years, how long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

  Skye turns in my arms and unbuttons my slacks with one hand. The other she curls over my zipper, around my hard cock, giving me a squeeze that makes me hiss. “Stop talking and get your pants off.”

  Maybe I should push harder to make her answer me, but I’m done putting off what we both want.

  I practically yank out my zipper in my haste to get it down, then shove my pants around my ankles. Now we’re both standing, bodies pressed together, wearing only our underwear and our naked desire. I want to kiss her, make sure she knows this is special. Instead, my desperation does the talking. I lift her off the floor, roll her onto the mattress, and settle on top of her, spreading her thighs with my insistent legs and notching my aching cock against the softest, wettest part of her.

  Instantly, she cries out and digs her fingers into my back. I’m ready to get inside her—then something awful occurs to me.

  “I don’t have any condoms.”

  She winces in the shadowy room, an apology filling her dark eyes. “I should have thought about that.”

  No, I should have, but I didn’t want to assume. “Tell me you’re on the pill.”

  “I haven’t had a reason to be.”

  Fuck. “I’ll go to the store.”

  “It should be fine.”

  “Should be?”

  “I finished my period three days ago.”

  It’s not a perfect solution. Hell, it’s not even a good one. But the math seems all right, and I’m too fucking needy to wait. “I’m clean, but are you sure?”

  “Yes. I can’t stand not having you inside me. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

  I met this woman mere days ago, and in a weird way, I feel as if I’ve been waiting for her my whole life, too.

  “Be really sure. Once I start…”

  “I won’t ask you to stop. I want you too much.”

  Everything she says pours gasoline on my raging fire. I hope like hell she doesn’t regret tonight, but I already know that, no matter what happens, I won’t.

  “I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you, Skye. Kiss me.”

  A shy smile spreads across her face before she lifts her head and slants her lips across mine. In less than two seconds, she’s inside my mouth and my raging desire takes over.

  I kiss my way down her neck, dragging my lips over her stunningly soft skin, stopping to savor her, inhale her, as I inch closer and closer to her irresistible pink peaks. She arches, encouraging me. I cup her breast. It fits perfectly in my palm as I bend and take her nipple in my mouth.

  She seems to melt on my tongue, writhing, clutching, moaning. Sucking on her is a delight. I treat the other to the same handling, squeezing the first between my thumb and fingers.

  Nothing about Skye is jaded or been-there-done-that. She’s so sensitive, so responsive. I could lap at her all day, and at some point I will. Tonight, I have to possess every part of her. I have to put my stamp on her. I have to give her at least a few orgasmic reasons not to wake up tomorrow and convince herself that these past few days have been anything less than real.

  I journey my way down her body, skimming the long expanse of her stomach, lips grazing the lean curve of her waist. I wend down further, pulling her delicate, sexy-as-fuck panties past her thighs, then over her knees, before chucking them across the room.

  “I’ll never find all my clothes.”

  “You’re not going to need them until morning. And maybe not even then.”

  She smiles, looking somewhere between amused and aroused—until I wrap my hands around her thighs, spread them wide, and wedge my shoulders between them.

  “Stephen?” she breathes, wide-eyed.

  “Skye.” I steady her by petting her—sleek legs, lush hips, pouting pussy.

  “Are you really going to…” She wriggles under me, unconsciously giving me better access to her slick, silken folds.

  “Taste you? Tongue-fuck you? Make you come? Yes.”

  She drags in a shuddering breath. Her eyes darken. I smell her in the air. Yeah, she wants this. God knows I do…

  I part her with my thumbs and bend, dragging in her scent as I stroke my tongue through her wet folds.

  Jesus, she’s so soft. And addicting. Her tangy-sweet flavor itself is a tease, so light I find myself lapping up all I can get, then chasing down more at the source. But no matter how many times I circle her swollen clit or burrow my tongue inside her, I can’t seem to get enough.

  Soon, she’s panting under me, keening, her body pitching. In the spill of golden light from the lamp, I see perspiration sheen her torso. Her plump nipples stab the air. The power that pumps through me at knowing I can lavish her with pleasure yanks at the chain of my restraint.

  I want to see her squirm. I want to hear her beg. I want to feel her all around me.

  As her needy bud swells between my lips and I insert a pair of fingers in her tight-as-fuck opening, she cries out.

  “You want to come, honey?”

  Skye nods fervently. “Yes.” She curls her hands around the sheets and tugs, breath seesawing, hips undulating. “Please…”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to come,” she gasps.

  I usually enjoy the push-pull that leads to a woman’s inevitable surrender every bit as much as I enjoy her surrender itself. But this is different. Skye is different. Every part of me aches for her to cede herself, trust me with her body and place her soul in my hands, give me her heart.

  Eagerly, I lick her distended clit before sucking it into my mouth, then probe the smooth spot inside her with my searching fingers.

  “Stephen!” she cries out as her body tenses.

  Her legs straighten. Her audible breaths turn labored before her respiration stutters. Her eyes widen, then slam shut. Color runs through her body, settling pink in her cheeks, her chest, and the swollen folds of her pussy.

  Fuck yes.

  Then she lets loose a throaty wail of bliss.

  I feel her clamp on my fingers, pulsing as she bucks and scratches for more. I give it to her, steeped in a soul-deep gratification as I string out her trembling pleasure for long, shocking moments until she finally turns into a shuddering, panting puddle.

  While she catches her breath, I climb my way up her body, pressing kisses across her skin before taking her mouth and spreading her tempting essence across her tongue. I drink in her passion, delighting in how shaken she is by the ecstasy.

  “Stephen…” she whispers.

  I see the question in her eyes. What the hell just happened? How much longer before I’ll be inside her? How much more pleasure will I wring from her before the night is over? How much of her soul will I take?

  She may not want the truth.

  Beneath me, I spread her pliant body and nestle between her thighs, positioning myself in between and aligning my aching crest with her slick opening. Just the feel of her flesh grasping for my sensitive head has me eager to push in, plunge deep, and take total possession.

  I manage to hold back. “Last chance, honey. If you want to back out…”

  “No!” She wraps her legs around my waist, bringing me closer, holding me tighter. “I want you inside me.”

  “Thank god.” I grit my teeth and grip her hips. “I need you so fucking bad.”

  With a groan, I start pushing my way in. Skye is slick and hot, but so damn tight. I ease back, then stroke in a little deeper. But she’s clutched closed against me, no matter how I press or cajole.

  Frustration gnaws at me.

&nb
sp; I dig for patience, pull back, and thumb her clit in slow, gentle circles. “Relax, honey.”

  “I am. Well, I’m trying.”

  She is. The rest of her body seems loose, almost boneless. I have a sneaking suspicion why she’s so tight.

  “Seriously, how long has it been?”

  She glances away. “Please just try again.”

  I cup her chin and bring her gaze back. “I’m not grilling you, just wanting to give you the best experience possible. How long?”

  “Promise you won’t laugh.”

  “I would never laugh at you.”

  Skye licks her lips. “I haven’t had sex since I was sixteen.”

  Oh, fuck.

  She’s twenty-four now. From our conversations, I know she hasn’t dated a lot. School activities, strict parents, and other shit ensured she kept her head down. But I never imagined that equated to eight fucking years of celibacy.

  I probably should have. For all her offbeat-colored toe polish and bohemian dresses, she’s shy. And Finn told me straight up she isn’t the kind of girl who gives her body easily. I have to hope she’s with me tonight because this means something to her.

  “Drake was my first real boyfriend. It only lasted a few months.”

  Reading between the lines, what she means is that their relationship was rocky and angst-filled and she was gun-shy about giving romance another try.

  Until me.

  I cup her face and kiss her mouth. “It’s okay. I’ll do whatever you need. I’ll slow down. I’ll be gentle. I’ll—”

  “Don’t you dare. Every time I fantasized about us, I imagined you taking me and not holding anything back.”

  I imagined that, too. I lay in bed and dreamed about it. I showered and masturbated to thoughts of it. No way I can’t give her what we’re both aching for.

  “I will. I promise. Right now, just kiss me.”

  She does, her shyness melting away as she shows me the woman underneath, revealing both her open acceptance and a quiet desperation—neither of which I can resist. What’s even sexier? Just like I’ve learned how she feels and what she responds to, she’s also figuring me out. She seems to have noticed that I moan when she digs her fingers into my back. And that when she rakes her nails across my scalp, I shudder. And she’s clearly clued in that I love it when she drags her tongue up my neck and nips at my lobe.