by Emma Chase
locked on mine. I lift up, and she peels my pants and boxers off. My cock springs up, proud and hard and so fucking ready. Her eyes go down, and she looks me over. I let her get her fill; I’m not really the shy type.
But when a devilish smile comes to her lips and she leans toward my dick, I grab her and pull her back to my mouth. I don’t know what she was planning—well, I have an idea—but if I don’t get inside her soon, I think I’m actually going to die.
I lift her at the waist, and her knees rest on either side of me. I hold her up with one hand while the other pushes the lace between her legs to the side. I dip two fingers inside her. Jesus. She’s ready too. I slide my fingers all the way in, and we both moan loudly. She’s wet…and hot. She molds snugly around my fingers, and my eyes close, knowing just how incredible she’ll feel around my cock. I pump my fingers in and out, and she starts riding my hand. She’s whimpering…moaning…gasping my name.
Music to my frigging ears.
I can’t take it anymore. I grab the condom and rip it open with my teeth. Kate rises up as I start to roll it on. Then she pushes my hands away. And she rolls it on for me.
Sweet fucking Christ Almighty.
I pull at her lace panties. I want her bare, nothing in the way. With a rip and a snap, I tear them off. Her dark curls and shiny lips beckon me, and I swear to God I’ll give them all the attention they deserve later. But I can’t wait.
My eyes are on hers…those dark chocolate eyes that pulled me in the moment I first saw them.
Gorgeous.
Slowly, she sinks down on me. For a moment, neither of us moves. Or breathes. She’s tight…fuck…even through the rubber, I feel her walls stretching for me.
I whisper her name, like a prayer. “Kate.”
I take her face in my hands and bring her down to me. I can’t not kiss her. She rises up, pulling me almost completely out before smoothly sliding down, taking me back inside.
Holy God.
Nothing has ever felt this good—nothing. My hands grasp her hips, helping her ride my cock with steady strokes. Our mouths are open against each other, kissing and panting.
I pull myself up to sit straighter, knowing the added pressure against her clit will make it better for her. And I’m not wrong. She comes down on me harder, faster, my hands digging into her hips. I kiss her neck and bend my head, licking my way to a hardened nipple. I take it in my mouth, sucking and rolling my tongue around, making her hand fist in my hair as she moans.
I’m not going to last. There’s no way. I’ve waited for this too long, wanted it too much. I brace my feet on the floor and start thrusting up, stabbing into her, pushing her hips down hard as I do. It’s bliss. Hard, deep, wet rapture, and I never want it to end.
She throws her head back and moans louder. “Yes…yes…Drew.”
I’m cursing and calling her name, both of us almost mindless. Out of control. Because it feels that fucking good.
She screams my name, and I know she’s coming.
God, I love her voice.
And then she’s contracting all around me—her pussy around my cock, her legs against my thighs, her hands on my shoulders—all clenching taut and stiff. And I’m right there with her.
“Kate, Kate…fuck…Kate.”
I thrust up again and again. Then I come long and hard. White-hot pleasure shoots through my body unlike anything I have ever felt before. My head falls against the back of the couch.
After the spasms die down, my arms come up around Kate, bringing our chests together and her head against my neck. I feel her heartbeat start to return to normal. And then she’s laughing, low and satisfied.
“God…that was so…so…”
Now I’m smiling too. “I know.”
Earth shattering. Off the Richter Scale. Powerful enough to take out a small island country.
I stroke my hand through her hair…so frigging soft. I lean down and kiss her again. So goddamn perfect.
What a great night. I think this could very well be the best night of my life. And it’s only just started.
Kate squeals as I stand up and carry her, wrapped around me, to my bedroom.
I’ve never brought a woman to my bedroom before. It’s a rule. No random hook-ups in my apartment—never even considered it. If one of those girls actually knew where I lived? Can you say Stalker Psycho, anyone?
But I don’t think twice about laying Kate down in the middle of my bed. She watches me, on her knees as I strip off my buttonless shirt and get rid of the used condom. Biting her lip with a smile, she peels off her own blouse that was still hanging on her arms. Oh yeah—and she’s still got her heels on.
Nice. So very, very nice.
I crawl over to her and rest on my knees in the center of the bed. I cradle her face in my hands as I kiss her long and hot. I’m all set to go again. My dick pokes her in the stomach where it stands firm and ready. But this round, I want to take my time. I’ve admired her body for months—and now I plan to explore every fucking inch of it, up close and personal.
I lean forward and lay her back. Kate’s hair fans out behind her onto my pillows. She looks like some mythical imp, some fabled pagan sex deity from a Roman legend.
Or a well-acted porno.
Her knees fall open naturally, and I settle between them. Christ…she’s already damp. I can feel how wet she is against my stomach when she pushes up and rubs against me. Silently begging for it—again.
I kiss my way down her neck and collarbone, coming face to face with her pebbled breasts. Kate’s hands knead my shoulder blades as I lick a circle around one dusky pink center. Her breathing’s fast and urgent. I flick my tongue over her nipple quickly until she groans my name.
The minute the word leaves her lips, I close my mouth over her and suckle hard. For a few minutes, I alternate licking, sucking, and scraping her pointy little peak. Her reaction is so frigging primal, I can’t help but switch to the other tit and give that beauty the same attention.
By the time I work my way lower, Kate is writhing under me, bucking and rubbing herself on any part of my body she can reach.
It’s shameless.
Beautiful.
And as badly as I want her right now, as goddamn good as it feels to have her grinding against me—I’m in complete control of what I’m doing. I’m in charge. And there’s one thing I can’t wait to do. Something I’ve fucking dreamed of doing ever since that night at Howie’s. I lick a trail down the center of her stomach, then crawl lower. I slip her shoes off and lick another path up her inner thigh till I’m eye level with my target: her neat patch of dark curls.
Kate is shaved short, trim, and the skin surrounding her snatch is as smooth as silk. I know because I’m nibbling my way around that manicured little triangle right now. Guys love a pussy that’s almost completely bare. And no, it has nothing to do with perverted pre-pubescent fantasies. The idea that a woman is nearly bald there is just…naughty. Such a turn on.
I rub my nose into her tiny, coarse patch and inhale. Kate gasps and moans above me—eyes closed, mouth open.
Just so you know, men don’t expect a woman to smell like Winter Pine or Niagara Falls or whatever the fuck those feminine products say. It’s a pussy—it’s supposed to smell like one. That’s the fucking turn on.
Kate’s scent in particular has me salivating like a famished frigging animal. I rub again, kissing her plump outer lips. Mother of God.
Her hands clench the blanket.
“God, you smell so good, I want to eat you all night.”
And I just actually might.
I lick up her wet slit, and she arches off the bed with a moan. I push her hips down with my hands, holding her immobile as I do it again, and she cries out louder.
“That’s it, Kate—let me hear you.”
I’m well aware that this—that I—am the first man to ever do this to her. And yes, as a guy, that fact makes it even better.
You know who Neil Armstrong is, don’t you?
>
Now tell me who the second guy was. Hell, tell me any other guy you know who made it to the moon after him. You can’t, can you? That’s why this is such a rush.
She’ll never forget this.
She’ll always remember…me.
Maybe that’s chauvinistic and egotistical, but it’s the truth.
Up and down, over and over, I lick her from end to end. Her cream is sweet and thick. Goddamn delicious. I push her thighs apart, spreading her wider, and push in and out of her—fucking her with my tongue. Her head rolls side to side as high-pitched moans echo from her throat. She’s incoherent, and her toes dig into my shoulders, but I don’t let up. No freaking way. In one motion, I suck Kate’s firm little clit into my mouth and slip two fingers inside her.
Then I’m the one moaning. Her hot juice coats my fingers, almost burning. I can’t stop my hips from rotating and rubbing against the bed. Fuck. Still pumping in and out with my hand, I flatten my tongue and rub steady, hard circles on her clit.
“Drew! Drew!”
Hearing Kate scream charges me up even more. I move my fingers faster, in time with my tongue, and look up…needing to see her lose it. I’m going to come just watching her. The look on her face is full-blown ecstasy, and I don’t know which one of us is getting off more.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…God!”
Then she’s rigid—stiff as a fucking board. Her hands pull my hair, her thighs tighten around my head, and I know she’s there.
After several moments she loosens her hold, and I slow my tongue to leisurely paced licks. When Kate relaxes her limbs even more, I sit up, wipe my face with my hand, and slide on a fresh condom.
Oh yeah—I’m just getting started.
I lean over her, and she pulls me down and kisses me hard. She pants against my lips, “So…incredible.”
Smug, conceited satisfaction pumps through my veins, but I can’t even smile. I need to fuck her too goddamn much. I slide in easily. She’s slick but tight—like a wet fist. I feel her clench around me as I pull out slow and glide back in.
I start to thrust faster. Harsher. My arms are straight on either side of her head so I can watch the pleasure that flickers across her face. Her tits bounce every time I surge forward, and I almost lower down to suck on one.
But then she opens her eyes and looks up at me. And I can’t look away. I feel like a king—like a fucking immortal. And any self-control I had just vanished. I push into her, fast and merciless. Pure heated pleasure swells in my stomach and down my thighs.
Sweet Jesus.
Our bodies slap together over and over, hard and quick. I hook one arm under her knee and raise her leg up over my shoulder. She feels even tighter, and I can’t help but moan, “Kate…”
“Yes, like that. God, yes! Drew…” And then she goes stiff under me again, her eyes closing as a strangled moan leaks from her lips.
That’s when I let go. I ram into her one last time before the most intense orgasm of my life rushes through me. I groan loud, flooding the condom inside her to the frigging brim. My arms collapse, and my full weight falls on her. She doesn’t seem to mind. The moment I’m down, she’s kissing me—my eyes, my cheeks, my mouth. I struggle to catch my breath, and then I’m kissing her back.
Un-fucking-believable.
Chapter 14
I READ AN ARTICLE ONCE that said having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Kate and I are going to live forever. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. It’s like a mosquito bite—the more you scratch, the more it itches.
I’m just glad I bought the extra-large box of condoms at Costco.
And in case you couldn’t tell from my reactions, I’ll just come out and say it: Kate Brooks is a fantastic lay. A spectacular piece of ass. If I wasn’t sure that Billy Warren was a complete dumbass fuckwit before—since I’d sampled what he threw away—now I’m completely certain of it.
She’s adventurous, unapologetically demanding, spontaneous, and confident. A lot like me. We’re a perfect fit, in more ways than one.
When we finally come up for air, the night sky outside my window is just turning gray. Kate is lying quietly, her head on my chest, her fingers tracing its contours and occasionally stroking the dusting of hair there.
I hope after everything I’ve told you that this doesn’t come as a shock, but I don’t “cuddle.” Typically, after a woman and I are done, there is no spooning, no snuggling, no frigging pillow talk. I might, on occasion, have a nap before I head out the door. But I can’t stand it when a girl braids herself around me like some mutant octopus. It’s annoying and uncomfortable.
With Kate, however, the old rules just don’t seem to apply. Our warm skin is meshed together, our bodies aligned, her ankle over my calf, my thigh under her bent knee. It feels…peaceful. Soothing in a way I can’t fully describe. I have absolutely no desire to move from this spot.
Unless it’s to roll over and nail her again.
She breaks the silence first. “When did you lose your virginity?”
I laugh. “Are we playing First and Ten again? Or are you wondering about my sexual history? Because if that’s it, I think you’re a little too late, Kate.”
She smiles. “No. It’s not like that. I just want to know you…more.”
I sigh as I think back. “Okay. My first time was…Janice Lewis. My fifteenth birthday. She invited me to her house to give me my present. It was her.”
I feel her smile against my chest. “Was she a virgin too?”
“No. She was just shy of eighteen—a senior.”
“Ah. The older woman. So she taught you everything you know?”
I smile and shrug. “I picked up a few tricks over the years.”
We fall quiet again for a few minutes, and then she asks, “Don’t you want to know about mine?”
Don’t even have to think about that one.
“Nope.”
Don’t want to spoil the mood, but we’ll pause here a second.
When it comes to a woman’s past, no guy wants to hear about it. I don’t care if you’ve fucked one guy or a hundred—keep it to yourself.
Let me put it this way: When you’re out at a restaurant and the waiter brings your meal, do you want him to tell you about every single person who touched that food before you put it in your mouth?
Exactly.
I also think it’s pretty safe to assume that her first time was with Warren—that he was her one and only. And he is the last fucking person I want to be discussing at this particular place and time.
Now, back to my bedroom.
I turn on my side so I’m facing Kate. Our faces are close, our heads sharing one pillow. Her hand’s tucked under her cheek in an innocent kind of way.
“There is something I want to know, though,” I say.
“Ask away.”
“Why’d you go into I-banking?”
I come from a long line of white-collar professionals. Alexandra and I weren’t expected to follow in our parents’ footsteps—it just sort of happened that way. People always gravitate toward what they know, what’s familiar.
Like professional athletes. Have you ever noticed how many Juniors there are in major league baseball? It’s to distinguish them from their Hall of Fame fathers. The Manning quarterbacks—same deal. But I wonder what attracted Kate to investment banking considering her adolescent years of petty crime.
“The money. I wanted a career where I knew I’d make a lot of money.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
She looks at me knowingly. “You were expecting something more noble?”
“Yeah, I guess I was.”
Her smile dims. “The truth is, my parents got married young—had me young. They bought the diner in Greenville. Mortgaged it to the gills. We lived above it. It was…small…but nice.”
Her smile fades a little more. “My father was killed when I was thirteen. Car accident—drunk driver. After that, my mom was always busy. Trying to
keep the diner going, trying to keep herself from falling apart.”
When she pauses again, I put my arm across her and pull her in until her forehead rests against my chest. And then she goes on:
“She barely kept us above water. I wasn’t deprived or anything, but…it wasn’t easy. Everything was a struggle. So, when they told me I was going to be Valedictorian, and I received a full scholarship to Wharton, I figured—okay—investing it is. I never wanted to be helpless or dependent. Even though I had Billy, it was important to me to know I’d be able to support myself, by myself. Now that I can, all I really want to do is take care of my mom. I’ve been asking her to move to New York, but so far she’s said no. She’s worked her entire life…I just want her to rest.”
I don’t know what to say. For all my snide comments about my family, I’m pretty sure I’d lose my frigging mind if something happened to any one of them.
I raise her chin so I can look into her eyes. Then I kiss her. After a few minutes, Kate turns around. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her right up against me. I press my lips to her shoulder and settle my face in her hair. And even though it’s technically morning, that’s just how we stay until we both fall asleep.
Every healthy man in the world wakes up with a stiffy. A fatty. Morning wood. I’m sure there’s some medical explanation for the phenomenon, but I just like to think of it as a little present from God.
A chance to begin the day with your best dick forward.
I can’t remember the last time I slept next to a woman. Waking up beside one, however, definitely has its benefits. And I’m prepared to take full advantage of them.
With my eyes still closed, I roll over and search for Kate. I plan on teasing her awake before giving her a “good morning” from behind. It’s the only acceptable wakeup call, in my book. But as my hand slides over the sheets, it finds only empty space where she’s supposed to be. I open my eyes, sit up, and look around. There’s no sign of her.
Huh.
I listen for movement in the bathroom or the sound of running water from the shower. But there’s only silence. Deafening, isn’t it?
Where’d she go?
My heart rate kicks up a notch at the thought that she snuck out while I was asleep. It’s a move I’ve performed myself—on several occasions—but one I’d never expect from Kate.
I’m just about to get out of bed when she appears in the doorway. Her hair’s pulled up in one of those elastic bands that women always seem to pull out of thin air. She’s wearing a gray Columbia T-shirt—my gray Columbia T-shirt—and I’m momentarily fascinated by the way her tits jiggle beneath the lettering as she walks.
Kate sets the tray she’s carrying on the bedside table. “Good morning.”
I pout. “It could’ve been. Why’d you get up?”
She laughs. “I’m starving. My stomach was growling like a caged troll. I was going to cook breakfast for us, but the only thing I could find in your kitchen was cereal.”
Cereal is the perfect food. I could eat it at every meal. And not the healthy bran-and-oats shit your parents shoved down your throat. I only go for the good stuff: Lucky Charms, Fruity Pebbles, Cookie Crisp. My cabinet is a veritable smorgasbord of highly sugared puffed wheat.
I shrug. “I order out a lot.”
She hands me a bowl. Apple Jacks—good choice. Between bites, Kate says, “I borrowed a T-shirt. Hope you don’t mind.”
I crunch my breakfast of champions and shake my head. “Not at all. But I really like you better out of it.”
