The Man I Can't Have (Ward #1) (Ward Duet)

by Shanora Williams

  “I need to see you with my cock in your mouth, Gabby.”

  “Kay,” she breathes, and I feel her breath run over the throbbing head of my dick. Her tongue runs over her lips, then she licks the tip, making me throb even harder. She takes note of my reaction and does it again.

  “Fuck,” I groan. She runs her tongue along the head of my dick then brings it into her mouth, sucking lightly on it. “Oh shit.” My hand is still palming the back of her head. “That’s not enough.” I push my hips forward and bring her mouth further around my cock. I’m being greedy, but I’m too eager to give a fuck. When her mouth is more than halfway around me and she looks up with big, gorgeous green eyes, I sigh, pulsing in her mouth. She takes me in inch by inch, holding my gaze. When I’m fully down her throat, I don’t even know what the fuck to do with myself.

  “Oh, fuck. Yeah. That’s good.” I stroke her hair back. “You look so goddamn beautiful with my cock in your mouth.” She moans around me, sending a vibration down the insides of my thighs. My finger caresses her cheek, then runs over her hair again. I grab a fistful of her hair, groaning as I pull her head away. The absence fucking kills me.

  “Have you ever had your mouth fucked before?” My voice is raw, gruff.

  “No,” she replies.

  “Do you think you’d enjoy it?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

  I smile down at her, stroking her chin with my other hand. “Good ’cause I really want to fuck your mouth right now.” The hand with a fistful of her hair brings her head forward again, slowly. Carefully. What can I say? I love the torture.

  She gags when the head of my cock is touching the back of her throat. I pull her back, and she sucks in a breath. “Apparently, you’ve gagged before, though. You know exactly what to do.”

  She smirks.

  “Open up,” I growl, and she does, taking my soaked, solid cock back into her mouth again. This time, I don’t hold back. I can’t, for the life of me. I keep her hair fisted in my hand and thrust forward, hitting the back of her throat repeatedly. She gags again, pressing her palms to my thighs, a weak attempt to try and pull back. I pull back, she sucks in a breath, and then I do it again. “Fuck, that feels good,” I groan. Her eyes are on mine again, watery and wide, but she’s taking it like a pro.

  Gripping both sides of her head, I stroke into her mouth over and over again. Her wet tongue is soaking my dick up. She gasps with each stroke, but I don’t stop. I’m so close, and as if she senses it, she drops her arms, letting me take full control. Tears are running down the sides of her face, but they’re beautiful, exciting tears—tears that were created because she decided to try this with me.

  It’s her first time, and I want to leave my mark. I groan louder, slowing my thrusts, keeping her head in my hands.

  “Oh, fuck. I’m about to cum.” I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I toss my head back and slam my hips forward, making sure I’m fully in her mouth. She moans loudly, making a choking noise that I love, and I finally let go, my cock throbbing as hot cum pours down her throat.

  “Oh, fuck, Gabby. Goddamn, baby, that’s good.”

  She groans, but damn, she swallows it all, not letting a drop go to waste. I lower my head again, releasing hers, and she pulls back, licking a ring around the head of my cock before moving away completely.

  “I can’t believe I liked that so much,” she says with a laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm.

  “I can’t believe you swallowed my shit.”

  She blushes and looks away. She starts to draw her legs to her chest, but I shake my head.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

  “Nothing—you’re satisfied.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “It’s fine. I can wait until you’re ready again.”

  I frown. “Get the fuck out of here with that.”

  She frowns up at me in return, then yelps as I pick her up off the couch and carry her to the bedroom. I toss her on the bed, not even hesitating to take her panties off.

  “Marcel—”

  She doesn’t even know what to say, and I don’t wait for her to try and summon the right words. I bring her to the edge of the bed and lower to my knees, tilting her hips up and studying her freshly shaved pussy. “Shaved for me?” I look up to meet her eyes.

  She’s breathing raggedly. “I got a wax a few days ago. Lasts longer.”

  “Mmm.” I kiss the valley that leads to her pussy and her legs shake. “Your husband seriously has no idea what he’s missing out on by not eating your pussy,” I grumble, and then I seal my mouth on her pussy, assaulting her clit with my tongue. I dig down with my hands, cupping her ass, and she screams—literally fucking screams—as I eat her pussy like it’s my dessert.

  “Oh—God! Marcel, wait!” she cries, thighs already shaking. She’s not pushing me away though. Her hands are in my hair, clutching tight. I don’t even think she realizes she’s pulling me in deeper, not pushing me away, so I keep going, lapping up the sweet taste of her pussy with my tongue.

  Her reactions are beautiful, her moans music to my ears. She looks down at me, and I challenge her stare. She realizes the challenge and keeps watching me. I flatten my tongue and tighten my grip on her ass. She’s spread wide open for me, tasting like dessert.

  With her lips parted, she’s moaning louder and louder. This is a challenge. She’s trying not to come too soon, but I’m pure savage, eating viciously until she finally caves, tosses her head back, and thrusts her pussy closer to my face. I bury my tongue into it, and she cries out again. She moans my name next, gripping my hair even tighter.

  Watching her come has to be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. The way she sings my name, the way her belly tightens and her nipples bud beneath her bra. I should have taken it off so I could see them, but I have time.

  When her body dies down, I drop her legs and stand between them. She falls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. My cock is hard all over again.

  “I would fuck you right now, but I’ve got three days with you. I don’t want it all to happen so quickly.” I plant my palms on the bed, outside her head. Lowering my face, I drop a kiss on her mouth, and she whimpers like she wants more. “Taste that? That’s you. Sweet.” Another kiss. “Delicious.”

  She’s smiling, head shaking. “You are so not like any man I’ve ever met.”

  I chuckle, locking eyes with her. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Miss Gabby.”

  FORTY

  GABBY

  I KNOW I may seem like a bad wife. Honestly, I know for sure that I am. I shouldn’t be sitting between another man’s legs on a pool chair, laughing about how he’s afraid of cats because one scratched him really bad when he was eight, and now he has a scar on his wrist for life as a reminder.

  I shouldn’t be this happy to have his body near mine while wearing a bathing suit I snuck out to buy the day after the housewarming, just for this trip with him.

  Truth is, I’m not a great wife. My husband is away, working so he can provide for me, and I’m here. The worst part of it is that I thought I wouldn’t be able to shake that feeling, but the longer I’m around Marcel, the more I almost forget about Kyle. What kind of wife thinks this way? What kind of wife forgets that she’s married, even if it’s only for an hour or two? I think I’m losing my mind, losing touch with reality, and this other man is doing it to me.

  I watch him in the pool as I lay on a floaty, sunglasses covering my eyes. He’s remarkable. A breath of fresh air. He’s a serious person, yet he knows when to let go and not to take everything so seriously. Kyle isn’t like that. He takes everything seriously.

  I watch Marcel get out of the pool, and water drips down the sharp cuts and creases of his body. He’s a work of art, and I don’t even think he realizes it. I sigh as he dries off with a towel, then I swim to the steps to get out.

  I grab a towel, drying off too.

  “You’re quiet,�
� he murmurs.

  I shrug it off. I don’t want to talk about it.

  As if he knows that I don’t, he tosses his towel on the chair. “Let’s head back up.”

  “Sure.” I smile as I take his hand, grab my bag, and we go inside. When we’re back in our villa, he goes to the fridge and takes out a beer. “I’m going to hit the shower,” I tell him.

  He nods and I go before he can sense my crumbling mood. I don’t want to ruin this trip for him. He’s having a great time. I go for my bag and take out a blue maxi dress, then head for the bathroom to start up the shower. As I strip out of my damp top and bottoms, the door creaks open behind me.

  “Mind if I join?”

  I glance over my shoulder, and Marcel’s eyes fall to my waist and hips, then down to my legs.

  “I was hoping you would.”

  He comes in, shutting the door behind him. I go to the shower, pulling the glass door open by the silver handle and stepping beneath the stream. The water is warm and feels so good.

  I stand under the shower, rinsing the chlorine out of my hair. The shower door opens again, and Marcel steps inside, looking down at me. My breath catches in my lungs when our eyes connect.

  Smashing my lips together, I move aside so he can get under the water too. He rinses the chlorine away, the water making his hair darker, slicker. He then takes a step forward, peering down at me through wet lashes. He lowers his eyes even more and reaches for my left hand. He holds it up, then uses his thumb and forefinger to pull my wedding band and engagement ring off my ring finger.

  “Marcel—”

  “You’re mine right now,” he reminds me.

  I sigh. This is the first time I’ve ever taken my rings off. I don’t even take them off when I paint or sculpt. Weird, I know, but I love my rings. I don’t argue as he places the rings on the soap holder. He puts his focus on me again, and no words are spoken as he holds me by the waist, and then picks me up to press my back against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he sighs, kissing the bend of my neck.

  “Fuck. Him,” Marcel growls, and I sigh again, squeezing my eyes shut. I feel him straining against me. One stroke and he’ll be inside me. “You’re here with me.”

  “I know.”

  “So, fuck him. I only have these three days with you. He gets you for the rest of his life.” He kisses my neck again, then drags his lips up to my cheek. “Would you leave him for me?”

  “Marcel…don’t. I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “You’ll have to answer it eventually.” He cups my ass in his hands. “I’ll worry about that later, though. For now, I need to be inside you.” He tightens his grip on me and thrusts upward, thrusting right into me.

  I let out a shrill yelp as he unleashes a deep groan. “Fuck,” he rumbles. I open my eyes and he places his mouth on mine. He kisses me hard, building up his thrusts. Each one brings me closer and closer to a climax I didn’t even realize was within reach.

  Picking me up off the wall, he lifts me up and down along the length of him. I have no idea why I love this position so much. The way he holds me always gets me going. It’s primal and fierce. I feel protected and empowered all the same.

  Water runs over the back of his head, some of it splashing on my face. I drop my head to plant my lips on his, coaxing a deep, guttural groan out of him. He doesn’t stop lifting me up and down the length of him, and with each drop, I feel him growing harder. He’s going to come soon.

  I tighten my pussy around his cock, and he groans again. “Fuck, Gabby,” he breathes when our lips part. “Your fuckin’ pussy. It’s everything.”

  I hold on tight to him, my arms locked around the back of his neck and my legs still snaked around his waist. His strong arms bring me up, then drop me back down. His cock fills me every single time.

  He sucks on my neck, the skin above my collarbone, and then my bottom lip, like he can’t get enough of me—will never get enough.

  I moan as he lowers me again, completely burying himself inside me. He throbs hard, groaning heavily, and I can’t help what comes next. I squeeze him tight, coming all over him.

  “Oh my God,” I breathe.

  He presses my back to the wall, and I drop my legs, but he keeps me hoisted up, thrusting three more times. His mouth is on mine, both our lips parted. Pleasure takes over every single one of his features, his blue eyes turning into liquid as he finishes inside me with one more powerful stroke.

  “Goddamn,” he groans, dropping his forehead on my shoulder. He twitches when I clench around him. “Shit, don’t do that, or you’ll make me cum again.”

  I laugh softly, and he drops my legs so I can stand, but he doesn’t move away. He cups my face in his hands—something he does that always makes me melt—and kisses me wholly. His tongue parts my lips to play with mine. I moan as he pulls back, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, before giving me one more all-consuming kiss.

  He is so perfect—everything I’ve always wanted in a man.

  Too bad he can never be mine.

  FORTY-ONE

  GABBY

  I HAVE no idea when I fall asleep. We had several shots of tequila (our favorite drink when we’re around each other, apparently) at the bar downstairs after catching dinner.

  Marcel had to carry me to the room by the end of the night because I’d had one too many. I’m not a big drinker of hard liquor, so whenever I do drink it, it always hits me hard. He, on the other hand, drinks it like a pro.

  When I wake up, sunlight is spilling through the curtains. I look up and see the cream upholstered headboard above me, pinned with silver beads. Then I look over, taking in the view of Marcel.

  He’s still asleep, resting on his back. I roll over to watch him. He’s adorable, with lashes feathered across his cheekbones. There are very faint freckles on his face, mostly above his cheekbones and lightly sprinkled on his nose. They seem like the kind of freckles that come out when he’s been in the sun for a bit too long.

  I run a hand over his chest, which isn’t completely hairless, but not too hairy either, then slide my palm over his firm stomach. He groans and moves his head, but I continue down, not sure what’s gotten a hold of me. I swear I’m a different woman around Marcel. I want to do everything with him.

  I’m below his pelvis, running my palm over the ridge of his hard cock, which is rock solid. I push his boxers down a bit, taking his hot erection in my hand. He groans in his sleep, moving his head again. I start to stroke him slowly, and his breathing becomes quicker, heavier. He’s harder than ever before, and I get way too excited about it. I stop, expecting him to wake up. He doesn’t, so I move down, my face hovering over the head of his cock. I pull the boxers down some more, then run my tongue along his balls. That’s what pulls him out of slumber.

  “Oh, shit, Gabby. What are you—”

  He looks down, but I shush him, planting a hand on his chest when he’s about to sit up. He cooperates, but frowns down at me like this is the last thing he was expecting. I’m glad I can surprise him. I run the tip of my tongue up the length of his cock and he shudders. “Fuck, Gabby. You serious?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I do it again. He grips the sheets, as I kneel over, taking the head of his cock into my mouth.

  He curses beneath his breath as I slide my tongue back down again. His fingers snake in my hair, but I keep licking him. Only licking him. I make sure not to suck too much. I want to get him so worked up he can’t stand it. He’s still so hard, and I grip him in hand again. He throbs in my palm as I lick him all over for several more seconds. He applies pressure to the hand in my hair when I roll my tongue over the tip of his cock, but I resist. He wants me to take him all in. He’s dying for it. Stiff as hell and impatient now.

  “Gabby,” he grunts. “I’m hard as fuck. Stop teasin’.”

  I smile behind his thickness, sucking on his head once more, tasting a dribble of pre-cum. Then I climb up the bed just as he sits up, and push him against the headboard.
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br />   “What should I do now?” I ask with a sultry voice. My knees are outside his thighs. I’m barely straddling him, but I’m close enough that all it would take is one word and my pussy would swallow him whole.

  He knows I’m challenging him. There’s a dip in his brow, and without any warning or hesitation, he grips my waist on either side with his hands, and drops me down, burying his hard cock completely inside me.

  “Oh, fuck!” I moan way too loudly, and he puts on an arrogant smile, cocking a brow as he keeps me in place.

  “Ride my dick,” he demands, and I grip the top of the headboard, sighing as I begin riding him. In this position, he feels massive. With every grind, twist, and circle of my hips, I can feel him so deep inside me that it tips me right over the edge.

  I don’t know what it is about this moment. It could be the way the sun is hitting us, shining a light on every single one of our actions. Or maybe it’s the way he’s staring up at me as I work my pussy around his cock. He watches me with fiery, hungry eyes. I grip the top of the headboard even tighter, then get into a squat. I slide up and down the length of him, moaning each time he fills me up.

  “Oh, fuck.” That gets him going for sure. “Your pussy is grippin’ the hell out of my dick, baby. Don’t stop.” And I don’t. I keep going up and down, up and down, driving him crazy.

  He holds my waist, keeping me steady. His eyes flicker back up to mine very briefly before focusing on where our bodies are connected again.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  He’s different from Kyle.

  Kyle likes keeping control in the bedroom, but Marcel stays put, letting me do the work. He’s not afraid to hand over control—to let me do things my way—and I like that about him. I like it a lot.

  I’m panting now because I can’t take it anymore either. Marcel thrusts upward as I pull up and I gasp as he wraps both arms around me and pulls me down so that my chest is flush to his. We move in unison, our lips connecting. The sound of skin slapping and deep grunts are all I hear as I ride him faster. Faster.