Wild, Wounded Hearts

by Wild, Wounded Hearts (epub)

  “Just touch me,” he rasped. He continued to cup his balls in one hand, holding up his erection like some kind of decadent male offering. She reached for him, with not one, but two eager hands. She ran her hands along his length, spellbound by the sensation of his warm, stony flesh. He grunted softly. She saw his hand move subtly on his testicles as she stroked him again.

  “Like this,” he said gruffly. She watched as he grasped the shaft at the bottom and stroked upward, twisting his fist over the fleshy crown. She hastened to replace his hand, following his example. He grunted at her attempt. She glanced up at him, uncertain. “It feels good,” he assured her roughly. Heartened, she repeated the stroke several times. His hand fell away, giving her free reign.

  “Yeah. Now you’ve got it. You can do that same movement when you put me in your mouth, and it’ll be good. So good. It’ll feel even better when you make me wet.”

  She glanced up at his face, pausing mid-stroke on his cock. As usual, his words had caused vivid images to flame up in her mind. He flinched, put his hand on top of hers, and urged her to continue.

  “Make you wet?” she asked, her hand once again moving up and down on his cock.

  “When you put your mouth on me. It’ll make things glide better, so you can apply more friction with your hand without pulling on the skin. Don’t hesitate to make things as wet as possible. That’s a good thing.”

  “Now? Should I do it now?” Ursa asked, tightening her fist on him. He muttered something under his breath. She saw his throat convulse as he swallowed. He appeared to be having difficulty concentrating, even though he stared at her jacking his cock with focused attention.

  “Just…hold it with your hand at the base and run your tongue over it. Get used to how it feels.”

  Without hesitation, she grasped him and leaned deep into his lap. She slid her tongue along the underside of his penis. She felt him start, and sensed the tension that leapt into his body. She repeated the lick, this time letting her tongue curl around the base of his cock, giving him a wet, thorough stroke. He hissed softly, and his cock jerked in her hand. Emboldened by his response, she tightened her fist and circled the fleshy head with the tip of her tongue. She peered up at him, gauging his response. His attention on her was so intense; it bordered on feral.

  “Again,” Z muttered. “Just beneath the rim. Nice and hard. Give the whole head a nice polish. Damn, Ursa,” he grated out as she followed his instruction eagerly. The taste of him was addictive. But even more intoxicating was that wild glint that burned in his eyes. His fingers sunk into her hair, pressing her downward. “Now get the whole thing nice and wet.”

  She explored him thoroughly with her tongue, noticing that when she outlined several distended veins just beneath the skin’s surface, he tensed and groaned. “That’s right. Jesus, that’s good,” he muttered when she again made her way to the head. He especially seemed to enjoy it when she pressed against the indentation on the underside between the flaring crown and the shaft.

  Made drunk by this newfound power, she lifted her head and kissed the tip of his cock. She pushed her lips down over the head a half an inch or so, her hunger mounting. His fingers tightened against her skull.

  “Tell me what to do,” she whispered hoarsely, her lips brushing against his damp, smooth skin.

  He made a rough sound. She looked up at his face. She’d never realized someone could look so incredibly fierce and helpless at once.

  “Tell me,” she repeated, kissing the tip of his cock again, and then using her hand to move the staff, rubbing his cockhead against her wet, pursed lips.

  “Just… slide your mouth over me. Protect your teeth with your lips and—Jesus.”

  She hadn’t waited for further details. She filled her mouth with him, ducking her head to swallow him, inch by inch. His fingers tightened in her hair, and he was urging her back up the length of his cock. She sucked, the action instinctual, pressing her lips firmly against that sensitive area she’d found with her tongue, just below the crown of his cock. Her mouth made an erotic popping sound as she cleared the plump head. Her hand followed immediately, repeating the twisting motion he’d taught her.

  He gave a blistering curse. He stopped her from sinking her head again by restraining her gently with the hand in her hair.

  “Holy fuck, baby girl. Where the hell did you learn to suck like that?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was pure torture, but the kind of torture for which he’d consider sacrificing everything.

  For which maybe he was sacrificing everything.

  She’d twisted her fist and milked him so hard—so accurately—he experienced a shocking spike of pleasure. For a split second, he wondered if he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself and come right then and there.

  When she started to dive down for more—her eagerness would be the death of him—he stopped her by firmly tugging at her hair. She stared up at him, dazed and confused and utterly beautiful. He held her head in his hands, but he felt her straining against him. Eager to get back to business. Her green eyes shone with lust, and her full mouth was wet.

  He barely stopped himself from piercing those lips with his cock, from dipping into heaven, without another word or thought. Something stopped him, though. Maybe he needed what would inevitably be her innocent response to cool him down a little. He hurt like hell; he was surprised steam wasn’t rising off his cock. He was about to lose it, and the last thing he wanted was to regret this later.

  “Ursa? I asked you a question,” he said, his voice sounding rougher than he intended.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I learned right here. Right now. You taught me.”

  “I only said a few sentences,” he corrected incredulously, and you just—” Sucked on me so hard, you almost turned me inside out.

  “You didn’t just tell me with words.”

  He blinked, understanding hitting him. She was telling him she’d been reading his reaction, sensing what he liked.

  Fuck, if she wasn’t the hottest, sweetest thing on the face of the earth. So much for her innocent reply cooling him off.

  He swept back her lustrous hair away from her face, bunched it in his hand, and held it at the crown of her head, his manner deliberate and grim. Holding her head, he encouraged her to lower over him.

  “Go on, then. You don’t need any more lessons. You’re clearly a natural.”

  Then she was sliding him again into her warm, wet mouth, and her hand was moving. The pleasure was indescribable. He might have been with more experienced women, but it’d never felt like this: sharp, raw, inescapable. His eyes crossed and his head fell back against the couch. The sounds of her sucking penetrated his brain, though, twining with the sensation of the firm ridge of her sliding, pressing lips and pounding fist, and suddenly he couldn’t bear to be blinded from the vision of her. He lifted his head and watched her, even if that added pleasure did cut at him like a knife to flesh.

  She seemed wholly consumed in her task. Her eyelids were partially closed as she rose and fell over him. They appeared shut from his angle, their peaceful appearance a poignant contrast to her forceful, merciless treatment of his cock. Her cheeks hollowed out from her suck and her fist never relented in its taut squeeze.

  He resisted a nagging, powerful urge to thrust into her sweetness.

  She ducked down another inch along his staff, and gagged.

  He immediately pushed her off him, his hands cupping her skull.

  “It’s okay. Take a few seconds,” he murmured when he saw her bewilderment. “Keep at it with your hand, if you want to. It feels fantastic.”

  He grunted when she complied, pumping the entire, glistening staff of his cock and causing a harsh ripple of pleasure to go through him.

  “I don’t want you to go deep. Not yet. I don’t want to ruin this for you. Or me, to be honest.”

 
He saw the question in her eyes.

  “I don’t want you to experience discomfort the first time. Not ever, but especially not the first time. You might never want to do it again,” he explained, rubbing her flushed cheek with his thumb.

  “I’ll want to do it again.”

  Lust twanged through him at her quick, absolute reply. His cock jerked in her hand. She pumped him faster. He felt himself becoming frenzied, despite his cautious words.

  “Trust me on this,” he grated out, even though a voice in his head shouted out that he was crazy for not taking what she offered so freely.

  He guided her down toward him. She sucked him into her mouth, her tongue sliding against the underside of his cock. Holding her head in his hands, he experienced the most bizarre combination of tenderness, and a raw, unbridled lust and—a desire to possess utterly—he’d ever experienced in his life.

  He tightened his hold on her skull. “I’m going to control how far you take me into your mouth. I’m going to move, but I won’t go too far.”

  She looked up at him with huge eyes, her lips stretched around the head of his cock.

  Ursa.

  Once again, he nearly came.

  He shut his eyes, taking a desperate moment to gather himself. When he’d bound together the ragged threads of his restraint sufficiently, he began to pump the top half of his cock into her mouth. She strained against him, but he wouldn’t allow her to sink deeper. She moaned, the vibration exciting him even more.

  “Use your hand,” he demanded thickly, his thrusts into her mouth growing faster.

  She complied readily, the added pressure of her hand making him hiss in pleasure. He realized the moment she recognized she had control, even though he wouldn’t allow her to duck her head. It was the second she began to suck steadily while he pumped into her. He groaned, rough and deep.

  He thrust more desperately now, his excitement cutting at him. His hands tightened on her skull. Suddenly, she shoved her hand beneath his T-shirt, scraping her nails along his tense abdomen. A spasm of pleasure shook him.

  “I’m going to come, Ursa. You don’t have to stay on me.”

  She responded by bristling at his hold on her, ducking her head fiercely and sinking him into her wet mouth another half inch. Her tightly stretched lips ran across a distended vein—a sensitive spot for him.

  He flash burned in an instant.

  Even as pleasure exploded through him, even as he reached that blinding crisis, he resisted a wild urge to sink deeper. He gasped for air, his entire body seizing as he came. He held her at mid-staff, struggling for control, coming into her clamped mouth. She moaned feverishly, her eyes wide as though he’d surprised her. He started to withdrawal, worried he was distressing her, but then he felt the strong, milking sensation of her mouth as she drew on him.

  He gave up, abandoning himself to the sheering bliss.

  After an ecstatic moment, her mouth on him grew unbearable. He urged her off his sensitive cock, groaning gutturally.

  “Jesus, Ursa. Jesus. Holy hell. What the—”

  He gasped for air, his hands shifting on her head. Her released hair spilled down her back and around her shoulders. He pressed his thumb into her puffy, glistening lower lip. He had no idea what he’d been saying, let alone what he was doing with this sweet, generous, incredibly sexy woman. She stared up at him, the expression in her moist eyes undoing him.

  God, I’m losing. I’m going to lose everything, because I can’t control this.

  He clamped his eyes shut at the charged, frantic thought.

  “Z?” he heard her call softly.

  He made a rough sound and reached for her, his need for her outweighing the sudden painful, unwavering knowledge of that exact same hunger.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly, his hands sliding beneath her arms. “Stand up.”

  Once he’d guided her to a standing position between his thighs, he ripped open the button fly on her shorts. He quickly bared her from the waist down. A moment later, he drew her into a sitting position in his lap, pulling her legs up on the couch and resting her back against his supporting arm. He winced at the sensation of her bare ass pressed against his still sensitive cock.

  “Do you have any idea how sweet you are?” he asked, pressing his lips against her temple and running them over her hot, vividly pink cheeks. She smelled so good: like flowers and sex-scented sweat. He cupped her outer sex, feeling her heat, and nipped at the corner of her lips. She whimpered. “You’re as sweet as they come, baby girl.”

  “You liked it?” Her breathy question brushed across his lips.

  “No,” he growled, seizing her mouth in a hard, forceful kiss. “I loved it.”

  Her little smile made him plunge his finger deep inside her. She gasped.

  “Christ, your wet. You’re like a dream come true, aren’t you?” he muttered as he plucked at her lips.

  He’d loved her generous, eager response to giving him teeth-gnashing pleasure. But somehow, it was even better to hold her there in his lap, and play her feminine, sensitive little body with his hand while he kissed and consumed her flavorful mouth. It took all of a minute before she was shaking against him, crying into his kiss, the addictive scent of her climax perfuming the air between them.

  When her tremors waned, his hand slowed. He cradled her face and pressed his temple against hers while she caught her breath.

  “What are you doing to me, baby girl?”

  He saw her pause to swallow, her breath hitching. “I don’t know, Z. I don’t know anymore. Buy you’re doing it to me, as well.”

  He exhaled, once again experiencing that feeling of failing somehow, and triumphing at once. Her scent filled his nose and clouded his brain. He didn’t have any answers. He was just a man who was feeling more than was good for him. It overflowed him.

  Overwhelmed him.

  Without another word, he scooted to the edge of the couch. Scooping Ursa up into his arms, he stood. He headed down the hallway toward his bedroom, and laid her on her back on the bed.

  Then he came down over her, the smell and feel of her soft skin once again incinerating all of his doubts.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She heard his solid tread in the hallway and went to pour his coffee. When he entered the kitchen a few seconds later, looking extremely handsome in a pair of stone washed jeans, a T-shirt, and his fitted leather jacket, his hair still damp from his shower, she turned to hand him the cup. For a few seconds, their stares clung. Ursa realized she was grinning.

  Drunk in love.

  “Morning,” she finally said.

  “Morning.” She shivered at the sexy, hoarse sound of his voice. Her smile widened. It was like they shared the most delicious secret in the universe. He set the cup she’d just handed him on the counter and grasped her hips, stepping into her and dipping his knees. “What are you grinning about?” Z asked her, nuzzling her nose and seizing her lips in a quick, firm kiss.

  “Nothing in particular,” she replied breezily, because he knew very well what she was grinning about. The same thing that tilted his hard mouth at that very second.

  “It was an amazing night,” she said softly.

  “Yeah. It was.” He kissed her again, this time making her toes curl against the wood floor.

  “Tonight, I make you dinner,” she told him a moment later.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go out for dinner?”

  She shook her head, her gaze locked with his. When his eyes looked like this—warm and lambent—she could stare at him forever. She felt like the most special person on the planet, when Z looked at her like that.

  “I want to make you dinner, like you did for me last night. It probably won’t be as good. But it’s our last night here together. I want it to be special.”

  She mentally cursed what she’d said when his sma
ll smile faded and his hands dropped from her hips. He grabbed his coffee and took a swallow, now staring out the sunny window, his eyes narrowing into gleaming crescents.

  “What if you called your mom, and told her something had come up in Reno, and that you couldn’t make it for Memorial Day at Tahoe?”

  “You mean…stay here through the weekend?”

  “Yeah,” he said, meeting her gaze again, his expression inscrutable.

  “Are you asking me to tack on another two nights to our agreed upon time together?”

  A muscle flickered in his cheek. He took another swig of his coffee while she waited on pins and needles.

  “Yeah. I am,” he finally said.

  “Okay.”

  She held her breath.

  “Are you worried it’ll make it harder?” he asked after a pause. “When you finally go?”

  She nodded. “But I want to stay anyway.”

  “Good,” he said, setting down his cup and taking her into his arms again. “Because God knows I want you to.”

  They agreed to meet at noon at his office and have lunch together. After Z had left for work, Ursa called her mother and broke the news about having to cancel for the Memorial Day holiday. Her mother was disappointed. Ursa apologized profusely, and promised to be there for the Fourth of July.

  Afterward, she took a walk in the woods. The slight chill of spring had vanished. Summer had officially arrived. Ursa celebrated it by sun bathing out on Z’s sunny terrace, soaking in the hot rays and recalling every detail of the exciting, sensual night she’d spent with Z.

  By the time she’d showered again and dressed for her lunch with Z, she was still smiling. Z had asked her to stay through Memorial Day. She had the luxury of spending three more nights with him. Suddenly, the idea of only three nights didn’t intimidate her. If those nights were going to be anything like last night had been, who knew where they’d be when Memorial Day dawned?

  She got to the Moto Café ten minutes early, and figured she’d just wait in the hallway by Z’s office. She didn’t want to bother him in the garage if he was trying to finish something up before lunch.