Her eyes told me a different story. Her blazing hazel eyes were greener than ever, green with a wildfire of fervent sexual arousal. Those eyes begged me to make her feel good. To show her how much I wanted her. How good she’d made me feel. I wanted to show her. To make her whimper, to see her arch that slender whipcord back with the sensual serpentine S of her spine, to watch her press those lush little tits to the sky and come apart for me. I wanted to devour her until she was a puddle of screams.
The raging power of my need to own her terrified me with its intensity. I couldn’t let her see that, couldn’t. It was too much, too deep, too wild, too big.
But the look in her eyes defied that fear.
Her eyes pleaded with me, begged with abject need for me to show her every bit of that berserk, frenzied desire, that testosterone-mad, rampaging alpha-dominant ownership.
“Ink?” Hesitancy in her voice. Wondering. A quiet question, a nudge.
Test her, a little?
She was standing pressed against me, breasts heaving with uncertain breaths, eyes wide, hands curled against my diaphragm like tender sparrows, fingers fluttering. She wore nothing but those tight red yoga pants. But I wanted her totally naked.
I wanted her screaming.
The crushing madness of my need to make her climax had me shuddering from the effort it took to hold back from just yanking her off her feet and holding her slit up against my mouth right here, right now, standing up.
She weighed so little I could hold her one-handed and use the other to slide a finger inside her.
I held absolutely still, or I’d do exactly that.
Her quivering thighs and wide eyes dared me to.
“What are you thinking, Ink?”
I shook my head. “Bad things.”
The wicked curve of her lips told me more than anything she could say. The flex of her hips against me said more yet. “Promise?”
I just laughed, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes, I knew. Another long moment passed, silence between us.
The need to see her naked and shaking was too strong. I fought it, fought the need to roughly yank those crimson tights off her and violently devour her. Good god, I’d forgotten how crazy I could get—this was why I’d shut down. I couldn’t handle this. Couldn’t manage the intensity of it. Couldn’t resist how ferociously and ravenously I needed, once my libido was pumping.
And holy shit, was it pumping. The way her hands had wrapped around me? So slow. So tenderly. Affectionate—that’s the only word for how she’d fondled me, caressed me. As if to have me in her hands was the single greatest joy she’d ever felt, as if touching me brought her as much pleasure as it did me. The way she’d watched me explode—with proud, eager arousal. My climax was her pleasure.
“Cass,” I said, biting the words out. “I don’t know what to do with myself—with you.”
“Whatever you want.” Humor dancing in her eyes she said, “Show me.”
Humor, but she was dead serious. I knew she meant it.
I hoped to god I wouldn’t regret what I was about to do.
“Fuck it,” I breathed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, cutting me loose like this.”
My hand spread over her ass, covering it. I pressed her against me. Delved my fingers down, under, between her buttocks and through her thighs. She whimpered, sagged, her thighs opening. Pressed my fingers against her core—even through her pants and underwear, it was obvious from a single touch that she was soaked with arousal. She let her forehead bump against my chest, gasped once, deeply, held the breath with a low whine, and then, when I gently began pressing and exploring and delving around her sensitive center over the fabric of her yoga pants, she sank her teeth into my skin and bit down gently, groaning.
“Shit, Cass—you’re right there, ain’t you?”
She just nodded, shaking all over. “So fucking close.”
I had to see. Had to taste. Had to lick away her orgasms, one after the other, until she begged me to stop.
God, I was crazy with it. For her. I’d held this down inside me for so long, and now that it was out, it was more manic and delirious and frenzied than ever. Reminding me why I’d shut it down in the first place— the power of it was scary, and every instinct I had told me if I showed her the full force of it she’d run, ghost me so fast I’d get dizzy.
But the look in her eyes—I kept coming back to her eyes, because they told me the truth, a truth I couldn’t believe, a truth my instincts rebelled against. The truth in her eyes was that she wanted all I had and more.
I just didn’t dare believe her.
But now, god, now she’d broken the bonds. Set loose the monster inside me, and I couldn’t hold on any longer.
Couldn’t.
I cupped her ass in one hand and lifted her. Pinned her against me, kissed her mouth. My lips trembled with the effort of restraint—all of me shook. I wanted so much, so badly, but I dared not let go all the way. I had to be careful.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and eagerly devoured my kiss, knotting her fingers in my hair and hooking her legs around my waist, keeping herself aloft. I walked her forward, into the house. I wanted her in my bed, but I wouldn’t make it that far.
I set her on the kitchen counter, still kissing her mouth, tangling my tongue with hers. Hooked my fingers in the elastic of her red yoga pants, inside the waistband of her underwear, and tugged both down. She let out a high breath of shock as I yanked them off, peeling them inside out, her black thong tangled up with red pants, and tossed both aside. Knelt on the floor in front of her and buried my face between her thighs—she smelled potently of female arousal, and I got drunk on it, on her scent. Lapped at her, tasted her. Sweet, a little tart, a little musky. A taste all her own, and utterly drugging. I was dizzy with the scent of her, the flavor of her private center, laid open and bare for me, displayed all for me.
She caught at my hair and shrieked in surprise at the sudden onslaught of my tongue and lips. “Ohhh—oh god, oh god, oh god, Ink, oh fuck, fuck you’re good at that, ohhhh my god, Ink! Yes, god, please—just like that. Just like that, Ink. Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare slow down.” She spoke through it, dirty words pouring out of her, an unexpected and arousing stream of encouragement. “Ohhh yeah, oh shit. Shit! You like how I taste, Ink? Oh fuck, you do, don’t you? God, yes, more, more! Faster, right there, faster! Oh fuck, your tongue is amazing!”
She shook, her thighs quaking against my face, abs tightening as she thrashed against my mouth, feet pressed against my shoulders, hands reaching down between her legs to grip my hair and pull me hard against her. I tasted her essence flowing against my tongue, lapped it up. Felt her coiling. Slipped a finger inside her and drew it out, curling it just so. She went wild, then, screaming wordlessly, and I plunged that finger back in and lapped at her and alternated plunging it in and curling it where I knew she liked it best, my tongue circling and spearing and licking.
She came apart, her screams loud and unrestrained, arching against me. Her voice, raised in climax, screamed one syllable that did more to erase the past than anything else—my name. “Ink! Ink! Oh fuck, Ink! God yes, god yes, oh god Ink!”
When she finished coming, shaking and limp, I gathered her in my arms and carried her up my ladder to my bed and set her down. She shook, trembled, gasping. Disoriented.
When she seemed to regain her senses, she looked around. “We’re in bed.”
I just nodded. “Yeah.”
“Holy shit, that was wild.” She bit her lip, gazing up at me. “You are truly incredible, Ink.”
I shook my head. “Not me, you.” I wasn’t anywhere near sated. I needed more. “Not done with you yet, Cass.”
She frowned, sitting up.. “But you just—”
I sucked her entire breast into my mouth, licking her nipple until she whimpered. Clutched at me. I slid my hands under her tight little ass and lifted her, settling her thighs over my shoulder and down my back, supporting her weight in my hands.<
br />
“Whoa-holy-shit, Ink—wait, what…?” She didn’t get another word out before I had her against my mouth all over again.
I held her there, balanced precariously, and she braced herself against the ceiling as I began devouring her all over again. Slowly, this time. No hands, no fingers. Just my tongue and my lips. Kissing. Flicking. Licking. Tonguing in fat lazy slurps against her delicate center. She sighed and sighed, the first few minutes, just slow pleased gusts of languorous enjoyment. Then, as her delight built into burgeoning need, she began pushing her slit against my mouth, grinding into my tongue. She was nothing at all to hold up like this. But I wanted all of her need, so I lay back, never disengaging, so we landed against my nest of pillows with her sitting over my mouth, shins and feet tucked under her thighs, hands braced wide on the wall above my head, and she just let go, gave in with complete abandon. Writhed on me, staring down at where my mouth met her core, watching me as I drowned myself in her.
“Oh god, Ink, holy shit, holy shit, oh god.” One hand buried in my hair, she pulled me against her, roughly, grinding herself against my mouth. “I’m almost there, Ink. So close, so fucking close. Keep doing it just like that, oh fuck, that thing with your tongue—fuck, yeah, that, do that and don’t fucking stop!”
I loved how she told me what she wanted, what she liked. It made me crazy. Made me want to spend every moment of a thousand years learning how to make her feel like this, just like this, wild and cut loose into a frenzied sexual mania, writhing on me, eyes wide and teeth gnawing on the left corner of her lower lip, breasts heaving and bouncing, crying my name and begging for more and more and more.
When she came again, it was with a scream that left my ears ringing, left her taste seared onto my tongue. It was a wordless scream, hoarse. She folded forward with the power of it, shaking all over, quivering uncontrollably, gasping for breath—half sobbing.
She rolled away, off of me, onto her back, moving bonelessly, with effort. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” Her voice was hoarse.
I just looked at her—all five feet three inches and hundred-some pounds of gloriously, decadently, perfectly beautiful naked woman, in my bed, taut abs still tightening and distending with ragged breaths, thighs shaking with aftershocks. Breasts falling to either side. Hair a mess of blonde explosion on my pillow. Eyes closed, mouth agape as she came back to earth and regained her breath. Sweat dotted her perfect skin, dripped down her delicate temple, slid between her breasts and into the hollow of her belly.
“Good god, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” I breathed, unaware the words were aloud.
Her head snapped to the side, eyes laser-focused on mine. “Don’t fuck with me, Ink.”
Unexpected. I reared back a little. “Ain’t. Didn’t even mean to say that out loud. Thought I was thinkin’ it, but it just came out.”
She turned her head away from me, eyes watering. “Sorry. I just…”
Tucked my hands under my head and gave her space to consider whatever it was she was chewing on.
“I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, grunted a negative. “Don’t apologize.”
“You just gave me the two best orgasms of my entire damn life, and I’m snapping at you,” she murmured. “Not like me. Don’t know what’s come over me.”
“Sure you do,” I said. “Just don’t know how, or don’t want to say it.”
She rolled to her side, facing me, frowning. “Like you said what you were thinking and feeling out there?”
“I honestly don’t know what the fuck to think or feel, Cass. Legit, I’m lost.”
“So you can be lost, but I can’t?”
I gazed into her eyes. Saw a tumult of emotions, mixed and coruscating, high and low and wild and tempered. “I see you, Cass. You know what you’re feelin’, but it’s deep and it’s a fuckin’ lot, and powerful, and you’re scared. I am too, I get it. Not asking you to say any of it.”
“And I think you’re very much in the same place, Ink.” She pillowed her head on her folded arm. “But I won’t push if you won’t.”
I felt my gut churning with my own hurricane of butterflies and violent, confusing, intense emotions I just didn’t know how to process, how to even feel all the way, much less express. I wanted to try, though. To at least find a way to let her know how much what she’d done meant to me.
“Cassandra, I…” I closed my eyes, fighting for the right words. Losing them as fast as they flitted through my disordered brain. “What you done for me, out there. The way you touched me. The way you…talked to me. Looked at me.” I met her eyes. “You don’t even know what you did for me.”
“You accused me of trying to fix you,” she murmured. “I don’t want to fix you. You’re not broken. I just want…I don’t know. I want things with you, but it scares the almighty fuck out of me, how much I want, what I want, how bad I want it. I wasn’t trying to fix you, or heal you. I just wanted to…to give you something good, something you can remember that’ll replace…” she fluttered a hand vaguely, “everything that came before. The bad stuff, at least. Not trying to take away or…tape over…the good memories, you know?”
I laughed. “What good memories? It’s all bad shit. I mean, there was some stuff that was nice while it lasted, with Elise, but what happened afterward just sort of…ruined those memories for me. Don’t think on ’em.”
“I just wanted to…try to help you unlock yourself a little, Ink.” She touched my beard, splayed out on the pillow, mixed in with her hair and my own, black on blonde. “I don’t think it’s healthy to have your sexuality locked up, shut down. You deserve to be open. To be free. You’re amazing, Ink. An amazing person. Gorgeous. Kind. Talented.” A pause, her cheeks pinking a little. “Really, really talented.”
“It’s all you, Cass. You make it easy. Making you scream is the easiest thing in the damn world. You’re so fuckin’ responsive, so easy to read. You make me feel like…like a god. Like I can’t do anything wrong.”
“No, Ink. You don’t know, you just don’t. I’m sensitive, I know. But I’m not easy to read, and it’s easy to get me close, but not so easy to make me come as hard as you did, and more than once to boot. And I mean, shit, the second time was even better than the first. You just…” She bit her lip, shrugged, a movement that had a delicious effect on her breasts. “You just know. You played my body like a fucking violin.”
Silence. There was so much unspoken. So much in her eyes, so much under the surface, and I was just as turbulent within.
Neither of us seemed to know how to bring any of it all the way up and out, though.
“Can I ask you something, Ink?” Quiet, not hesitant, just…quiet. Reserved. “And have a one-hundred percent honest answer.”
I nodded. “Do my best.”
“Were you still holding back?” Her eyes, this close, were so complex, so multihued, multilayered. Half a dozen shades of brown, shades of green, shades of blue. And as complex as the hues were, even more complex were the emotions I saw there.
Worse yet was the kaleidoscope of emotions in me. I didn’t want to answer. But I did. I nodded. Swallowed hard. “Yeah. I was.”
She nodded. “How?”
I shrugged. “Just…tempered things, I guess.” Went for a risky bit of truth. “I want you and want things with you in a crazy, crazy, wild fuckin’ way, and it scares me. Scared I’ll scare you.”
“You won’t, Ink.”
“How do you know? How can I know?” I shrugged, shook my head. “If I hurt you, I’d—I don’t know. If I scared you—I don’t think I could handle seeing you look scared of me. I can’t go through that again.”
“You won’t scare me, Ink. You won’t.”
I shook my head. “Wish I could just believe that. Not that I don’t believe you—I do. I know you believe it.”
“But you don’t.”
“No, I can’t. I just fuckin’ can’t, Cassie. I simply can’t fuckin’ afford t
o. What you did, who you are—getting me to let myself feel anything at all is a win, don’t you fuckin’ see that? Getting me to see you as a sexual being, giving in to being attracted to you. Giving in to thinking about you—jerking off to thinking about you…that’s a fuckin’ big goddamn deal, Cass. This? What we just did? What I let you do? What I let myself do to you? So fuckin’ huge, for me. You don’t even know. So yeah, I still held back. But it ain’t all just gonna go away all at once. It’s a lot of years of painful shit all callused over, babe. Can’t fix it overnight.”
“I’m not trying to fix it.”
I sighed, rubbed my forehead. “But you are. You are. That’s okay. I get it. I appreciate it. You just gotta be patient.”
She laughed, an amused bark. “Yeah, not so good at that.”
Silence.
I lay on my back, she on hers—we were side by side, my hands folded over my stomach, hers curled together over her diaphragm, just under and between her lovely little breasts, fingers tangled and curled and twined together. God, those pink nipples, pert taut firm little nipples. I wanted them in my mouth again.
For A Goode Time Call... Page 14
