by Holly Gunn
“You liked the interruption,” I chide playfully.
She holds up her index finger and thumb as if to say, just a little.
I add, “And while you’re on question fifty-five, I’m only on question five.”
I lean in closer. She draws in a breath.
I move my mouth to her ear and whisper even as the spicy scent of her pussy gets stronger, “It’s my turn.”
LEXIE
I’d like to take a turn, a turn with you on the bottom, me on the top, you inside me, and the world disappearing around us, I think.
I don’t say it.
It’s not that I wouldn’t say it aloud. There’s something about Shark. Since that first moment, I’ve wanted to trust him. I’ve felt safe. He’s odd, funny, sexy—but not like a villain who knows he’s good looking. Like a Captain America with a little bit of Iron Man thrown in. Not as seriously fucked up as Iron Man, though. And definitely not as innocent as the Captain.
I’m thinking all this, his breath still hot against my ear, my pussy on fire, my mind and body wanting sex in the worst way, and the guy who is fated to be with me basically saying, “Not yet, buttercup.”
“If I were to ask you right now to show me how you like to touch yourself, what would you say?” When he leans back, my hand follows his chest and that nipple ring, but his question startles me.
“I thought we were stopping …”
He throws his head back on a deep laugh that causes his body to shake against my front and the hand on his chest. I’m tucked in close and to feel that laughter, to watch the length of his neck extend, to see it shining on his face—I don’t care what the laugh is about. I wouldn’t even care if he was laughing at me, though it makes the laugh better that I know he’d never laugh in a mean way. I just know I want to see that laugh for the rest of my life.
The arm I’ve wound around his back works its way to his front until my hand is on his throat, touching the sight that’s so powerful.
His blue eyes are bright when they land on me, that shifter-bright that first convinced me he wasn’t a crazy person. Okay, so he’s crazy. Just not in a bad way.
“I can show you,” my mouth says before I’ve even processed the words.
Because no matter what, I’ve decided we definitely are not stopping.
I shift away from his body to the other end of the couch, then stand. My legs are shaky, but my eyes are steady—on him. He’s my anchor in this moment where I’m letting myself be intimate in a way I’ve never been before.
I’m still only wearing my homemade Harry Potter one-piece. My hair is in a ponytail. My shorts are on the floor by the couch.
It’s just me. Lexie Leland, someone I’ve always tried not to be.
However, in this moment, I don’t want to be anyone else. Because this man likes Lexie, the real Lexie, the girl who’s a woman even though she’s never truly felt womanly until him. The girl who wears one-pieces and dresses up as her favorite heroines. The girl who’s quirky and odd and says all the wrong things, but that this man thinks are the right things. The girl who is with this man, is the woman I’ve wanted to be for a very long time.
She’s strong. She’s able to take on the world. She’s fearless because she’s loved. Okay, not loved. But liked. Just for who she is.
This gives me the courage I need to lower the veil.
To let him in.
To let that woman out.
I peel down the straps of my suit slowly, still shaking even though I’m choosing this path. His eyes follow every minute movement, and I focus on that. On his eyes brightening to sun on the sea, then darkening to the deep blue of a lake. I focus on those eyes, the rest of his body frozen, as my bathing suit exposes first my nipples, then my stomach, and more slowly, my pussy. I turn around and hear him say, “Show me.”
Back to him, I twist my head around so he can see my face. I know he likes the long line of my back and the revealing of my butt when his eyes linger on these areas, before making their way to my face.
“That’s what I’m doing,” I reply.
Then, I kneel on the couch.
The moment of truth comes when I lean forward, my butt in the air, my pussy exposed and I hear, “Fuck me, you’re so damn gorgeous, babe.”
I also hear shock in his voice, because I’m not laying on my back.
I reach back, lifting my hips higher, my knees almost off the couch, and I touch my pussy.
One finger inside, then spreading my wet along the crevice of my pussy until I can easily slide my finger along the sensitive flesh of my clit.
There’s an added element of intensity, having this beautiful man watching me, that I’ve never had before. So, every swipe inside, every touch to my clit, every moan, every sigh … it’s all amplified with his eyes on me. I can feel him. In fact, I can almost feel him inside. Usually, I focus on my clit to bring myself to climax, but with Shark watching me, I think only of when his fingers were inside me, I imagine what it will feel like with his cock thrusting into my pussy, and I’m now understanding the lure of finger fucking myself.
I add a finger, then another. The delicious stretch has my hips coming up, and my mouth letting loose words I’ve never uttered to another being.
“Shark, baby. Need you inside. Need you so deep inside. Please.”
He’s at my back in an instant.
His firm cock is freed from the board shorts. I want to see him, I want to feel his cock in my hand. I want to know every inch of this man. More though, I need him fucking me. Loving me. Bringing out the woman I’ve known all along is within.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice, again like water but this time it’s rough, like a waterfall.
“You won’t,” I reply, my three fingers pushing deeper. “Ohhhh,” I cry out. Then, twisting my head to him and lifting my hips, I remove my fingers. “That should be you in there, baby.”
He takes my invitation.
Hands on my hips, eyes on mine, his cock glides along the entrance to my body.
Sucking in a breath and lowering my head so I can give him more room to work with, I moan loud and long at the feel of him entering me slowly. So gently, I shudder with what I think is a tiny orgasm, one that has my toes and fingers tingling.
His cock pushes deeper into my tight heat, and I feel its ridges, the smooth texture of the head of him as he delves in, backs out, then delves in deeper again, stretching me, taking me. The only pain comes with the stretch, and it’s more pleasure than pain.
“Deeper, baby.” I’ve never called anyone baby before, but I’ve said it to him now a couple of times, and it’s natural. He’s mine. My Shark. My man. My baby. What’s between us is right, right in a way Trinity and Neo will be together forever kind of right. Right in the way the Avengers are as a team, right. Right in the way that I am queen, he is king, and I’m coming to believe this is not only true but the kind of beauty I’ve always wanted … that kind of right.
It’s even more sublime when he listens and takes his cock deeper, driving in a few inches, pulling a cry from my lips that’s accompanied by a shout of, “Yes, baby! Yes!” I’ll make fun of myself later because I totally sound like one of those women I always say sound fake. These cries? Not fake. Not at fucking all.
He takes my shout as further invitation and drives in as far as he can go, touching a place so deep inside me, I feel a reverberation throughout the entirety of my pussy. It shudders, releasing tension and causes the tingling in my fingers and toes to move along my entire body. He hits the same place, again and again, pounding against it, but still I want more.
“Harder, Shark. Harder, baby. God, please, harder.”
He gives me harder. He gives me more. His hands to the arm rests of the couch now, he leverages himself and pounds into me, so deeply, so quickly, so brilliantly, I swear I see colors when I come apart. The orgasm starts deep in my pussy, and swells outward, touching every fucking nerve ending in my body, every cell, every neuron. I am alive. I am free. I am
nothing but a woman getting fucked and having her body loved in a way she never thought would happen—and definitely not with such a man.
His groan rounds out my own release as his hips give a few last jerks. But it’s his seed I feel. It’s his cum filling me up, then running down my legs. It’s his length and girth stretching me. It’s his breaths along my back. It’s his arms surrounding me when he tightens his larger frame around me and lets everything go inside my body.
It’s Shark and Lexie, king and queen of the sharks, a shifter and a witch, a match made in a heaven only nerds and surfer dudes can really appreciate.
It’s not only one week a year to live and be and know I’m more than the small glimpses I give of myself to the world.
It’s me, forever awash in the knowledge that I am safe, I am home, I am a queen, here in the arms of my king.
SHARK
“Wha—”
Her words are cut off by a long moan that I feel in my cock. Only my cock is going to have to wait because last night, Lexie was a virgin. This morning, she’s definitely not. But while I may not be a cat shifter, I do like my cream.
My mouth is on her pussy. I’m tasting my queen up close for the first time—and she’s heaven. Spices mixed with water like a spray of river as you’re taking a dive into its depths.
I throw her legs over my shoulders, feel her body quake with the movement but also with the added force of my mouth getting rougher.
I’ve meant this to be a wake-up call. I’ve also meant this to be healing so she’s not too sore tonight and I can take her again—this time, maybe gently, though she does seem to get off on the pounding, the rough, the surfer dude king who is only hers and who can take her body places it’s never been.
I’m taking her there now.
I know this because her hands are grasping my spiked-blond hair and her thighs are tightening around my head.
She’s strong. It almost hurts the power she’s got in those tiny legs.
It’s also fucking hot.
My fingers dig into her hips as I pull her closer to my lips, teeth, and tongue, and drink her in, giving with my tongue the same treatment I gave with my cock last night. I drive my tongue inside her. I taste a new flow of her cum, and it tastes so fucking good, I’m not drinking her in … I’m eating her out. Like she deserves. But also, because I damn well cannot help myself. That taste. I want this taste on my tongue until the day I die.
My nose is against her clit. I can barely take a breath. But I don’t care. I eat her. I taste her. I suck her. I fuck her with my tongue. And then her legs tighten further, and her smell gets stronger, her pussy tightens on my tongue. And fuck me, I want her coming on my cock.
Instead, I let her take my tongue. I let her scent invade my mouth, my throat, my nose. I let the warmth of her pussy soak into my lips, and I breathe in the clean smell of my queen as she comes against my face.
When the last of her shudders leave her, I lick one last time. Then, I set her legs on the sheets and see she’s lazing. Totally satisfied, her eyes closed. There’s a small smile playing at her lips. Her dark hair is everywhere. Her small, firm tits exposed. It’s too tempting. I lick one and chuckle against her other when I hear a long sigh, and she starts to run her fingers through my hair.
My voice low, I tell her, “When you’re ready, Lexie, I’m taking you out.”
Another sigh and a small nod.
I chuckle again. “I want you to see my hometown.”
One of her eyes opens and peeks down at me, her fingers now massaging my scalp.
“Are we going to do the tourist thing?” Excitement tinges her words, and I smirk and nip at her wrist.
“Absolutely, babe.”
Her small, languorous smile turns goofy, and she’s up like a shot. I pull her to standing, and she reaches for the small duffle Rudy brought over last night.
She barely glances my way as she rushes to the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in ten.”
Looking back at me, her forehead scrunches. “Okay, fifteen.”
Then she slams the door, I hear a squeal, and not even fifteen minutes later, she’s rushing out of the bathroom this time.
Only as soon as she throws her things on the floor next to her bag, she jumps three times and then she’s in my arms, kissing me, all tongue. The taste of her, though I’ve tried to savor it all, is still in my mouth. It’s sexy as fuck that she’s getting that taste with her lips on mine. Her fingers dig into my scalp, and I take control, letting my tongue guide our movements and feeling my dick harden at the kiss.
She feels it, too, and leans into me, pulling herself closer.
Any more movement, and I may start just rubbing myself against her.
Shit.
I try to pull away, only the next second, she hits her knees. Her hands are undoing my board shorts and pulling out my dick before I can say word one.
Then her mouth is on my cock, sucking the tip. Her hand is at the base, moving up and down, smacking against my balls as she takes me deeper. Her lips cover her teeth, and I think those books she reads have taught her well, but mostly I think it’s just Lexie because she’s using the right amount of suction at the same time her hands, her tongue, her hair … the whole scene is perfection.
“Fuck, babe. Suck me, Lexie.”
My voice is rough, kind of like my hips that are thrusting against her face as she swallows my cock with even more gusto. Rough like the hand that’s in her hair, encouraging her to take me as deep as she can. Rough like the nails she’s got digging into my ass.
When I feel my cum start to shoot up, I try to pull away again, but her moan vibrates against my dick, and I’m done for.
She takes it all.
Because that’s Lexie, taking it all. Giving it all. Wanting it all.
Every swallow is another reason she’s mine.
When she realizes that’s all I’ve got to give, she leans back and wipes her mouth, smiling at me and licking her thumb. It’s almost as though she needs every last drop of me just as I needed it of her.
Her eyes are lazy, sexy, and satisfied as she pulls herself up to her feet.
“I’m going to toast a couple bagels. You’ve got fifteen minutes, surfer dude. I want to see Nashville.”
She grabs her shoes, and I watch as her firm little ass dances out of my bedroom.
“Fuck me, I love her.”
That’s what I say.
What I do is I take ten minutes, not fifteen, and use that time for a cold shower.
“The Grand Ole Opry first gained notice in 1925 with a fiddle player named Uncle Jimmy Thompson. He brought country music to the public, and now, ninety years later, you’re riding a boat down the Cumberland River in what is known as Music City …”
“I want to learn to play the fiddle,” Lexie says from my side where she’s tucked close. We’re on a riverboat cruise, the guide telling us more history of Nashville—because we haven’t already gotten three hours of it. I’m waiting to take her on my tour after, the one where we hit up a street musician I always stop to listen to. The tour where I get her some chili at a booth in Southern Comfort. The tour where she gets to take a picture in front of the WhatLiftsYou-wings mural. We still have another hour on this damn boat, though. But I’ll take any time I can get with Lexie.
“It’ll be like that time you tried to learn guitar,” Rudy interrupts. “Or the time with the piano lessons.” He rolls his eyes, and I chuckle. “Or the time you tried to take up singing lessons. You don’t have the musical gene, Lexie-Lou.”
I glance down at her face to see if she’s going to get that squinty angry look she gets. The one that says she wants to get violent, but if you know her, she’s just going to keep squinting at you. As with anything Lexie, I’m surprised by her reaction.
She bursts out laughing and snorts just as loud and long.
I want to fuck her so bad.
Not just because of the snort, but because she makes snorting look good. Because she’s a nerd, but sh
e also knows herself. Because I’ve watched her in her dress that I think is supposed to be cute and flirty, but I’ve just noticed it’s flirty and in the wind, it rides high enough for me to see the tops of her thighs. Because I’m hard as a rock, she’s in my arms, we’re on the water, and she smells even better after a day doing tourist shit.
Her body turns toward mine, still in my arms, and her eyes meet mine. “Rudy is correct. Alas, I cannot carry a tune. In fact, I can’t even pick it up. It’s bad. Terrible.” Her eyes go comically wide as she continues in her adorably clipped tone, “Abominably atrocious.”
I run a hand through her hair that she’s worn down and lean forward.
“Abominable and atrocious?” I ask. “These are two other words you love but don’t get to use often, huh, nerd?”
She smiles bright, blinding me.
“It’s kind of scary how much you get me.”
Before I can answer, there’s a whooshing sound, and Sera is there, on the boat, clutching onto the seat.
“Whoa!” she says, and the word is so un-Sera-like, I raise my brows.
“You good there, dudette?”
Lexie walks closer and glances around. “Should you be popping in and out with other people around?”
Sera shakes her head and rubs her temple with one hand. Her other is still clutching the seat of the riverboat.
“Sera,” Lexie says softly. “You okay?”
Sera’s jaw tenses and then she opens her eyes, slowly removes her hand from the seat, and looks first to me then Lexie.
“I’m fine,” she answers, her voice sounding strained but firm. Then to Lexie, “Humans see what they want to see. But if anyone did see, they’ll brush it off.”
“Or they’ll go insane,” Rudy adds, joining the conversation.
“Or that,” Sera comments, throwing her hand out like people going insane is no big deal. It has happened. They aren’t truly insane, but when you’re telling someone you’ve seen a werewolf or a man turn into a bear or a witch covered in birds, who is going to believe you?
