Can't Get Enough (11 page)

WHEN HE GETS HOME

Lucy Felthouse

T
he moment Nina heard the rumble of her husband's car engine as he pulled into the drive, she dropped her book and all but leapt out of her chair. Moving fast across the living room, then through the kitchen, she flung open the internal door that led into the garage. Walking in, she closed it behind her. Standing, arms folded, one foot tapping repeatedly on the floor, she waited for Owen to drive the car into the garage, then press the button that shut the door behind him and the vehicle. When the bottom of the up-and-over touched concrete and the car's ignition was shut off, she practically ran around to the driver's side and tugged the door open before Owen got the chance.

The sight of his wife standing there, an indeterminable expression on her face, made Owen's heart sink. He had no idea what was going on, and she never normally came into the garage to meet him when he got home. She didn't look very happy, either. He didn't speak, as he suspected whatever he said would be the wrong thing.

Nina didn't speak, either. There were no words to explain what she was thinking and feeling right now, so she decided that instead of talking, she'd just act. That decided, she leaned forward and touched the button to recline the seat Owen was sitting in. She smirked at his expression—the poor man had no idea what was coming to him. She was going to make sure he'd never forget it, either.

Owen's body jerked as he responded to the shock of the back support disappearing from behind him. Nina's expression still looked strange—yet eerily beautiful—and when she rested a palm on his chest and shoved him, he landed on the now-flat backrest with a thump that knocked the air out of his lungs. “W-what are you—?” His hastily spoken words were cut off when Nina straddled his lap and silenced him by leaning down and pressing her lips to his.

Nina couldn't help but find Owen's reaction amusing. He looked as though he thought she was going to kill him or something. Despite that, she felt his cock hardening beneath her and was glad her husband's body was ready, even if his brain couldn't quite catch up. She knelt up enough so she could slide her hand between their bodies and cup his crotch, squeezing and stroking his rapidly growing erection.

Owen's eyes widened as his wife played with his hard-on through his suit trousers, then abruptly tugged down his fly, slipped her hand through the gap and maneuvred his cock out through it. Part of him wanted to say something about the fact that the edges of the zip might scratch his shaft, possibly even draw blood, but the rest of him said to shut up—he was about to get laid. In the car, no less!

Enjoying the feeling of warm velvet over a core of steel in her hand, Nina wrapped her fingers more tightly around Owen's cock and began to stroke it slowly, ensuring he was fully erect
before moving so her hips rested over his. She tucked the material of her skirt to one side, revealing her knickerless lady parts. Then, aiming the head of his prick at her entrance, she slowly lowered herself onto him, her damp pussy growing rapidly wetter at the excitement and danger of what they were doing.

Owen let out a moan as the wet warmth of his wife's cunt sunk down onto his cock. The saucy wench had come out here with no knickers on, set on seducing him! She clapped her hand over his mouth quickly, muffling the sound. She put a finger of her other hand to her lips, then pointed upward.
Ahh
,
the kids were in
. He nodded in understanding, and she released him.

Wordlessly, Nina began to bounce up and down on his dick, lifting herself so he almost popped out of her, leaving just the very tip of him inside, then dropping down heavily. It wasn't a particularly fast movement, but it was packed full of friction and she knew that if she carried on like that, it wouldn't be long before Owen shot his load. Desperate to ensure she got her rocks off, too, she grabbed one of his hands from around her waist and thrust it to her crotch. Mercifully, he got the hint and, gathering some juices from where their bodies joined, he smeared them over her swollen clit and started to stroke.

Owen's actions had a knock-on effect. Touching his wife's nub caused her eyes to roll back in her head and her pussy to contract around his cock, which in turn caused his cock to throb and twitch inside her. He'd have to up his game if he wanted to make sure she came before—or at the same time as—him. Grasping the slippery and sensitive bundle of nerve endings between his finger and thumb, he rolled and pinched at it. Amazingly, it swelled further at his ministrations, and he looked up to see Nina stifling her own moans by biting down on her fist.

Nina knew it wouldn't be long now for either of them. The
setting and situation were unusual, forbidden and quite kinky, particularly for her and her husband. She was sure other couples had sex in all kinds of weird and wonderful places, but she and Owen were very much missionary-in-bed kind of people. Judging by the way they were both reacting to the impromptu fuck in the garage, though, that was set to change. Her pussy fluttered around Owen's shaft, and the tightening in her abdomen, like a spring wound tighter and tighter, told her just how imminent her climax was. “You close?” she breathed.

Owen nodded, glad that Nina was almost ready to come, as he knew there was no way he could hold on for much longer. He wished he could see all of her gorgeous body as she bounced up and down on his shaft, her perfect tits and ass, her curves in all the right places…but it wasn't the time or the place. Maybe later. Right now, though, the tingle at the base of his spine and the tightening of his balls told him he was approaching the point of no return. He stimulated Nina's clit faster and harder, seeking the particular spot that never failed to send her over the edge. The twitches around his shaft indicated he'd found it. He focused hard there as Nina rode them both to completion.

Nina dug her teeth harder into her hand, her eyes widening as Owen manipulated the most sensitive spot, just at the edge of her clitoral hood. He knew it drove her crazy and clearly intended to take advantage of that fact. Soon, the sensation in her abdomen was at a breaking point and she removed her fingers from her mouth just in time to whisper, “Now.”

Owen let go, the spunk making its journey from his balls, up his shaft and out of his slit in what seemed like record time. He gripped Nina's hips hard—harder than he meant to—and squeezed his eyes and mouth closed in an attempt not to shout out as the intense sensations of climax crashed through every last cell of his body. He couldn't prevent the odd humming noise
he made, but nobody but Nina would have been able to hear it in any case.

Nina slumped down onto Owen's prone form, her cunt still twitching wildly around his shaft as she rode out the waves of her pleasure. They smashed into her, again and again, wringing her out, turning her world upside down in the most perfect, blissful way. It seemed like an age since she'd had an orgasm like that, and she suspected that come bedtime, she'd be eager for another one.

They lay panting together for a few moments more, until finally Owen cupped his wife's face in his hands and gave her a long, lingering kiss. He pulled away earlier than he really wanted to, aware that if he carried on much longer, they'd both end up ready and raring to go again, and they were already running the risk of being caught. “Baby,” he said, stroking Nina's hair, “as much as I'd love to lie here all night with you, and definitely fuck you again, do you think we ought to go inside?”

Nina sighed. “I suppose so. Ugh.”

They reluctantly made themselves decent, clambered out of the car and headed into the house. Owen, more out habit than any need for security, pressed the button on his key fob to lock the car, before closing the door to the garage.

“So,” Nina said as innocently as possible to her husband, having spotted the kids entering the kitchen, “how was your trip, darling? Glad to have you home.”

“It was fine, sweetheart, thank you. But I couldn't have wished for a better homecoming. Hi, kids!”

BEFORE THEY BURN

Beatrix Ellroy

I
hadn't meant to gasp, biting off a moan, when Aral slapped me on the ass. But I had.

In all fairness, he had started it, reaching out to steal a cookie from the cooling rack; I'd absentmindedly slapped his hand, still holding the piping bag with my other. But instead of drawing his hand back, like any naughty boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he'd grabbed my wrist.

He still held it firmly, his fingers circling completely around my wrist like a cuff. When I looked up at him he grinned, crooked and full of challenge, then slapped me on the ass. One big open-handed swat, right on my asscheek. He was looking right at me as he did it, could not have missed the gasp, or the soft moan bitten off as I closed my mouth.

His smile was broad, but his eyes were dark in the fading light. I snatched my hand back and continued piping the cookies onto the tray, looking down, cursing the blush I knew was rising on my cheeks, the tips of my ears and probably the bare skin
above the low back of my shirt. I usually loved the way it felt, my hair brushing my skin, but I suddenly felt naked, exposed. He disappeared for a moment, and I let go the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

I ignored the slight trembling in my hands and went back to piping. Guests would be arriving soon and I loved the smell of fresh cookies, the delicate crumble against my tongue. And since it was my birthday, I was going to give myself that small pleasure. And the smell of freshly baked deliciousness always added a little something special to the party, so I usually timed the cooking fairly close. Even so, Aral shouldn't even have been here, but his plane had arrived late so he'd come straight here instead of the hotel. There was a strange and not unwelcome intimacy to being alone with him in my kitchen, in my house.

In truth I barely knew him, had only met him once or twice at other parties, at friends' houses as he traveled through for work. He had always caught my eye, with his dark hair wild and curling, his skin the color of good caramel and the most wicked smile. So he was a distraction, even before his hand came down on my ass.

When I heard the dull tread of his boots on the tiled floor again I bowed my head farther, willing my body back under control. He came to stand behind me, crowding against me. I looked down and could see his boots, heavy and black, huge beside my bare feet. His breath was on the back of my neck and I felt a shiver rising, felt my breath quicken, my heart hammer. The cookies I piped became erratic as he simply stood behind me, saying nothing. I finished the tray, then stopped. He laughed knowingly, then stepped back, making enough room for me to pull the oven door open without burning myself but not enough to stop my ass pressing against him as I leaned down. I bit down on my tongue and concentrated on sliding the baking tray onto
the oven rack, trying to ignore the press of his legs against mine, the hardness of his muscular thighs.

I shut the oven door with a slam, and then spun to face him, pressing back against the bench, feeling the heat from the oven rise against my thighs. He smiled, with his hands curled loosely at his sides; he spread them out, as if in question, and I couldn't look away from the breadth of them, the promise of power in their size. I said the first thing that came to mind.

“I need to get these out in ten minutes.”

He grinned wickedly and stepped forward again. “Then I'll have to be quick.” He reached past me and turned the timer dial. “We both know I heard that little gasp—that little moan.” He put his hands either side of me, leaning over with his face close to mine. “I aim to make you moan again, Orya.”

He caught my lips in a kiss, soft and wet, oddly gentle. We stood like that, kissing, with the heat rising around us, for a long moment. I could feel the tension building, and my hands clenched uselessly on the bench. He moved his own hands to cover them, hold them still, and I moaned into his mouth as I felt the press of his fingers against my wrists.

“Ah, there it is, my sweetness.” He spoke with his face close to me, lips brushing mine. “It takes a little bit of roughness, does it? A little bit of domination?” I blushed again as I pulled against his grip. He pulled my hands behind my back and caught them together with one of his own, holding my face still with the other. “Say it. Say it, Orya, or I stop.” There was no smile on his face now, his eyes solidly black in the midafternoon light. He kissed me again, harsh and vicious, and I moaned into his mouth; he pulled back, pulled away and I met his eyes.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Yes what? Say it properly.” His voice was low and dark, almost a growl.

“Yes, I need roughness. Yes, I need your hands on me.”

He smiled then, crooked and sly. “Good.” He pulled me forward, my hands still clamped together at the small of my back, and then he bent me over the counter and let go of my hands.

“I want you to stay still, hands flat.” He finally pressed himself against me, positioning my hands beside my shoulders, his cock a hard line against my soft flesh. I moaned and wriggled my ass against him, lifting to my toes to try to press my quim against the hardness. He laughed again and stepped back, landing a hard swat on my ass. “I said stay still.” He swatted my other cheek. “I want you to moan, make noise, but do not move.”

I swallowed and dropped my heels to the floor, ready to be still. He made a sharp noise. “I said,
still
.” He cupped his hand between my legs, lifting me to my toes again, and my hands spasmed, reaching out to brace myself, to hold on to something. He made the noise again and repositioned my hands, then placed his own broad palm on the center of my back.