Growing and Kissing (25 page)

I drew in a shuddering breath and he groaned in response as my breasts pressed harder against his chest. His voice was low and iron-hard, now, barely-restrained, the rumble of thunder seconds before the storm. “Your face. This hair. These breasts.” He ran his palms up between us and cupped them, making me gasp, then worked outward and down to my sides. “These gorgeous fucking curves. This arse.” He slapped it and I jerked. Then he was kissing me again, a long, deep plundering of my mouth that left me breathless. He drew my lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a second, and I writhed, crackling pleasure lashing down within me and whipping the building heat to spin faster and faster.  

When he spoke again, his voice was lower still. His accent turned the words into dark, silver-flecked smoke that twisted down inside me from my ear straight to my groin. “You don’t want me to stop? I’m not going to. Not this time. I’m going to fuck you like I should have done the very first time I met you.” He ran one big hand up my side and caressed my neck and jaw, the pad of his thumb rubbing over my cheek. “Is that what you want?”

When I answered I barely recognized my own voice. “Yes. God, yes!”

The need in my voice must have taken him over the edge because he suddenly snarled. He lay back, pulling me down on top of him, and then rolled us so he was on top. Then he stood, scooping me up with one thick forearm under my shoulders and the other under my ass, lifting me off the floor as if I was made of air. As he came up to standing, the bulge of his cock rubbed the full length of the lips of my sex. My hands grabbed for his shoulders and found them, helplessly squeezing at the hard muscles in response.

He walked us over to the nearest table, every step making him rub and twist against me. I closed my eyes and clamped my legs around him, delighting in the solid breadth of him between my legs: I was a vine clinging to a rock face.

Then the warm wood of the tabletop was under my ass. He sat me down on the very edge and then stepped back to look at me. I slowly opened my eyes and looked up at him to see what was next.

“Jesus,” he said slowly. He brushed his thumb across my cheek again. “So innocent.” He was looking at me the way an artist would look at a virgin canvas, as if he couldn’t believe how many possibilities there were.

I didn’t
feel
very innocent, sitting there almost naked on the edge of the table, legs spread and a man between my knees. But then, as I looked up at him...suddenly, I did.

I’d gotten to know him. I’d even glimpsed beyond the outer shell he showed to everyone else. But that didn’t change who he
was.
Now that he wasn’t holding back anymore, I could feel that aura of darkness: he was raw and dangerous and completely outside any rules.

I wasn’t innocent. But I was pure as the driven snow next to him. And that only made me want him more. I was like a bound, sacrificial maiden being offered up to a beast, unable to do anything more than gaze hypnotized at her approaching fate. I looked up at him with hooded eyes, marveling at the size of him: the hard-packed bulk of his shoulders, the broad, hard chest, the solid hips and tight waist that would let him pound a woman for hours—

Jesus.
Pound
me
for hours.

“I want to know how you sound when you scream my name,” he said. “I want to know how hard you claw at my back, when I’m holding you right on the edge. I want to know whether you come harder with me on top, or behind you. But you know what I need to know most of all?”

Having him say it all to me with
that
accent was like being wrapped in iron chain dipped in silver. I couldn’t move, couldn’t close my thighs, even if I’d wanted to. I dazedly shook my head.

“I need to know what you look like,” he told me. “Here.” One hand hooked into the front of my panties—

I realized what he was going to do just as he did it. There was a crack and snap of elastic and the renting of wet cloth, and then the remains of my panties were in his hand and the cool air from the air conditioning was caressing my sopping folds.

Now I
did
try to close my legs: just an instinctive reaction. But his muscled thighs were between my knees, as immovable as stone. And I felt his eyes scald their way down my body to my groin.

We looked down together at the soft pink lips and the curling copper hair above them. I could actually
feel
his reaction, his whole body stiffening with excitement. The thought that he’d been thinking about that one part of me, fantasizing about it, all this time, was hot as hell.

He growled low in his throat and pushed hard in between my thighs. The bulge of his cock, throbbing and hot as it rubbed against my lips, was a whole different experience now that there was only one thin layer of cloth between us. He gathered up my hair at the back of my head in one huge hand and tugged, lightly but firmly, tilting my head back. I caught my breath...but a whole new type of heat flashed down through my body.

He pressed harder against me and I went weak as his cock caressed me. I felt a hunger inside like I’d never known, an ache that had to be filled. “You pretend to be so innocent, but you know exactly what you want. This is what you want, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t capable of speech but my moan told him all he needed to know. He looked into my eyes with such a look of evil satisfaction that I went mushy inside. Suddenly, he hooked his forearms under my knees and tugged me forward a few inches, until I rocked on the very edge of the tabletop. My eyes went wide. “Wh—wah?”

He stepped back so that his cock was no longer in contact with me and hunkered lower. Low enough that I felt his next words as hot little kisses of air against my sex. “You need to lose some of that innocence. I want you to beg for it.”

He dropped to one knee and my frazzled brain suddenly realized what he had in mind. “Oh God.”

Then he was leaning forward, his hands on my inner thighs to spread me open and—

At the first touch of his tongue, I nearly exploded. It was like catching hold of a speeding train: zero to a hundred instantly. I was dangling from a door handle in the slipstream, helpless to do anything other than hang on as we rushed towards our destination. My back arched, my breasts pointing almost at the ceiling. With Sean down low, the cold air was free to blow right at me, playing across my dripping body like a sheet of silk.

He was brutal and gentle in equal measure. His hands were like iron, keeping my legs widespread despite my need to squeeze them shut and grind against him. But the touch of his tongue could be so light, as it traced the shape of me, that I was soon rocking and humping at the air, desperate for more. His lips, when they first opened me, were deliciously firm and controlling...but his tongue, as it thrust inside, was luxuriously slow and sensual. I began to pant for air, the heat rising fast and unstoppable inside me, taking me over inch by inch. I grabbed at the tabletop, fingernails scraping at the rough wood.

His hands worked inward, inch by inch along my thighs. His thumbs rubbed in circles at the sensitive flesh along the inside of my thighs, stirring up currents of pleasure that throbbed inward to my groin. My feet were making little circles in the air, my toes clenching. And in the center of it all, his tongue, thrusting and twisting, tasting me in a slow, insistent rhythm while his lips worked at my clit. I was being carried along on the pleasure, moving faster and faster, and I could see the edge rushing towards me.

He moved away from me for just a second, leaving me wet and throbbing, aching for more. The pause was just long enough for him to look up at me, his eyes clouded with lust, and growl, “Do it. Do it for me right now.”

The words slammed into me, hurling me even faster towards the brink. When that expert tongue and those hard, insistent lips returned, it was with the added heat of him looking up at me, watching my reaction. We locked eyes and stayed like that, eyes burning into each other as I rocked and writhed and finally humped my hips towards his face, screaming his name louder and louder. I flashed past the brink. He thrust two thick fingers into me and I felt myself spasm and clutch at him over and over again, my whole body jerking and shaking.

When I finally came down, I was weak and trembling, barely able to hold myself on the edge of the table. I was so intently focused on those cobalt-blue eyes, it took me a few seconds to realize he’d stood up, and was doing something with his hands, down below his waist.

I glanced down just in time to see him push his jockey shorts down and step out of them. His cock sprang up into view, slapping against the flat of his stomach, and I caught my breath. It wasn’t just long and thick but...
solid.
As if it had a weight to it, a power, beyond what it should have. I couldn’t drag my eyes from it and I wasn’t sure why. Was it the perfect, pink-purple head, the skin smooth and silky, or the even tan of the shaft with its elegant texturing of veins? Was it the curls of black hair at the base or the heavy balls so full of potency?

Then I got it and I went weak and heady at the thought. It was the sense of what he was. His cock somehow concentrated all that badness in one weapon of flesh designed to enter me, corrupt me. It looked powerful and brutal, beautiful and evil in the same way his Mustang did.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and drew it gently down. When it reached the point where it was pointing right between my thighs, I gave a little intake of breath. God, it was
big.
And the thought of him finally inside me...my insides went melty.

He walked towards me, the floorboards seeming to shake under his feet. I hadn’t seen him completely naked until now and I couldn’t take my eyes off that patch of body between the hard ridges of his abs and his thickly muscled thighs. I wanted to run my hands where my eyes were roving: the hard diagonal line of his Adonis belt, the little indents you could kiss at the tops of his thighs, those curls of glossy black hair at his groin. I’ve never wanted to touch a man so much.

He turned to hook his jeans up off the floor and I saw his naked ass for the first time, firm and smoothly round, so packed with muscle that it dimpled just a little. And I glanced down between my legs, thinking of him between them, and went weak all over again.

Sean dropped the jeans, pulling out the little foil packet, and started to walk towards me again. His eyes never left me for a minute as he tore the edge off the packet with his teeth. He didn’t slow his walk as he rolled on the condom. Suddenly, he was between my thighs, his cock aimed right at my sex, inches from touching. I swallowed...hard. It wasn’t just the size, although he was
big.
It was that aura that was rolling off him in waves. He really was the guy you’re warned to stay away from: not some wannabe bad boy but an actual criminal. A man known for destroying things. If I really was any sort of innocent...he was about to destroy
me.

And I wanted him to. Our natures—his bad, my good—had always attracted us as strongly as they’d pushed us away. Now the attraction had finally won.

His cock brushed against my slickened lips, the heat of him throbbing into me. “Oh God,” I whispered.

He put his finger under my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. God, he was looking at me in a way I’d never seen before—his need for me so powerful, it was almost frightening. “Look at me,” he told me. “I want to see you, when I do this.”

I squirmed at the thought...but the heat inside me glowed suddenly hotter. I’d lost my virginity when I was seventeen; this felt like losing it all over again—forbidden and dangerous and achingly exciting. I held his gaze….

And felt the tip of him just part my lips. I resisted the urge to look down. The smooth, silky head, arrow shaped, eased into me, spreading me wider and wider. I felt my eyes widen in response. Inside, I was going fluttery and twitchy, wanting to take him but not sure if I could. He opened me wider.
Oh God!
My hips tried to back up onto the table but his hands suddenly grabbed them, holding me tight. The head of him stretched me, making me gasp—

And suddenly he was filling me, a long silken thrust that made me moan and grab for his shoulders. He moved closer, his hips brushing my thighs, and I arched my back as I felt him slide
deep.
He came to rest with his head almost on my shoulder and my nipples scraping against the hard muscles of his chest. I was panting and so was he. “Jesus,” he said, whispering it so as not to startle me in the silence. “You’re perfect.” And he laid a kiss on my neck.

I could feel him throbbing and huge inside me—it almost felt as if my whole body was one tight silken sheath around him. Just having him there was sending streamers of pleasure arcing outward through my body, making me slowly writhe and twist. And he hadn’t even moved, yet.

I expected him to start straightaway, to go fast and hard and deep—my whole body tensed with anticipation and just a little heady fear. But instead, his hands slid up over my hips and across my back, winding up and around, criss-crossing in a slow, deliberate massage. They covered my shoulders and then worked down and I gasped as he squeezed my breasts. His palms slid further, down over my stomach, almost to the point where we joined, and then he went out along my thighs. It was as if he was worshipping each part of my body in turn.

And the whole time, there was that big, solid presence inside me, hot and throbbing and undeniable. Every time I responded to his touch, it made me more aware of him inside me. Every time I gave a wriggle or shifted on the table, his cock would twist or slide inside me and I’d catch my breath. Every groan of pleasure vibrated down to that hardness that filled me. Even a soft sigh made me tighten a little around him. We were connected on a level I’d never known before. I closed my eyes and just absorbed it: the heat of the room against my bare skin, his hands tracing every curve of my body, and the unyielding presence of him.