Sin and Ink, page 10
Clenching my jaw, I stare down at her, part of me reeling. After five years of secretly lusting after and longing for my brother’s wife, she’s kneeling before me, hunger darkening her gaze, her hands and mouth only inches from my dick. It’s as if I’m trapped in an alternate universe. Or caught in that murky place between deep sleep and awareness, where dreams and reality blend. And I’ll kill the motherfucker who dares to shake me awake.
“What do you want?” I ask her, surrendering to the pull of one of my guilty pleasures and burrowing my hand in her hair. The thick, heavy strands slide over my palm, in between my fingers, and my imagination starts to run amok. Picturing them gliding over my bare skin. Wrapping around my dick. My grip tightens at the vivid, dirty visuals, and her breath catches. Her lashes flutter, and a small whimper echoes between us. I harden even more at the obvious signs of pleasure. Because I can, I twist her hair around my hand, tugging again at her scalp. With another of those sweet, utterly sexy sounds, she leans into my hold. God, she’s perfect. “Tell me, Eden.” When her lashes lift but she hesitates, I urge, “Be brave.”
Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, since I’ve been a coward around this woman from day one. Moment one.
“I want—” She pauses. Drags in a breath and continues. “I want what you gave that other woman. You, in my mouth, your hand in my hair, guiding me, showing me what you need from me. No,” she says, her fingers curling into my thighs. “Taking what you need from me. Don’t be gentle. Don’t go easy because of who I am. Use me.”
Her words ran into one another the longer she spoke, as if she had to hurry and get them out. Didn’t matter; I heard each and every one of them. Damn. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. My control is slipping, like delicate tissue paper that is steadily tearing right down the middle. Only she could do this to me with just a whispered plea.
I rub my thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the curve, dipping the tip inside. The edge of her teeth grazes my flesh, and the sensation ripples over my erection. Anticipation rides me, drumming deep inside me, sizzling under my skin. A part of me wants to hold out a little longer, but damn that. I can’t. Not when I’ve been holding out for years.
Taking what you need… Don’t go easy… Use me.
The litany plays in my head, a filthy little jingle that’s quickly becoming my favorite tune.
I, again, wrap my fingers around the bottom half of my length, and draw her head down, down, down, until… Oh fuck.
Her lips kiss the head for a chest-squeezing moment before parting, opening, and I’m sinking into the wet heat of her mouth. My body goes as rigid as a statue. Christ. Our moans saturate the air, and as hers vibrates over my flesh, I can believe that she’s been waiting for this—wanting this—as much as I have. At least, with my dick encased in the sweetest suction, I don’t have to imagine it any longer.
She doesn’t wait for me to instruct her; her tongue slides over the swollen tip, smoothing, exploring. I don’t stop her. That would require moving. And paralyzed by such sharp pain-edged pleasure, I’m a willing prisoner of her mouth. She dips her head, taking more of me, that agile tongue torturing me with its long, greedy strokes. Only when she withdraws and the cool air whispers over my damp skin does my stupor shatter. With a growl that sounds too damn animalistic, I press her head lower, not easing until her lips bump my fist.
Shit. The sight of her stretched wide around my dick… No fantasy, no porno, none of my reality can compare to it. The dense fringe of her lashes fan against her skin, hiding her eyes from me, but the eager working of her tongue, the flush across her cheekbones, the bite of her nails through denim telegraph her pleasure. And then there are the moans adding another caress up and down my flesh. It’s so good.
I can’t tear my gaze away from her. Watching her slip and slide over me is hotter than the dirtiest sex I’ve ever had. I’ve never been closer to heaven than I am now. She’s further shredding my control, and it’s only been moments since she slid that beautiful, mind-bending mouth on me. Back and forth, she bobs over me, sucking, licking, goddamn worshipping. And fuck if she doesn’t make me feel like a god.
Electrical currents race and pop down my spine, culminating in a crackling pool at the base, in my balls. I grit my teeth, fighting the signal that orgasm is much closer than I want. Releasing my flesh, I thrust the other hand in her hair, both cradling her head and firmly holding her steady. Her eyes flicker to mine, and the lust raging through me rockets from consuming to combustible. Pleasure darkens her gaze so it appears black. A spark of impatience flashes in the depths, and in spite of the need digging its claws low in my gut, a corner of my mouth quirks into a tight smile as feral satisfaction curls in my chest.
“Open,” I order, not waiting for her obedience but rolling my hips up and nudging her lips. I press inside, pushing deeper, sinking more than half of my length inside her. She flattens her tongue, offering me a runway straight to the back of her throat. A groan tears from me, a reflection of my control ripping at the seams. “That’s it, baby. Let me in.” It’s a demand, a guttural plea.
Raising higher on her knees, she bends lower over me, and grateful, I lean down, press a kiss to her damp forehead. Then, straightening, I slowly guide her down my cock.
“Fuck,” I snap as the head bumps the entrance to her throat. She freezes, and I immediately pause. This can’t be the first time she’s deep-throated a man…can it? A visceral, primitive approval roars through me, reverberating in my head. I’m seconds from pounding on my chest like the caveman she’s transformed me into. “Easy,” I murmur, running a knuckle up and down the front of her neck. “Relax, baby. Breathe through your nose and relax. You can take me.”
Precious seconds pass as she visibly loosens under my hands, and only when she dips her head, do I stroke inside her again. And slip a little into that tight-as-fuck channel. I grunt, the only sound I’m capable of uttering. My lungs seize as I withdraw then press forward once more, taking another increment of her throat. Feeling it spasm and flutter around my tip.
“Goddamn,” I snarl. The last remnants of my control disintegrate, and my dick pistons in and out of her, fucking her. Use me. Use me. The words spur me on, and I take her at her word. Her nails pinch my thighs, but she doesn’t protest. No, she’s sucking at me like she can’t get enough, like her entire world has narrowed down to my flesh in her mouth.
Lightning snaps through me, and I hurtle toward an orgasm that might fucking kill me. My balls tighten and draw up, and if unclenching my teeth were a possibility, I would warn Eden about coming. About pouring down her throat. Ask if she’s okay with it. But I can’t, and I don’t.
It nails me, and I explode, growling through it like the beast I’ve called myself. From my brain to the hot, burning soles of my feet inside my boots, I’m land-locked by pleasure so keen, so sharp, it borders on pain. And I come so violently, a part of me recoils at what I’ve become. Some feral animal gripping his female tight as he pours into her over and over.
When I’m finally, finally spent, I release her head and fall against the back of the couch, harsh bellows bolting from my chest, residual pulses tripping over my skin, down my spine.
Eden places an absurdly gentle kiss on the tip, then lifts her head. With her flushed skin, swollen mouth, gleaming eyes, and tangled hair, she looks like a thoroughly defiled angel. Shame should be crawling in any second now, but I still reach down, ball her T-shirt in my fist, and drag her up my body. She willingly clambers onto my lap, straddling it. Even though I’ve just come hard enough to forget my own name, my dick thumps. And I can’t blame it. Her jeans may separate us, but I swear the heat of her penetrates the denim.
Tipping my head back, I tunnel my fingers through her hair once more. I can’t help myself. It’s fast becoming my new obsession. I want to see it tumbling down, draped over her shoulders and chest, playing hide-and-seek with her beautiful breasts, stuck to her sweat-dampened skin. I’m hungry to wrap the heavy weight of it around my fist and wrist, drag her head back, exposing that slender throat as I fuck her from behind. Yeah, obsession might not be strong enough of a word.
“Kiss me,” I rasp, fully aware the last time the words were spoken between us, it was me who turned tail and ran. Now could be the time when she decides to issue a little payback, and she would be in the right. But since only seconds ago she was tonguing my dick, I’m hoping she won’t. “Give me what my dick just had.”
She studies me, her gaze dropping to my mouth, then lower to my chest and my semi-hard flesh. When she returns her scrutiny to my face, I’m ready to take the kiss. Suddenly, I’m so starved for it, my gut clenches, going concave. Fuck it, I’m ready to beg.
Lowering her head, she puts her lips on me. But not on my mouth. On my chin. My jaw. My temple. She brushes a caress over the faded, decades-old scar right above my right eyebrow. My heart pounds at the tenderness, the affection in the light touches. Stop this shit, part of me barks. Hot, frenzied, filthy. That’s what I need, because I can’t afford to trick myself into believing she could care for me as more than her brother-in-law and a substitute for her vibrator. But the other part—that part that’s like a barren, parched, cracked wasteland—craves each soft sweep. Craves it like a man crawling through that wasteland, palms and feet bleeding, dying of thirst.
My eyelids receive the same gentle, but sensual, treatment. So does the small bump along the bridge of my nose. I hold my breath—literally hold my goddamn breath like some smitten teenager—when those lips hover above mine. And when that first sweet rub of her mouth to mine comes, a shudder ripples through my body, like a fucking earthquake, and as unmanning, as revealing as it is, I remain still, aching for another.
I’ve never had a kiss like this; I don’t think I’ve ever been innocent enough for one. This is the kind that curious, nervous strangers on a first date would share. The kind that says, I like you. I want to discover more about you. One, I’ve rarely been on a date, unless you count buying a woman a drink at a bar or club. And most of the women I’ve fucked could care less about finding out my likes, dislikes, favorite foods or movies. They liked my fame and loved my dick. And I didn’t care. Didn’t need anything more from them.
But Eden…
With a growl that generates from the swirling and ever-tightening knot in my chest, I jerk her head down. Desperate to banish that need for something more than this moment of lust-fueled insanity, I open my mouth under hers and drive my tongue between her lips. Hard. The growl rumbles into a groan at my first hit of her sweet, sultry taste. It’s instantly addictive, and though I’m licking the roof of her mouth and curling my tongue around hers, I’m already hurting for the next time, the next high.
There’s enough awareness, enough reason remaining in my head that if she had pulled back or resisted, I would’ve freed her. But no, God no, she’s all in. She meets me, thrusts, sucks, laps, nips—giving as good as I’m dishing out. And all with a sexy little whimper that I swallow and take as my due. Fingers tangled in my hair, her lips part wider, and she tilts her head to the side, deepening this mouth-fucking innocuously labeled a kiss. ’Cause we’re definitely fucking. Screwing. Getting wet, nasty, wild. Tongues glide, coil, and dance. Teeth clack. Lips slide and mate.
And below… Below, she’s rubbing that hot, no-doubt soaked sex over my thickening cock.
Dropping both hands to her ass, I cup the firm, rounded flesh and urge her on, helping her find a rhythm that has me gritting my teeth and rolling my hips to meet every downward stroke. I don’t give a damn that the denim is chafing my dick. The ball-tightening pleasure renders that small detail incidental.
“Touch me,” she whispers against my mouth on the tail end of a moan. “Please.”
I can’t resist her request or the ache throbbing in it.
Quickly unfastening her jeans and tugging them down a little, I slip one hand inside the denim and glide it over silken flesh. No way in hell can I resist not squeezing her pretty ass before sliding down until my fingertips tease the entrance to her sex. I circle the hole, eliciting a gasp from the woman twisting and bucking on my thighs.
That soft, hungry sound quivers between us, and it goads me on. I dip my other hand between the front of her jeans and lower belly, not stopping until I brush her sweet little clit. She jerks as if electrocuted, her back arching so hard she resembles a tightly drawn bow. Her fingernails dent my shoulders through my T-shirt, and I grunt at the slight sting. Savoring it. Hoping when I look in the mirror tomorrow, there are marks decorating my skin.
Not enough. Not enough. The words chant through my head, gaining volume and speed until it’s an erotic drumbeat against my skull. And I surrender to that call without putting up any fight.
I remove my hands from her, and her disappointed, frustrated whimper ends on a shocked note as I wrench her from my lap and swiftly switch positions with her. Settling her in the corner of the couch, I kneel on the floor and yank her jeans and panties down and off. She looses a strangled cry and tries to close her legs, tries to hide her bare sex from me. Tries. Because I don’t allow it.
Palming the insides of her thighs, I push them apart, widen them so I have an unhindered, front-seat view to the prettiest, lushest, most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen. Maybe because the dark curls and petal soft, swollen folds are drenched with evidence of the desire I’ve stirred in her. Maybe because her clit is engorged and pulsing, peeking out from between her lips.
Maybe because it’s Eden.
Bending my head, I trail my lips up her leg, nuzzling the crease where the limb and torso connect. Inhaling, I drag her heady, delicious scent into my lungs. Yeah, like I suspected. That peaches and summer heat is the same, just more condensed, muskier. Addictive. I haven’t even tasted her yet, but I know it will be. And I’m willing to die from the habit.
Growling, I dive in.
And lose myself.
Long licks up her slit. Thirsty pulls at the pink nub. Hard, insistent sucks at the folds several shades darker than her tan skin. Plunging thrusts of my tongue in her sex. Tilting her hips up and back, I angle my head and bury myself inside her. So good. So fucking good. I can’t get enough. God, I’m an animal. A ravenous, insatiable animal who can’t help but eat, feed, devour.
Her nails scrape over my scalp, score my shoulders. She undulates and writhes beneath my mouth—trying to get closer or escape me, shit, I don’t know. But since her choking screams pepper my ears, and she’s grinding her flesh against my mouth, I’m going with getting closer.
“Knox, oh God, please. Please. Harder. More,” she begs in a hoarse, almost broken voice.
Definitely getting closer.
I give her what she’s pleading for.
Without hesitation, I drive two fingers deep. And damn near howl at the immediate vise-grip of her slick, smooth, muscular walls. My cock, fully recovered and stiff against my lower stomach, pounds in jealousy. It wants in this snug, hot embrace. Yeah, can’t blame it.
Lowering my head, I trail the tip of my tongue along the path at the back of her pussy, following the smooth patch to the puckered hole hidden between her ass. She stiffens, displaying the first signs of uncertainty since I put my mouth on her. Doesn’t stop me from tracing the back entrance, from dipping just inside.
“Knox,” she objects, pushing at my head, and I lift my mouth but replace it with my finger. Not entering but tapping it, delicately circling it. Teasing her with the knowledge that I want in that forbidden tight channel I suspect no one has breached. The realization roars through me with a primal surge that should be a warning I’m headed too far, too deep into this…whatever it is between us.
Rearing up, I latch onto her clit, flick and stab the flesh with the stiffened point of my tongue. Abandoning her ass—for now—I shift my touch back to her sex and drive inside. Finger-fuck her. Goddamn. I could do this all night. Screw that. Forever. Just set up camp and establish a frontier town right here between her slender, toned thighs. But her steady stream of cries, her desperate clutching of my head and frantic thrusts of her hips telegraph she’s close and isn’t going to last. And no matter what I crave, she comes first. Besides, I long to feel that bruising, orgasmic grip again. Want to hear that keening wail. Am hungry to witness the flush and swell of her folds while in the middle of a release.
I capture her clit between my lips, graze it with my teeth. Lightly bite it. Just hard enough to inflict the edge of pain while my fingertips press against and massage that place high up in her core that will set her off like a bomb.
It does. She detonates. And it’s beautiful.
She’s beautiful.
I don’t let up on her, ensuring she receives every last shudder and shake. Only then do I reluctantly straighten, knowing surrender to the urge to continue licking and sucking might be too much for her sensitive flesh. The thought of her discomfort is the one thing that can curb this lust ripping at me.
Standing, I stare down at her. Half-naked, legs still sprawled wide, chest rising and falling on deep, loud breaths… Hair tousled and tangled around her shoulders, neck, and face… Eyes closed as she drifts off to sleep, lashes a dark fringe… For years, I’ve imagined how she’d looked after having my face between her legs, her taste in my mouth, on my tongue. Nothing my mind conjured can compare with reality. Those past images are blurred, black and white photos, while she is cast in such vivid color and HD clarity, it hurts my eyes.
Unease and a fuck load of What the hell am I doing? floods me in a roaring deluge.
Promise me. You promise me, Knox.
The words, the demand sneaks inside my head and refuses to be evicted. Tipping my head back, I wipe my palm across my lips and chin, smelling her on my skin, and it’s both a gift and an indictment. The roots of my disquiet and guilt burrow deeper, the gnarled vines twining around my rib cage, my heart, every organ. Because as pleasure and satisfaction ebb, I can’t block out the voice that whispers I had no business, no right touching her, enjoying her. That if she had any idea of the truth, there’s no way in hell she would’ve put her mouth on me. Let me put mine on her.
