Unrestrained, page 10
The heavy-lidded, slack-jawed, savagely lustful intent on Stein’s face stole her breath. She looked away, kept that expression firmly in mind as she closed her eyes and lowered her hand to her folds, a thrill at her own lewdness spurring her on. Swollen and slick with excitement, she jerked slightly and let slickness coat her hand as she parted her lips. Keeping one hand on the sink was awkward but good, a reminder she was obeying Stein’s will, not her own. The first penetrating finger she slid inside herself made her sigh and Stein sighed along with her, his warm breath fanning her ass.
“Oh, God, Holly, yes, like that.”
She’d touched herself a thousand times, but never this way. Not with a man watching, a large, unfamiliar man, his face inches away, his harsh breathing filling the kitchen. Excitement tinged with fear wormed its way into her guts. She took a deep breath.
“Oh, Holly, you look so wet. Tiefer.” Deeper.
Wet nipples hardening against the cold steel sink, she slipped her fingers deeper inside herself, only withdrawing them to rub herself between her squirming thighs. She pretended it was his enormous cinder-block hands working her pussy, and was rougher with herself than usual. Ohhhh.
The cool tip of a nose brushed the back of her thighs as he used his teeth to raise her T-shirt hem. Clever man. As the fabric rose, the cool air teased her heated buttocks. Then a warm breath heated one of her ass cheeks.
“You smell delicious. You look delicious.” The words, hot and hungry, fanned her ass.
Oh, god, he could see, see everything as she bent over the sink, her most intimate parts bared to him, juices running down her thighs, legs trembling, her heart bursting with the excitement of it all.
“Holly, Ich will dich so.”
She didn’t need to translate the words, his tone—a hot, deep growl—told her all she needed to know.
She stilled her fingers, blood ringing in her ears. “I need more.”
“Can I touch you then, with my hands?”
Jesus, if he didn’t, she’d die. “Please.”
Enormous palms seized each buttock, kneaded, lifted and spread her wide, the action accompanied by a worshipful groan. “You’re so hot, I want to taste you, inside and out. Keep both hands on the sink.”
Forced up on her toes, she gasped as a cool nose nudged her fingers away, reminding her to put her hand on the sink.
Oh, he was...
The firm swipe of a long, labile tongue over her clit robbed her of thought and she pressed her cheek hard into the kitchen bench as her whole body tried to curl in on itself. Her sheath tightened almost painfully as his tongue tripped and teased playfully over her clit before turning business-like at her aching pussy. Warm and wet, his tongue wormed inside her, relentless, greedy, insistent, and she couldn’t stop her hips from jerking, grinding into the kitchen bench with bruising force.
Dear Lord, she’d been the recipient of half-hearted and inexpert oral sex before, but nothing like this. This was like being eaten alive and she wasn’t sure she’d survive. His mouth abandoned her sheath to reclaim her clit, his deep pulls on her sensitive flesh dragging small grunts from her as she stared wide-eyed at a fleck of chocolate sauce inches from her face. If he stopped she would die, if he didn’t stop she would die, either way she was dead, but what a way to go.
He lipped and sucked her, all the while making small, happy noises, and for once she didn’t feel the recipient of a grudging favor, but more like dessert served up to a starving man. Intent on lustily savoring her inner folds, he dived in deeper, his broad shoulders pushing her thighs wider apart, and her toes almost left the ground. Only her upper body on the bench supported her. She gripped the sink taps for extra purchase and prayed.
It was the most precarious position but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not as his tongue, lips and—occasionally, most delicately—nose tip, eroded her sanity and washed every layer of self-preservation away as thoroughly as he lapped up every last vestige of her juices.
Her excitement turned urgent, monstrous and greedy, and she thrashed against the bench, the pressure of the wet steel sink unbearable against her nipples, the pressure between her thighs a constant pull, her aching core dragging every fiber in her body taut. She had to come, had to come hard, but on his face? What if her hips bucked and she broke his nose?
“Stein,” she gasped, meaning to warn him, but he only buried his face deeper, flicking her quivering flesh with his sinfully talented tongue and then stirring it deeper inside her. Oh, dear Lord. She couldn’t, she couldn’t—
Her orgasm ripped through her and there was no time to say “please excuse me while I come on your face” as her body jerked, towed along in the wake of her inner contractions, her mind uprooted, weeded from her flesh in a moment of intense release that beat out its joy in pulsing waves and seemed to last an eternity wrapped in seconds.
She measured the intervals between harsh pants as she slowly came back down to Earth, Australia, Brisbane, and then Stein’s kitchen bench.
Holy fuck. At last she understood the expression on Luisa’s face. Cognitive annihilation; the pure, Nirvana-like bliss of every thought and worry erased from your being. It wouldn’t surprise her if some women became addicted to it. What would she do if Stein’s hands, tongue and body became her drug of choice?
A warm, lazy lap of her buttock was her only warning before Stein unfolded to his full height behind her, his body radiating heat and need.
He cleared his throat. “I need to finish myself off.”
She tilted her head and opened her eye a crack to take him in. Oh. Oh, yes, he definitely needed something.
He rubbed his erection through his jeans. If asked to describe the look on his rugged face, she would have to use the word ‘desperate’. Familiar with the quid-pro-quo system of oral sex, she waited for him to ask for his ‘turn’, while a reel of unwanted memories of every inept lover who’d ever made her regret performing the act flashed before her eyes.
Pushing herself up from the bench, her muscles twinged and she made a mental note to take some aspirin later. She twisted to face him. God, that expanse of chest, those giant shoulders; he was a beast, a magnificent, monstrous, wondrous beast. But not hers, she had to keep that in mind.
She eyed his healthy erection. “Are you clean?” If he wasn’t she could still use her mouth on him with a condom, but it wouldn’t be the same as making a meal of him, as he had of her.
Something flickered in his eyes at her question. “I haven’t had a check-up since Luisa, so we should use protection.”
Which meant there’d been other women since Luisa. Ouch.
Luisa. The name gave her a nasty jolt but she shook it off. Her body, exhausted only a second ago, fired up in response at the mention of his former lover’s name. Mine, her toes protested, and her fingers curled in agreement. Lordy, where were all these inappropriately possessive feelings coming from? It didn’t matter, she couldn’t control them, best just to let them reign. Fuck you, Luisa, I’m going to milk Stein’s cock dry, how do you like that?
“Follow me,” she told him.
He cocked his head, brows drawing together in question, but followed her into his lounge room.
“Stand there.” She pointed to a spot behind the couch before kneeling, her knees sinking into the leather cushion. If she was going to suck cock, she was going to do it in comfort.
She looked up at him as he watched her, unmoving. “Hold my head if you want, but don’t push. And remember, my ears are not fuck handles.”
His brows shot up and his beautiful gray eyes danced. “I will try to remember that.” Was there a slight waver in that voice, as if he were fighting laughter? Well, damn it, she knew it wasn’t the most romantic thing to say, but better safe than sorry, right? And certainly every other guy she’d ever been with had needed to be told.
“Sure you don’t want to tape my hands just to be certain?”
She gave him a dark look. “Don’t tempt me, mister. Just do as you’re told.”
“Hmm, you’re a lot bossier than I imagined you’d be.”
“And you’re deafer than I imagined. I said stand there.”
Miming an obedient tug of his forelock he took his place on the other side of the sofa. His hips were at just the right height, as she’d guessed they would be, the back of the deep red velour couch only reaching his mid-thigh.
She eyed the restless hand running up and down the length of his denim-clad erection, the other hand gripping the couch, fingers sinking deep into the fabric. Mmm, those hands. So rugged and callused. So fucking big, like the rest of him.
She looked up to meet his gaze as she reached for his jean buttons. His downcast eyes were fixed on her chest and with a start she saw her T-shirt was soaked transparent by the sink, her nipples twin pebbles through the fabric of both bra and tee. Perfect. He could see the rounded shape of her flesh but not the scarred skin. She cupped her breasts and then pulled her wet T-shirt tight with a saucy smile. Stein’s eyes widened and then narrowed.
A hand reached for her breast but she pushed it away. “Uh-uh. Payback’s a bitch. Hands on the couch.”
He obeyed with a low laugh, the laugh trailing off as she undid his fly button and unzipped him. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath as each fly tooth popped open with excruciating slowness and time became a thing trapped in molasses.
Under his jeans he wore boxers, the fabric a tent where his erection strained against the pale blue cotton. Gently but firmly she wrangled his jeans and boxers down around his thighs, baring his flesh to her. He was magnificent. She traced the rigid Adonis belt bracketing him from hip to crotch with a finger and watched in fascination as his abdominals, skin and muscle, twitched at her touch, his erection jerking with the motion. There was so much to explore, the perfect curve between hip and thigh, the tempting hollow of his flanks, the deep groove parting the center of his abdomen.
Feather-light, one hand rested on her head and she thought he might have stroked her hair.
“Holly.” It was a plea. Exploration would have to wait.
His head was bowed almost all the way down to his broad chest, his eyes closed and lips parted. He was vulnerable, so vulnerable, and to her of all people. “Hands on the couch.”
He resisted, fingers curling around her hair more tightly.
“Now.”
He obeyed and she rewarded him by cupping his heavy balls, weighing their warm fullness and stroking them until he gasped and groaned, and only then did she take a condom from her discarded jeans on the floor. With steady hands she rolled it slowly down his rigid length. On a whim she playfully nipped the solid chunk of his thigh and jumped when he stiffened, a harsh sniff escaping him before his eyes flew open.
Whatever he saw on her face made him groan.
“Reizt mich nicht. Bitte nicht.” Don’t tease. Please.
Fair enough.
She took him in her mouth, registered the rich scent of the skin on his abdominals, a woodsy scent, mixed with brine and a hint of stone, the smell mirrored by the slightly metallic stab of latex on her tongue. The base of his cock throbbed hot between her fingers as she took him deeper into her mouth, wiry hair tickling the side of her palm as her hand brushed his pubic mound.
“Holly, mach weiter.” More.
The deep groan at the end of his command trickled down her back and had her bobbing up and down his length, hollowing her cheeks to form a firm seal over his shaft, running her tongue along his length as the mood took her. He was hers to reward as she saw fit, and he had fucked her so very well with his own mouth.
She gripped him by the hip, let her hand slide round back to his buttock, dug her fingers into the firm muscle clenching under her touch, gave his ass a hard squeeze and moaned around his cock at the light pump of his hips in reply. Giddy with her own power, she trailed her fingernails across one high, round ass cheek and triggered a salvo of choked German curses which shed their edge and turned to pleas as she dipped a teasing finger down his cleft. His responsiveness was gratifying, but the thing that surprised her was her own desperate and intense longing—for his climax. It wasn’t supposed to work that way, was it? She wasn’t meant to be the one lost, desire pooling and bubbling between her legs and rendering her stupid with wild yearning at the thought of his orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.” His flaring breaths stilled, his whole body went taut and then his hips jerked violently as his hands tightened on the sofa cushion. Extra warmth hit her tongue through the latex just before his body sacked. He slumped forward, bracing a hand on the couch to keep upright as he gasped for air.
A warm palm on her cheek and he was slipping free of her mouth, still hard.
Wait. Still hard?
“Nocheinmal, Holly.” Again.
Once more? Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
He removed the condom, circled the couch and took her by the wrist. “In my bed.”
That gave her pause. She straightened and then stood. “Stein, I’m not up for being tied to your bed.”
A long moment of silence and then he smiled. “No problem, I can think of at least a hundred other things to do there besides that.”
Oh, god, thank god. “Well, in that case…race you there.” She took off and, after a frozen second of shock, and two more to free himself from the jeans hobbling his ankles, he thundered after her, a human Clydesdale, the floorboards shaking hard enough to dislodge books from shelves. She giggled breathlessly, ignored the closed doors along the hallway and headed for the first open door, saw the familiar canopy bed and dived for it before bouncing around on it, bare-assed, filled with manic glee that she’d won the race, had won everything in overcoming her inhibitions.
Stein paused at the end of the bed and watched as she presented him with her bare rump, smacked it and crowed. “Kiss this, Captain Loser.”
“I fully intend to do so, Liebling, it’s such a pretty ass.”
She sat down in surprise and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at it. “Really?”
“Really. But you know what would make it prettier? Losing that T-shirt.”
She frowned. No, no, no, no.
She leaned back on her haunches and plucked at her T-shirt hem. Scars. Freakish scars. Frankenstein scars. Could she do it? She didn’t think so but his face gave her pause. His mouth was drawn in a grim line, his eyes fixed with such scorching intensity on the fingers on her shirt hem she almost felt the burn. Normally a pale, cloud gray, his irises had darkened to slate as he drilled her with that hot, needy look. She hitched her hem up an inch to expose her belly and saw his lips part. Sliding it all the way up to her ribs, she questioned whether he still had a blink reflex.
But she couldn’t make her hand go any further, even as her rational mind protested that dancing around on his bed with no underwear was far more revealing. She didn’t want him to see the mark her attacker had left on her, the bastard’s signature on her personal failure.
“Sorry, the shirt stays or the lights go off. Which do you prefer?”
She expected irritation, perhaps even petulance, but instead he laughed. “Oh, you’re a hard, hard woman, Holly, but don’t forget I’m a man who likes to play with stone. And bring out its best. I’ll take option A, the wet T-shirt, thanks.” He grabbed her ankles and yanked her down the bed towards him.
With a squeal she fell flat on her back, legs askew and he took advantage to crawl between her thighs and capture her breasts, molding them with his hands as if the wet T-shirt were exciting lingerie.
“Holly, I love these. Small, perfect baked apples. Eines meiner Lieblingsessen. They’re one of my favorite dishes.”
She flushed at his words and the heated longing of his stare. “Do you need me to sprinkle a little icing sugar over them?”
“Fuck no, they’re sweet enough.”
Her body ignited under the combination of his rough tone and the rude, bold, possessive fingers that so delicately traced her nipples.
“What a smooth talker you are.”
He made a dismissive sound. “Talk is for salesmen, I’m better with my hands.”
She smiled. As if she needed to be told. Her smile faltered as he buried his face in her belly, inhaling deeply, eyes closing. Muffled words floated up to her. “God, you smell so good, I want to rub myself all over you, fuck you and then rub myself all over you again.”
She blinked. That was graphic. There was more than a little of the beast in Stein. But he was a man, just another man. So long as she just kept telling herself that she might start to believe it. And she had to believe it because she could not, would not, fall for Stein. She just couldn’t afford to. Sex, yes. Love, no.
Fingers pinched her behind. “What’s distracting you so much you’ve forgotten to climb aboard my mighty cock, Holly Unthanks?”
She forced a grin. “That I don’t have any more condoms in my jeans.”
“Ah.” He sighed, the sound heavy with regret. “Then I guess we’ll just have to make do with these.” He reached under a pillow and drew out a meter-long strip of lubricated condoms, plus a long strip of lubricant sachets.
She stared at the amount of lubricant. “You planning on fucking me or giving me a grease and oil change?”
“Depends. When was your last service?”
While she choked out a gasping, spluttering laugh, he tore open a foil square and the chemical smell of latex hit her nostrils, immediately forgotten as she watched, spellbound—or cock-struck, rather—as he rolled the thin condom down his thick, swollen length, the latex veiling crimson flesh ridged with eager blue veins. Distracted by the sight, she almost jumped when a platter-sized hand landed on the inside of her knee to push her legs wider apart. Silver eyes glowing with unearthly lust, he locked eyes with her as he worked his way in between her thighs, his breathing ragged, only to pause as the head of his cock nudged her wet folds. Her breath hitched and he traced her lips with a languid finger before letting it trail over her chin, then drift down to one pebbled nipple. Both peaks had grown so hard they threatened to stab holes through her precious T-shirt.
