9. Clay #2
It wasn’t difficult to imagine her sitting in one of those kitchens, observing. Soaking in every detail because that was the way her mind worked. Mine did too. We had to know the hows and the whys.
At the moment, I didn’t know how or why it was so goddamn impossible to get her out of my head, to look at her without every needful fantasy playing in my mind like my own personal porno.
“If you’re not going to get dressed, you might as well sit down.
” She took two plates from the cabinet over the stove.
I had to wonder how many people bothered making their own food when they came to stay here, but there was no harm in keeping tools on hand for situations like this.
I sat at the square wooden table positioned beneath a rustic iron lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling.
When she left the plate in front of me, venturing close enough to my chair that I could touch her, I officially lost my grip.
She was too close, too warm, too everything.
Maybe it was the way she refused me that made her impossible to ignore, or it could have been vivid memories of how quick she was to light up at my kiss and touch like the fire now crackling in the hearth, only hotter somehow. More dangerous.
Whatever the reason, it made my arm shoot out, wrapping around her slim waist and hauling her close. Her sharp gasp turned into a groan. “For fuck’s sake?—”
No. Not this time. I pushed my chair back and pulled her into my lap before she could resist. She was soft, wriggling, and rubbing against me in her surprise. It sure as hell didn’t calm the flames blazing in my core, demanding satisfaction.
“Enough of the games,” I warned, inhaling her essence once I touched my nose to her neck. “It’s you and me cut off from the world. What’s that saying? Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?”
Pulling my head back far enough to look into her wide, uncertain eyes, I whispered, “What happens in the cabin… stays in the cabin. ”
She was breathing hard, fast, the air rushing from between her parted lips. Lips I dragged my thumb across, making her shudder. “Dammit,” she breathed out. The sound of a woman knowing she had lost.
My resolve snapped at the sound. With a hand at the back of her head, I pulled her in, thrusting my tongue between her parted lips, effectively muffling her moan with the rest of my mouth covering hers.
Her hands slid over my shoulders before her fingers ran through my hair, twisting, tugging.
Somehow in the frenzy, she straddled me, settling her pussy over my cock and sending a bolt of lightning up my spine.
The thin barrier of clothes between us was a sweet torture I didn’t know if I could endure much longer.
Our helpless groans mingled between us as I took hold of her hips, pulling her down, increasing the friction. There was no stopping this time. Not when her hot pussy threatened to make me blow my load.
“Fuck,” I grunted out between kisses, breathless, already undone by the force of my endless need, longing for the taste and the feel of her body.
Now I could indulge, and I did, testing the weight of her tits as she lifted her arms overhead so I could unwrap them like the gift they were.
My heart almost stopped the moment they dropped—full, firm, tipped with rosy nipples that begged my lips to close around them.
“Christ!” She almost barked at the contact, running my tongue in slow circles. Her nails scraped my scalp, and she pulled me closer.
The rocking motion of her hips increased with every lap of my tongue.
I slid one hand down her back and under the waistband of her shorts, fondling her ass, gripping her soft, yielding flesh.
I pressed harder until she trembled and whispered my name in a breathless moan.
Yes, more of that. I would do anything so long as she kept up that guttural moaning.
“Clay… God, Clay…”
Mira was a puppet at this moment, and I was her master.
Her body was in my hands, her pleasure at my fingertips, and the thought of it made me pant and growl against her chest. With my arm around her waist, holding her body against mine, I stood and placed her on the table, shoving the plate aside and laying her back.
She lifted her hips, helping me peel away her shorts and G-string, letting her legs fall open to me as I sat in my chair again.
“Mm… would you look at this…” I groaned out, propping her feet on my shoulders, staring at the glistening pink folds.
“Your mind might be saying this is a bad idea, but your body? You should listen to it. I know it’s telling me how much you need this. ”
I inhaled her sweetness, then I ran my flattened tongue over her shaved lips, dipping into her slit. A jolt ran through her and made her heels dig into my shoulders, but I welcomed the pressure. Her pussy was an open invitation I wasn’t about to refuse.
She lifted her hips, tugging my hair again, riding my face.
“Yes… just like that,” she begged, giving me no choice but to pull my dripping dick free and stroke it as the taste, the smell, and the sound of her were too much, listening to her fall apart, losing the walls she kept around her.
All because of me, a fact that made me more determined to taste her as she came on my tongue.
Her ragged breathing told me she was close. “Yes… don’t stop… right there…” Her chest moved up and down, heaving for breath as her hips jerked wildly. “I’m coming… oh God!”
Her thighs clamped around my head, blocking out everything but the blood rushing in my ears. Her hips jerked, and her nectar flowed, coating my tongue, making my fist move in a blur over my shaft.
By the time she relaxed with a sigh, I was going out of my mind, or so I thought before she opened her eyes and upped the ante. “I’m on the pill,” she panted, still splayed out on the table. “And you passed all the doctor’s tests.”
Her meaning was clear.
Just when I thought I couldn’t want her more.
I almost jumped to my feet, spreading her thighs again to make room for me, dragging my swollen head through her slickness.
She jerked with every stroke against her sensitive clit while I gritted my teeth, holding onto the last shreds of self-control as I positioned myself against her soaked entrance.
Her back arched when I entered her, and a deep, guttural moan filled the air. “Oh, fuck…” She gasped, her eyes closing. Pleasure washed over her face as I filled her one unbelievably tight inch at a time. So fucking tight!
She was still clenching in the aftermath of orgasm, her muscles squeezing me, pulling me deeper, demanding.
With no barriers, the feel of her was almost overwhelming.
The heat. The exquisite slickness allowed me to pull back before slamming home again and again.
There was no taking it slow, no easing her into it.
She didn’t need easy anyway, her hips moving, her body rolling like a wave while every stroke slid the table across the floor.
“Come for me again,” I demanded, running my hands over her body, indulging in what I was refused for so long.
Soft, smooth, I couldn’t get enough. My balls lifted, the pressure heightened, and I didn’t have much longer.
I was already so close when I entered her hot, wet sheath.
She nodded, gasping for breath between strokes.
“As if I have a choice…” She closed her eyes again, then a high-pitched whine sounded from behind her clenched teeth.
Her pussy tightened, telling me she was close and making me take her by the hips to hold her steady so I could drive into her, losing my rhythm, giving all of myself to whatever it was we were creating between us.
And by the time she came and drenched me with a fresh wave of warmth, I was gone, falling over the edge of the cliff.
I sank deep one last time, my head falling back while my balls emptied, and a rush of euphoria flowed through my body.
There was nothing like it, buried balls deep, letting release overtake me.
What was even better was looking down at her when it was over. The faint, rueful smile she wore. No more resisting, no more pretending. For the first time in the weeks we’d known each other, there was nothing either of us could hide.
“No one can say the marriage wasn’t consummated,” she said with a sigh. “What happens now?”
“Now?” I had to laugh. “Now, we eat breakfast. I’m still starving.”