Chapter 23 #2
But he didn’t tell me what I was, instead kissing me again, his hands sliding down over my butt. When he cupped his hands under the backs of my thighs and lifted, I pulled, wrapping myself around him as he let out a small rumble.
I pulled back as he carried me out of the room, heading for the stairs. “You don’t have to carry me upstairs,” I told him, a little breathless from his kisses.
“Do you want me to put you down?”
“Only if you’re going to hurt yourself or drop me by carrying me up them,” I replied.
He laughed. “I won’t,” he assured me, not breaking stride as he started up the stairs.
The upstairs of Raj’s house had three bedrooms, one of which served as a barely-used office.
The other smaller bedroom was the guest space, and there was a shared small bath in the hallway, all of which he ignored, carrying me directly to the big master bedroom with a king size bed, rocking lounger with ottoman, and a high dresser with a dish that held watches and rings.
Raj also ignored all of these, lifting one knee up on the edge of the bed to crawl across it, holding me up so that I came with him.
Then he set me down on my back. “That’s better,” he murmured, his voice still a bit of a throaty growl. He bent his head and began to nuzzle against my neck, interspersing it with gentle kisses and teasing licks against my skin.
I could feel every inch of that skin flushing, and I wanted his hands and his mouth everywhere all at once. I squirmed under him, trying to figure out how to get both his and my clothes off at the same time.
He lifted his head. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” My answer was emphatic enough to make him laugh.
He bent again, kissing my neck where it met my shoulder, and murmured into my skin, “What do you want?”
“Clothes off,” I half-grunted, tugging at his shirt with my good hand.
He sat back onto his heels, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. “Did you mean mine or yours?” he asked, eyes sparkling gold and brown.
“Yes,” I answered, trying to tug my argyle sweater vest off over my head.
He laughed again, then bent to help me, tossing the garment off the side of the bed before beginning to undo the buttons of my shirt.
I slid my hands across the hot skin of his belly, enjoying both the warmth and softness of his skin, the slight roughness of the dark hair just below his belly button.
He backed away from my hands, sliding back to his feet off the bed, then stripped off shirt, undershirt, slacks, and boxer briefs.
I’d been trying to undo my own fly, the button made more difficult by the limited range of the fingers on my left hand, but I’d paused to appreciate Raj’s lean, muscular form, particularly the part of him that was keenly interested in my attention.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, smiling, nodding slightly at me.
I felt my face flush even more, feeling oddly caught out, and I couldn’t decide whether I should keep going or—
“Let me help,” Raj murmured, climbing back on the bed to finish undoing the zipper, then tugging off my khakis and socks.
I expected him to come back for my shorts, but, instead, he pushed my legs a little wider, nuzzling behind the back of one knee.
It should have tickled, but, instead, it was deeply erotic, making me gasp.
“God,” he breathed into my thigh, slowly working his way up my leg. “Your skin.” He pressed another kiss to my thigh. “Your smell.” He breathed in deeply, his nose in the inside of my thigh. He did pull off my shorts, then. He looked up my body, his pupils blown wide as he said, “Your taste.”
I let out a gasp as he drew me into his mouth, the heat of it shocking in the best possible way. His big hands pushed my thighs wider, and I let my eyes close, every feeling I had concentrated in the places where his hands and mouth made contact with my body.
He let out a soft, low growl, and it sent a shudder of pleasure through me.
“Raj,” I gasped out.
He took this as encouragement—as he should have—and began doing things to me with his tongue that I completely lacked the ability to follow as the sensations rolled through me.
I wanted it to last—wanted to prolong the incredible feeling of having Rajesh Parikh worshiping me with his lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth.
I also wanted to push him. To make him lose the carefully cultivated control that he nearly always had.
“Raj.”
He hummed around me, and I let out a sound that made no sense, even to me.
“R-Raj,” I managed again.
He slid his mouth off me, nuzzling against my stomach. “What?”
“I—” I swallowed, uncertain if I had the audacity to say what I wanted.
Raj licked a stripe across my lower stomach, and I shuddered. “What?” he all but purred against my skin.
I swallowed, fire building in my belly. “I want you,” I managed.
He nuzzled my stomach again. “And I want you,” he grumbled into my skin.
“No—I want you.” I swallowed, then reached down and lifted his chin so that he would look at me. “I want you inside me.”
He went very still, and I thought maybe he didn’t want to, or didn’t want me, but then I noticed how very wide his pupils had gone—how rough and raspy his breaths—and, when I glanced down to make sure I wasn’t wrong, how hard he was, the tip of his cock shiny with moisture.
He swallowed. “I—I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped.
I pulled his face up to mine, and right before I kissed him, I whispered, “You won’t do anything to me I don’t want.”
He growled, not softly, but with a sharpness and a depth that I’d never heard from him before. “Mera ravi,” he breathed, then kissed me hard enough that I wondered if my lips might bruise.
I didn’t care.
No, I did. I loved it. I wanted him to kiss me like that more often, wild and desperate and like he couldn’t get enough of me. Like he wanted to somehow get inside and under my skin, not just up against it.
Then he pulled back. “Roll over.”
I hurried to comply, and felt him settle a pillow under the front of my hips. I expected his weight on them, or on my back, but, instead, I felt his hands run down my sides until he pushed apart my ass-cheeks.
And then licked.
I gasped, rocking into the pillow.
His hands tightened, holding me in place, as he licked again, his fingers kneading the muscles of my glutes as his tongue lapped, then pushed, then swirled, then—Oh, God.
I made some sort of desperate sound.
I could feel my belly tightening, feel the muscles in my body shaking.
“Raj!” I gasped out.
Another long lick. “Hmmm?” he asked, and I could feel his breath against the skin of my butt.
I decided to be brazen. “Fuck me,” I told him.
He growled into my skin, then moved away.
I felt the bed lurch, then heard the sound of a drawer, quickly followed by cursing and the sounds of tearing heavy paper—presumably the condom box—the ripping of perforated foil, and the snick of a bottle cap.
His hands spread me again, and he licked a few more times before I felt one finger pushing against me. I lifted my hips slightly, pushing back.
“Fuck, Rayn,” he breathed, and I could feel the slight rocking of the bed as he stroked himself while pressing his slicked finger in deeper, then back, pushing and twisting and stretching the muscles.
I let out a low moan as he slid in a second finger, and the sound was answered by a hissing growl from Raj, his fingers moving more quickly as the pace of the bed rocking increased slightly.
I squirmed. “More,” I demanded, breathless, my whole body trembling.
He let out a strangled sound, and one hand slid up my spine, the weight of his hips pressing against mine, his heavy cock pushing against my ass.
“Yes,” I begged.
He made a whimpering noise, then backed away—I almost complained, but I heard the sound of the condom wrapper, then the lube cap again.
“You are so… fucking… perfect,” he panted.
And then I felt him, hot and hard, bigger than his fingers, although he’d been diligent about stretching, but I knew it was going to hurt—not a lot, and certainly not anything I wasn’t more than willing—
I cried out, not in pain, but in pleasure, as he pressed inside me. He stopped, and I sucked in just enough air to gasp out “More.”
He groaned, then kept going, the burn forcing me to squeeze my eyes closed, feeling tears pressing at the backs of my lids, but oh, God, it was so good.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care about the pain, I liked it—this kind of pain, anyway.
I didn’t know why—maybe because of what it meant or because I was already so hard my cock ached or because it was what and where it was, I had no idea, but it was so good.
I pushed back into him, and his fingers tightened on my hips. “God, Rayn.”
I pushed again, and he stopped trying to go slow, pressing the rest of the way into my body with another moan.
And then he waited.
Fuck that. “Move,” I demanded.
“I—” He was panting, his fingers twitching against the flesh of my outer thighs.
“Fuck me,” I repeated, and he let out a whine, but obeyed.