Lightning Strikes Once – by Claire Marti #3
My head dropped back as he traveled lower, sensation dancing along my skin. He cupped my breasts, then stroked his thumbs against my sensitive peaks, and my back arched.
When I gasped, he pushed down the fabric, lowered his head, skimmed his teeth along my bra’s lacy edge, and gave me a teasing bite.
He traced a path from my breasts down my ribcage, nibbling and licking me like I was his favorite dessert. He gazed up at me, his dark hair mussed across his brow. “You’re delicious. Can I taste you?”
My head lolled back and I whispered, “Yes.”
His lips curved into a wicked grin and he reached for my waistband. I lifted my hips and he slowly, oh so slowly, slid my pants and thong down.
He nudged my legs further apart and for an endless moment, simply stared at me. “Mallory, damn. You’re so beautiful.”
He held my trembling thighs apart with his powerful hands, the rough calluses on his palms shooting sensation straight to my core.
When he nuzzled the skin along the inside of my knee, pressing light kisses until he’d almost reached where I wanted his mouth most, my hips bucked.
He held me in place and treated my other thigh to the same torturous treatment.
I moaned his name, barely suppressing a scream, and dug my fingers into his thick hair. “More. Please, more.”
His lips curved along my skin and he lowered his mouth and finally kissed my throbbing core.
His mouth was skilled, hot, decadent. His tongue, his hands, the press of his wide shoulders against my legs drove me wild. I rocked against him, eager, ready, never wanting him to stop.
“I’m going to make you come right now, Mallory.” He murmured and continued his assault.
Pleasure surged through me and when he thrust one blunt finger, then two, inside me, my back bowed off the couch. Wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through me. “Oh my god, André. Oh my god.”
He didn’t raise his head until I went still, collapsing against the velvet cushions. I lifted one limp hand to shove my damp hair out of my face.
He pressed kisses along my belly and then traveled up my body, leaving sparks in his wake until he reached my lips and captured my mouth.
I wanted more. I wanted all of him. Now.
I ran my fingertips along the soft cotton t-shirt, savoring his defined chest and washboard abs through the thin fabric.
Then, I pressed my hand against his impressive erection.
“I want you.”
He inhaled a sharp breath and rose to his feet, and whipped off his t-shirt with one hand. He looked like he’d been carved from marble by one of the great sculptors. And those deep-Vs disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. I licked my lips.
He unbuckled his belt, never taking his burning gaze from mine. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” He slid out his wallet, pulled out a foil packet, and stepped out of his jeans.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” My voice sounded breathy, high, completely unlike myself. But this guy who could be on the underwear billboard on Sunset Boulevard was mine. At least mine for tonight.
Muscles rippled in his powerful arms when he moved to pick me up. But I wanted him here. And I wanted to take charge. I shook my head and patted the couch.
He dropped down beside me and I turned and climbed onto his lap. I ground my hips against him, and his huge hands gripped my ass. He rasped, “You’re so ready for me.”
A rush of feminine power flowed through me. I leaned in and kissed him. Our tongues stroked, danced, tangled. I trailed my lips along his strong, tanned throat, savoring the clean cedar scent of his skin, and continued down, savoring his groans. Our skin grew slick.
“My turn.” I knelt between his powerful thighs and wrapped my fingers around his cock and he groaned my name, his hands lightly stroking my hair.
I took him into my mouth, licking, tasting, enjoying him. His breathing grew harsh, his hips jerking, his grip tightening in my hair. “Mallory.”
I lifted my gaze and hummed.
“Come here. Now.” He grasped my forearms, pulling me up until I straddled him again. “The condom.” He gritted out the words.
“Yes, I want you inside me.” Together, we put on the protection.
I rested my hands on his shoulders and slowly took him inside me, inch by impossibly thick inch. His long fingers dug into my hips, controlling my descent. I pressed my forehead against his, and with a moan, slid down until he filled me to bursting. “André.”
He stroked his calloused hands up my back. “You okay? I’m not hurting you?”
“Give me a minute. Oh god, you are huge.” I exhaled an unsteady breath and adjusted to the feeling of fullness. Savored our connection.
He reached one hand between us, stroking me where we were connected and fire flamed through my veins. I began to move. We found our rhythm, every stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. His hands were everywhere––and our pace grew frantic, wild, seeking.
“Come again for me.” His command was low, authoritative.
I tilted my hips and the angle drove me over the edge. I came apart, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body ablaze. He held my hips in place and stroked up, faster and deeper, and followed me over with a roar.
I melted, dropping my head to his shoulder, his thundering heart echoing in my ears. He slid one hand up and raked his fingers through my hair, his other hand holding me tight.
The breeze from the open window, the cramp starting in my left calf, and the realization I’d gotten naked with a man I met mere hours ago rushed through me. Reality crept in. I guess I wasn’t too old for a first––my first one night stand.
Not because I judged anyone who did, but until André, I’d never been tempted before. Sure, I’d been physically attracted but this visceral pull, this unspoken connection we shared was unique. Special. Once in a lifetime––at least once in my lifetime.
“Let me take care of this. Where’s your bathroom?” André gently lifted me and set me down next to him. Not going to lie––his ability to pick me up and move me around was a turn-on. I wasn’t accustomed to it and I loved it.
I exhaled an unsteady breath. “It’s the second door past the kitchen.”
“I’ll be right back.” He strode across my apartment in all his naked glory, his muscles rippling beneath his smooth golden skin. His ass was a work of art.
Now what? A glimmer of self-consciousness washed over me. I couldn’t just lounge naked on the couch until he returned. I leapt up and ran to my bedroom, snagging my short teal silk robe and belting it around my waist.
When he returned, he pulled on his black boxer-briefs and jeans, leaving the top button undone. Damn . “Do you feel better now?” His smile was bashful. Quite different than the commanding lover he’d just been.
I laughed. “I feel incredible. How about you?”
“Never been better.” He sank into the cushions next to me and stroked one rough palm down my bare thigh. Goosebumps flared along my skin.
“Why don’t we finish that wine now?” I marveled at my composure. What was it about him that made me feel secure yet excited at the same time?
“Sounds perfect.” His full lips curved up in a satisfied grin.
His strength, passion, and his intense devotion to giving me pleasure, especially our first time together, was as close to perfect as I’d experienced.
Today had turned out close to perfect. All thanks to André.
ANDRé
I woke with a start. For a moment, I was disoriented, not sure where I was. Not my house, that’s for sure. Tendrils of Southern California sunshine bathed me in unwelcome brightness, shining down from the high ceiling’s narrow skylights. Mallory.
Mallory’s breath was even, her muscles relaxed in sleep. She certainly deserved to rest after last night. We’d spent the night alternating mind-blowing sex and deep discussions, curled up together like a pair of longtime lovers.
I loved the smooth sound of her voice, the vibration of her words against my chest, the warmth of her breath caressing my skin.
She was like nobody I’ve ever met and from the moment I’d set eyes on her, I’d wanted to learn more.
To see if she was as extraordinary as she seemed. A wave of longing filled my chest.
Hell, maybe I should write a song about it. Clear out these jumbled thoughts, this swell of emotion beneath my sternum. Because usually I kept my relationships simple––no other choice with my nomadic lifestyle. For some reason, Mallory didn’t evoke a desire to leave. All I wanted was to stay.
She stretched her long limbs and my cock thickened. Mallory’s subtle curves plastered against me, the lemony fragrance of her silky hair, and the feel of her velvety skin beneath my palm filled my senses.
I wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot. Somewhere around midnight, she’d promised me a shower. The vision of her tempting body slick with soap and steaming hot water had me rock hard and ready to go.
I nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. I raked my teeth lightly down her throat, flicking my tongue against the sensitive spot I’d discovered earlier. She moaned and arched against me.
I pulled her in closer. “Good morning, gorgeous. Let’s take that shower now.”
She murmured her assent and I led her by the hand to the walk-in shower.
I flicked on the water and dialed it up to scalding before turning to thread my fingers through her wild tangle of hair and capture her tempting mouth.
We stepped into the billowing steam and escaped into each other until the water ran cool.
Later, much later, Mallory slipped into a short robe that showed off her long, toned legs. She left me alone and I pulled on my jeans and brushed my teeth with my finger.
I followed the mouthwatering aroma of coffee into her kitchen, stepped up behind Mallory, and drew her into my arms. “That smells amazing.”
She leaned her head back, a smile dancing on her lips. “I’m very serious about my coffee.”
“If you’ve got a frother to steam milk, I might cry.” Not joking. I needed caffeine bad.