8. Honoria
Chapter Eight
Honoria
I’d orgasmed a flutter or five when he buried his face against my panties.
Did that count? But those minor tremors were nothing compared to the sexual tsunami I tried to hold back.
His tongue was magic, plain and simple. And oh, damn, I couldn’t stop the flood of emotion that broke me.
I cried a little, screamed louder than I ever had, and my pussy pulsed like someone set a live wire against it. It was embarrassing how wet I was.
Yet, I honestly didn’t feel shame. This was too damn good to be real. My headache from before floated around the edges of bliss as I tried to articulate words to thank Wombat for the hottest orgasm of my life.
But he wasn’t done.
The tip of his tongue flicked against my clit, and I arched into a hard pulse of near pain. Holy shit. “Please?” Stop? More? I didn’t know. My brain had completely short-circuited.
The flat part of his tongue pressed down against my opening.
Oh. My. God. I needed that.
No, I needed more. I needed that pressure inside me. “Wombat.” I panted.
The tip of his tongue went inside, and he fucked me with his mouth.
Was I still coming? Or was this round two? Damn it.
“I need…” More?
No. I needed his cock.
I must have said that out loud because he stood up and slipped his pants off.
I blinked. Holy— Was that real? Wombat wasn’t long, just thick. Like he should have at least four more inches to match that girth, but if he did, it would kill someone.
But dang, they’d die happy.
Then it hit me. I was going to be very happy. “I need that inside me.”
“One second, my hungry, horny woman.”
A flush of awkwardness threatened to derail me. I shouldn’t tingle from the rumble of his voice, or the shock of hearing someone talk about me in those terms. But his blunt speech made my walls clench, and a new flood of wetness trickled down my thighs.
He was a dirty-talker. I’d never had one of those before. I never knew I wanted someone without a polished, buttoned-up filter.
He rolled a condom on and straightened the tip with a little tug. “Legs up.”
They felt heavy, but I lifted one foot and then the other into the air. One of my shoes had fallen off. The other clung to my toes and the trouser socks I’d donned this morning. I shook my leg to free it but it clung there like sin.
Wombat swept a hand along my calf and slipped the shoe free. Then he squeezed the arch of my foot with a firm grip. I groaned as the abused muscles relaxed. His fingers wrapped around my ankle and placed it on his shoulder. Then he massaged my other foot with both hands.
Just two strong caresses later I was boneless and practically drooling.
“You like that?”
Duh. “Anyone who wears heels all day would.”
I groaned again because he wrapped my leg over his free shoulder. That brushed my pussy against his cock.
His teeth sunk into my calf, which broke the spell. It wasn’t hard, just jarring. I sent him a fleeting glare to convey my irritation.
“Can’t have you passing out before number two.”
Was I able to come twice? I’d never done that before.
Wombat slid a hand down my leg to my crotch and ran his knuckle through my folds. “Keep your legs on my shoulders. Let’s play with you for a bit.”
Play? No. Please? My clit was still sensitive. And that jumpiness increased with each circle he looped around it as he slipped from opening to clit and back.
I was going to die if he didn’t put that thick dick inside me soon. I arched until my hips came off the bed and I presented him with my aching pussy. I forgot all about calling him Wombat and blurted out, “Please, Random, I need—”
His finger slipped inside. I clamped down on it, my pussy giving a pulse that was close, but too quickly he pulled free.
“No. I want… I need you.”
A thick pressure pushed at my opening. I looked down, realizing that was his cock. No wonder he’d worked me into a frenzy. It wouldn’t fit.
Or would it?
The tightness was almost too much, but honestly?
Exactly right. I could feel the stretch that bordered on scorching burn.
It didn’t hurt. The fear it would edged my senses to hyper-alertness.
Every bit of him pushing in made me acutely aware that this was the limit of what was comfortable and promised it could be very uncomfortable if I wasn’t ready for it.
His groan matched mine as he seated his whole cock inside.
“Thank god you’re not bigger.” I could feel the tip of it seated deep. My pussy tingled with the fullness of him there.
But that was nothing to what came next.
He slid back and then landed deep again. My walls convulsed and with only a few strokes I was coming hard.
A first for me—Orgasm from penis in vagina alone.
And it didn’t dissipate. He pumped into me and the orgasm got stronger. I begged once, then held on for the ride because I couldn’t do anything else. My skin flushed hot and my head hurt from coming so hard.
He gasped. “You’re so fucking beautiful.
” A guttural sound started low and ended in almost a scream leaked from him as he pulsed hard inside me.
That echoed in my soul. My pussy pulsed back, and I rode it as I tried to keep my head from blowing right off my spine.
I even put a hand there just to be sure I wasn’t breaking apart.
“Random.” It was a plea for mercy, or perhaps a confession.
His hands framed my face clumsily as he rested his weight on his elbows. “You okay?”
My feet slipped from his shoulders. My legs were boneless. My mouth was dry as I mustered an answer. “I think. My head hurts.”
He squinted. “How bad?” His breaths were ragged.
It wasn’t as awful as before. “I think it’s better now.”
“You sure?”
Yes?
He slipped free, and I cried out from the loss.
Wombat pointed at the condom hanging from his cock. “Let me take of this, then I’ll take care of you. ’Promise.”
I blinked at the ceiling. Then some perverse part of me reminded me to check my watch.
Twenty-three minutes. Damn. He kept his word.
A girl could get used to being pampered like that.
Two hours later he’d fulfilled every promise to me. I was fed, blissfully orgasmed twice, and the movie we picked had just finished. The dogs slept on either side of us. DA draped over his legs, and Molly was doing her best to make me into her personal recliner.
“How long has Molly had anxiety issues?” Wombat flipped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and crunched on it.
“Since we got her. She was three months old.”
He thought about that for a while. “Was she weaned too early?”
“No, she was a very happy puppy according to the breeder.”
It was my fault. I studied his profile to debate whether I should confess that.
Funny, he didn’t look as young from the side.
His jaw worked as he chewed, giving his profile interesting angles.
As I puzzled out why he seemed so different, I admired him.
From the front, he had one of those unfortunate faces.
Soft skin, sparse beard, freckles and a rounded shape.
It made him lose at least five years. In profile, it struck differently.
And after discovering what he felt like above me or inside me?
No. He was definitely a man. I shivered.
More of one than Jim ever was. He thought things like heartbreak or neglect could be solved with money or gifts. In the short time I’d been with Wombat, the differences were already clear.
I took a chance. “I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and PTSD.”
He studied me. “You have a kid?”
“No.”
“Oh. Shit, I forgot.” His cheeks turned a deep rose.
To stave off his embarrassment, I admitted another secret. “Twice. We were pregnant twice.”
“You were pregnant. He was… what you do call it?” A finger snap, then, “Stolen valor.”
Funny, life had felt like a battlefield at the time. One I’d lost. Twice. I turned away so he wouldn’t see the cracks in my armor.
Wombat was quiet for a long time. Then he stood up, displacing DA and rousing Molly. “That bastard bought you a dog to make it up to you? No offense, Molly.” He paced to the kitchen and back. “What a fucking piece of work.”
I cringed under Molly’s weight. I wished she wasn’t on top of me. I couldn’t move.
Wombat paced toward us.
Molly growled.
I’d never heard her do that before.
“I’m not mad at you, or you, Molly.” He blew out a breath. Then he sat right in the middle of the floor with his hands out. “See? Not a threat.” He stayed like that. Apart from his breathing, he didn’t move.
Molly watched him but stayed on top of me.
DA took his position as an invitation to sit his ass right on top of his crossed legs. Wombat shoved the dog away from his face. “If I wanted to smell your rancid dog breath, I’d have asked.”
I laughed.
They were cute together.
Molly licked my face. I studied her as she tried to cheer me up. “It’s my fault. All my fault.”
Wombat stopped rough-housing with the dog trying to sit on his lap. “With all due respect, I call bullshit. It takes two.”
“The fact he has a live child with another woman means the fault wasn’t his!” I stood up, displacing Molly. She scrambled around my feet, pressing against me. I reached down to pet and reassure her. “I need to go.”
Wombat frowned, but got up to collect my coat. “I’ll walk you and Molly out. Dumb Ass probably has to piss again.”
“Why do you do that?”
He turned to me, confused. “Do what?”
“You switch to your biker voice when you’re angry.”
“What?”
I replayed our conversations. He was quite articulate, but sometimes he sounded like every other criminal who I’d dealt with.
It seemed he used that coarseness as a defense mechanism.
And I’d triggered that. Which was one more thing I’d kick myself for, which was one too many.
I wouldn’t walk on eggshells anymore, for anyone.
Not even a biker who’d talked his way into my pants.
Ugh. The accountability monitor in my head chalked another tick mark onto my blackboard of shame.
Because of that, I lashed out. “You’re intelligent. Figure it out.”
He put his hand on my arm as I tried to outpace him to my car. “And you run.”
I glared at him and the fingers he’d wrapped around my wrist.
“I’m just pointing that out if you didn’t see it,” he said.
“I’ll be sure to tell my therapist.”
“You do that,” he shot back. He dropped my arm like it burned his hand.
I should apologize.
We got to the car, and I let Molly hop inside, but kept her door open so I could talk to Wombat without her getting upset. “Are you mad at me?”
He stuck his tongue against his lower lip. “I’m glad you’re seeing a therapist.”
“That wasn’t an answer, that’s an evasion.”
“I suppose it was.” He turned to watch DA sniff for a good spot to use.
I waited as long as I could to see if he’d talk to me.
He didn’t. I carefully made sure Molly wasn’t near the door before I shut it. I’d just gotten in the car and reached for my door when he stepped into the space.
“I don’t get angry at women. I get angry at myself for…
well, everything. Like screwing up a great evening.
Or letting you walk out my door upset.” He bit his lip as he paused before continuing.
“And mostly for always being the guy who gives out the good orgasms, but never gets the girl.” He spat the last four words, then walked at least ten paces away before he stopped and stared at the night sky.
His shoulders heaved once with an audibly frustrated exhale.
I really should apologize.
DA joined him. They walked into the woods in silence.
I waited a few minutes for them to return, but they didn’t.
My hands were shaking as I started the car. I breathed deeply to calm myself down. Molly set her head on the console, nudging my elbow. I petted her snout out of habit. “He’s wrong. It isn’t his fault. It’s mine. But I can’t do this. You know I can’t, right?”
I was a mess—an utter knot of neurotic grief. If I started apologizing to him, I’d be right back where I was when—
No. I wasn’t going there.
The drive home was fraught with a boatload of self-talk. Some of it was pretty bitter. But I vowed I’d call my therapist in the morning. We’d have a good long discussion about guilt and shame and ownership of emotional outbursts. And anger. Especially that one. Getting insight would help, right?
When I pulled into my garage, I didn’t turn the car off right away.
I had the unexplainable urge to put the car into reverse, back out and leave.
Where? No clue. I’d drive until my gas ran out.
Until I was too far away to know a single soul from my life here.
I’d go somewhere there weren’t happy couples and babies, and—
Molly whined.
I realized where we were and glimpsed the closed garage door behind us in the rear-view mirror. “Shit!” I turned off the car and flicked the opener so fresh air would flood into the space.
I wasn’t suicidal. Just distracted.
I unbuckled Molly’s clip and let her join me in the front seat. “You’re a good girl. So smart. So pretty.” My chin wobbled. Was I being foolish? Wombat had spoken similar praise to me.
And I drove away. “I should have stayed.” I should have apologized. I should try to be an adult and own up to my behavior. But I wasn’t ready for that yet.
Molly didn’t know what I was saying.
I captured her head in my hands and spoke a hard truth. “I should have stayed.”
She licked my face.
Whatever that meant.