Fiona Love (2 page)

“Really.”
She kissed him more carefully, investigating now because she was intrigued by the idea that a busy, beautiful model might nurse a secret crush on her. The pattern of the soft hair on his chest was interesting too, as was the heat of his body sliding against hers; her sex dry spell was looking wetter than the rain forest a hundred years ago.

“I’ve come a long way
since those lyrics came out.” She sucked his plump bottom lip contentedly as he explored her body. “I loved that perfume commercial you did.”

“You saw that?” he a
sked. He was still undoing buttons, the tiny things kept slipping through his big fingers, but he cursed and kept at it, kissing every patch of skin as he uncovered it.

“Uh-huh
.”

She would have to thank Netty tomorrow for forcing h
er to wear the shirt. She’d been skeptical when her girl insisted it was perfect with the gold pants and their drawstring waist and ankle ties, but it had looked great on, different, and she was thoroughly enjoying the time it took him to get her out of it.

“Wow,” he whispered,
when he bared her lush breasts. “So, we’re like mutual fans, huh? We should have lots to talk about.”

“Person
ally, I’ve always thought New Yorkers talk too much. Kinda like the English. Always use 10 words when two will do.”

He laughed into her cleavage then reached for the clasp to release one of her breasts into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said, sounding s
o happy, she began to laugh.

An ex had once told her that’s when he fell in love with her, when he realized she underst
ood men’s relationship to breasts and approved.

“Good?”

He made a cute little snuffling noise and increased the pressure of his suckling and with it these lovely pulsing sensations that seemed hard-wired directly to her clit.

“Good. You got a
few things I wanna taste too.”

It was textbook first-time action. First a little head. Fiona was pleased to learn that his skill at kissing translated well for her second pair of lips. He had a wonderful, coochie-loving mouth, s
oft yet dangerous, thorough but exciting. She came so fast it was almost embarrassing.

“Sorry,” sh
e gasped. “It’s been a minute.”

He raised his head from between her legs and grinned. “Don’t apologize. If you’re always this ea
sy, we should get along great.”

Fiona
pushed at his shoulders, huffing approvingly when he lay on his back. They pressed together, her curves blending easily into the sharp planes of his body. “Big words, big man. I was wound up tight. Now, I’m better. Let’s see what else you got.”

She didn’t know this about him yet, but Dane was never one to back down from a challenge, and he hadn’t been this excited by a woman in forever. He wanted to ravage her.
If she hadn’t come just then she’d still be on her back. He wanted to fuck her so badly his heart had skipped a few beats it was thumping so hard, but curiosity eased him enough to let her take over.

He wanted to see what she would do
once she’d kissed her way to his ravenous prick, if she would have trouble keeping up. She didn’t disappoint. She sucked his dick like she liked it, like a hungry person likes steak.

Fiona
brought out the caveman in him with her teasing. Her sweetness, her laughter when she wanted something, her arrogant, expectant responses when she got it, she held him in thrall. Her tuneful breaths, the way her eyes narrowed and her head fell back when it was feeling particularly good, it made him feel a little crazy.

He kept her up
all night.

Fiona had never had sex like that. Daney had a touch as sure and sensitive as a surgeon. He stroked her like her skin was crack, and his hand was a pipe. He squeezed her like he was drowning, and only handfuls of her ass would buoy his head above water. Everything she had, he praised with ragged
words and long, breathy moans.

The texture of her skin was gorgeous,
he whispered. Her shape was intoxicating. Her breasts, the indentation of her waist, her creamy back and tiny knees, they were all perfect. When words failed him his hands gave lavish, silent testimony, running over her like a blind man memorizing his address in Braille. If such a thing were possible on near immediate acquaintance, he actually seemed to love her, so completely did he worship her body.

The way he nuzzled and squeezed
her flesh, it made her heart thump with forgotten feeling as he rubbed and rolled their bodies. Daney was serious about loving her. He fucked her long and sometimes hard, but he did it meaningfully. There was no pounding toward the finish. He savored her, took breaks mid-bout for protracted kiss and nibble sessions that made her coochie clench on his dick so hard and so often he threatened to pull out. Said she was rushing him, and he refused to come fast and miss out on their first time.

Daney – he’d gained an impromptu nickname, as did most who traveled into her orbit – had the nerve to groan in disappointmen
t when he came the first time.

“It just felt so good,” he
groaned. Fiona giggled as he rooted, sated, in the bend of her neck. “I didn’t want it to end. How’d you make it so good?”

She
shrugged. After a third orgasm, she was so limp and drained Daney fetched a cool wash cloth and stroked it over her forehead and cheeks to revive her. He wiped her gently between the legs.

She eventually talked him into another round by lic
king her name out on his balls.

“You were fuckin’ great.”
She told him several hours of sex and a 30-minute nap later. She would have moved away, but he wrapped his arms and legs around her like bands.

“
Where you goin’?”

“To pee.”

Also, to break contact before any bonding could occur, and to make it easier to suggest, from across the room and the soft inside of a thick terry bathrobe, that he carry his gorgeous ass to the hotel instead of staying with her for the night.

START HERE
Fiona was sitting on the toilet thinking about which morning appointment she could use to get rid of him when Daney knocked and came in. She stared at him like he was nuts.

“
What are you doing?”

“Waiting for my turn to use the can.” He sat naked on the edg
e of the tub and looked at her.

“I c
an’t pee with you watching me.”

“Why not?”

“Ion’ know! Can’t you wait outside?”

“Prude,” he pronounce
d, shaking his head as he left.

Fiona
tried several times, subtly and not so subtly, to suggest that he leave, but he’d just laugh and hem her up with one of his Daney-licious, full-body kisses. Those kisses were amazing. Just wet enough. Just wild enough, and the way he rubbed her down front and back made her feel like her panties were filled with honey and bees. He even kissed her while she was on the toilet, which she thought was really nasty and totally loved.

It was miraculous really. Every time she saw him
– no matter what they’d just done – she wanted to fuck. Her bed seemed to have a homing beacon; she only left it briefly to visit the bathroom. As the hours rolled by she never rejected his touch, didn’t turn or brush him away when he stroked a hand over her face and neck, no matter that he’d touched every part of her dozens of times over. She happily lay smushed under his heavy body as he rested inside her, his new favorite place in the world, he whispered.

After Fiona stopped trying to get Daney to leave, they talked and laughed like they’d known each other for years. They wrestled and tore up the bed, made it up, then tore it up again.
Fiona never won these little bouts, usually ended up spread eagled with him hip deep inside her, or with her curvy bottom in the air while he lightly slapped then kissed then fucked her until her head hit the headboard.

Starving early that next afternoon, they peeked into the kitchen, found it empty and ran
naked to grab fruit and drinks. He cooed over her baby’s pictures, and politely refrained from asking any questions about the father. Most notable, he ignored his cell phone when it rang. It rang a lot.

“Before I forget,
again,” he gasped, lying spent after an orgasm so powerful he’d wondered if his heart might actually leave his chest. “What the hell does ‘hold ‘em up gym shoe’ mean?”

Fiona had been sprawled across his chest catching her breath, but now she rolled off and reached for the crystal ashtray on her nightstand.

“My sister used to say that to me when I was little and about to get into some shit.” She lit a partially smoked joint and inhaled. “She killed herself when I was twelve.” She wondered why she’d just told him something she had never spoken of to a stranger.

Until that moment they’d
talked about some of everything with the exception of past lovers and the possibility their sexual extravaganza might last past the weekend. They didn’t speak of the future. Not even to make those slips you sometimes make after great sex: ‘We should go see so and so next week, or, Saturday we’re going to blah blah blah. You should come through.’

They simply enjoyed each other. They napped, laughed, t
ook baths together. Dane even let Fiona pluck his eyebrows. She enjoyed fussing with lovers this way, and after years of professional modeling, he had grown to like pampering. He enjoyed it more than usual since she sat in his lap with her legs around his waist, her soft cushiony breasts pressed against his chest while she worked.

When Fiona finished his brows – there wasn’t much to do – she buffed his fingernails, examined his toenails and doctored a lonely pimple she fo
und beneath his right shoulder.

She gave them both a p
ore cleansing mask. That was fun. She got real close but didn’t touch anything but his face to tease him. She liked the way his breath grew shallow and rapid, the way his lips parted and his lids lowered as arousal built. But he wasn’t a pushover.

“Thanks, baby,” he said
, voice was only the tiniest bit breathless. “What can I do for you?”

Fiona pointed to her lips. She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d cut down on talking. She’d been raspy for the past few weeks, and now her voice was starting to go out all together. Pantomime had taken on a new dimension more th
an once during their love play.

Daney bussed her gently. Fiona frowned, pointed to her lips again and made an obscene movement with her tongue. He laughed but obliged her wordless request for a more substantive kiss. He nibbled her full lips and sighed when she nibbled his in return. He relaxed as they kissed, his movements slow and easy. When his tongue finally made its way between her lips, Fiona accepted it hungrily, massaging it until he groaned and reached for the box of
condoms they’d almost depleted.

“I should be tired,” he whispered, rolling her onto her back and kissing his way down her body. “I should be really tired, but I feel as if –”

“We haven’t fucked in weeks?” she rasped, legs falling open as he licked her labia in one long firm sweep.

“Yeah,” he said, voice muffled by her flesh as he sucked and
licked her with the tip of his tongue.

She liked that trick a lot. It was the perfect way to set her off
fast after he’d built her up slow. And though she was having too much fun to even begin thinking seriously, it didn’t take much to realize the feelings he inspired were about more than bedroom tricks. Their attraction was too strong, too sudden.

She stare
d at him as he lay dozing, happy not to be bored out of her mind for the first time in nearly a year, but a little scared too. The frown faded as she snuggled down and he squeezed her close in his sleep. Daney was a sweetheart. A veritable list: attentive and funny, ambitious and sincere. And – she grinned tiredly – he could really fuck. Considering the caliber of handsome men who had come through her life, and occasionally her bed, Fiona found herself inordinately struck by his beauty.

It wasn’t that she was shallow exactly, though she was the first to admit her men tended to be tall, built and fine. She liked them to have pretty faces, but masculine everything else, which was probably why none of them lasted. They were like men in costume. Once the clothes were off they were like babies without diapers
– extremely cute, but helpless, and just as messy.

No, Daney’s attraction for her wasn’t just about his height and broad shoulders. It wasn’t the tapered, swimmer’s waist or
the long, hairy legs. It wasn’t his well cut mop of thick, luxuriously wavy black hair, nor those plump lips she could barely stop kissing. It wasn’t even his big, beautiful, olive-tinted dick, or what he could do with it.

It was that he sat quiescent while she learned his body. She held her breath once to see if she could detect any movement, but there was nothing. He was so calm and relaxed in her company, he breathed so lightly, she barely felt it as she ran her fingers over sharp cheekbones and the slight bump in the brid
ge of his nose.