Hot and Haunted (9 page)

Slowly, even as I writhed against him, he lowered the zipper of my dress. Frantically I pawed at his belt, but he dipped his head, sampled my neck. “What’s the hurry?”

I swallowed past the huge lump in my throat. If I didn’t leave, then I was a goner. But, of course, I didn’t go, choosing instead to slide down his body until I was standing barefoot in a puddle that was as warm as bathwater. I pushed the right strap of my dress down, down the curve of my shoulder, then the left. The lace fell until I was bare to the waist. Shimmying slightly, it fell, down to the ground, and I was left naked in the rain.

Brody’s hands moved to the shiny glint of my lower lips and stroked. His fingers were rough, and I cried out in shock. He lightened his touch, then looked down, down at where his fingers were touching me. Smiling into my eyes, he whispered, “Maybe you’ll like this better,” and sank to his knees.

Closing his lips over the tight rosette of flesh between my legs, he suckled gently, his teeth scraping lightly around the edges. I gasped in response. I didn’t usually let men do this for me until I’d been with them for a long time since it made me feel so exposed, but he had started before I knew what he was going to do.

That, and his wet mouth on my wet clit just felt so damned good. The sensations nearly, very nearly, washed the bitter taste of guilt and anger and pain from my mouth.

His fingers joined his tongue, and they explored the secret little crevices that were hidden between my legs. The juncture where my upper thigh met my outer lips was licked, my slit stroked, my ass cheeks kneaded. I began to moan, louder and louder, and felt honey leaking out to sweeten my skin.

He let me come, let my world go bright, even as thunder and lightning crashed around us, and when my knees went weak, he stood, turning me, holding me firmly around the waist.

He laid my hands flat against the hood of the car, the warmth from the metal seeping into my bones. The heat of the air sent sweat trickling between my breasts, beading off my nipples and mixing with the rain, and Brody caught a drop, on the tip of his finger.

Impatient, I wiggled my hips, but my cunt was soon given what it wanted, eating up the firm strokes of Brody’s fingers with an appetite that I was previously unaware I possessed. The finger that slid into me, gathering sweet cream to better slide over my nub, made me bite my lip, wanting more—of what I wasn’t entirely sure.

Just more.

Brody leaned over, bending me at the waist, balancing his weight on mine. My naked skin slid on the metal, and, standing on my toes, I tried desperately to align my cunt with his cock.

I wanted him inside of me.

He didn’t seem ready yet, though, and instead of nudging past the sweet, round cheeks of my ass with his straining cock, he slid a finger back into the warmth, savoring the feel of the answering surge of moisture around the digit.

He waited, waited, until my hips moved, signaling that I wanted more. A second finger filled me, and I shook as a third played with my clit. When I was again writhing, he inserted the tip of yet another, twisting it back and forth until it was covered in honey and fully embedded within my quaking inner walls.

Frantically, I pushed my sex against his hand, desperate to feel the sweet release again. He tightened his grip around my waist, holding me still, as his fingers began to rock within me, sliding back and forth with an ease born of my female cream. Back and forth they slid, bumping against that tender nub of my flesh with every return, but this time, when my thighs tightened, when I strained to reach that peak, he stilled, waiting for me to calm, then slid his fingers out.

I uttered a protest, which was cut off when his cock nestled between my cheeks, searching, then finding, the entrance to my cunt.

He pushed, slowly, entering inch by inch until I was full, nearly to bursting, with his cock. Then he began to move again, slowly, and with more assurance than I’d ever in my life seen a man exhibit.

I couldn’t believe that my first impression of him was that of an awkward bookworm.

My muscles tightened around him on one particularly deep stroke, and we both groaned, low and deep.

As he thrust, I heard the low grunts that he made every time he pushed forward. They drove me wild, those small sounds of satisfaction, and I answered them with breathy little pants of my own.

I was on the edge, teetering just before the fall, but I needed something more than cock in cunt to send me flying. I hoped that he would touch me again with those long, slow licks of his fingers on my pussy; that would do the trick, I was sure.

Instead, I felt his knuckle, tracing the contours of my ass. It tickled a bit, yet at the same time sent shivers rioting down my spine. Delicious, naughty shivers—even though, thanks to the content of the movie I’d seen earlier that day, my first instinct was to pull away.

But when that knuckle pressed against the pucker of my ass, I lost it. This time the tidal wave wasn’t as long or as large, but it was definitely as sweet, rearing up out of the thick air to slap me in the face.

As I shuddered around him, crying out into the night, he withdrew, his hard length dripping with my juices. I twisted my head to see his face, my eyes wild, and he turned me gently, nestling our bodies together, the slick metal at my back, as he tenderly stroked a finger over the curve of my jaw, tracing the contours, then touched his lips to mine softly, gently, like a gift.

I accepted, but increased the pressure, bit by bit, until I could feel his naked cock jerk against my belly. In response, I flicked my tongue between his lips, just the tip; when the answering probe didn’t come, I began to lick, searching for my mate. When I found it, he bit down, one sharp nip on the tip, and I moaned in surprise.

Feeling my senses begin to soar out of control and suddenly not wanting the delicious sensations to end, I began, with agonizing slowness, to kiss my way down his throat and chest. The feel of his warm skin and the wetness of the rain was delicious on my tongue, and I savored it the way a small child would a piece of candy, stopping from time to time to contemplate the taste and, more importantly, to see what he would do. I wasn’t sure that he could resist the sensations I knew we were both feeling much longer, that soon he would again plunge into me until our cries echoed out into the night. But he remained firm, clenching his teeth, even grinding them at moments when my lips found a particularly sensitive inch of his flesh. His hands clenched at his sides, seemingly determined to remain until I decided to end the delicious punishment that I was meting out.

I reached his nipples. This was an area that I studiously ignored on Kyle’s body; he claimed that being touched there made his throat tickle. A lover from my distant past, however, had taught me how wonderful it felt to have them licked, sucked, and caressed, and I’d paid them special attention ever since—well, except for Kyle, of course—as I did then when my ardent mouth found the first of Brody’s points. Teasingly, with a delicious slowness, I took a tentative taste, a little lick that made him groan. I fastened my mouth around the point, sucking hard, and felt his body clench against mine.

I nuzzled my nose in the soft tufts of hair that dusted his chest, then lowered my hand to my clit. I rubbed, hard, until my fingers were hot and moist, and my legs trembled involuntarily at the sensation.

The wet fingers found his other peak and pinched, hard. As his hot cock seeped a bit against my belly, I rolled my fingers around his nipple, over and over again, playing with him, increasing the pressure, then taking it away; a low growl issued from the depths of his throat.

I had a sudden mental picture of his throwing me to the ground, my legs above my head, and fucking me until I screamed. I shook it out of my head; I wasn’t done yet.

His body tensed, his long muscles pulling together, clenching, as he tried to control his breathing. I trembled against him, relishing the experience of creating his pleasure, of
making
him take it, making him take whatever it was I chose to give.

I wanted him as crazy with lust as I was, so that when we came, we came together, screaming out loud in the musty darkness of the night.

Circling his cock with my thumb and forefinger, I squeezed. He whimpered, and I raised my head to look at his face, his jaw clenched, his eyes closed. “Too much?” It wasn’t asked mockingly, but in all seriousness. I wanted to please him.

Drawing a finger playfully up and down the underside of his shaft, I listened to his breath rasp in and out, in and out, pushing its way into the thick air.

“No.” Brody spat the word out on a gasp, a tortured man, tortured yet twisted, as he was loving every minute of the wicked punishment that I was inflicting on him, I knew. When I knelt, and my head nuzzled at his abdomen, he shuddered, waiting for the touch of my warm, willing lips on his cock again.

It didn’t happen. Instead, holding his penis up and away from his body firmly, I slipped his warm sac into my mouth, the whole jiggling mass of it, gently, oh so gently, bathing it with my tongue. His flesh slipped from my lips when he fell to his knees, then down again, pulling me with him. We rolled together onto the ground, where the mud was warm and wet and soothing, the rain falling from above rinsing it away even as it clung.

I pinned him, slithering overtop his body, slipping and sliding in the slick earth. The wind blew, one little gust, and my nipples tingled even as the seductive weight of the heat again settled, heavy and sweet.

Turning so that I faced his feet, I opened my thighs wide, parting them just behind his head. My cunt, spread open like a ripe, luscious fruit, was above his mouth, but I hitched my hips so high that his tongue, which was already darting out of his lips, couldn’t reach it.

Leaning forward, I began to rotate my hips, swaying them lightly above his open mouth, every other moment coming so close that it seemed I might slip, and he could have a taste. I let my hair brush against his crotch and watched as he tore his eyes from the visual above him. He looked down his body to where a strand of juicy red hair whispered against his balls.

I bent over farther and shook my head from side to side in time with the rhythm of my hips, until the soft strands began to fly every which way, thousands of featherlight strokes caressing the tip, the shaft, the entirety of his cock. I imagined a thousand tongues lapping at him, little licks that had his hips jerking, trying to force his hardness into the willing, wet cavern of my mouth.

Ignoring the impudent request of the hugely protruding cock, I continued, never once faltering in my rhythm, imagining it as a kind of dance of which I was the choreographer. I wondered what it was, exactly, that he saw that had gotten him so excited. Was it the moist shine of my cunt, visible right before his eyes? The full, round spheres of my berry-tipped breasts, swollen with want? Or was it my naked body as a whole, my taut belly, my gently curved shoulders, my soft, milky inner thighs?

The thought made my hips rock, and I decided that the time was near, the time to end the delicious torment and take our pleasure. I lowered my head and exhaled a long, steamy breath over the tip of the straining member. He groaned and waited, waited for the touch of my tongue, and when it didn’t come, he rolled until I was under him, squirming with delight.

The water and the wet earth oozed around us, clinging sensually to our limbs as we tangled together, flesh seeking flesh.

Brody caught both his hands in my hair, in the length that was streaked with mud and damp with rain and shining in the moonlight. With the dissolution of my last shred of control, he kissed me, a long, hot, erotic meeting of the mouths, tongues tangling wildly as our bodies bucked.

Then he entered me, smoothly, in one steady push, for I was ready, more than ready, and I welcomed him with an answering arch of my hips.

Stilling inside me, he looked into my eyes as I writhed beneath him. His eyes questioned, asking if I was sure, and I bucked, screaming his name in desperation.

He began to thrust, long, deliberate strokes that had the wet walls of my cunt shuddering as they were battered over and over. Knowingly, he held still for a moment, a very brief moment, every time that he was in me up to the hilt. That was what I liked best, and I let him know with my strangled little cries.

I felt my body go liquid, a hurricane of sensation, as that long cock of his ground into me, grinding and pushing and thrusting, and I screamed, loud and clear with wanton abandonment as I came around him in a gush.

He stilled as I panted, and I knew that he had yet to come; I was still impaled on the unrelenting length of him, the length that was pinning me into the ground.

When I again stilled, he lowered a hand to my clit and rubbed, stroking a hard, fast melody even as his hips began to fuck me harder and faster, and his long, warm weight pressed me into the ground. Over and over he moved, our flesh slapping, and I could tell from his clenched teeth and the sweat beading off his brow that he was almost there.

To help, and also because it felt so damned good, I arched my hips, taking him extra deep, as his thumb pressed hard against my clit. I came again, a long, bright wave of pleasure that reminded me of the bolts of lightning flashing above our heads.

Once I was caught in the midst of my frenzied release, he ground his hips into me with a ferocity that I didn’t imagine he was capable of and shouted, over and over, as he spilled his slick, steaming pleasure between my legs.

It seemed like forever before either of us could move. I wasn’t sure how long it was in actuality as we both lay sated, sinking into the warm, squishy mud, heartbeats gradually slowing and nerves beginning to settle.

I felt drunk, or maybe sedated. Breathing heavily, I opened my mouth and allowed the wonderfully wet drops of rain to moisten my tongue and dampen my throat.

Groaning, Brody rolled, keeping his limp, satisfied weight from crushing me, and we lay quietly on our backs, watching the streams of water continue to fall from the sky.

When I was certain that my muscles would again support me, I let him pull me to my feet. We rinsed off in the steaming rain, giggling like children, and when most of the mud was gone, he lifted me in his arms and carried me back to the car, where he offered me his shirt to towel myself off. Brazenly naked, I refused, instead curling my body into Brody’s on the seat.