Karma (26 page)

The
automatic garage door slid up, and Marcy parked her little Neon in Mike's double
garage right next to his BMW. Her stomach churned with excitement.
Mike is
home and Katie is at his sister's house.

The
sound of Alanis Morissette singing 'Jagged Little Pill' came through to her. A
classic. As she went through the connecting doors to the hall, she saw Mike.

He
was barefoot, in distressed blue jeans, with his shirt off. His sculpted upper
body was all toned male muscle. Marcy wanted to run her hands through the
coarse hair of his chest. Yet it was his beautiful face and heated expression
that drew her.

His
eyes darkened. Love flared in the pupils of those brown eyes… and raw hunger.
For
her.

Time
stopped.

Mike
.

An
invisible force pulled them together. They met each other with a grunt of
contact. Their bodies joined, desperately pressing against each other. They
were like two powerful magnets that had been pried apart, and had linked
together seamlessly once more.

Her
response was primal:
Burning! Yearning! Desire!

The
need Marcy had for him was nothing like she had ever experienced. It swept straight
through her in an electric rush, sparking sensations and emotions, heating her
veins. She had worried that she may be shy. She feared that a lifetime of
inhibitions could have returned. Would she tense up when she next saw him?

Instead
she had turned all Jane to his Tarzan.

Mike's
hands clamped upon her hips, his mouth covered hers. God, he felt amazing. Marcy
drank from him, yielding and opening to his lips and tongue. She was drunk on
their passion, intoxicated by his erotic male scent. The bulge of his erection
pressed with determined demand, hard against her.

"Mike,"
she moaned, whimpering and writhing with naked need. Her hands roamed across
his chest and back. She opened her mouth to kiss his skin but ended up biting
his shoulder instead.

Why
was she so frantic? Marcy felt like a wild animal. This reaction was so
unexpected. Hadn’t she just had the best sex of her life last night? Where was
this all-consuming sexual tension coming from? Wherever it was from, it was
building fast.

Marcy's
passion doubled. Her body and his pressed together, as they rocked, swayed and frantically
pulled at each other's flesh. Hands grasping and squeezing, teeth biting, tongue
teasing. The music from Mike's Ipod shuffled to Springsteen, but neither of
them noticed.

Mike
lifted her up, picked her up and swung her into the air. Marcy's back and
shoulder met the cool painted plasterboard of the hall wall. His broad chest
and shoulders pressed against her, caging her in place. Her breasts tingled,
her nipples hardened into tight peaks.

He
was rigidly erect, straining against his jeans. When his hard male flesh
pressed against her heated core they gasped at the contact. The fire of it
exploded – burst through them both. She wrapped her arms around his neck and
mindlessly chewed on his shoulder.

"Jesus,
Marcy, I need to be inside you," Mike panted, his eyes glittering with
raw animal urgency
. When he stepped back,
Marcy made an inarticulate sound of protest from the loss of his body and his
heat.

Mike
dragged her dress up and off.

Her
bra followed and his head dropped to her neck, fell into the curve of her neck
to suck and bite. Chest heaving, his hands caressed her breasts, tracing the
curve of them, and cupping, holding their weight in his palms. Plucking and
pinching, he tormented her nipples, giving them each a sharp sexy twist.

It
was pleasure – it was pain.

His
head lowered. When his tongue lashed, and his mouth sucked her swollen nipples,
Marcy cried out. Her entire body tightened and coiled, convulsing in response.

"Oh,
yes! Yes! Please, more," she begged shamelessly, helpless and lost to her lust.

"I
want you so much," he growled, running his fingers along the edges of her
panties. He stroked her over that thin cloth, and her body hummed with desire.
The feel of the tips of his fingers over the material was glorious. She was
wearing cheap, practical cotton-tail underwear. Remembering that, suddenly made
her giggle.

"What?"
he asked.

"Just
thinking of my underwear," she said, distracted for an instant. "They
are soooo not sexy."

Mike
slid his fingers under them, lifting the edges to pull and twist against her
tender flesh. Teasing her quivering clit. Marcy inhaled a gulp of air and nuzzled
her face along his neck and jaw. Her fingers bit into his shoulders. The sound
that came out of her was unrecognizable, somewhere between a moan and a sob.

"I
think they're incredibly sexy," Mike said huskily, "and they're
soaked. You're so fucking wet for me, honey." He moved her panties back
and forth, stimulating her sensitive tissues and her folds. It ratcheted her
pulse and her desire.

Oh
God, that underwear of hers seemed plenty hot to her now. He was driving her
crazy.

"Mike!"
she shrieked.

"Shush,
shush," he rasped in a low, seductive tone. "I'll take care of
you."

He
slipped his hand inside her underwear, cupping her mound, and delicately teasing
her needy folds. One finger moved around her entrance, his thumb gently
flicking and circling her clit.

Marcy
trembled, aching and throbbing with pleasure. She would have sagged and even fallen
to the floor if he wasn't holding her up, her knees were so weak. How did he do
it? How did he maintain his control? She was faint and dizzy with mind-numbing
arousal.

"Look
at me, Marcy," he said, in a sharp command.

Marcy's
eyes flew to his face. His chest inhaled deeply, in and out. Jaw tight, his nostrils
flared and his eyes were heavy-lidded. Her lips curved up in a smile, because Mike
wasn't in as much control as she thought. That familiar intimacy she had with
him tugged at her.

His
face was implacable. His lips firm. "Tell me what you want," he
ordered roughly.

Marcy
laughed with joy and perhaps a bit of sexual hysteria. Mike was playing that
game again, making her ask. Making her beg. It was because of her sexual
inexperience. Mike wanted to be sure that he wasn't doing anything without her
consent. He needed her to feel safe with him.

His
care and concern only made her love him more.

She
cupped her hands along his cheeks. "I love you, Mike Thompson," she
said, just then more certain of that than she was certain of her own name.
"And I would like you to make love to me, right here against this wall.
Right now. I can’t wait until we get to a bed. I need you inside me."

"What
a great idea," he shot back, his face brightening with a grin as he
unzipped and lowered his jeans. He pulled a condom out of one pocket and then
kicked the jeans away. He was all muscle, all male. Marcy watched, entranced,
as he covered his throbbing thick shaft with a condom.

Mike
pulled her panties down past her butt. Loose as they were, they fell to the
floor. The heady scent of him was intoxicating. Running his hands up her
thighs, he cupped her buttocks and lifted her up. Her thighs rubbed up against
his narrow hips as she wrapped her legs around him.

Mike
guided his cock over her tender folds, stroking, teasing, and making her squirm
with sensation. He gave a dark chuckle over her sounds of greed and need. That hot
silky cock of his was a sensual torment.

"Please,
Mike, please, please, please," she was surprised to find herself chanting.
Her eyes shut as all her focus was
there
, between her legs. She needed
him within her. His fingers spread her folds, and he continued to rub himself around
her opening, teasing her.

Marcy
moaned. Now? Would he fuck her now? Her whole body trembled.
Oh, please!

"Look
at me as I fuck you," he said with an authoritative bite in his tone. When
she met his gaze, he pushed inside, impaling her, slamming her against the wall
with a primitive male grunt.

"Ahhhh,"
she screamed out, her eyes wide.

The
relief that flooded through her as he filled her was indescribable. The muscles
of her stomach, pelvis and buttocks contracted upon his thickness. She wanted
to thank God.

The
expression on Mike's face as he entered her was all fierce, in charge alpha
male. Marcy scratched his shoulders and bucked, overwhelmed by sensation. She
heard herself whimpering. She heard herself sobbing.

It
sounded like a movie, or someone else.

The
incredible elemental joy of their coupling brought tears to her eyes. Mike felt
so incredibly good. So right. So perfect. The fullness of him, stretching her,
thick inside her.

Never
had she been so hyperaware of being a woman.

Of
being needed, wanted and… loved.

Balls
deep, Mike held her pinned against the wall. "Are you okay?" he asked
with concern, touching one errant tear as it trailed down her cheek. "Did
I hurt you?"

Unable
to speak from the overwhelming emotions that filled her, she shook her head.
Mike kissed her, a gentle, sensuous press of his lips. "Why are you
crying?" he breathed against her neck.

"I'm
happy."

He
frowned at her, testing the truth of her statement. Marcy had to smile.
"It's true," she said. "I'm really happy. But I hope we aren't
going to talk, because right now I really need to be fucked, Mike."

He
gave her a wicked, somewhat dangerous grin. "Oh, Marcy," he purred.
"That's just perfect because I really, really need to fuck you."

Gripping
her buttocks, he withdrew out to the tip. Then he drove inside, out, in, out, in,
moving in a jerking, thrusting rhythm, pounding up into her. His head dipped
and he plundered her mouth, thrusting his tongue exactly as he thrust his cock
– using both to drive her arousal to greater heights.

Greedy,
hungry, Mike devoured her, ruthlessly consumed her – forcefully taking what he
needed. What his powerful male body craved.

He
held her firmly by one buttock and used the other hand to palm a breast to caress,
tease and pinch a nipple. He rocked his hips and pelvis against her, shifting
to touch the most erotic spots.

"God,
yes, yes, please, Mike!" she pleaded.

Desperate,
frantic - they fucked like it was the last day of their life, or as if it was
the end of the world. The house could have been on fire and neither of them
would have noticed. Body heat and mutual desire combined into a powerful
conflagration of its own.

Marcy
was captured. Pinned against the wall, she yielded completely. Firm and hard,
Mike pushed inside her, pumping in and out. His scent, his raw need, his
strength, and his all-encompassing desire besieged her consciousness.

The
pure maleness of him filled her senses.

The
hard male thickness of him filled her body.

His
hands angled lower, to cup her ass, working toward deeper penetration. When he
slammed particularly far inside her, they both groaned.

"Yes,"
she gasped. "So good! So hard! Don't stop!"

He
began to thrust faster and Marcy hung on tight. His lips were firm, his tongue
was hot, his hands clawing, gripping. They had to be closer. Marcy never knew
how alone she had been. How empty. She needed Mike inside her, completing her, filling
that aching void. Marcy's legs tightened against him, her heels on his ass, her
arms pulling him in.

Mike
took her, used her, moving relentlessly toward his own release. His eyes
glittering with sexual hunger - locked with hers.

Marcy
felt her power over him. Mike
using her
. Mike
needing and wanting
her
did it. Giving him pleasure was such a turn-on.

Pleasing
Mike, knowing that
she
was the woman he craved was what tipped her over
the edge.

Her
orgasm caught her off guard. Marcy's entire body tightened from a heavy jolt of
lust that speared right to her core. A pre-orgasmic pulse emptied her mind –
her internal walls gripped his shaft
hard
. Then she spun out of control,
convulsing in waves. Coming, coming, coming.

Each
final short, fast thrust Mike gave her was punctuated by primitive male grunts.

The
erotic sound of them only added to Marcy's pleasure. Mike climaxed then, too, breathing
out her name in long guttural groan.

They
were both winded from their efforts, panting heavily, their hearts pounding. Marcy
reeled, trembling and limp with aftershocks. Mike held her, soothing and murmuring
soft sounds of adoration and appreciation. He kissed and stroked as they each
caught their breath.

He
held her against the wall. Marcy unhooked her legs from behind his back. She
lowered one, then the other to the floor. Mike rested his forehead, damp with
sweat, against hers.