Misappropriate (12 page)

Climbing up the wraparound porch, Christopher headed for the back door, trying the knob and cursing when he found it unlocked.

“Megan!” he called, some delicious fucking smells invading his nose. His stomach growled as he propelled through the mud room and into the spacious kitchen. The black refrigerator door stood open and he saw Megan’s hand holding onto the handle. “Why the fuck the door unlocked?”

She slammed the door shut and Christopher’s mouth fell open, his hold on the bouquet slackening. She wore…
nothing
. Abso-fucking-lutely
nothing
.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the flowers. “Those are for me?”

No, she wore
something.
Red heels, he realized, hearing the motherfuckers clicking on the tiled floor. He hadn’t paid attention to her feet, too fixated on her beautiful tits and her delicious pussy. She tugged the flowers out of his hand, then pulled his head down to plant her mouth over his for a quick kiss.

“I thought we was eatin’, Megan?”

She laid the flowers on the counter and turned to him with a saucy wink. “You’re telling me you’re not going to eat?”

Wicked little bitch
. He laughed, all the other bullshit from the past two days floating the fuck away. “Oh, yeah, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ feast.”

He wedged her against the marble and wood island in the center of the kitchen, snaking an arm around her waist while tweaking one of her nipples and slanting his lips over hers. She opened to him so sweetly and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, his breath catching in his lungs and expelling in a big burst of air, her taste and scent leaving him light-headed as a motherfucker. He lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and groaned into his mouth, grinding against him. Their tongues met and twirled out all kinds of words in each other’s mouths:
More. Fuck me. Now. Pussy. Met. Dick.

For some reason, the stupid fucking idea cracked him the fuck up and he barked a laugh against her mouth.

Megan nipped his lip. “What’s funny?” she asked, her fingers roaming along his jaw and down to his neck.

He laid his forehead against hers and told her about the words he imagined their tongues spelling out. She giggled and nuzzled his throat.

“Can you guess this one?” Her tongue swept against his with little brushes and pokes.

“Fuck. Baby. Tell me.”

“I spelled eat me.”

“Megan, baby,” he breathed, bending his head and taking a nipple into her mouth, sucking hard.

She whimpered, her fingers sliding through his hair. “Christopher.”

              Her milk filled his mouth and Christopher let the sweetness slide down his throat, holding her in place when she began to squirm. Focusing on the other tit, he widened her legs and slipped a finger inside her pussy, wiggling it inside of her.

She cried out and Christopher lifted his head, her flushed features and darkened eyes hitting him right in the balls. Cum threatened to detonate them with the force of dynamite. He gave her a heavy-lidded look.

He lifted her onto the counter and nipped her neck, licking at the tender skin near her ear, tracing the shell of her lobe. “What the fuck you want from me, baby?”

She kicked her heels off. “Your tongue between my legs.”

“You want me to lick your pussy?” he growled, feathering her mouth and hairline with kisses. She threw her head back, her hair raining around her like golden silk.

“Yeah.” She leaned back on her elbows, using one hand to open her pussy lips. “Lick my clit.”

Hooking his arms around her thighs, he bent and lifted her pussy to his mouth. “Roll your cunt on my tongue for me, baby.” As if he had to tell her, but his words made her hot as fuck. He sucked her clit between his teeth, then soothed it with the tip of his tongue. She gasped and gripped his hair, wriggling against his lips and the flat of his tongue.

She jerked against him and cried out his name, bathing his lips, tongue and chin in her pussy juice. He kissed the inside of her thigh, resisting the urge to sniff her pussy—for now—and straightening to his full height. She spread her legs and fingered herself.

“I want you inside of me, Christopher.
Now.
”

He began freeing himself and stepped between her legs.

“Want my dick in your sweet pussy?”

Her fingers worked her clit and her head lolled to the side. “Yeah. Put your…your…dick inside of me.”

He’d take those words. Bracing one arm on the side of her, he slid his dick tip over her swollen clit. “Put my cock in you, baby.”

Groaning, she widened her legs and guided him to her hot entrance, lifting her hips to draw his wide crown inside.

Christopher grunted. “Fuck, Megan.” He thrust into her, buried in her pussy right to his balls, and stuck his tongue out. She lifted herself up, raising her hips to meet his hard thrusts, and meeting his tongue with hers, their wet, sloppy kiss expanding Christopher’s dick. Gripping her hips, he pulled her closer and swiveled against her to brush her clit. “I ain’t gonna last, baby. I’m about to come all in your pussy.”

“God!”

He bit her neck and she shivered. “You want that, Megan? You want my cum in your pussy? I’m gonna give you every last drop, baby. I ain’t gonna stop coming in your pussy ‘til my balls are empty.”

She dug her nails into his back and screamed out her release. Her quivering body drawing his cum out of his balls and pulsing into her belly.

Nervous, Meggie clasped her arms around Christopher’s neck as he carried her down the hallway toward the center of the first floor. She’d wanted only two floors—and she definitely didn’t need such a huge house—but her husband had insisted on both the square footage and the third floor for the family bedrooms. They hadn’t even eaten yet, but she’d been wanting Christopher all day and knew the best way to get his attention. Instead of dressing after she’d soaked in her bath, in her lovely cream-colored tub big enough for two, she’d decided to forget about putting on the dress she’d purchased a couple days ago.

“Okay, stop,” she ordered, reaching the door where her surprise lay on the other side. Her heart beat very hard when her brain raced through all the various scenarios of Christopher’s reactions. She squirmed out of his arms and faced him, very conscious of her nudity with her body so sated. Besides, he still wore a long-sleeved crew shit beneath his cut, every ripped inch of his shoulders and torso defined through the fitted material. He rarely wore his leather pants, but, tonight, black leather clung to his thighs and legs, gathering his penis into a very delectable package. Heat rushed through her at the fire in his eyes, the intensity of their mutual awareness scorching through her. She licked her lips. “Close your eyes.”

Impatience tightened his hot study of her. She knew Christopher didn’t believe in mushiness, but he’d consented to a romantic evening. Though she hadn’t expected the flowers, it reaffirmed her belief of her importance to him. She’d met him in the nude because of her own lusty need to feel his big body moving inside of her. Now, the gesture seemed appropriate and a very satisfying compromise.

“Instead of closin’ my eyes, I’d prefer to flip you over and bury my face in your pussy, Megan.” He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her closer, kissing her with enough desire and passion to make her spontaneously combust. “While I’m lickin’ your pussy, you can suck my dick, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She sucked on his tongue before pulling away from him and shifting from foot to foot, staring at him through the sweep of her lashes. “I wanna show you my gift first. Please?”

“Fuck.” He squeezed his lids shut and balled his fists at his side.

Heaving a deep breath, Meggie swung open the door and guided Christopher inside the room, flipping on the light, finding everything in place. “Now, open them.”

Christopher’s eyes flew open, gazed around, and blinked. “Fuck me.”

He zeroed in on the bar, shaped and fashioned after the one at the clubhouse, all the same alcohol stocked in the recessed mirrored space behind it. Instead of a panel of monitors, a huge flat-screen television hung on the wall above the liquor. Replicas of the bar stools and tables stood around the room. Megan had only one pool table, not three, cordoned off with wooden railings—just like at the club—and one dartboard. Her addition was a sofa and a card table, along with cards and a set of dominoes. Around the corner of the railing were two bathrooms, one for women and one for men, the signs of
Chicks
and
Dicks
, another clubhouse carbon copy. Not that she expected many women to be allowed in this room. If Christopher liked it, he’d probably bar her from coming in here, too. The final touch was the Grim Reaper mural dominating one wall of the room.

“You recreated the bar at the club.”

His tone and inscrutable expression gave her no indication of his feelings. Did he like it or loathe it?

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“I can’t believe you did this shit.” He three-sixtied again, turning in slow degrees. His gaze burned into hers. “Why, baby?”

She
really
should’ve greeted him with clothes on. She’d feel so much more confident if she wasn’t bare-assed naked and would handle his rejection of her gift better. Instead of showing her insecurity, she shrugged. “Because you’ve made a lot of changes for me, Christopher. I know how much you love the club and, sometimes, it gets so noisy there.” She wrung her hands. “Which, thinking about it, you probably love, too. But, sometimes, if you and your officers wanted privacy or—“

He wrapped his arms around her, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Megan, shut the fuck up, baby, cuz you don’t even know what the fuck you sayin’.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Know why the fuck you did this shit?” he asked gruffly.

“Because—“

He placed a finger on her lip. “Because I’m a lucky motherfucker with a girl who want him happy, so much she’ll take space in her own house to give him a fuckin’ room she know he’ll fuckin’ love. You did it because you love me.”

She nodded, glad he’d gotten the meaning behind the gesture.

He pulled away from her and his laughter deepened. “You also did it cuz you a jealous little bitch and you figure if you have a room here that look like my bar there, you can control the bitches around me.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but he sounded so amused, she couldn’t help but laugh herself. “Caught,” she admitted.

“Fuck, Megan. I ain’t got nothin’ near like this for you. I mean you greetin’ me with your pussy made me fuckin’ delirious with happiness. Then, you go and add a whole fuckin’ room on top of the golden Promised Land.”

“I wish you’d stop referring to my vagina as the Promised Land.”

He glared at her. “Don’t ruin my Valentine’s present by callin’ your pussy a vagina. We been through this shit already. Vaginas belong to little ninety-year-old ladies where fuckin’ is the last thing on their minds.
Any
pussy still getting’ fucked
ain’t
a vagina, Megan. Pussy. Cunt. Hole. Twat. Slit. Snatch—“

“All right!” she yelled, holding up her hand. “I get the frigging point. Will lady bits or vajayjay suffice?”

He folded his arms. “Vag.”

“Vag?” She frowned. “That sounds worse than vajayjay. Vag?”

He nodded.

She sighed. “All right. I can live with vag.”

The moment she capitulated, he was upon her, snatching any more conversation from her head with his gaze refocused on her. Meggie kissed his chest, still covered with his long-sleeved T-shirt and his leather cut. The ridges of his six pack bumped her fingertips as she slid her hands lower and dropped to her knees, helping him to bare himself to her.

He fisted his rigid flesh. “What are you about to do to me, Megan?”

She slid closer to him and licked one of his testicles, his hand bumping her nose.

“What, Megan?”

“I’m about to suck you.” She wrapped her lips around his other testicle and suckled. “Make you come in my mouth.”

“Play with your pussy while you suck my dick,” he demanded, guiding his manhood to her mouth, which she greedily accepted.

She slurped him into her mouth, closing her eyes in bliss at the scent of him, the smell and taste of her own body clinging to him. Gripping his base with one hand, she slid two of her fingers inside herself, pressing her thumb on her clit, caressing it to the rhythm of her sucks. Christopher’s grip on her hair and deep grunts ignited her blood and pooled in her core. The tips of her breasts tingled and she tongued the dark, mushroom-shaped crown, the fluid already bubbling from him sticky in her mouth. The nub between her legs tightened against her fingers, the pressure building low in her belly. Her womb clenched and she quaked against the movement of her hand, the taste of Christopher driving her wild.

              Bright light exploded behind the lids of her eyes and she released his hardness from her mouth, crying out in pleasure, the touch of Christopher’s fingers massaging her scalp combined with the sensations rocketing through her.

He lifted her to her feet and dragged her toward the barstool. “Bend over,” he rasped.