Turn It Up (34 page)

She crawled up his stomach and brushed the hair from his sweat-damp brow. “You okay? No pain?”

“Pain? No. Jesus, that was good.”

She nibbled her bottom lip before giving him a sultry grin. “That was an appetizer. Now, ready to get down to the main course?”

He chuckled, lazily opening his eyes. A spark reflected the lantern glow and turned wicked in his gaze, like brandy warmed by a fire. Pure masculine prowess flowed through his body as he shifted, leaned over her and pressed his mouth below her ear.

“Going down sounds perfect.”

Bastian liked to kiss, was a master of the art, and he kissed every inch of her he could reach, from her temples to her nipples. He never hurried or rushed, but took time to taste, touch and explore each curve of her. Beneath his traveling tongue, Charlie’s bones dissolved. A quiver at the base of her spine spread outward as he made love to her with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

He slid down, marking his territory with a husband’s right, claiming each expanse of her skin. Warm breath blew along her hipbone as he settled between her knees, gliding his hand along her thighs. “This, this is what I’ve been dreaming of. Open for me, Charlie. Let me taste you.”

She needed no more coaxing. That heated breath moved across her skin to feather along the dampness she revealed. For a moment, he did nothing and she opened her eyes. He worshipped her with his reverent expression. A single, chaste kiss at the top of her cleft was more intense than any sensation she’d ever experienced. And it only got better. He mimicked his courtship, dotting sweet innocent kisses along the crease of her thighs, across her bikini line, along the outer edges of her sex, teasing her without touching her where the deepest ache grew.

The sleeping bag whispered beneath him as he shifted, cupped her ass in his palms and stroked his thumbs along her center. Slick silk parted to his touch. His innocent kisses turned torturous. Quick and light, his lips skimmed each inch, barely letting her feel his mouth. A whimper filled the tent but he didn’t move faster.

His velvet tongue stroked up her outer lips in a slow path, kindling a burn that blazed like a wildfire. Her mind scattered. More, she wanted more, but he wouldn’t give it to her. Again and again, the tip of his tongue touched her with no rhythm, no pattern, no way to let her fall into that familiar ride. It took the letters
F, G
and
H
before she realized what he was doing, and her laugh was husky.

“I like your alphabet.”

His echoing laughter accompanied the letter
I
in a way no primer had ever taught.

She shivered. “Oh, I like
I.
”

“Wait until I hit
O
.”

Bastian hit
X, Y
and
Z
and her muscles twitched. He pressed a hard kiss into a thigh then made her jump with a sharp nip. “Pay attention. Class is in session.”

That wonderful letter
I
was followed by an interesting
L.
The
O
raised her hips and the
V
strained her thighs.
E
sent her hands into his hair and she bit her lip through
Y.
Another magnificent
O
tightened her grip and
U
was a bottom heavy swipe of his tongue that ended on a maddeningly slow upswing.

“I love you, too.” Loud, raw and desperately needy, her harsh breath couldn’t hold the depths of the feeling.

“Now, you’re all mine.” The whisper was a warning that came too late, her ears not hearing the words as his mouth closed hard over her clit.

If the alphabet had been an elementary exercise, Bastian more than earned his doctorate. Long broad licks propelled her one way. Wicked, unrelenting curls from the tip of his tongue drove her another. Fast-stinging nips joined with deliberate sucking pulls. Her hips thrust up. Turning her head to the side, she fisted the nylon, trying to find her release. Bastian held it from her, just out of reach, while he took her fast and without mercy, lapping at her, drawing every ounce of pleasure into a tight knot deep inside her.

“Please,” she begged.

He fluttered his tongue too lightly and too softly, turning her pleas to sobs. He dove deep, thrusting his tongue inside her. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. The too-tightly wound coil in her belly shuddered and he captured her clit between firm lips. One unyielding kiss pushed her over.

She vaulted, his name pealing into the air. A single quake broke into a million aftershocks that racked her body. His mouth never slowed, taking her climax as she gave it, with unrestrained passion until it faded to lingering hitches and soft gasps.

The aftermath was hushed, filled with the sounds of nighttime insects, the whispered wind and their ragged breaths. She held out trembling arms and he gladly went there, wrapping around her. Sharing gentle kisses, they wound around each other, legs sliding between legs, skin caressing skin, tongues touching tongues.

When her kisses picked up intensity and she tried to move him above her, Bastian pulled back. He couldn’t leave her completely, he needed her too much, needed to bind them as man and wife too desperately for that. Still, he angled his mouth to her ear and reached out, dragging a backpack closer to the mattress.

“I brought condoms.”

Charlie halted her kisses and looked at him.

Bastian kept his eyes on her face. “Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should. It doesn’t have to be right now.”

Before meant nothing. Things had changed and she deserved a say in how their future played out, when that ultimate gift would be bestowed. Marriage was two people, together.

Her eyes shifted left, toward the backpack. “If we don’t use them tonight, there’s a chance that…?”

“Yes. It’s still small but my numbers are going up and it is possible. I can wait for that. I just want to be with you tonight.”

Her unblinking gaze stayed on the bag. “I’ve never done that.”

“Done what?”

“Not used a condom.” The blue of her eyes shone ocean-deep as she looked into his face. “Never. I’ve always used them. Even my first time. And every time since then.”

Shock rippled through him but he kept his expression blank. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Charlie liked control.

“I don’t want to use them now. I want you to be my first…my only lover without them.”

Love so strong he felt it like a punch slammed into his gut. The idea of being her first roared through him with an awesome power, a primal scream that echoed in his mind. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Her smile started timid but widened to full-force. “If it happens, it happens. We’re in this together, forever. Make love to me.”

Could a kiss be considered an answer? He hoped so because it was all he could give her. Everything else was focused on the need to claim her as no man ever had. It was a chauvinistic, instinctual need that consumed him like fire consumes air.

Their bodies slid together, a sensual friction both timeless and urgent. Sweat glossed their skin and the rich fragrance of them filled the tent. Her knees parted to allow him entry but he didn’t want that, not yet. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled her above him. One hand found her knee and dragged it over his hip. Hot, wet woman brushed his tip, wrenching a moan from his throat.

“Cowgirl, right? I want this to be good for you. So, like this, okay?”

The sweet heat ground down, coating him in honey as her mouth took his. Topping was power and she displayed exactly how much power she had by stealing his breath with the most decadent, possessive kiss he’d ever known. Each erotic glide of her body stroked him—her nipples on his chest, her stomach on his, her slippery folds cradling his shaft. Free to touch her, he ran his fingers up her back, along her sides, cupped her breasts.

Charlie leaned back, offering herself to his mouth and he sucked one nipple deep. Her hips circled more the harder he sucked, the more he licked, the more he nibbled. The long line of her neck shone like cream in the pale lamp light as she dropped her head back, reveling in his mouth. She rode him, rocking along his shaft but never letting him breach that final barrier, never joining them completely. His heart pounded with the force of a cannon. He needed inside her.

“Do it.” The tightly budded nipple glistened from his mouth and he used his teeth to nip at her, to make her gasp above him. “Take me inside you.”

Damn her, she laughed. The sweet tickle of her breath washed over his face. “Impatient?”

“Charlie,” he growled but the growl turned to a gasp as her warmth surrounded his tip. He waited, jaw clenched but she never sank lower. “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”

“One day, maybe. But not now.”

A shift of her hips and slick silk surrounded him in one slow slide. His lungs released in a rush of air. “Oh God.”

She purred. She actually purred like a cat and arched her back, sinking down an inch he hadn’t know existed until not the slightest wisp of air separated them. They fit perfectly. She didn’t move and he never wanted her to. This was heaven on earth, this minute, this second, this bonding that had been years in the making and would last forever.

“You’re hot,” she whispered. “So hot, so hard inside me.”

“For you.”

They kissed, mere lips on lips, each clinging to this union. Then she moved. Heaven got better. He let her set the pace, the depth, the motion but each action was the most exquisite he’d ever imagined. Nothing could ever be better than this, than Charlie, his wife, stroking herself on his length.

How wrong he was.

She used her hands to push up, to sit upright on his hips. He thrust up and she pressed down, he drew back and she arched. A rhythm began, stroking him from inside, each squeeze and release calling to him. A groan died on his tongue.
God, I love Kegels.

“Give me your hands.” She could have his hands anywhere she wanted. He reached up and she took them, lacing her fingers with his. “Now pull your knees up.”

He did, unsure exactly what she wanted but trusting her to show him. The rounded flesh of her ass met his thighs and she tightened her fingers around his.

“Watch me, Bastian. Watch me make love to my husband.”

Charlie leaned back, rested against his thighs and used his hands for leverage. Her feet dug into the mattress as she pushed up then slid down, every inch of where they joined spread open for him. His eyes widened. Glistening in the dim light, his shaft sank inside her creamy folds until he could see nothing but her. Then she did it again. A swallow stuck in his throat as she stretched around him. Every downward motion and every upward climb grabbed at him. He saw her body take him, accept him, love him with each move.

She moaned, a low sultry sound that vibrated deep in his marrow. “I love how you feel inside me, so good.”

He felt damned good inside her. His balls drew up and he couldn’t hold back, thrusting into her motion. She picked up speed, caressing him with her most intimate touch. At the top of her sex, her clit was deep red, pulsing with every down stroke. He pried one hand from hers and circled his thumb across the hard bud. She jumped, clamping her hand on her own knee and her satiny walls gripped him.

The noises she made were a battery charge whipping through him and settling low in his gut. God, she was beautiful—a siren captured at the moment of conquest, with her head thrown back, cheeks flushed and her lips swollen. Her breasts swayed with her movement and he cursed that he didn’t have more hands to cup them while supporting her and rubbing across her clit.

A shudder worked through her body, and tiny goose bumps broke along her skin. She got tighter, little ripples sucking at his buried cock. A meek little mewl peeled from her lips. As orgasms go, that had been a blip, and masculine ego gripped him. He wanted her to fly apart, to shatter wildly and uncontrollably. He grabbed her hips and spun her under him.

“My turn,” he breathed against her mouth.

Her ankles locked at the base of his spine. His first thrust was solid and deep. Her nails biting into his back propelled him and she met him with every stroke. He ground down to tweak her clit with each motion and ground up to slide along the sensitive inner nerves. A mindless feminine chant carrying his name, love, more and harder, filled the night. He gave her all of them.

Driving into her, heedless of anything except the feel of her beneath and surrounding him, Bastian surrendered to pure sensation. Only a whisper-thin thread held him back from taking his own release. He needed her to go first, to take him with her over the peak. The sleeping bag pooled at his feet, and the tent shook from the force of their loving but nothing could pry him from her arms.

There was no warning. One second she moved with him, the next her body went taut. Her thighs clamped on his hips and she screamed a wordless cry of completion. Rhythmic pulses around his shaft surged absolute satisfaction into his blood. She made him feel more of a man than he ever had before in his life, and he unconsciously did something he’d never done.

Throwing his head back, he drove deep and cried her name at the top of his lungs. Liquid heat boiled and rose with a fierce swell. His stomach trembled and his thighs quaked. Climax was both death and rebirth, a cycle that repeated until every ounce of his strength faded.

The echo died slowly, his body relaxing slower. He collapsed, elbows digging into the air mattress to prevent crushing her. She let her legs fall open to cradle him. He laid his damp brow against her shoulder and gulped oxygen, trying to slow his heart rate. Her fingers traced his spine, tender strokes letting him float back to reality.

A shuddering in her inhale jerked his head up. Two teardrops trickled down her cheeks.

“Charlie? What’s wrong?”

“I found it.”

“Found what?”

The open devotion on her face when she met his eyes raced through him.

“My forever place. It’s in your arms.”

About the Author

Inez Kelley lives in the Midwest in a house affectionately called The Brady Bunch place. She spends most of her time in a cramped little office (Alice’s room) surrounded by a multitude of books, a few plastic geckos and her computer. The growing horde of dust bunnies, her children’s request for meals and a never-ending laundry pile vie for her attentions. As a former 911 dispatcher, she is used to calamity and doesn’t get too worried until either someone is bleeding or the fridge is empty. With one teenage daughter and growing twin boys, those things occur regularly.