Words of Lust (15 page)

“Look, I’m not trying to make trouble. My property was damaged but I’m not looking for compensation for it. I’m just trying to save you shit down the line. If anyone else has damage to their vehicles or if this escalates and gets inside, you can be looking at a lot of lawsuits, my friend. My brother’s in security. He’s willing to give you a good deal and I’m paying for the upgrades on my own place. Look at it this way, it’ll look great for potential tenants coming to look at the vacant lofts you’ve got.” He finally got the guy to agree to see Berto at the building the next day to set up exterior surveillance and tighten building security, and then breathed a heavy sigh. There was not a damn thing he could do about Boxer except wait for the bastard to show himself. When he did? The man would be sorry he’d ever fucked with them.

He’d just wrapped up his last call when Serafina appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, she looked like sweet sin itself. All he could do was drink her in. He wanted to keep her staying with him for as long as possible so he’d be able to watch over her. Eventually he’d have to break the news of Boxer to her, but he wanted her fully recuperated before he hit her with that shitty information. She would be furious that he’d kept it from her, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. But protecting her was only part of the reason. They could relax and get to know each other without pressure if they had more time together. He just plain loved having her with him, smelling her on his pillow, seeing her in his place. Besides, he couldn’t keep his hands off her and if he could, he would keep her in bed and fuck her every minute of every day. The few times they’d made love made him ravenous for more and reading those damned books of hers was like throwing gasoline on a fire.

She smiled. His cock twitched.

“Feel better?

“Much. But I seem to remember the promise of a massage?”

“Make yourself at home. Just stretch out on the towel on the bed.”

“Yes, Master!” She strolled over to the bed, hips twitching beneath the towel until she pulled it off and stretched out on it.

Her joking response got him hot.

“You know, I’m not one of those ‘kiss my feet, slave’ kind of guys, but having you tied to my bed, all helpless and at my mercy, while I do any wicked thing I want? That is the stuff of wet dreams.” She blushed like crazy, but he was going to have his hands all over her, and if he had his way, he’d persuade her that being at his mercy was a very good thing.

In college, he’d taken a course in physical therapy to satisfy a phys ed requirement. He’d learned all about therapeutic massage and now he was eager to put those old skills to very good use. He took out the jar of the family’s salve recipe for aches and bruises. It was made from eucalyptus and chamomile and his grandmother always had it in her house when they were teenagers. He still got a jar of it from her for Christmas every year and it would be perfect. She said it was the scent and healing properties of the eucalyptus and the sweet, calming aroma of the chamomile that did the trick, but whatever the secret was, The Professor would be putty in his hands.

He was determined to get her so relaxed she’d lower more of those barriers. He wanted her to keep talking to him, telling him what she wanted. He wanted her to open up about the rest of her life too. Like why she had such a bug up her ass about letting him look out for her. There was a lot more behind that gorgeous face and innocent green eyes. So far there’d only been hints, but he was determined to know it all.

He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at her lying naked and waiting for him to touch her. Trying to avoid the sight of the brutal bruising on her back, he focused instead on her ass. Round, soft, perfect globes, complete with dimples above each check. And legs that were long, lush, and pure beauty. He was letting himself in for some serious torture, but what a way to go.

“Ready to be impressed?” He took a deep breath, adjusted his hardening cock in his sweats and rubbed some salve on his hands.

“The jury’s still out. I’ll get back to you.” With her face against the bedspread, her voice was muffled, but she sounded amused.

Nothing he loved better than a challenge. He’d work her until she was begging to be fucked. Then he’d make her come until she screamed.

Chapter Eleven

She’d been a wreck for twenty-four hours. The accident, the hospital, pain, fear and desolation had sucked her dry. Then Nick had come bursting into the ER, kissed her, taken charge, and she’d fallen in love. Right there, lying on a gurney in a hospital gown. In the moment when she met his eyes and recognized the terror in them was fear for her. He’d gently bullied her into coming home with him, he’d comforted her, cared for her and had offered her a rock to cling to in the midst of the chaos. He’d made her feel protected and safe. And loved.

Loved.

He said he cared. But his actions spoke of so much more.

Now she lay there with her eyes closed as turbulent thoughts and emotions swirled around in her brain.

Then he touched her.

The soft, sweet scent of the rub he was using filled the air as he gently began to stroke one foot. His fingers were firm but soothing. The slide of the ointment was silken and lovely. After working one foot, then the other, he moved his hands to her ankles, then her calves. Every stroke was like a sensual command to her body to respond, and respond it did. His fingers stroked and kneaded. He dug into the muscles of her calves until they felt like jelly.

She was floating, feeling delightfully pliant beneath the rhythmic strokes until he slid his hands up and up one thigh and suddenly she was awash in an entirely different, much hotter, sensation. Without being able to see him, with only the feeling of his hands, the anticipation of each touch, of wondering whether he would move farther up her thigh, made her ache for more. She wanted to beg him to go where she so desperately needed it.

“So don’t you get horny reading all those dirty books of yours, what with all that frigging and fucking and paddling?” The gruff, lewd words made her hotter.

“Mmm, I guess. Sometimes.” She was glad her face was against the cover. It had to be bright with her blush.

“So how often do you masturbate?”

“What?” He stroked one cheek of her ass and a sting flared in her still-tender flesh. The small pain shot right to her core.

“Talk to me or there will be punishment.”

“When I feel like it.”

“Often, in other words.”

“Yes. Sometimes I really need it.”

“Hungry, huh?”

“Yes.”

He began to squeeze his hands more firmly on the flesh of her thighs. His fingers moved tantalizingly close to her slickness.

“Tell me more.”

“More about...what?”

“What’s your favorite way? A toy, or your hand? Maybe you’re really kinky like those ladies I see in Food Emporium. The ones who are kind of...stroking the zucchinis. Fondling the cucumbers. Imagining how deep they can get them inside.”

“My vibrator is best if I don’t have long.” She was breathing rapidly and her clit throbbed.

“Getting off on the fly, you mean?” He kneaded her flesh, moving farther up her thighs, and she arched. “You like how that feels, Professor?” His voice was taut and heated. It seemed he was as affected as she was. One hand slid between her thighs and brushed her wetness. She moaned.

“Guess it feels good?”

“Nick...” She wanted to beg him to touch her, to stroke her, to slide those fingers inside her, slick and hot.

“Do you ever just fuck yourself with one of those pretty hands of yours? Try to fill yourself with your fingers and imagining it’s a big, hot cock fucking you?”

“Yes.”

He moved his hands up, cupping the cheeks of her ass, kneading, stroking. His thumbs slid between them, and as he touched her there her cunt ached. One thumb stroked the rosebud of her anus once, then again. Her body was no longer relaxed, it was quivering.

“Hot, Professor? I hope so, but I’m not nearly done with you.”

Again and again he stroked one finger over the tight entrance, occasionally teasing her with a bit more pressure.

“What about fantasies? One of those really raunchy ones? Do you like those?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me your fantasy.”

“I can’t.” Her tipsy experience after book group, when she’d felt brazen enough to share the details of what they’d talked about, did not translate to an up-close-and-in-person sexual confessional.

“Yes, you can.” He pushed one finger lower between her legs and slid it between the puffy lips of her pussy. Pushed it forward, into her, then pulled it back and slid her wetness up to her ass again. She wallowed in the carnality of it all and just let go.

“I’m Lady Chatterley. I’ve fallen under the spell of my gamekeeper. It’s a warm summer day and I’m stifled, lonely. I want to run away. It’s so cold and my husband doesn’t touch me. No one touches me. No one makes me feel alive. I’m in the garden, far from the house, looking up at the sun and imagining I’m somewhere else. Somewhere beautiful. Then he comes to me. He’s so large and strong and his skin is warm from the sun and dark with tan. He doesn’t hesitate. There are no pleasantries, no reticence. He walks right up to me and takes me in his arms.”

He squeezed the cheeks of her ass, then again and again. Each touch was more forceful and intense. He kneaded her flesh but it began to be more, as his touch grew harder. Moisture overflowed from her cunt and dripped out of her. Pulling and pushing at her cheeks, exposing her anus, he blew a warm breath across her and she gasped. Then he slid his thumb between her cheeks and pushed through the puckered hole, until his thumb entered her. She whimpered.

“Then what happens?”

She couldn’t focus, but when she didn’t respond, he stopped moving, leaving her desperate for more of his touch.

“He’s not gentle. He’s so close to me. He walks right up to me until I can feel the heat of his body, smell the sweat on him, see it. He takes me by the wrist and pulls me away, back, farther from the house until we’re in a secluded glade, all grass and flowers. Then he takes off my clothes. He doesn’t speak, just begins removing everything I’m wearing.”

“How does that feel?”

“I’m scared and embarrassed, but then he looks at me and I can’t think anymore and all I want is for him to be naked too. Once I’m undressed, he touches me. He touches my breasts, he fondles them, pinches them. Then he smiles and puts his mouth on one. He licks and sucks and bites. He bites me until I’m squirming and then he sucks on my nipples. Harder and harder, one and then the other. I’m begging for more but he’s still standing there, dressed.”

He stroked his fingers back and forth, pushing into her ass. Her mind whirled.

“Keep talking.”

“I try to pull away but he takes hold of my hair. He pulls my head back and then kisses me, hard. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and I can taste him. Salty from the sweat and the ale from his lunch. I can’t breathe, but I want more, I want him to choke me with his tongue. Kiss me so hard I can’t think. Then he stops. He takes off his clothes. His gaze never leaves my face and he looks ravenous, as though he’s going to devour me. When he’s naked I can’t help but stare. I knew he would be powerfully strong, muscled from his labors, but his body is almost frightening. So large, so big, he makes me feel so tiny and powerless. I am almost afraid—afraid of what he could do to me if he chose. Then he takes my hand and he makes me touch him.”

“He makes you touch his cock.”

“Yes. His cock. So huge, so hard and so hot I’m afraid it might burn me. He squeezes my hand and it doesn’t fit around him. He smiles and it’s something dark and feral and dangerous. But it is so wickedly seductive he makes me want the worst he can do to me. Then he takes my wrists and pulls me down, pushes me down, and he straddles me. He takes my wrists and holds them over my head and then I’m underneath him. He’s on top of me, so heavy it’s hard to breathe, but I want it. I love the feel of him heavy and powerful, covering me.”

With the fingers of his other hand he began to thrust in and out of her. Slowly, infinitesimally, then deeper until she could feel her flesh part for her, clutch around him. Two fingers deeper and deeper and then he started circling her clit with his callused thumb. It felt incredible against the tightening little nub. All the nerve endings twitching as he rubbed it again and again. Like sandpaper over her. Then he stopped and she moaned.

“No, please!”

“I’ll make you come when you finish your fantasy.”

“So cruel!”

“Yes, I am. Keep talking.” His hands stroked her buttocks, then slid up over her waist, and he began to knead her shoulder, avoiding the injured one. Then he traced his fingers up and down her spine, repeatedly, rhythmically, in an intoxicating slowness that made her feel drunk with sexual hunger.

“Then he—he pushes my legs apart. Uses his thighs to spread my legs until I’m exposed, I can’t hide myself from him. He can see my flesh.”

“He can see your pussy, can’t he? Are you wet for him? Can he smell how hot and horny you are?”

“God, yes, he smiles and with one hand he takes hold of himself.”

“His cock.”

“Yes, he takes hold of his cock. God, it is so big and he’s going to put it inside me, he’s going to...fuck me with it.”

“And you want him to fuck you, don’t you? You want him to fuck you hard. Harder than you’ve ever been fucked. You want him to make you beg and scream. Don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I want him inside me. But then he begins to enter me and it feels like fire. Like I’m going to be ripped apart by him. But he won’t stop, he doesn’t stop. I beg him please, don’t, no, but he won’t. He pushes and pushes, then harder, forcing himself deeper and deeper into me. It won’t fit, it can’t, he’s too big, but he keeps going deeper, then thrusting, hard. Harder. He’s grunting and ramming himself into me until he’s do deep I can’t feel anything but the sensation of his cock so deep inside me. He’s fucking me. He’s strong and powerful and he rocks me back every time he buries himself inside me. I want to scream. I want more. I’m crazy with it.”

Now Nick finger fucked her harder and harder as she breathlessly detailed her fantasy. She could barely get the words out but when she paused for breath, he stopped. It was like a drug. She had to keep talking like a twisted Arabian Nights tale—if she stopped her story she wouldn’t get to come. Then he pulled his fingers away and put them on her hips, urging her to turn.

“Roll over.”

Desperately she did. She looked up at him and he was her fantasy gamekeeper come to life. Black hair nestling on his naked shoulders. Powerful muscles bunching in his arms and chest. His look pierced through her and the hunger on his face mirrored her own. Then, like an echo of her tale, he reached up to her breasts, taking one in each hand, and he began to fondle them. Firmly, he squeezed and played them until her nipples ached. He ran his palms over them, then down across her stomach. He spread his hands at her waist and they were wide enough that he could reach to grasp her hips. Last he rubbed his palm across the mound of her belly, over her curls, and then he cupped her between her legs. Where she was hot and throbbing, his hand covered her. He squeezed her and smiled down at her with a hard smile of possession and satisfaction. His work-roughened palms abraded her weeping flesh as he rubbed, back and forth, relentless until she whimpered and twisted beneath him.

“Finish.”

Dragging a breath, she began again. “He grabs my ankle and forces my leg over his shoulder. Now he can pump harder. Go deeper. He’s like a machine and I can’t make him stop, I can’t escape, all I can do is feel his cock driving into me again and again.”

His fingers slid into her. Thick and insistent. Two, then three. He was no longer gentle or slow. He was forceful. Pushing her, driving her.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes, please, Nick, I want to come.”

“Finish and I’ll make you come.”

“It’s all I can do not to scream. I’m overwhelmed and possessed by him. He makes sounds like an animal. Harsh, urgent, guttural. He says things—he tells me he’s going to fuck me every day. He’s going to take me wherever he wants to. He’ll keep me naked and tied down so he can stick his cock in me whenever he wants. Oh God, Nick!”

With a pinch of her clit he sent her into orgasm. She came and when she did, he smiled that same smile her fantasy lover had smiled. One of possession and satisfaction and unquenchable hungers.

“I told you I’d make you come.”

The buzzer rang.

She tensed. He sat up and muttered a curse.

The buzzer rang again.

“Those freakin’ kids! I’m going to kill them if I get my hands on them.”

The mood rudely shattered, she rolled over, tightened the bath towel around her and bolted off the bed. She had no idea what he was yelling about, but she didn’t want to be caught in a lethargic, nearly orgasmic and, of course, naked, state.

“Hello?” His tone was testy as he punched the button on the intercom.

“Hi, honey. It’s Mom. Cara and I are here to check up on Serafina.”

“Holy shit.” He threw her a desperate glance over his shoulder.

“Go, go, I’m fine. I’ll change in the bathroom! Wait—clothes?”

“Put on my T-shirt and I’ll get you some drawstring shorts. They’re the only thing I’ve got that might stay up. I’ll tell them you just got out of the bath.”

“Fine, fine.” She scurried back into the bathroom to hide while he welcomed his mother and sister. Mortified didn’t begin to describe her state at being caught almost in flagrante delicto with him. No, to be precise, she’d almost been caught with his fingers inside her while she begged for more. Fortunately, her hair was still damp so maybe the bath story would be believable.

“Here.” Red-faced and frustrated, he stuck his head into the bathroom and tossed her a pair of sport shorts. Tying the baggy pants as tightly as she could, she looked in the mirror and grimaced. The perfect outfit to impress her lover’s mom.

She could hear them talking and laughing but couldn’t work up the nerve to come out until finally Cara called her.

“Coming.” She emerged, determined to pretend everything was perfectly normal.

“Serafina! You poor thing, look at your beautiful face.” Mrs. Stellato rushed forward and wrapped her in a hug that hurt her shoulder, but the gesture was so touching she held back her groan.

“How do you feel?” Cara waddled over, huffing and puffing, and reached out to hold her hand.