Fall Into Love (Simone: Part One Naughty Nookie Series) (5 page)

 
As soon as the silk
has settled there, I lift a leg and cock it over his hip.  His
fingers grip the soft flesh of my thigh and he drags me closer and
closer still.  Within seconds, urging my other leg upwards,
and settling me so that my entire body weight is being carried by
him.   Not for one minute do I wonder if he’ll drop
me.  Nor do I question if I’m too heavy for him.  The
size of the erection nudging me right where it counts tells me all
I need to know. 

 
I arch my hips,
jerking my cloth-covered pussy against the ridge of his dick. 
His trousers are still a barrier, as are my panties, but for a few
endless minutes, our hips jerk against each other.  There’s no
smooth seduction about this, nothing practiced or full of
artifice.  This is raw.  Desperate.  Needy. 
And I’m not alone.  He feels the same; I can sense it and in a
way, it helps me relax, because I don’t have to hide the way he
makes me feel. 

And the way I feel is incredible.  With
this little-known man, a relative stranger, I feel like a thousand
fireworks have been ignited in my heart and the sparks are sizzling
down through the labyrinth of my veins and arteries so that every
part of me is affected. 

With my mouth clasped to
his, the whimpers and moans escaping me are barely audible. 
He swallows each and every one as he ravages my mouth, his tongue
almost battling my own as our sexes collide and ride along the
other.  With each bump of his cock against my pussy, I feel
like my insides are imploding.  My fingers claw, the nails
digging into his now-bare shoulders and raking downwards as the
pressure has me on the point of bursting.  I want to scream,
want his hand
̶
or even
my
hand would suffice
̶
down there, bringing me to
release. 

His mouth pulls free of my
own and latches on to my throat, where he suckles the flesh and
rakes it between his teeth.  Finally able to speak, to voice
my needs, I find myself unable to utter a word.  Only sounds
burst free from my throat and had this ravenous creature not
overtaken me at some point, I think I’d have been embarrassed to
hear the noises coming from me.  The guttural grunts and
broken mewls make me sound like a sex-mad harlot, but God help me,
for this moment in time, that’s just what I am. 

“
Please.  Please.” Eventually I find my voice and a low
growl barks free from him; I’m pulled from the wall and even though
I’m half out of my mind with the need to fuck, with the need to
cum, a part of me marvels at his strength.  Not one grunt of
‘
Shit, this bitch is
heavy
,’ escapes him.  He carries me
as though I’m as light as a bag of feathers and within seconds, I’m
transported to the bedroom and being pressed on to the
bed. 

He breaks free from the tangled hold of my
arms about his body and the lights suddenly blare on.  I’ve
never been a fan of sex in the light.  I’ve too many
imperfections to enjoy having them held under the spotlight, but
with this guy, I don’t care.  I feel like a sex goddess to his
sex god and I’m going to enjoy every damn minute of it. 

With his eyes on me, I arch my back and feel
the looseness of my dress along my shoulders.  Realizing he’s
unzipped me without my really knowing it, I pull the thick straps
down and bare my bra-fettered breasts to his gaze.  Still with
his eyes glued to me, I unhook the front clasp and release my
breasts from the cups.  The sound of his breathing is suddenly
very loud in the room and I look up at him and notice his erection
is pulsing a little bit stronger with his arousal.  It’s
playing peek-a-boo with his fly.  Now I see it and now I
don’t.  But I’m obsessed with it.  My eyes are glued to
his dick and my body is silently preparing itself for such a
massive intrusion.    

And hell, he’s already double the size of my
ex.  The thought of having every inch of Zane’s dick inside me
is enough to have me feeling both panicked and lust-fuelled. 
I want him to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before and
perhaps he spies that in my eyes, because he cups his cock,
dragging it fully out of his fly, before slowly dragging down his
chinos and kicking out of them. 

Stood before me with no clothes on, my pulse
rockets into the stratosphere.  This man should not wear
clothes.  To deny any female the privilege of drooling over
him is a crime against nature. 

Rippling muscles scored with ink, cut glass
sinews marked with his battle scars, olive-tinted flesh gleaming
with good health.  And a cock that has my pussy pulsing with
need. 

I’ve watched porn with Marina and Eddie; a
bowl of popcorn between us as we tilt our heads to get a hold on
all the angles and this man, definitely, without a doubt, belongs
in a porn flick. 

Wow. 

He jolts me out of my stupor by grabbing the
skirt of my dress and pulling it down over my hips and legs,
leaving me in my strappy shoes and panties.  Thank fuck, I’m
wearing my sole pair of bikini panties and not the high-waisters I
usually wear; mostly because they’re cheap and this underwear set
was a present from Eddie a Christmas or so ago. 

I don’t care that it’s
weird my friends buy me this kind of stuff. My poverty isn’t of
interest at the moment. I’m just relieved to be wearing something
sexier than granny panties!  Next time I see Eddie, she’s
going to get a
thank you
kiss, too.

In fact, screw it. I’m going to snog
both women.

Mona’s got her groove back.

Woohoo!

With my insides doing a celebratory jiggle,
Zane’s body is doing some reacting of its very own. His cock flexes
and twitches as he looks at me, imperfections and all.  And
for that moment, I feel on fire, because this man wants me. 
He actually wants me. 

He crouches a little to grab my feet and
tugs me forward.  His fingers grip the sides of my panties
when he leans over me, and they follow the same path as my
dress.  On the floor, they go.  His hands cup my feet and
slowly, he spreads my legs. 

Knowing where this is heading has excitement
fluttering around my belly.  As soon as my legs are fully
parted, he bends them at the knee and presses down so that I’m
completely spread, wide open for his gaze, and for his touch. 
He proceeds to bend down, and the first puff of air against my
pussy has my back arching. 

I’m an inch away from an orgasm. 

Maybe not even that much.

A half-inch.

If I’m lucky. 

Or unlucky.  Whichever way you look at
it.   

That slight gust of air from the gentle
stream he directs along the length of my pussy has every inch of me
quivering and gooseflesh coursing over my body like a tidal
wave.

The first lick, that slight flicker of his
tongue against my clit has me shuddering, quaking internally. 
The moist muscle against the steadily growing slickness of my sex
creates a soundtrack of its own.  It should have embarrassed
me; but as his lips and tongue slide through my pussy lips and down
to the entrance of my body, I feel anything but
embarrassment. 

I feel alive.

For the first time in my
life, I
am
alive. 

The tip of his tongue rims
the sodden entrance, his teeth tug and pull at the labia, and his
nose
̶
yes, dear
God, his
nose
̶
nudges my clit. 

My hands alternate between
gripping the sheets and reaching for his head and shoulders,
holding him against me.  Slight muffled chuckles penetrate the
haze of my pre-orgasmic bliss but I’m way too gone to give a damn
he’s laughing at me.  I’m just focused on what his mouth is
doing. 

And then, it
comes. 
I
cum.  At that moment, I realize that the little bursts
of pleasure I’ve found with myself and my own hand are nothing in
comparison to the explosion that can occur with the right man. God
help me, but this man
is
the right man. 

The thought and the sensation pummel me with
their power.  Like a hundred punches to my head, body and sex,
I feel as though I’m being dragged through an assault course, but
rather than feel the agony of such a beating, I feel
delirious.  My head is spinning; I’m almost light-headed, a
brink away from my eyes fluttering shut to pass out or fall asleep,
I’m not sure which. 

And then, it’s there.  He’s
there.  His cock.  Sliding through my pussy lips, nudging
my already drunken clit and then pushing through the slight
resistance of my sex to be welcomed by tight, slick walls of
still-pulsing, post-orgasmic heat. 

As he penetrates me, the fingers of his left
hand are tugging at my nipple, pinching it mostly.  I’d prefer
a light suckle, maybe a play of teeth and tongue, but with my dazed
gaze, I can see the level of concentration on his face. 

At his temple, there are beads of sweat and
a pulsing vein.  His eyes are focused on the area of our
joining, something that encourages me to look as well. 

As I do, my pussy quivers and the walls
clench down on him, gripping him within their snug clasp.  The
move has him groaning and gritting his teeth.  Spying his
size, gauging it in comparison to my relatively inexperienced sex,
his caution is appreciated. 

In comparison to my ex’s
hotdog wiener, Zane’s cock is enormous.  The only reason I’m
not on the brink of panic is the fact that I’m far too relaxed and
sated after my orgasm.  Plus, that powerful image of the
flushed flesh of his cock, with its slight pulse as his arousal
beats him hard; against the almost raw pink of my pussy… it’s
hotter than any porn I’ve ever seen in my life.  It’s intense,
real, and as thrilling as all hell. 

Apparently Zane is accustomed to inciting
terror into the hearts of most women.  Let them climax first
and then they won’t run away in terror at his size…  That’s
his plan of attack and I’m mighty appreciative of it.  

All my mind
and
my pussy is capable
of, is feeling.  At this moment in time, as discomforting as
his size is, I’m feeling fantastic. 

It seems to take an age for him to penetrate
me fully.  His hips rock back and forth, back and forth until
he’s all the way in.  Any bliss I felt has wavered slightly as
he butts the throat of my womb, but it still feels too damn good to
complain.  Seeming to realize my quandary of emotion and
sensation, he places his hands either side of my head and leans
over, joining our mouths together. 

The move does two things. 
Inadvertently, it nudges him deeper until I feel as though I can
taste him at the back of my throat, but it also takes my mind off
the fact that every inch of my pussy has been claimed by
him. 

With our mouths joined, he begins to thrust
his hips.  Slowly impaling me on his shaft and then quickly
retreating, ramming into me only to pull all the way out. 
Keeping me entirely on edge has my body leaping toward another
orgasm.  No thrust is ever the same until finally; he reaches
between us and pinches my clit.

And he hits a home run.  The ball soars
out of the park and my minute amount of baseball trivia flies out
with it.    

As do I. 

I’m out for the count. 

Yeehaw!

Three               

“
Wow.”

The first words to leave my lips are hardly
profound, but I’m capable of little else.

When I think of what I’ve experienced in the
past and what I’ve done tonight, I want to curse my ex for ruining
sex for me. 

My mind wanders to
memories of being buried under the sheets as Dan rutted away on top
of me, uncaring of my pleasure, only of his own.  Then I
compare it to tonight.  Zane, a stranger, laid me bare to his
gaze in ways that my husband of four years didn’t.  He saw,
tasted, and touched what feels like every part of
me. 

And what’s better, his softening, limp cock
is still inside me.  Just.  It’s less terrifying in this
state, less enormous, but still, pretty damned
impressive. 

At my inarticulate murmur of wonder, Zane
chuckles.  I’m pleased to say that he sounds a little hoarse
himself. 

On my back, with him on top of me, I stare
up at the ceiling.  What do I spy?  Nothing less than a
damn mirror!  A laugh bubbles up inside me, but it fades away
as I note the differences between us. 

His lean length of olive perfection compared
to my pale and peaky white skin.  The short tight waves of
black hair compared to my strawberry blonde, tangled waist-length
locks.  His face is pressed against my breast; a light stubble
bristles against the tender flesh, but in the mirror, with his head
turned to the side, I can see his eyes are open. 

The comparison between us is immense.

I’m light to his dark. Day to his
night. 

Lifting a hand, I raise it to his head and
run my fingers through his hair.  It’s soft and thick and
tickles the tips of my digits.  “I don’t usually do this, you
know.”

“
I know.  Me
neither.”

Unable to help myself, I snort.  “Yeah,
right.  I’m sure!”

He turns his face to press his forehead
between my breasts.  “You’ve no idea how infrequently this
occurs.”

“
Seriously?” I ask, unable
to believe it.  A nasty thought pops into my head.  “You
are single, right?  I should have asked that before. 
You’re not married?  You don’t have a wife and kids?” 
Dammit, this is another reason I don’t do one-night
stands.