Heavy Issues (11 page)

“I’m not the most patient man around. You’re going to have to start wearing something more accessible,” he said as his gaze held hers, tempted to just rip the undergarment and be done with it.

She must have seen his intention in his eyes, because she hurried.

She stepped away from him and quickly shimmied out of her underwear, offering him a view that all but stopped his heart. Man, if she wiggled her ass like that one more time, he was so going to fuck it.

The last stitch of clothing fell to the floor, and she was finally naked. She tried to turn around and move away from the mirror, but he brought her back to him and plastered his chest on her back, his hungry gaze eating her up.

She averted her glance and covered her breast with her hands. So prim, so ladylike…so pointless in the big scheme of things. His dick was now the self-appointed ruler of the known universe, and he didn’t care for anything prim or ladylike. Actually, ladylike made him behave more like a marauder.

“No way,” he said, removing her hands from her body and keeping them at her sides.

Jesus, she was sexy. Curvy. Soft to his hardness, as she should be.

“Look up, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous. Perfect.”

He brushed her nipples. They were hard and puckered. He’d known she was stacked, but with keeping her breasts in those stiff, hard cups and all, he hadn’t realized how plump and soft they were. He cupped the underside of them, carefully hefting them in his hands. Glorious. He hated the hardness of silicone tits, how unnatural they felt to the touch. Not these; these were big, soft, mouthwatering, homegrown tits that he could squeeze and pet to his heart’s content without fearing they’d explode on him.

“Your tits are the stuff of fantasies.”

She shrugged. He wanted his lips on those beauties, but that would have to wait. While he pinched and rolled her nipples with one hand, he moved the other down to her pussy, pushing one finger in her. She arched, the walls of her cunt pulsing around him. It was driving him insane how responsive she was, how amazingly good she felt. He gritted his teeth. At this rate he was going to need massive dental work by the time he got laid.

“You’re small.” Pity he couldn’t come inside her. With her dripping wet from her lube and his semen, he could slide in easier, but he never fucked without a condom—ever. Anyone who did was a brain-dead idiot, and he wasn’t about to join that gang.

“I’m not,” she said in a retort.

He looked at her, puzzled. She was curvy, with full breasts and round hips, but in no way big. Or fat, which was what she was probably implying.

“Yes, you’re small,” he insisted, nuzzling her throat. “Compared to me, you’re just a tiny scrap of a thing. Besides, I meant here,” he said, sinking a second finger into her, her snug muscles right away clamping around him. “You see? Small and snug as a fist.” She was hot and wet, swollen from her previous orgasm, but she wasn’t ready for him. He wanted to bury himself balls-deep in her, and she had to be wetter.

Eyeing the dresser on his left, which was the perfect height for her to perch that sweet ass of hers on, he backed her to it, sank to his knees in front of her, and pressed his face against her sex.

“What? No, no!” she shrieked, chest heaving, her glittering eyes frantic.

Ignoring her panicked reaction, he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder.

“Yes. Eyes on me. Watch me eat you.”

She squirmed, but with her hips pinned against the dresser, she had nowhere to go. Keeping her swollen folds wide open with his thumbs, he had to stop a second to take her in. Damn, she was pretty. Soft and slick, with that little clit tight and pulsing, and the dark pink hole of her sex begging to be filled, glistening with that honey he was dying to taste. Hungrily he slid his tongue from her opening to her clit and back down.

“You’ve come on my fingers. Now you’ll come in my mouth.”

He ran his mouth over her folds, sucking them, gently dragging his teeth over her clit and thoroughly licking and lapping her slit. Her taste was intoxicating. Sweet, but darker, a hint of spices in it. He loved it.

As he ate her, Christy’s agitated words slowly entered his fogged brain. She was trying to push him away. “Cole, stop this. I don’t…I don’t like it.”

He lifted his head, perplexed. “What do you mean you don’t like it? You don’t like oral sex?” Because she was soaking wet. Had he read her body signals wrong?

She shook her head, her face distraught. “No, it’s not that. I do like oral sex. I just…I don’t like it like this,” she said, trying in vain to close her legs. She eyed the spotlights and then the mirror, which reflected an image of the both of them bathed in bright lights, her buck naked, her legs spread, her sex puffy, him totally dressed, with his lips glistening from her juices. “So…so…”

Then it dawned on him. “Ah. So exposed, you mean. Right?”

She gulped and licked her lips. “Yeah.” Her voice was barely there.

“Tough shit,” he told her harshly. “Deal with it.”

He wouldn’t apologize for doing what worked for her. She had to be exposed and out of her comfort zone to come the way he needed her to come. She better get used to the fact that sex with him would never be polite or gentlemanly. It would be wet, sweaty, and nasty, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He restrained her wrists with his hands, and holding her thighs open with his forearms, he intensified his onslaught. She tried to fight him, but he didn’t budge or ease up. Stiffening his tongue, he entered her and fucked her with it, his nose pressing against her clit. Suddenly her whole body tensed, and she choked out a broken sob as she began coming in his mouth, her muscles spasming wildly with an intensity that startled him.

With the blood madly pounding in his shaft, his muscles straining, he rose, suited up in record time, and, wrapping his arm around her waist, pressed her face-first against the mirror.

“Brace yourself on the mirror, sweetheart,” he ordered and pressed the head of his cock against her, using the last of her contractions to enter her, which sent her into a second, sharper orgasm that sucked him deeper into her sweet depths and literally blew his head off. Jesus fucking Christ, maybe she was right, maybe he should tone down this shit before she gave him a massive coronary. Nah, screw it. Great way to go.

He watched, mesmerized, at the sex goddess in the mirror, eyes glazed, body shuddering in release. He wanted to stay still, ride it out before hammering into her, but he was too far gone. With a hard growl, he slammed into her from behind, parting her convulsing flesh even farther, thrusting deep and hard while he gripped her hips. God, it was like pushing through a velvet fist.

He understood that this level of raw, pounding enthusiasm probably wasn’t the greatest idea for their first time, but he was unable to stop himself, and before even being fully seated in her, he exploded in her. He came and came, squeezed to death by the hottest, tightest pussy he’d ever been in.

* * * *

Christy woke up alone. She didn’t need visual confirmation of that. She could feel it in her bones. Cole’s force field was impossible to miss. Legs wobbly, she stood up and tried to walk. This was what “well loved” meant. Or rather “well fucked.” She was going to be sore for a month at least.

She wrapped a blanket around herself and went in search of him, a bit apprehensive she'd fallen sleep in his bed. She shouldn’t have, but she’d been so exhausted. Cole didn’t seem to know the meaning of cuddling and resting between bouts of sex. With him it was a long, seamless string of bed acrobatics.

She found him sitting on the living room couch, typing at a laptop on the table, the glow of the screen illuminating his stark face, his body a huge expanse of hard, taut muscle with thick, long veins running along his limbs.

He turned to her, and his eyes flared, dark and intent.

Suddenly feeling nervous and self-conscious, as if she’d bitten off more than she could chew and was now about to find out how it felt to choke on it, she cleared her throat and wrapped the blanket tighter. “Hi.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at her, immobile, his face unreadable.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, feeling like an ass. He probably wanted her out of there. She’d probably run him out of his bed.

Still no answer.

She signaled toward the front door. “Hmm, do you want me to go?”

He leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Does it look like that to you, sweetheart?”

She looked into his lap, and her eyes opened wide. He had a massive erection.

All the men she knew needed ten hours’ sleep and a full breakfast the next day before even attempting to get frisky again, especially after coming so many times. Hell, many of them would have had to be rushed to the ER to be treated for dehydration, for Christ’s sake.

“Hmm…Cole?” She stared at his groin. “Are you on Viagra or something? Because those pills are dangerous. I know of someone who lost sight temporarily in his right eye from a Viagra overdose. Something to do with the rise in blood pressure that has your eyes popping out—literally.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Thanks for the visual, sweetheart, but no, I’m not on Viagra. This is my normal state since you moved here.”

“If you don’t want me to leave already, why are you sitting here instead of…?” Surely he could have come to get her from the bed.

He shrugged. “I figured you’d be sore, and I didn’t want to overdo it. I can’t seem to manage to be around you without wanting to fuck you.”

“I’m not sore…much.”

He wiggled a finger at her. “Come here.” My, that obey-me-or-else tone again.

Holding the blanket carefully, she went to him. For a second she considered the benefit of going on her knees in front of him and taking him into her mouth, but she chickened out.

He lowered her to his lap, arranging her legs to straddle him, and studied her in silence, his intense gaze making her so uncomfortable she had to break eye contact. She looked around. Dark wood. Stainless steel. High ceilings, big windows. The place was masculine, functional. It suited him perfectly. “You have a beautiful home, Cole.”

He still said nothing.

Her gaze traveled over him. He was just breathtaking. She reached toward him and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. He’d had a buzz cut when she’d first come to Alden, but in the last months it’d grown a bit, giving him a roguish look that was completely at odds with his otherwise severe demeanor. Encouraged by his stillness, she brushed her fingers over his lips, then his sexy stubble, which was responsible for those whisker burns on her inner thighs and breasts, and then moved down to his chest, marveling at how warm and hard he was, how his bulging muscles flexed and tightened under her touch.

She hadn’t had many opportunities to touch him during the night because he’d made sure her hands were either holding on for dear life or in his grip. Cole hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was into control. He’d taken her in many positions, but they all had one thing in common: he was in charge, her movements were restricted, and he kept her at arm’s length, holding her down with his arms or his weight, never letting her invade his space.

She hadn’t been allowed to explore him, and she wanted to.

“What are those?” she asked, gesturing at some old scars he had on his left shoulder and pecs.

“Shrapnel.” As she made contact with the dotted, scarred tissue, he grabbed her hand and stilled her. Time was up. He was back in charge.

She wanted to ask about the scars, but his closed expression wasn’t too inviting.

Christy glanced toward the computer. “Are you working?”

“I have several business meetings on Monday out of state, and I leave later today. I was just checking the arrangements.”

Oops, there went reality, putting a lid on her sex life now that she had one.

“Ah…I see,” she mumbled, trying to cover her disappointment.

“Plenty to do today and tomorrow, but I’ll be back by Tuesday.”

“If you’re busy, I can…” she said, making the gesture to get off him.

“Forget that.” He reached over her and closed the laptop. “Get this blanket off you.”

She nibbled at her lower lip, uncertain. Dawn was approaching, and the sky was already turning gray. Plus the drapes were open. After the lightfest in the hallway, it seemed kind of silly, but still. Men were more agreeable and ready to overlook flaws while in the midst of a sexual frenzy and not the morning after.

He scowled. “I’ve already seen all of you. Get the blanket off, or I will.”

His tone didn’t leave room for negotiating, and damn if his domineering manner didn’t make her wet.

She unraveled herself slowly, embarrassed and a bit hesitant, the blanket bunching at her thighs. He reached for her, cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her lips, then trailed his hands down over her throat, her collarbone, then her breasts.

“You’re so warm. Silky soft.” His gaze was boring into her, its intensity giving her shivers as his hands mapped her out.

Christy grabbed the blanket, intent on covering her breasts with it. “I’m not comfortable—”

Looking pissed, he yanked the cloth away from her and threw it to the floor, the sudden movement almost making her fall from his lap. Suddenly she was sitting straight on his hard-on, nothing to cushion the contact, and the more she moved, trying to reach the blanket, the more his shaft lodged between her tender folds. With a growl of impatience, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down to her sides, restricting her movements. “Don’t hide from me. I’ve seen you. I’ve touched you. Hell, I’ve fucked you. Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t,” he replied in a harsh tone. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him all the things that were wrong with her body, but he interrupted her. “Listen to me, babe. You’re lush and curvy, true, but there’s nothing wrong with that in my book. Your stretch marks are barely visible. Your belly is beautiful. Soft and silky as a woman’s should be. Your thighs too. I love how they feel around my waist. Your breasts are full and plump, perfect for me to lick and nibble, as firm as they ought to be.”