More Than a Man (4 page)

Noelle whimpered, desperate for release, but
unwilling to move for fear Aya would leave her on the edge again.
He shifted his weight, wedging himself between her legs and pushing
her pajamas down further.

"Do you think you could do what I tell you?
If you're good and do what I say, you'll get a reward." He licked
across her sex, stopping at the top to suckle her clit.

Heat spiked through her. She'd promise
anything if he'd just keep doing that. "Yes."

"Good. I'm going to let go of your hands. Put
your hands behind your head. Don't move them, no matter what I do.
If you move your hands, I'll stop. You wouldn't want that, would
you?"

"No," she breathed.

"No, what? No you won't do it or no you
wouldn't want me to stop?"

"No, I don't want you to stop."

"Then you'll keep your hands where I want
them, won't you?"

No way she could have anticipated how
thrilling it would be for him to take control. She'd only gotten
hints with her other husbands—neither John nor Micah had been so
dominant right out of the gate. They’d only begun to explore the
power dynamics when she'd lost them. But Aya didn't wait. He was
taking control now. Her pussy softened and heated. "Yes, Aya."

His teeth flashed briefly in the dim light.
Slowly, he slid his long fingers from around her wrists and stroked
her arms.

Mesmerized, she nearly forgot to follow his
instructions. Only when his fingers hesitated, seemed to be about
to lift from her skin, did she remember.

Hastily, she tucked her hands under her head,
her elbows out. A pose of indolence, of relaxation. She was
anything but relaxed.

With her head propped this way, she could see
down the line of her body. The urge to grab his hands and press
them to her ate at her control. If she wanted this to work, she
needed an edge. Cautiously, she wrapped her fingers into her hair,
winding strands around and tangling them up so that if she tried to
move her hands, she would pull her own hair. Hopefully it would be
enough to allow her to enjoy his ministrations.

His fingertips resumed their journey along
her triceps, pausing to tease under her arms. Chills chased over
her skin.

Aya hummed his approval, smoothing his
fingers over the outside curves of her breasts. The light touch
caused pleasure all out of proportion. She dug her fingertips into
her scalp to keep from moving her hands. The prick of her
fingernails helped ground her as his hands swept in circles around
her breasts. His chin rested on her hipbone, his breath fanning
across her belly, while he watched his hands map her flesh.

Slowly, the circles shrank, spiraling in
toward her aching nipples. Deity, if he didn't touch her soon,
she'd scream. Instead, she panted out whimpering sighs that sounded
desperate and needy to her own ears. Never in her life had she
wanted anything as badly as she wanted Aya's cock in her body. She
wanted him everywhere, all at once. In her mouth, on her breasts,
under her hands, in her pussy, in her ass....

"So responsive. Look at your nipples, so hard
when I haven't even touched them. You smell good, too, baby."

She moaned at the heat generated by his
words. "Please."

His tongue snaked out to lick her belly.
"Please, what?"

"I want to come."

He pinched her hardened nipples. She cried
out in mingled pain and relief. Her sex clamped down, trying to
give itself the relief she needed. It wasn't enough. Her hands
twitched under her head, but she refused to give in. She would not
move them.

Aya chuckled. "Good, baby. Look how flushed
and hard your nipples are. See how they respond to me?"

She looked. Her nipples were dark pink,
compressed between his fingers. Her small breasts moved with each
rapid breath so that her nipples tugged and stretched, elongating
in an obscene carnal display. The buzzing in her head drowned out
everything.

"Yes," she gasped, unsure whether she was
answering his question or voicing her desire.

Unhurried, he explored her rib cage and the
slight curve of her belly. Every brush of his fingertips, every hot
exhalation across the sensitized skin of her hip, brought an agony
of ecstasy.

"Deity, Aya. Please," she begged.

With a dark chuckle, he explored lower until
his hands framed her sex. His thumbs stroked gently along her slit,
not enough pressure to open her to his touch but enough to fire her
nerve endings. Her fingers dug into her scalp in a desperate bid to
remain in place. Too close. She was too close to mess it up
now.

The metallic tang of blood coated her tongue.
She'd bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood, but it didn't
matter. Pain drowned under the onslaught of arousal as he finally
used his thumbs to part her labia. Her hips surged, seeking
sensation that would push her over into orgasm.

"Be still," he said quietly. The light
burnished his shaven head so the skin seemed to glow. His slashing
dark brows lowered in concentration over eyes hidden behind the
thick fringe of black lashes. He studied her with rapt
attention.

A sudden wash of embarrassment ran under her
skin. She wasn't as prepared for him as she'd wanted to be, wasn't
as smooth and silky and... damn it, confident as she had planned.
It gave him the upper hand, and it meant he wasn't seeing her at
her best. She cleared her throat, arousal dimming under his pointed
regard.

"I, uh, didn't expect you," she managed. The
lump in her throat made it difficult to force the words past.

He swept his thumbs over the inner surface of
her labia. "Beautiful. How can you not know you're beautiful?"

Her head fell back. Somehow it was easier if
she couldn't see him seeing her. More like a fantasy than
reality.

Before mortification could set in, he began
massaging her. There was no other word for the firm, long strokes
he used, pressing with his fingers so that nerves she'd never known
existed flared to life. Her breathing hitched, caught in her throat
by the slow, unexpected burn. The sense of vulnerability was acute:
wide open for his inspection, his fingers digging in to find
secrets even she didn't know she had.

Her hips twisted, though she didn't know if
she wanted to get away or get closer. She didn't want this raw,
helpless feeling he pulled from her with so little effort. If he
could make her feel this way so soon, how would she be able to
maintain even the smallest emotional distance? How could she
protect her heart? Too late she saw the mistake she had made. She
wanted the perfect man, but she didn't want the vulnerability of
love. Not anymore. But Aya was designed for her, to be perfect for
her. And that meant she might not be able to keep herself from
falling for him. Oh, Deity, what was she going to do?

Suddenly his tongue delved deep. He'd been
moving so slowly, preparing her with those careful, massaging
strokes, his sudden intrusion was a shock. Shrieking, she started
to pull her hands from behind her head. Her fingers tangled in her
hair, jerking the strands and reminding her why she had them
there.

His tongue burrowed inside, swirling and
laving, alternating between soft wetness and hardened pressure. The
stinging heat of his tongue, so different from anything she'd
known, scraped away her thoughts. Her hips arched, and this time
she knew she wanted more.

His nose bumped her clitoris again, sending
spangles of sensation through her pelvis.
Wow
. She'd never
considered the utility of nose action before. Then the heat filled
her and she couldn't consider anything anymore. Just the heat and
the sting and the feel of his tongue inside her. Oh, it was right
there, right...
there
.

The heat exploded through her body, sending
her into arching spasms. She grabbed her hair to keep from flinging
her arms out as the orgasm rolled through her.

He didn't let her rest. Instead, he laved her
clitoris with the flat of his tongue, rasping that stinging heat
across the swollen nub, creating a light, unceasing pressure that
pushed her up, up, and over the edge into a fast, sparkling orgasm.
She shrieked as he launched her over the edge. Her entire body
shuddered and heaved under him, caught in the bright rush.

Aya pulled back, letting her ease down from
the peak. Just as her breathing began to even out, his tongue
resumed its torment. This time, it danced around her opening,
outlined the hard nodule of her clit, slicked through her folds. He
avoided sinking back into her, but the warm glow still persisted,
adding an additional layer of sensation. What
was
that?

He sucked her inner lips, worried them
lightly with his teeth. Her hips jerked and the edges of his teeth
scraped as she pulled away. She moaned, helpless against the
pleasure flooding her system.

He breathed a laugh against her flesh. Suck,
scrape. The repetitive action set a rhythm that had her pelvis
rolling to meet him. Like the tides, ebb and flow, she moved
against his mouth. Arousal returned, filling her until she thought
she would burst. But still he wouldn't let her climax. Her moans
mixed with whimpers of desperation.

"Please," she gasped.

"I do like it when you ask so prettily," he
murmured against her.

Chest heaving, she tried to formulate a
response, but couldn't seem to catch the words. It was so much, so
damned much, she didn't know how she could hold it all inside.

Then she couldn't. Slowly, the wave crested,
poured out of her, over her, rolled her under and held her down.
Nothing but pleasure, heavy and thick, everywhere, everything. Then
nothing at all.

When she finally pried her eyes open, he
leaned over her.

"Back, are you?"

"Did I go somewhere?" Her voice was slurred,
like she'd been drinking heavily.

"Just for a second. You blacked out."

She blinked, trying to think through the
heavy fog that seemed to fill her head. "I did?"

"You did. And while that was very
interesting, I think we'll keep it a bit lighter for now."

He slid back down between her legs before she
could formulate any kind of response. She'd passed out? Deity,
she'd never done that before.

His lips closed around her clitoris and her
brain clicked off.

Sucking lightly, he flicked his tongue back
and forth over her. Her back arched and a whimper escaped her
throat. Too much. Her body was so sensitive, so primed for his
touch she felt ready to go off if he so much as breathed on her.
And he was doing more than that.

A quick, hard draw had her tumbling into a
welter of sensation. Tossed like driftwood, she could do nothing
but hang on as he threw her into one fast, hard orgasm after
another.

Overwhelmed, she sank into herself, finding a
place she'd never been. No thought, no distraction, only sensation.
The entire world was Aya's mouth and her pussy. It was a beautiful
world. So beautiful.

Her telelink chimed an abrupt, unwelcome
alert just before a high-pitched, lilting voice filled the room. "I
can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"Mora!" Noelle shrieked, jackknifing upright,
jerked out of that beautiful place.

Instinctively, she jammed her knee into Aya's
torso, trying to throw both him and herself off the bed and out of
the range of the telelink’s scope. "Shit. Get down!"

He went, but she half-suspected his
compliance had nothing to do with her strength and everything to do
with his confusion. Noelle scrambled to cover herself, struggling
until Aya silently steadied her between his legs and pulled her
pajamas back into place. She reached for the invizipper with
trembling hands. He brushed them aside and lifted the tab until she
was covered to her collarbone.

"Um. Noelle? Are you okay?" Mora asked, her
sing-song tone gone, replaced by worry. "Say something."

"You scared me," Noelle replied raggedly. "I
was, um, sleeping. Gah."

She scrubbed her hands through her hair and
flung herself into the chair that faced the vidfone. A small tear
at the shoulder seam damned her for a liar.

"Sleeping, huh?" Friendly suspicion laced the
question.

"Yes. Sleeping." She didn't look at Aya,
afraid of what she might reveal. To him, to Mora.

"I just got back into town. The trip was
heinous. I need a drink to even talk about it. But I hear through
the grapevine you made a little trip without us,” Mora said archly.
“Are tiaras in season? Should I run out and get one? Oh, damn. I’ll
have to tell Engel."

She shrugged, grimacing at the second mention
of Mora’s cousin in one day. She knew Kendall, knew there was no
way she would keep the news of Noelle's visit to the Manporium a
secret. It was an effort not to look over at Aya, though she was
nearly hyper-aware of him. Mora launched into a babbling account of
her evening shopping disaster. Minutes later, Aya silently stood
and left the room.

In her bedroom, Noelle delivered short,
unforthcoming responses to her friend’s conversation. Aya could
hear the low, melodic pitch of her voice from where he stood at the
bottom of the stairs but he couldn’t hear the words. Not that the
words mattered. What had crawled beneath his scalp and dug in claws
wasn’t her words but the tone of her voice when she lied to her
friend and when she reiterated the lie.

Fear
. She’d been afraid of being
caught with him, afraid of being found with him. A tight ball of
new emotion manifested between his shoulders, some cross between
anger and hurt. The feeling twisted into his still-blazing desire
for her and only marginally distracted him from the sharp ache in
his balls. Seeking more of a distraction, he restlessly prowled her
home.

A collection of fotovids cycled past on a
wall-mounted frame. Aya stopped in front of it and watched images
slip by. A younger Noelle with a dark-haired girl, the girl
smiling, Noelle looking anxious and watchful. Noelle with a pack of
women in formal dress, her expression open and bright. Landscapes,
sunsets, flowers. The image of the dark-haired girl appeared three
more times, all three different ages. Noelle’s sister, maybe. His
sister-in-law. Odd to think of it.