Stripped (8 page)

I wonder if he ever even gave her a proper orgasm.

“The way you talk and move, the way you think and…
touch
.”

She’s nearly breathless. I’m stroking feather light caresses over her shoulders, down her bare arms, and back up to forge a hot path across her collarbone.

“I’d love to touch you
everywhere,
” I say, tickling up her smooth exposed calves. “A beautiful woman like you should never be betrayed or neglected. You should be touched every day. Passionately, sensually…” I press against her with my palms and fingers, deeply massaging the outside of her thighs. She moans in response. “You should be worshipped.”

“If you did that, tonight, would it get you out of my system?”

The oddly worded question wakes me from my sex-riddled daze. “I don’t understand.”

“Can I ask you to put your lips on my neck? Is that okay? I think I’d like to feel that.”

I breathe out a chuckle.
Is that okay?

Immediately, I grip the back of her hair again. This time I yank her head back with intent, expose that long lovely neck, and work over the length of it with my lips. She moans and I sink my teeth gently into the soft flesh. She yelps a little and I balm the bite with a lap of my tongue. I climb and descend the curves of her luscious throat using my lips and nose, tongue and teeth.

Her ability to form words is becoming sketchy at best. “I’ve thought of nothing… but you since we met. At first I despised you, of course.”

“Of course.” I exhale hot breath into the delicate shell of her ear.

“But after the embarrassment faded, you became a hella hot, out of reach… fantasy. Oh God, I’m not even buzzed enough to be telling you any of this, but I’m obviously doing it anyway.”

“But you are, aren’t you, Em? Buzzing with arousal for me.”

That weakens her defenses. Her hips nearly collapse from their rigid position. She throws her entire form against my torso, crushing her tits to my chest and her wanton pelvic bone into my belly. There must be a god, because my shirt has shifted up several inches, leaving my stomach exposed. A quarter inch south and I’ll have the feel of her silk on the hard washboard of my abs.

I run my hands up and down her back. Suddenly, her arms come alive and her hands grow a mind of their own. She’s massaging my arms—from my shoulders, down. Lingering on the biceps and forearms. Digging in with the pads of her fingers and squeezing hard.

“Then when I… found you again at the… studio.”

“Would you mind very much if I bring my hands lower?” I’m asking to explore arse territory now.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Fuck yes!
I grab two handfuls of cheek and knead deliciously.

“I think if we have sex, I’ll be able to think straight enough to coach you like you’re asking.”

Maybe she’s gone a bit daft. “I don’t understand, Love.”

“Because of that!” she scolds accusingly. “
Luv
.” She steals my Aussie accent to drive home her point. “You’re dripping with sex and innuendo, Stone, and you’ve made me an unstable nuclear containment center
.
Look, I have no expectations or misunderstandings about who you are and what you do. You’re an amazingly talented, mind-blowing dancer and an incredible—
kitten-exploding
—stripper…”

“A what?” I snort out a laugh.

“Never mind. It all boils down to this. If we have sex now, I’ll coach you.”

I’m one hundred percent sure I’m dreaming. I consider pinching myself, but who the hell would be stupid enough to want to wake up from this?!

“I think if we handle it—
this
—between us, the right way, up front, I won’t be thinking about you in
that
way while I’m working with you. This would be our one monumental moment. That way, it’s a no strings deal. Tomorrow morning, you go back to living your status quo—girls, stripping… girls, real estate and property management… girls—and I won’t… get weird or anything.”

“You mean
jealous
?”

“No! I mean… no.”

“Can I…?” I ask running gentle fingers under the hem of her blouse.

“Oh God, yes.”

Best breathy answer ever. Most women I’ve slept with are all about getting the clothes off as fast as possible—not much pillow talk or personal stories or looney requests. Em is a strange and lovely bird.

“Let me get this straight, we do the deed so you can get me out of your sexual system and not be tempted by me anymore while we’re working together, and you’ll coach me?”

She nods. “Yes. Exactly.”

Such a deliciously flawed plan. I love it.

“I’ve never had a one-night stand. I’ve only ever been with one guy—and now I’m pretty sure that one guy wasn’t even a very conscientious lover. Already you bring me to the edge of…”—she squeaks out a blissful little noise—“…and your pants aren’t even off yet!”

That could be remedied.

“If we go into this with a no commitment attitude, we can keep being who we are. No assumptions. No one gets hurt.”

The understanding that’s dawning on me feels like a blow below the belt. “That way I can go back to all my normally scheduled, slutty activities after our rehearsal time?” Time to make a correction. “Just because I’m a stripper, that doesn’t automatically make me a manwhore, you know—that’s stereotyping.”

“I don’t really mean it entirely that way. I just… look at us, Stone! You’ve got one hand on a hot streak to my boob, the other on my ass, and I’m ridiculously waiting for your answer so I can be released to grind against that cannon I know is down there—remember, I’ve felt it before. But I don’t want any awkward, day after emotions to get in the way of what you want to achieve. And… that’s on me. Maybe because I was burned like I was? But knowing I have the sex appeal to turn you on, maybe I won’t feel so bad when someone else does?”

“I think I should feel crazy offended, but I’m not. My ego is well intact and inflating—along with my dick— because I actually think I understand.”

“You do? Really?”

“Yeah, and I’m going to do you one better, Sunshine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here is my amendment to the propositions: other than my work at the club, and only my actual work at the club—no extracurricular
performances
—I’m yours exclusively until you’re finished with me.” There, that should right this.

“You’d really do that?” She sweeps away strands of hair that have fallen into her face. “You do understand, I can’t keep having sex with you, right?”

“Because you don’t want to get hurt. I understand, beautiful. You’re the boss.” More faulty reasoning. I wonder how she’ll feel about it later tonight after I’ve had her body at my mercy, shuddering with multiple orgasms. My theory, it won’t take but a day before she’s pleading for more.

Straightaway, I reach my hands up and begin unbuttoning her tight little blouse. I start with the top, wanting to excavate her mounds and cleavage.

Emelie transfixes her gaze on my fingers as they do their work. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

Probably because I’ve already gotten to the final button at the bottom of the shirt and I’m ready for the big reveal.

I say, “The black lace of your brazier has been playing peek-a-boo with me, and I really want to take it off with my teeth.”

“I’d love that,” she huffs.

“Christ, I was hoping you’d say that.” I work my fingers at the clasp between her shoulder blades. When it snaps open, I work my mouth in hot torrid kisses up the sweet flesh of her bare arms, chest and shoulders until I reach the first satiny strap.

I take it in my teeth and pull it down over the curve of her shoulder.

I lean back to admire my work. “You are so fucking sexy!”

That breaks the invisible barrier. She tilts her hips up to find much needed friction for her most sensitive place. Her blazing hot core glides against the muscles of my stomach.

“Oh, Em!” The flimsy panel of cloth over her delicacy is covered in her juices—the juices that should be covering my face. “These need to come off.” I slip a hand down to her arse and finger the elastic of her panties. “Can I taste you? I’ve got to fucking taste you.”

“Tonight, everything… we do everything tonight, but after tonight, no more—sex.” She licks her lips and I imagine her licking the tip of my dick.

She doesn’t look so sure about her own convoluted idea. “I don’t want to get hurt again, and I’m still raw from everything and sensitive, you know? So I just want to have fun tonight and not think about putting anything else on the line afterwards so we can focus on your competition.”

“Whatever your terms, I agree, Princess.” I’m not sure if I’m actually thinking straight—but really, come on, give a bloke a break—her wetness is all over my abdomen and I desperately want it smeared all over my cock… which is about to explode with this Emilie fantasy come to life. Her nipples are mere inches from my mouth…

“I especially like the part where we get to do
everything
.”

“Okay then, Aussie-man. Tonight I’m yours and you’re mine, and starting tomorrow, I’ll be your coach.”

I’m in fucking heaven!
“I’m going to lick every inch of your delicate, delectable skin, Em. I’m going to bite, lick, and suck until I own you. I’m going to tell you how much I enjoy it, how much I fucking love the taste of your flesh and the smell of your sex. Then, when you can’t take one more moment of my teasing, I’m going to spread your long, luscious legs as far apart as they can go and hold down your thighs so your beautiful pussy is open and naked under my gaze until you cry out my name, begging me for my tongue. Then I’m going to put my dirty mouth over your wet heat and give you the hottest fucking Australian kiss of your life.”

She inhales sharply.

“Oh yeah, baby, I’m going to fuck so many orgasms out of you,” I promise. “You’re going to lose count.”

Chapter Nine

Emelie

I’d like to thank the universe for making me a girl and making Stone a boy—and for imbuing him with supernatural tongue powers.

(Oh, now I understand…
Australian Kiss
. Clever boy.)

His hot words sear through my flesh, and any resolve I’d been holding is gone. I drop the last of my weak defenses—namely my hips—and rub my kitten against his tiger.

He accommodates like the excellent problem solver he is by tilting his pelvis and holding the position so his cock strains upward and gives me full contact.

Dear God! I’m actually getting a sense of his length and girth as I stroke my pussy over it.

Holy fuck!
Behemoth is rising.

Terror grips the edge of my ebbing sanity—what if it’s
too
big? Can that happen? Has it ever? But the fear falls away as pleasure gains the upper hand. I find a sweet groove against the fearsome creature that only seems to be growing larger.

Oh, the kitten is so wide awake. All the blood is rushing from my brain straight to her and I wonder if I’ll have any truly rational thoughts from this moment onward.

His uses his teeth to peel my bra off my body. When he’s done tossing it to the floor, he leans his back into the cushions of the couch and stretches his arms out over the top edge to take in the view.

It really is a great view. Half naked girl—yay me!—in nothing but a hiked up skirt and black lace panties, rub-riding the half-naked boy—Stone. Believe it bitches!—like a wild thing.

I watch as he drinks in my body with his eyes. His expression of pure desire melts me even more.

His voice is a low orgasmic rumble. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

My head lilts back, and a moan presses from my lungs. I’m sure I’m behaving like a trollop. Trollops must have a lot of fun.

With that, he leans into me and covers my nipple with his
very
hot mouth. I feel his fingers take up the task of unzipping my little skirt.

“Oh, Stone!” I grind with wild abandon.

Rrrrriiiiiipppppp!
“Sorry, babe, it was stuck and I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Sexiest sound ever until…

“Uuunnnhhh.” Stone exhales and grunts simultaneously, and it’s so incredibly erotic!

I follow his eyes between us. My little barely-there panties have been unable to hold back the deluge my Stone-stimulated body has produced.

The translucent fluid has soaked a very sizable spot on his expensive suit.

“Shit! I’m so—”

“You better not be about to apologize,” he growls. “I’ll never wash them again.”

His eyes glaze over with lust. “May I?” His fingers are poised for exploration.

I nod, breathless and expectant.

He brings two fingers underneath the cloth panel and swipes through my delicate petals.

“Holy fuck, Em! This is for me.” He knows it. God I love the way he talks sex!

I gasp as he slips a finger into my entrance. “How does that feel, baby?”

“So… good…” I whimper.

“Yeah it does.” He sinks that very happily placed finger deep inside of me until he hits
the
most blindingly pleasurable spot. He finger-fucks me—thrusting hard, then pulling back out slowly, only to thrust back in, sending me reeling.

“Tell me how good it feels now. And, Em, use your dirty words.”

“It… you… feel so good!” I cry.

He smiles, satisfied. “So you’ll never apologize for your own pleasure again, right?”

Now he slides his finger out and tickles over my enflamed clitten.

I’m panting—it’s probably not as sexy as I wish it was—it probably sounds more like anaphylaxis than porn. I might need the EpiPen after all.

Stone leans back and makes me watch as he sucks my slickness from his finger “Oh, baby, I’m going to fuck you so good…”

At that, he holds me against him, grips a fistful of my hair, pulls my head back, and adds, “But first I’m going to kiss that fucking apology right out of your mouth.”

Before I can take a breath, he takes my mouth. The words
I’m sorry
are quickly forgotten.

Stone exhales. “That’s definitely my second favorite thing to do.”

“What’s that?” I smile.

“Kissing your mouth.” He sucks and nibbles at my bottom lip and lays tiny kisses at the corners of my mouth, before tracing my lips with his wet tongue.

My body makes an array of blissful sounds.

“What’s the first?” I pant.

He grins like the self-assured, cocky bastard he is, stands up with me still attached, and walks with me draped around his waist like an accessory across the room.

Stone picks up a remote control and points it toward the near movie-screen size projector mounted on his wall.

“You like everything big?”

“You will too, very soon.”

I hitch in a breath. I don’t need to be reminded of the behemoth in his pants! To distract myself, I follow his line of vision to the screen. He has a Spotify account and is skimming through his playlists.

“You have a
sex
playlist?” It makes sense for my stripper—ahem—friend.

“No. But I do have this…” He indicates I should pay closer attention.

“Ballerina Fantasy.” I read the playlist’s title. My jaw drops. I stutter, “You… when…?”

“Em, I’ve thought about nothing and no one but you—obsessively—ever since you tripped into my dressing room. You know, I ran outside into the parking lot at Foreplay trying to catch you before you ran away.”

“You did?”

“I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I felt terrible about what had happened,” Stone explains, his pretty blue eyes melting into mine. “I knew you’d never show back up there. So, I looked for you everywhere I went, hoping I’d run into you. It’s a big freaking city, Em, and I’ll admit once I got over the guilt, you were pure fucking fantasy—my magical, elusive, ballerina.”

I smile, and it teeters on the fringes of giddiness.

“So you made a fantasy playlist?”

“It completely depends on your viewpoint—do you find a man stroking his own cock hot or repulsive?”

The mental image of Stone using thoughts of me with sexy songs as his fantasy makes my vadge volcanic. “Hot,” I whisper.

A second ago he had looked kinda concerned, but now he smiles again.

“You want to know the songs?”

I nod shyly. I’m sure I’m beet red.

“So gorgeous when you blush.” Stone’s tongue darts out and tastes my cheeks while I read over the playlist. “Got one you like the most?”

He’s got about twenty songs on the list. One stands out among the rest as not sexy. I’d like to know what he was thinking when he chose it. It’s a Beatles song that praises the rising sun.

“Why that one? It’s not sexy.”

“Right, Sunshine.” He carries me into his bedroom, remote in hand. “Let’s see.”

The song begins to play as he lays me across the king size bed, crawls on top of me and kisses me breathless. “Time to keep my promises.”

“Promises?” I think I’m incoherent.

“To lick every inch of you.” Stone lavishes the tender skin of my throat with his tongue.

“Oh God,” I whine.

“To bite, lick, and suck until I own you.” One nipple he sucks greedily into his mouth, the other he rolls between rough fingertips. The sensations are incredible. “Your tits are fucking perfect.”

He licks under and around my needy breast before scraping his teeth across the second nipple.

I moan and lift my hips. When I don’t find what I really want, I complain, “Oh, Stone, you’re still in your pants.”

“Because I’d be buried deep inside you in a hot minute if I wasn’t.” He cups both mounds in his hands, thumbs each nipple, sending electric waves straight through me, and slides his chiseled abs and chest down between my legs.

“I don’t know what this lotion or perfume is you’re wearing, but I fully intend on finding out.” Dropping his head to one side, then the other, he licks and kisses and bites tenderly down each rib. “I adore the scent of your skin.”

When he reaches the curve of my hip, he travels to the center of my stomach and traces circles around my belly button with his tongue. The motion is lovely and sensual as it sends erotic Morse code—telegram style—to the Lady V, with a message along the lines of:
He’s about to do exactly what you think. Stop. You know you want it. Stop. Make him stop. Stop!

I told myself I wouldn’t compare Stone’s lovemaking skills to that of my ex, but the Morse code has signaled an emergency response. In the almost three years I was with my ex, he had never gone down on me. I remembered all too vividly why.

“Stone…”

“I love my name on your lips.”

I smile, caught up in him, then remember why I was interrupting. “It’s probably best that you don’t continue on your present course.”

Concern paints over his lustful expression. “Are you uncomfortable? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, not at all…”

“Oh, good.” He continues forging through the expedition using his tongue and lips and gentle nips as tools and leaving a trail of wildfire from my belly button straight to my…

He buries his nose in the tight trimmed triangle of hair. “So soft,” he purrs.

Before I can even offer up a silent thanks to the silky hair conditioner gods, he breathes in deeply as if he’s caught the scent of something wonderful like warm maple syrupy waffles.

“Oh fuck, you smell incredible, Em! Like fucking spring and Christmas rolled into one.”

Next thing I know, Stone has my legs spread wide before him, my kitten glistening under his hungry gaze.

“Your pussy is so beautiful. I can’t wait to eat you out.”

I gasp in utter exhilaration—and horror—at the prospect. Yet I’m rendered speechless.

“With each stroke of my tongue I’m going to break you apart until you shatter into a million orgasmic atoms.”

Science-sexisms, how cute.

I come to my senses. “Stone…”

“It’s so not that easy, Em.” At this, he blows a cool puff of air over my clit but bypasses it and begins mouth-fucking my thighs. I’m not kidding either—I never knew the inside of my thighs could be so freaking sensitive. He dotes on them—nibbles and sucks until I know there will be hickeys between my legs and licks as if my body’s a tasty creation from Willy Wonka’s factory.

The heat my thighs are experiencing is radioactive while the kitten is exposed to the cold air. The contrast is indescribable. All I know is, I want his mouth where the treasure is… but…

“Stone, please stop.” I try to make my mind blank so it doesn’t hurt my heart so much.

“What’s going on?”

It’s really difficult to take myself seriously at the moment. He has my ass and hips tilted up and my pussy on prominent display before him like he’s ready to gorge himself.

“I don’t think it… tastes very good, so… I think we should skip this part and get straight to the sex.” Each word tumbles from my mouth spastically. At least I got it out.

“You’re shy, huh?” He smiles. “No worries, babe.”

My hands fly up to hide my embarrassed face. “My ex said there was something… wrong with me. That
it
… wasn’t right… good… the taste… of me. Down there.” I swallow hard and brace for the worst.

I feel Stone’s entire body shift as he comes to lay back over me fully. I’m disappointed but also relieved he didn’t plunge in. If he’d been turned off—or worse, disgusted—it would’ve been hell to live with the fact that I’d tainted the rest of this very happy developing memory.

Both his hands wrap around my wrists as he pulls the shutter of my hands away from my face. He does
not
look happy.

Shit!
I blew it. That’s what happens when you let the kitten out of the bag after so long. Way too much crazy cat.

“Is that what that bloody wanker of a dick ex-boyfriend told you?”

I close my eyes at the intensity of his anger and nod. “Mmhmm.”

“Fucking motherfucker never went down on you?!”

This time I shake my head. “Nu-uh.”

His stare is penetrating, so I really want my hands back. I pull them out of his grasp, feeling like a complete freaking idiot and child, and cover my face again. I’m pretty sure this ridiculous moment presented to you by Life’s Post Baggage Company has completely ruined everything. I should have never let him get that close to my land down under.

Maybe other women have magical vaginas that taste like rainbows and strawberries but…

In a fraction of a second, my legs are spread wide, my thoroughly Stone-tenderized thighs pulled apart, and his searing hot, wet mouth is over my kitten!

!!!

“Oh, you’re fucking dripping for me.” He groans huskily in his throat.