Wrong (Spada Crime Family #2) (7 page)

I meet her eyes, smiling. “Yes?”

“I…”

She doesn’t seem able to finish the sentence. I stroke a hand down her shoulder, over her breast, cup that heavy softness, and press her nipple hard with my thumb. She bites her lip, and her eyes close for a split second.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but it’s breathy and not very convincing.

“It’ll be all right,” I tell her. It probably won’t, but we’ll deal with that later. “I promise. You’re safe here.” That much is true. Nobody’s getting in here. Nobody’s taking her from me.

Her hands lower, folding against my chest between us. She looks down at them then back up at my face. Finally she tips her head back again, inviting another kiss.

I give it to her. This time I lower her onto the length of the couch, easing her down to her back so I’m mostly on top of her, holding her there against the cushions. The couch isn’t wide enough, I realize, but I’ll do something about that shortly. Right now I need to press my advantage.

Lying on her full length like this, I’m even more aware of her smallness. I’m afraid if I move the wrong way, I might break her. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She shifts so she’s even more fully under me, and her thighs fall open, her legs wrapping around my hips.

Ah, that’s nice. I can feel the heat between her legs soaking through my trousers, sparking reactions in my dick. My balls are pulling up—
easy, boys, it’s not quite time yet
—and my dick wants inside her right fucking now. I start to pulse my hips, dragging my erection across that hot place between her thighs. She pulses back, wiggling so I’m stroking where she wants me to be. A harsh breath bursts from her, and I pulse faster.

“Nick…” She grasps at my shoulders, her nails digging into me hard enough I can feel it through my jacket and shirt. Shrugging, I manage to get one shoulder out of the jacket. She grabs the lapel and drags it down my arm then pulls at the other shoulder. Within a few more seconds I’m tossing the jacket across the room. Before it even hits the floor, she’s working on my shirt buttons.

Leaning down to kiss her, I let myself enjoy the depths of her mouth for several long seconds while she struggles with my shirt. Then she’s shoved that back, too, and I draw back to let her finish.

“Oh, Nick…” she breathes, and I realize she’s staring at my bare chest, eyes wide. I flex a pectoral muscle with a smug grin.

“You like that?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Yes, my chest is a work of art on its own—I spend a lot of time in the gym to ensure that—but it’s the tat that’s caught her attention. It’s a stylized phoenix, wings spread, with bright flames curling up on either side of it. It covers my whole chest, the tail reaching down toward my navel.

Sarah wiggles down to put her face between my pecs, and then she starts to lick the outlines of the bird. Now I’m the one making the surprised noises. I can’t say anybody’s ever done that to me before. I like it.

She uses her tongue to outline the wings, then she finds my nipples and laves them, nips them. Bites them, and I jump at the sharp clench of her teeth. Her arms go around me again, and her nails dig in as she pulls the shirt the rest of the way off me and tosses it to join the jacket across the room somewhere.

“We should…” I break off as she drags her nails down my bare back. “We should go somewhere a little…roomier.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she agrees. She’s kissing across my collarbones now, and I think she’s finally completely on board with this. I move back then ease off the couch.

“What…” she protests.

“Shh,” I tell her. I scoop her up and carry her to the stairs, then up, down the hall, and into my bedroom.

There’s a slight hesitation—very slight—as I set her on her feet. She takes in the room, and I see that little spark of fear in her eyes again.

“It’s roomier,” I tell her.

That gets a reluctant laugh out of her. “Yes. It certainly is.”

I can tell she’s still a little unsure, so I take her shoulders in my hands gently and kiss her. She responds, like she has from the beginning, and it doesn’t take much to ratchet up the heat. A matter of seconds and she’s melting against me again, pushing up on her toes to kiss me harder, deeper.

“Okay,” she finally murmurs against my mouth. “Okay.”

I pick her up again. This time I carry her all the way to the bed and lay her down on top of the covers. She’s still wearing her dress from the party, and I want her naked, but there’s something else I want to do first. This is going to be about her, not about me getting my dick wet as fast as possible.

I take hold of the hem of the dress and ease it up her legs, bunching the material around her waist. Her long, slim legs are completely exposed, all the way past the soft cotton thong she’s wearing. I can almost feel the wet heat on my fingertips again, and I lower my face to her mound and breathe deep. She smells rich and musky, intensely aroused. And so hot.

Grasping the edge of the thong, I draw it to one side. She makes a vague sound and reaches down with one hand as if she’s going to stop me from looking at her. I catch that hand with mine—the one that’s not holding her panties out of the way—and weave my fingers between hers.

“No, Sarah. I’m going to look. You know why?” She doesn’t say anything, so I go on. “Because I want to. And because I like what I see.”

Which I do, indeed. She’s swollen and pink, her clit peeking out to show me it’s on board with me touching it. So I stroke it gently with my tongue, and Sarah makes a quiet whimpering noise.

I let go of her hand. Apparently she’s resigned herself to her fate, because she doesn’t try again to stop me. Instead she opens her legs a little wider. I pull at the panties, wanting them out of the way. The cotton gives way under my fingers, and I pull them free and lay a hand on each thigh, holding her open.

There. Everything’s open to me now, naked and free and ready for me to do with it what I will. Her cunt is weeping for me, and as I stroke the glass-smooth flesh on her inner lips, she shudders.

She likes that. Good. I lower my head again. It’s time to get serious.

With my mouth on her and my tongue inside her, I tip her thighs back and open, pressing them to either side of her stomach. “Hold your legs open,” I tell her, and she does, holding them exactly where I put them.

“Nick…” she says.

“Yes?”

“Just…”

“Just what, Sarah? Do you want something?”

“Yes.”

“Then just ask me.” I lay one finger right below her clit, waiting for her to tell me what to do. It’s a bit perverse of me, I suppose, making her wait until she can force herself to say words she’s obviously uncomfortable with, but I can live with that.

“I want your mouth on me.” The words are soft, and I can barely hear them, but I decide not to push her by making her repeat them.

“Then that’s what you’ll have.”

I lean down again and take all that heat into my mouth, stroking her, penetrating her with my tongue, tasting everything, then rolling the tip of my tongue around her clit until she whimpers as if she’s in pain.

“Like that?” I ask her.

“God,” is her only answer. I take it as a “yes.”

This time I slide my fingers inside her and start to pump, deep, fast, gradually harder and harder until I’m bumping her cervix with each thrust. At the same time I use my tongue and, yes, my teeth on her cunt, scraping and licking, pinching her clit gently. She’s gasping so hard now I think she might scream, and her fingers are so tight on her own thighs she’s leaving white marks.

I decide to relieve her of that responsibility and take one of her legs in my free hand. She responds by pulling her arms back and folding them over her face while her teeth clench and her back arches off the bed. I chuckle, letting it vibrate against her delicate skin, which is hot and wet and rapidly getting hotter and wetter.

Time for the coup de grâce. I curl my fingers up, find that secret spot right inside her, and rub it, hard and fast.

This time she really does scream. A hand lands on my head, fingers dragging my hair so hard it hurts. Her body starts bucking under me, and I feel her release flood my mouth. With my tongue flat against her clit and my fingers still tickling inside her, I hold her as still as I can. Her deep, hot channel is clenching on my fingers, clenching and releasing as her climax rips through her. The soft insides of her thighs shake, and her stomach is shivering.

I have to laugh again. She’s so responsive, so thoroughly into everything I’m doing to her. Slowly her orgasm eases off, and I draw my fingers out of her hot cunt and trace the wetness along the insides of her thighs.

“Never had one quite like that before, have you?” I ask her, my voice low and more than a little smug.

“Shut up,” she shoots back.

Again I laugh at her. She really is delightful. This is going to be fun. Every minute of it.

“Want more?”

She shakes her head and then flings an arm over her eyes and nods. “Yes.”

“Ask me for it.”

“Fuck me,” she snaps. “Fuck me right now.”

“That’s more like it.” I don’t do what I’m told, though. I’ve never been known to follow orders that well. “Let’s get you out of that dress.”

It’s a little complicated getting the tight sheath off her. At some point I’m sure we end up looking like some kind of Cirque de Soleil act as I pull at the collar and she wriggles and arches and bends her body into angles I would have thought were near impossible. But eventually it slips off her, and I toss it across the room. She’s not wearing a bra under it—just some small, crescent-shaped bits of silicone that are tucked underneath her breasts to hold them up. That’s all that’s left on her except that string of white pearls and her black heels.

“These are interesting.” I peel one of the crescents away from her skin, then the other. Her breasts shift into a more natural silhouette.

“Now you know my secrets.” She clasps her knees against my sides and pushes forward, trying to urge me up over her.

“Not all of them,” I tell her. Setting the little crescents aside, I begin to indulge myself, lapping her skin all the way from the top of her pubes to the sweet spot between her breasts. The pearls are in my way; I set them to the side so they frame her right breast, draping over the soft curves.

“I told you to fuck me,” she says.

“Patience, baby.” I lick my thumb and then circle it around and around her turgid left nipple. It rises under my touch, turning firm and dark. When it’s fully erect I take it in my mouth and bite, then suck, then bite again. My tongue toys with the nub, then I draw most of her breast into my mouth, scraping the skin with my teeth as I let the soft mound slide back out.

“God, Nick…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you enjoy the wait.”

I finally catch her mouth with mine again, and she whimpers as my tongue slides against hers. I can still taste the salty musk of her pussy on my tongue, so I know she can taste it, too. Her tongue strokes mine as if she’s craving that flavor. I stroke her hair back, and lay long strands out over the pillows. She’s still warm and shivery under me; I wonder how much effort it would take to wring another scream-worthy orgasm out of her. Not much, I’m willing to bet.

I’m not quite ready to take her—after all, I still have my pants on—but I jockey for position between her legs, letting my hips settle there where her thighs are still damp and open. She reaches down and jerks at my belt buckle, loosening it and then working on the fly beneath it. I’m willing to help, so I move up to let her push the trousers down over my ass.

For some reason, I’m not expecting that little hand to close around my dick, and when it does I jump a little. It’s her turn to chuckle at me. Her fingers stroke me, her thumb swirling around my glans, and I clench my teeth, trying to enjoy the sensation while at the same time focusing on not coming all over her hand. I want to be inside her for that.

I can only take so much, so after a few seconds I move back then step off the bed.

“Nick, come back.”

“Just a minute.” I push off my shoes, let my trousers fall to the floor, then step out of them. A quick scramble through the drawer on the bedside table yields a couple of condoms. With the little packets held between my fingers, I slide back onto the bed. Sarah takes the opportunity to straddle me. I let her, leaning back against the pillows.

She sees the condoms and reaches for one. “I’ll do this,” she says, and I nod. I can’t think of a better way to get the damn thing onto me, if I have to wear it. And I do. This time. Later? Well, later, all bets are going to be off.

She tears the packet open with her teeth, her eyes on me the whole time. It’s hot as fuck, especially with her hair mussed like it is and her eyes so wide and still a little raw from her crying earlier. She slides the condom out and unrolls it a little, getting it ready.

“You look good naked,” she tells me.

“So do you.”

Her only answer is a disinterested shrug. Leaning forward, she runs her fingers along the tats on my arms. I’ve got a sleeve and a half, part planned, part bits and pieces my tattoo artist incorporated into the sleeve, but that I’ve had since I was eighteen or twenty.

“You’re like a painting.” Her hand strokes down my stomach, stops at the root of my cock. I want her to take me in her hand again, stroke me, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t put the condom on me, either. Instead she just looks down at me, into my eyes, and then lets her gaze stroke over my chest. Just the attention makes my dick twitch.

For a minute, though, I wonder if she’s having second thoughts. As soon as she slides my dick inside her, she will have passed a point of no return. Sure, we’ve gone pretty far, taken some pretty intimate liberties, but she could still say we haven’t had sex and not be totally lying. She knows that, I know that. She just needs to decide.

Her lips press together suddenly, and she lifts the condom. Sets it against the head of my cock and rolls it down in a single, decisive gesture. When I’m fully covered, she reaches back and cradles my balls, rolling them in her slim fingers. I grunt, because moaning isn’t manly. Neither is screaming, and I just might if she doesn’t get on with it.