The irony of it all is, in my head, it probablywasher.
That’s my MO. Close my eyes and imagine it’s Eden’s mouth sucking me dry. Her pussy I’m pounding into. Her ass I’m sliding in. Her screams assaulting my ears.
A shudder ripples through me, and maybe she sees it. Maybe she can peer beneath the quickly crumbling shields of my control and see the ever-present, always-hungry need to get my hands on her. Because seconds later, she’s off the chair and sinking to her knees in front of the couch. Between my legs.
“Let me be her,” she whispers.
The last charred vestiges of my conscience are screaming about my impending road trip to hell, but I still slide back on the couch until my spine hits the cushion and lower my hands to my belt. Unbuckle it. Unfasten the button at the waist of my jeans and tug down the zipper. The movements are perfunctory, deliberate. But Eden—her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling as if struggling to drag in air—contemplates me as if it’s some Magic Mike striptease.
Dipping inside my boxer briefs, I fist my erection. The rush of relief at squeezing my throbbing, hard-as-hell,hurtingflesh has a groan scrabbling its way up my throat and rumbling out of me. And having her as my captive audience, having her pretty brown eyes fixated on my pumping hand only jacks the pleasure-with-a-bit-of-pain higher.
“Show me,” she says. And it’s not a plea. It’s a softly uttered order. And goddamn if that doesn’t stroke over me like an eager, warm tongue. Hers.
I shove the cotton and denim down, needing her to see all of me just as she’s demanded. Needing her to crave me with the same gnawing, unyielding greed that has been my normal for years.
Staring into those eyes that have both teased and tortured me, I stroke my fist over my length, slower, harder, letting her discover for herself how I like it. How I fuck my hand in the dead of night when only darkness and the image of her crowd into my head. How I squeeze my cock as if it’s her slick, tight flesh I’m barreling through.
Her short, harsh pants punctuate the air like small blasts. Her gaze flicks from my face to my dick, back to my face, then down again. Like she can’t decide which to stare at—can’t decide which she enjoys watching more. If I had her spread wide on my couch, jeans and underwear gone, I might have the same dilemma.
No, I wouldn’t. Her soft mouth, bold cheekbones, sprinkling of freckles, and expressive eyes would ensnare my rapt attention any day. But her naked, wet, swollen folds… Yeah, those would ride a damn close second.
Damn. I briefly close my eyes at the image of what she would look like vulnerable and exposed, offering that perfect sex to be claimed, corrupted, branded. Another groan rolls out of me as I enclose the tip, twisting.
“C’mere, Eden,” I beckon, curling the fingers of the hand not wrapped around my dick. “Touch me.”
Her long, elegant fingers with their bare, short nails splay on my jean-covered thighs, and the muscles involuntarily contract under her palms. Goddamn, I could come just from that light touch.
Clenching my jaw, I stare down at her, part of me reeling. After five years of secretly lusting after and longing for my brother’s wife, she’s kneeling before me, hunger darkening her gaze, her hands and mouth only inches from my dick. It’s as if I’m trapped in an alternate universe. Or caught in that murky place between deep sleep and awareness, where dreams and reality blend. And I’ll kill the motherfucker who dares to shake me awake.
“What do you want?” I ask her, surrendering to the pull of one of my guilty pleasures and burrowing my hand in her hair. The thick, heavy strands slide over my palm, in between my fingers, and my imagination starts to run amok. Picturing them gliding over my bare skin. Wrapping around my dick. My grip tightens at the vivid, dirty visuals, and her breath catches. Her lashes flutter, and a small whimper echoes between us. I harden even more at the obvious signs of pleasure. Because I can, I twist her hair around my hand, tugging again at her scalp. With another of those sweet, utterly sexy sounds, she leans into my hold. God, she’s perfect. “Tell me, Eden.” When her lashes lift but she hesitates, I urge, “Be brave.”
Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, since I’ve been a coward around this woman from day one. Moment one.
“I want—” She pauses. Drags in a breath and continues. “I want what you gave that other woman. You, in my mouth, your hand in my hair, guiding me, showing me what you need from me. No,” she says, her fingers curling into my thighs. “Takingwhat you need from me. Don’t be gentle. Don’t go easy because of who I am. Use me.”
Her words ran into one another the longer she spoke, as if she had to hurry and get them out. Didn’t matter; I heard each and every one of them. Damn.Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. My control is slipping, like delicate tissue paper that is steadily tearing right down the middle. Only she could do this to me with just a whispered plea.
I rub my thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the curve, dipping the tip inside. The edge of her teeth grazes my flesh, and the sensation ripples over my erection. Anticipation rides me, drumming deep inside me, sizzling under my skin. A part of me wants to hold out a little longer, but damn that. I can’t. Not when I’ve been holding out for years.
Taking what you need… Don’t go easy… Use me.
The litany plays in my head, a filthy little jingle that’s quickly becoming my favorite tune.
I, again, wrap my fingers around the bottom half of my length, and draw her head down, down, down, until…Oh fuck.
Her lips kiss the head for a chest-squeezing moment before parting, opening, and I’m sinking into the wet heat of her mouth. My body goes as rigid as a statue.Christ. Our moans saturate the air, and as hers vibrates over my flesh, I can believe that she’s been waiting for this—wanting this—as much as I have. At least, with my dick encased in the sweetest suction, I don’t have to imagine it any longer.
She doesn’t wait for me to instruct her; her tongue slides over the swollen tip, smoothing, exploring. I don’t stop her. That would require moving. And paralyzed by such sharp pain-edged pleasure, I’m a willing prisoner of her mouth. She dips her head, taking more of me, that agile tongue torturing me with its long, greedy strokes. Only when she withdraws and the cool air whispers over my damp skin does my stupor shatter. With a growl that sounds too damn animalistic, I press her head lower, not easing until her lips bump my fist.
Shit. The sight of her stretched wide around my dick… No fantasy, no porno, none of my reality can compare to it. The dense fringe of her lashes fan against her skin, hiding her eyes from me, but the eager working of her tongue, the flush across her cheekbones, the bite of her nails through denim telegraph her pleasure. And then there are the moans adding another caress up and down my flesh. It’sso good.
I can’t tear my gaze away from her. Watching her slip and slide over me is hotter than the dirtiest sex I’ve ever had. I’ve never been closer to heaven than I am now. She’s further shredding my control, and it’s only been moments since she slid that beautiful, mind-bending mouth on me. Back and forth, she bobs over me, sucking, licking, goddamn worshipping. And fuck if she doesn’t make me feel like a god.
Electrical currents race and pop down my spine, culminating in a crackling pool at the base, in my balls. I grit my teeth, fighting the signal that orgasm is much closer than I want. Releasing my flesh, I thrust the other hand in her hair, both cradling her head and firmly holding her steady. Her eyes flicker to mine, and the lust raging through me rockets from consuming to combustible. Pleasure darkens her gaze so it appears black. A spark of impatience flashes in the depths, and in spite of the need digging its claws low in my gut, a corner of my mouth quirks into a tight smile as feral satisfaction curls in my chest.
“Open,” I order, not waiting for her obedience but rolling my hips up and nudging her lips. I press inside, pushing deeper, sinking more than half of my length inside her. She flattens her tongue, offering me a runway straight to the back of her throat. A groan tears from me, a reflection of my control ripping at the seams. “That’s it, baby. Let me in.” It’s a demand, a guttural plea.
Raising higher on her knees, she bends lower over me, and grateful, I lean down, press a kiss to her damp forehead. Then, straightening, I slowly guide her down my cock.
