I woke to the feeling of fingers sliding over my skin. Pressure alighted on my neck, followed by a soft tickle and a flush of warmth, like someone had just kissed me there.
Mmm…that feels nice.
I cracked my eyes open, momentarily disoriented. This wasn’t my apartment. I lay on my side, the mattress beneath me as soft as a cloud. A wide bank of blackout curtains covered the windows in front of me. I glanced down. The sheets had pooled around my waist. I was wearing a large white t-shirt, and from the feel of it, I still had underwear on.
Last night came rushing back. The party. That picture we’d seen as we were leaving. The last thing I remembered was Jakob glancing over at me in the mustang and telling me to put my seat back and rest. I must have fallen asleep while he drove. And because I had no recollection of climbing out of the car, he must have carried me in and put me to bed.
A hand slipped under my shirt. Jakob wrapped his arm around my middle, bicep flexing as he drew me backward through the sheets. I settled into the crook of his large, warm body. His erection pressed against my lower back, sending an answering rush of awareness through me.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost noon,” he said, his voice rough from sleep.
He dropped another kiss on my neck. And another. I hummed in appreciation as his lips scorched down my skin, toward my collarbone. The shirt he’d dressed me in was in the way. He lifted his arm from my waist and gripped the hem of the t-shirt. I sat up just enough for him to tug it off. He tossed it aside and then gripped my shoulder, rolling me toward him, onto my back.
The blackout curtains blocked most of the light, but enough illumination crept around the edges that I could see him. Instead of staring up at a bloodthirsty Norseman, I was looking into the face of a man who was barely awake. He looked…kind of adorable actually. His hair was disheveled. Sleep had softened the harsh lines of his face. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared down at me. He looked younger than he was, unguarded and almost boyish.
I lifted a hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I tried to remind myself that he could be a royal bastard sometimes, but then he turned and dropped a kiss on the inside of my wrist, and it was too much, too close to genuine affection. My stomach gave an unwelcome little flutter. I had to do something to break this spell.
“I will be so insulted if you fall asleep right now,” I told him.
In answer, he crashed down on top of me and started mock-snoring.
I shoved at his shoulder. Jesus he was heavy. “You’re not funny,” I said.
He rose up on his elbows. “Then why are you smiling?”
Shit, I was, wasn’t I? “Shut up,” I said, reaching for him.
He rolled between my legs. “No, you shut up.”
I laughed and wrapped my legs around his, trying to pull him closer. I liked this playful side of him.
His big hand landed on my mouth, smothering my laughter, and his gaze cut right, toward the door. “Seriously, Krista,” he said, voice low.
I caught it then, the sound of life outside this bedroom. Conversation floated up from downstairs. Somewhere nearby a washing machine kicked into spin cycle. Right. This wasn’t his apartment. We weren’t alone.
I gently bit his palm, and he lifted his hand away.
“I can be quiet,” I said.
His answering grin was a dark thing as he braced his elbows on either side of my head and shifted his hips forward, running the hard length of his dick over my sex. I swallowed the moan that threatened. God that felt good. Too good for there to be many layers between us. I craned my head up, and sure enough, Jakob wasn’t even wearing boxers.
“How’s the leg?” he asked, rolling his hips again.
I dropped my head back to my pillow. Pleasure coursed through me, making it hard to focus on his words. “It’s fine,” I finally managed.
And it was. I’d taken a muscle relaxer in the car, and between that and the ten hours of sleep I must have gotten, the pain from last night had faded into the familiar morning stiffness I was used to. The friction of his dick sliding over my clit made my core clench, and my mounting arousal drove any lingering discomfort to the background.
“Do that again,” I told him.
He thrust his hips against mine and dropped his head, trailing a line of kisses over my cheek. I turned my face away, giving him better access, and he kept going, the pressure of his hips disappearing as he kissed his way lower, down my neck and then along my collarbone. If I’d been in this situation with anyone else, I would have wanted some slow, sleepy sex, and then maybe another nap at the end. But this was Jakob. His kisses weren’t soft. They weren’t sleepy or gentle. Despite the need to be quiet, he was branding my skin with his lips in a way that forced me to clench my teeth shut and take deep, harsh breaths through my nose. Five minutes ago, I’d been asleep, and now I was so turned on that I could feel the slickness of my arousal coating my panties.
Across from us, the bedroom’s sleek wall A/C unit whirred to life, and my nipples puckered as cool air rushed over my skin. Jakob dropped his head to my breast and dragged my nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. I bunched the sheets in my fists and arched into him. My nipples had always been sensitive. If he kept lathing at me like this, the next gentle brush against my clit might totally undo me.
He moved from one nipple to the other, his hands cupping my breasts, the heat of his palms driving away the chill of the A/C. While his tongue worked one nipple, the fingers of his free hand bumped over the other, keeping me hyper-stimulated. I could feel myself getting fuller, softer, my body making itself ready for him. Heat gathered in my core. My vaginal walls pulsed in time with my heartbeat, an aching reminder that I was still empty. I felt almost bereft without him filling me up – that’s how desperate he was making me.
I knew some of this desperation was residual from yesterday. He’d gotten me off while driving, but instead of acting as the release I needed, it had only served to wind me tighter. We’d both been fully clothed. We’d barely touched each other the rest of the day. I’d been forced to stare at his wide shoulders, covered up by his jacket, his firm ass, hidden by his jeans, for hours on end. The sight of him now, fully naked as he worshipped my breasts, absolutely destroyed me.
“Jakob,” I whispered.
He must have heard the raw need in my voice, because he dropped a hand to my hip and started tugging off my underwear. His lips disappeared from my nipple, and I nearly cried out at their loss. He moved lower, pausing over my belly to suck in a breath through his nose. A low noise of approval, almost like a purr, rumbled up out of his chest as he looked up at me. “I can smell how much you want me.”
So could I. With the breeze from the A/C unit still blowing over us, the musky scent of my arousal was undeniable. He pulled in another deep breath, ribcage expanding between my thighs, and then moved lower still. His hands hit my knees, pushing them wide, spreading me for him. The look of open possession on his face as he stared down at my pussy made me absolutely wild for him.
“Jakob,” I said, harsher this time.
I caught sight of the dark edge of a grin as he dipped forward. He didn’t tease me. He didn’t take his time. Instead, he speared his tongue straight into me. I arched up off the bed, gasping. The man must have been ravenous, because he ate me out with such intense focus that I was soon left panting. Somehow this was too much and not enough at the same time. Instead of giving me the release I desperately needed, he studiously ignored my clit and continued to tongue my pussy, spinning me higher and higher.
I shifted my hips, trying to tell him what I wanted with my body. He let out a low growl against my wet flesh and pulled my legs over his shoulders. Then he hooked his heavy arms around my thighs and across my waist, effectively pinning me in place. The message was clear: he knew what I wanted and he’d get to it when he was damn well ready. Until then, he planned to take his time devouring me.
I might have been pissed if I wasn’t so worried that I was about to have a fucking heart attack. Being this turned on for this length of time without release couldn’t possibly be good for my health in the long run. My breaths came in shallow gasps. I could feel my pulse pounding through my entire body. Deep inside, my inner muscles clenched over and over again, begging for something to hold on to.
He slicked his tongue into me while I strained against his grip. He was going to have bruises from where my heels dug into his back, searching for some kind of purchase, but if anything, my desperation only seemed to encourage him. A low rumble came from the back of his throat, and as his mouth shuddered over my fevered flesh, I realized he was laughing at me.
Now it was my turn to growl at him. I was going to murder the man if he didn’t get me off soon. Actually…fuck, as much as it killed me to admit it, I actually liked the fact that he was forever pushing my buttons. I liked the fact that he continuously taunted me, even now, during foreplay. I wouldn’t be so unbearably turned on if I didn’t.
Whatever this was between us, it was twisted, and God help me, I kind of loved it.
He shifted the angle of his mouth then, his nose nuzzling against my clit in a way that had stars bursting behind my closed eyelids.
“So impatient,” he murmured into me.
“Screw you,” I hissed.
He chuckled again and dropped a kiss on the one part of my anatomy that I’d been desperate for him touch. I hissed in a sharp breath, a fine tremble running through my limbs. This was it. He was finally going to give me what I needed.
He dropped another kiss on my clit and glanced up at me beneath his lashes, and this time I went utterly still beneath him. Because damn it, he was beautiful. It was a savage sort of beauty, like looking at a tiger stalking past the bars of its cage and knowing if it ever got out, you were totally fucked. And yet there was something else in his eyes. Something that made me feel safe and appreciated. Seen.
He’d been taunting me this whole time, but the longer I held his gaze, the less of a teasing edge I saw in his eyes and the more a deep-seated desire began to take over.
“Now, Jakob,” I said.
The last bit of mischief faded from his eyes, replaced by what looked like dark, raw need. He lowered his mouth back to my aching bud, slicked one long, thick finger into my pussy, and sucked at my clit. My orgasm hit so hard and so fast that my entire body clenched up. Thank God, otherwise I might have been screaming. He lapped at me, urging me on, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure until the last waves rolled over me, and I went boneless beneath him. He gave me one more lingering kiss and then wiped his face off on the sheets before rising and moving toward the dresser.
I turned my head to watch him, taking in the way his muscles rolled and flexed with every movement. No wonder the Romans had been so obsessed with statues of muscular men. There was something so intrinsically carnal about a body that had been honed by years of hard work.
“You should always be naked,” I said, feeling sex-drunk. I might regret the words later, but right now, I couldn’t bring myself to care. At least I’d had enough sense left to keep my voice down.
He ripped a condom open and rolled it down his girth, shooting me a look when he was done. “Remember that the next time I say something to piss you off,” he said, voice so low it rumbled like the engine of his bike.
“I want you naked even when you piss me off,” I told him. Because it was true.
His cock visibly stiffened at that, and he prowled back around toward me. I expected him to crawl onto the bed, but he dropped to his knees at the foot of it, hooked his arms beneath my hips, and pulled me half off the mattress. I landed in his lap, and even as he steadied me, I was reaching for his dick. I wanted more. Harder. Deeper. Clitoral orgasms were great, but they were nothing compared to cervical ones, which lasted longer and made every nerve in my body simultaneously ignite with pleasure.
He lifted my hips like I weighed nothing, and I guided him to my entrance. In one smooth, excruciatingly delicious stroke, I slid down his length until he bottomed out. Like this, we were almost eye-to-eye, and I watched as his lips parted on a small, barely audible moan. I had to bite my lip to hold back an answering sound. He was bigger than any other man I’d ever been with, and the feel of him filling me up, stretching me out, was almost too much.
His eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, searched my face, a small crease forming between his brows as he shifted his hips back and then surged into me again. My breasts bounced with the movement, and he dropped his gaze to them as if transfixed, thrusting deep again. A surge of fierce pride streaked through me. I loved that I had this effect on him. A moment ago, he’d been in complete control, but now, this close, there was no way he could hide the fact that he was quickly coming undone.
I leaned back and braced myself on the mattress behind me, trusting that he was strong enough to hold my weight up. His hands gripped my ass, steadying me.
“Again,” I said.
He surprised me by leaning forward, into me, shifting our angle, the skin of his lower abdomen slicking over my clit as he slammed into me. And then his lips were at my neck again, just below my ear. The heat of his breath warmed my skin as he started a steady rhythm. His strokes were deep and even, his pace smooth. Just like last time, Jakob treated this like a marathon instead of a sprint.
He rose up a little, and I hooked my legs around his waist. Like this, I had to arch my back to keep the contact of his skin slicking over my clit, and it pressed my breasts up as if offering them to him. He made a low sound and dropped his lips to my nipple, and I lifted my hand and palmed my other one. I had contact everywhere I needed it, was being stimulated on so many parts of my body that the pleasure was beginning to blur together in a way that made me feel weightless and dizzy.
“Jakob, fuck,” I said, helpless to stop the keening moan building in the back of my throat.
His mouth crashed against mine, lips working as he thrust his tongue inside. I gripped his shoulders and shifted my hips with his, losing myself to the lust coursing through me, my inner muscles clenching around his girth. He hit a spot deep within me that felt so good I wanted to scream for him, but I couldn’t. Instead he drank down the noises I made and continued to drive into me, slow and steady. I clenched my eyes shut as another orgasm built. If my first one had been hard and fast, this one rolled through my body with the slow, devastating force of a tidal wave. It felt like I came for minutes on end, my inner muscles squeezing so tight that Jakob could barely move inside me.
He pulled out when it passed and turned me around so that I faced the bed. The mattress sat on a low platform, low enough that bent at the hips like this, I could fold forward and rest my sweat-slicked upper body on the sheets. I still shuddered with aftershocks from the strength of my orgasm. Jakob’s hands gripped my hips, and in one smooth thrust, he buried himself in me from behind. I thought he would pick up the rhythm now. His dick felt huge inside me; he had to be close. But he just kept up that same, torturous tempo, and when one hand snaked around so he could stroke his fingers over my clit, I knew he wasn’t finished with me.
I gripped the sheets in my fists, scrambling for purchase. “I can’t,” I panted. If I came again, I would have an aneurysm, I just knew it.
“Yes you can,” Jakob said, voice low and commanding. “Give me another one, Krista.”
His fingers picked up speed on my clit, and soon I was shoving my hips back to meet his thrusts, my body moving on an instinctual level as I chased after another mind-melting rush of release. Oh, no, I thought, as a deep, aching pressure built inside me. I couldn’t survive another one, could I? But it was like my second orgasm had never really faded, and soon I had to bury my face in the sheets to smother the high-pitched sounds of need I was making.
I tumbled over the edge a second later, spine bowed, slamming my hips backward. Thank God for the A/C unit and the nearby washing machine, otherwise the sounds of our skin slapping together might be audible for anyone walking by the room.
Jakob’s fingers left my clit and landed on my hip. He gripped me and thrust hard, dick stiffening inside me as his orgasm chased after mine. The feel of him pulsing deep against my cervix prolonged my own pleasure, and by the time it faded, I collapsed, boneless.
Jakob slid out of me and pulled me backward, off the mattress, gathering me against him. The sound of our breathing was loud and ragged. Our skin was slicked with sweat. I felt his heartbeat pounding against my back, proof that he’d come as hard as I did.
“Holy hell,” I panted. Three orgasms. My thighs shook. If not for Jakob’s arms banded around my waist, I would have sunk to the floor in a heap of spent flesh.
He dropped his lips to my neck and made a low, appreciative sound. “I knew you had another one in you.”
“Don’t sound so smug about it,” I snapped. “You almost killed me with that one.”
“Nah,” he said. “You’ll get used to the feeling.”
Used to three back-to-back orgasms? “Are you sure that’s safe?” I said, my voice little more than a squeak.
He chuckled, the vibration of his laughter moving through me in a way that triggered another small aftershock of release. Jesus. It was like he’d set something seismic off inside me. No wonder he swaggered through life like he was the biggest, baddest mother fucker out there. In the bedroom, he was.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to shower.”
He helped me to stand, and I hissed as my hip twinged. Goddamn, that stung. I’d strained a nerve sometime between orgasms number two and three. I felt it happen, a weird little twang of pain that I knew from experience would get worse later, but in the heat of the moment I’d barely noticed.
Jakob saw me wince, and before I could protest, he scooped me up and strode into his en suite bathroom. A massive clawfoot tub stood beneath a low bank of windows that looked out on the river behind the house. He set me down and turned it on. I leaned against the double sink vanity as he added a big scoop of Epsom salt that filled the room with the familiar, muscle-relieving scent of eucalyptus and lavender.
His brow was furrowed as he worked, jaw clenched like he was mad. With him, it was hard to read his emotions, what with the perpetual scowl he seemed to wear, but from the stiff line of his shoulders, I started to worry he was actually angry.
A few minutes later, we sank down into the bath together, with him at my back, bracing me up. His hand fell to my hip, massaging the sore joint.
“Why are you pissy?” I asked.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he countered.
I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes as his fingers went to work on my aching joint. “About my hip?”
He rumbled his ascent.
“It didn’t hurt until the endorphins faded,” I said.
He made a low grunt that sounded like disbelief, and now it was my turn to be irritated.
“I’m not some delicate, wilting flower, Jakob,” I said. “I have a voice. If something hurts too much for us to continue, I’ll tell you.”
His fingers stilled on my skin, and his chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I melted a little. His voice was low, intimate, his tone filled with some emotion that had my mind spinning. It sounded like the words had deeper meaning, that he didn’t want me hurt ever. Physically, or emotionally.
Before I could let myself read too much into it, I craned my head back and pulled his face toward mine. “Then don’t,” I said, sealing my lips over his.
Copyright © 2020 by Navessa Allen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.