Текст книги "Seth"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Bending over her, I mouth them through the lace, loving how they tighten more, how her hands find their way to my head and her fingers tug at my short hair.

How she moans my name.

Hell, I’ll show her all right. Show her all I have, all I could fucking be for her. All I could give her, if things were different.

How I’d make her mine.

***

Her bra is pretty, but it has to go. I slip my arms behind her back, searching for the mysterious, hidden clasp, and then make my fingers bleed by trying to open it.

Then it comes apart and I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of her, exposed to me like this, her tits round and golden, the nipples dark. I run my hands down her body, parting the dress, and hell, she’s a goddamn wet dream.

I bend over her, licking and tasting, teasing her nipples until she moans and writhes underneath me. She tastes like she smells—of vanilla cream and almonds. Looks like I have a sweet tooth, I think randomly as I lightly bite her nipple and she squeals. Definitely.

Fuck, I need to come. Need to come inside her, mark her, fill her. Take her.

Shuddering, so damn hard my dick could drill through a wall, I kiss a trail between her breasts, down her quivering belly, down, down, until I can rip her panties off and settle between her legs, winking up at her.

Are you ready, baby?

My knee aches, my shoulder throbs, and I don’t fucking care. Wouldn’t trade my place for anything in the world.

She’s watching me from under lowered lashes, lower lip caught between white teeth, a flush spreading over her breasts and neck, rising to her cheeks. Unsure. A little scared. Turned on.

Sexy as hell.

I part her folds with my thumb. She’s so wet. I flick my thumb over her swollen clit, and she gasps, her hips lifting. I press them back down.

And I bury my face between her legs, tasting her, licking along her seam, jabbing my tongue inside her. Her breathing turns shallow, frantic. Her legs tense and tremble, closing over my shoulders, and her fingers tangle in my hair painfully. Her body arches, her sweetness floods my senses.

Jesus. She’s as close as I am, and the realization she’s about to come against my mouth is too much. Shifting, I lick her clit, circle it with my tongue, and slip a finger inside her. She’s tight, so tight, and gets tighter still as she gasps and clenches hard.

I can feel it, feel her everywhere, feel her pleasure as it cascades down her body and into mine.

“Seth.” Her breathless cry echoes in my ears.

Can’t hold back any longer. I reach down, grab my dick through my sweats, tug once, twice—and it’s all I can do not to howl as I jerk, my dick pulsing inside my sweats.

Oh fuck… I lay my head on her creamy thigh and come and come. It’s as if I haven’t come in years, the way my dick bursts, the way my body shakes, my balls trying to empty themselves to the last fucking drop.

Just because she’s here. So damn close. Because her taste is still on my tongue, her scent everywhere, her warmth against my arms, my cheek. Seeping into the cold, dark spaces of my soul, filling them with fire and light.

I know this is a bad idea, a goddamn terrible idea, in fact—and I don’t care. Don’t care how far I fall, not when her pulse ricochets through me, when she reaches for me and whispers my name.

Who cares about tomorrow? Never thought I’d have one, anyway. The present is the only thing that counts in my book.

Besides, with my luck and my past, it’s more than I deserve.

Chapter Fourteen

Manon

Whoa, what was that? Pleasure still rolls through me in great waves, my core clenching and unclenching, wanting more.

More of him.

Can’t believe how crazy good that was. Can’t believe he did that, that he went down on me, and…

Oh God, I came with his mouth on my clit, his finger inside me. Through the haze in my brain and the pleasure still shuddering up and down my spine, making my insides contract again and again as my orgasm ebbs away, I’m having a little breakdown.

Shitshitshit, can’t believe this just happened. He’s still lying there, his head on my thigh, his panting breath scorching my skin—still dressed, where I’m naked on his couch, underneath him, splayed wide, and—

“Beautiful,” he rasps, and I freeze. “You’re beautiful. The way you came, from my touch, Christ, I…” He puts his hands by my hips and lifts himself up, his gaze intense, burning into me. “That was fucking awesome.”

“You liked it?” I put my hands over my breasts, covering up the best I can, but he’s having none of it. He gently pries my hands off, and his eyes darken as he stares down at my breasts.

“Are you fucking kidding me, woman? Asking me if I liked going down on you, licking you, fingerfucking you until you came calling out my name?”

Oh crap, I did that? Now I want to cover my face, but he’s still holding my hands. He lifts them, one by one, and places kisses on my palms that burn like stars in my mind.

“I came,” he says, and when I glance up, startled, I find him grinning down at me. “I almost didn’t need to touch myself, I was so close. I fucking loved it, loved tasting you and touching you. I’d do it every day and every night, but…” He winks. “I have more things I wanna try out with you.”

Other things. Unable to help myself, I think of his cock, the way it looked, swollen and flushed, when I’d touched it the other day, the way he’d showed me how to touch it, and then him coming, shaking, falling apart.

I want him inside me. The thought both excites and frightens me. I remember well how big his cock was, but I want… want to feel it stretching me, piercing me deep. I want to touch his chest, his powerful shoulders, study his ink, study every scar and every memory imprinted on his skin.

Kissing him, touching him, making him come, seeing the pleasure flitting over his handsome face… Then wrapping him up in my arms, keeping him safe. God, never wanted anything so much.

What’s happening to me? Who is this girl living in my skin, wearing my face, a girl I didn’t know until now? Where did she come from?

Was she inside me all along, only waiting to be let out?

He moves, breaking through my musings, sitting back, massaging his thigh through his sweats. With a twinge of guilt, I remember his bad knee—a little too late. Can’t feel too guilty, though, not when he’s looking at me sideways, that satisfied grin still on his lips.

He looks happy, I realize with a start, and it could well be the first time since I met him that the shadow of sorrow darkening his gaze is gone.

I’m still staring, mesmerized by his boyish smile, the sparkle in his dark eyes, when he decides to undress.

End of profound thoughts. End of thinking, period. I think I might be drooling.

Holy crap, this boy. I mean, I saw him naked once before, but I was nervous and stressed and not sure what the hell was happening—why I was looking at him, or touching him. Why I was drawn to him.

No such doubts now.

He pulls his T-shirt off, revealing his inked chest, and those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he tugs the cloth over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Small brown nipples on defined pecs, and the snake tattooed on his shoulder moves with the shifting of his biceps, opening its mouth wider.

A shiver travels through me, but then he’s pushing down his wet sweats and briefs, the musk of his cum rising, so sexy—and who cares about that snake when he’s bared to me completely? His cock is half-hard, jutting out from soft dark curls, and his sack hangs heavy underneath. His thick thighs are almost hairless, and his hipbones jut out below his narrow waist.

My gaze returns to his cock. It’s hardening as I watch, thickening, lengthening. His breathing is growing ragged, but he doesn’t do anything. Just sits there, letting me look until I have my fill.

Until I sit up, too, vaguely aware of my own nudity but not as nervous as I thought I’d be—not after his mouth and hands have been all over me, when he said I’m beautiful, when he came from touching me and kissing me—and I reach for him.

My hands brush over the demon inked on his chest, over his small nipples. They react instantly, hardening under my palms, and his abs contract. Jeez, hello six-pack! He rocks a perfect washboard stomach, and I can’t resist running my fingertips over its bumps and grooves.

A soft growl escapes him. His cock jumps when I touch it.

“You’re hard again,” I whisper, stating the obvious, but hey. “I thought guys took longer to recover.”

“I want you too much,” he mutters, a flush rising to his cheekbones. “I’ve wanted you for too long.”

God, he’s fascinating. I’m torn between kissing those cheekbones, his long lashes, the tip of his nose, his lips—his chest, his stomach, his cock.

Then his words sink in, and my heart trips over. “You have?”

He shakes his head, looks away. “Fuck.”

“Didn’t know you were—”

“I wasn’t.” He captures my wrists, stilling my wandering hands. “Forget it.”

I bite my lip. Didn’t know he’d been interested before. What’s on his mind? Why is he denying what he said?

“Come here.” He drags me onto his lap and we both shudder when his hard-on throbs between our naked bodies. “God, you feel so good.”

He does, too. Way too good. Never knew it’d feel so wonderful to be skin-to-skin with a guy. So hot. I love the way the muscles roll in his thighs as he settles me there, my knees on either side of him, the way his biceps bulge when he lifts his hands to my face, his rough fingerpads stroking my cheeks.

“Don’t overthink this,” he says, his voice low and rich like mulled wine. “Take what you need. Tell me what you like. I’m—”

I kiss him. He’s too delicious to resist. Kissing him is like swallowing fire, like tasting spiced cake, or spiked hot chocolate. And he wants me… He wants me. Doesn’t matter what he said or meant, what he denied, he wants me right now.

He can’t deny that. I feel it in the way his body reacts to mine, I’m learning the signs. His mouth crushes to mine, and his arms wrap around me, so that his heart beats frantically against my breasts. His hips roll upward, rubbing his cock between us, smearing warm wetness, and he gasps.

It’s thrilling, kind of magical, knowing this is because of me. I spent so long feeling invisible—as a person, as a woman—that I can hardly believe a guy like Seth would want me.

The more time I spend with him, the hotter he is. My breath catches just looking at him.

Too bad he doesn’t really want to be with me, be my boyfriend.

I break the kiss as the thought surfaces. Whoa. Where did that come from? Just two days ago I was thinking I don’t have a real connection with Seth—no topics and areas of interest in common. A relationship would never work, even if he was interested—which he’s not! So why even entertain the idea?

Besides, this is probably just reaction to finding Fred with that woman and realizing he was stringing me along all this time. Seth is… my rebound guy.

A really hot rebound guy, for sure. Take what you need, he said. So I will, even if I want more. Or think I do. This is so confusing.

Don’t be stupid, Manon. You hardly know the guy. Okay, so I’ll take what he offers. It’s already a lot more than what I’ve ever had with a guy.

I’ll just pretend I’m with someone who cares about me, who really desires me, body and soul—even if the lie breaks my heart by the end of the day.

At least I’ll have known what it’s like.

***

“What’s on your mind, girl?” He has pulled back, dark eyes intent, searching my face. They’re a warm chocolate hue with darker flecks, slightly exotic, fringed by those long lashes. “Manon? What is it?”

So pretty. Such pretty eyes for an inked, muscular bad boy. So gentle for someone so strong.

“Nothing.” I give him a tiny smile, and he exhales softly when I press my hands to his shoulders.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says and for some reason it stings, as if deep inside, I wanted him to tell me the opposite. That this felt right to him.

I’m so confused.

“If I push you too much, if I ever fucking hurt you in any way, you need to tell me right away, okay? I have to know I’m not hurting you.”

I nod.

Not his fault I wish for more. Any pain I may feel once he’s done with me will be my fault and nobody else’s.

Enough. I kiss him again, before he gets to say anything else, and shove my fears down deep, daring them to stop me from snatching what little happiness and pleasure I can.

He falls into the kiss, thrusting his tongue against mine, our teeth clashing, lips melding together. His hands stroke down my back to my ass and squeeze, sending delicious shivers straight to my core. My body is a live wire, his every little shift and touch sparkling through me, shaking me, making me burn.

“Holy shit…” He slides his hands up my ribcage to the front, puts them over my breasts, and I pant at the pleasure coursing through me. “You’re smoking hot, baby.”

His words, his fingers clamping on my nipples, his erection pressing into my belly make me moan and writhe. My pussy is throbbing, clenching uselessly. I need him. Need to feel him inside me.

“Seth.” I moan when he rocks against me. “Please.”

“What do you want?” he breathes. “Tell me.”

“Inside me. Oh God…” I can’t believe how much I need it, I need him. Never felt like I’ll weep, like I’ll die if he doesn’t do it. If he doesn’t push that big cock into me all the way.

Jesus.

Before I freak out at myself, he reaches for something on the low table. His wallet, I realize, from which he pulls a square foil.

A condom. Right. Christ, can’t believe I wasn’t even thinking about protection in my desperate need of him.

Shit, what’s happening to me? Why am I still sitting in his lap, throbbing between my legs, my breasts aching—why did I come back here and tell him I wanted what he’d offered? Oh crap, what—?

“Hey. Still with me?” He stills in the process of rolling the condom on his cock, and as my eyes focus again, my mouth waters. No guy’s cock has any right to make me salivate.

Except this one apparently does. Without conscious thought, I lower my hand to it, outline the flared crown through the rubber, the thick vein running on the underside, all the way down. His hard length twitches under my touch, his stomach clenches and he grabs my arm, breathing deeply through his nose.

When I look up into his eyes, he smiles, a sexy curl of his full lips—and the heat is back, scorching me.

I look down at his hard-on, lick my lips. “Please.”

He groans. “Fuck, say it again.”

“Please, Seth,” I whisper. “I want you inside me.”

“Goddammit.” Suddenly he twists and lowers me on the sofa. I’m flat on my back, and he’s between my legs, braced on his hands over me, his cock rubbing on my folds, spreading me open. “Hold on to me.”

He lifts my legs, one after the other, drapes them over his hips, wraps them around his waist—and oh God, the tip of his cock nudges at my entrance. I throw my arms around his neck as he presses into me, my head falling back at the incredible feeling of his cock slipping into me, filling me.

Just when I think I can’t take any more of him, he stops, lips parted, breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling, making his dark ink dance. He’s looking down at me, and I’m transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. There’s a question in his eyes, and I nod.

Yes. Please. More.

One side of his mouth tips up in a crooked smile that makes my breath hitch, and he starts to move. Pulls out, a long, slow drag that has me squirming, and then pushes back inside, a deep, smooth slide that makes me arch on the sofa. Pleasure pools deep inside of me, threatening to drown me, and I claw at his shoulder blades, trying to anchor myself.

This is… huge. I can feel it building in my core, a gathering tempest, an impossible pressure that’s bound to shatter me to a million pieces. I buck against him, and as if he’d been waiting for my signal, he lowers his head, puts his mouth on mine, and starts moving faster.

Good God. What he’s doing now, rocking in and out of me fast and hard, it’s pushing me so fast toward the edge I can’t find the brakes. I moan helplessly in his mouth as the pressure crests and I clench around his length so hard I see stars.

He breaks the kiss, draws a hissing breath. “Fuck…” His hips roll, his cock swells more, triggering mini explosions in my core, and then he comes with a low groan. I feel the warmth of his cum through the thin rubber, and Christ, I clench around him even harder, pleasure spiking through me again, taking me apart.

He collapses on top of me, muttering something I can’t make out, as I sob for breath and wrap myself around him like a starfish. I need him close, closer, like I’d climb into him and curl there. Safe. Happy. Warm.

He shifts, rolling off me, gathering me in his arms and kissing my hair as if I’m something precious to him.

And now I have tears rising to my eyes. Crap. I wish he didn’t pretend so well that he cares. He’s really good at this. So good I can almost believe it.

***

It’s Sunday. The realization hits me as I blink at a cracked ceiling with a warm, solid weight at my back and over my ribs. No idea what triggered that random thought. Maybe it’s the fact I’m not alone in the room, and despite the crick in my neck I’m comfortable and content to lie where I am, not moving.

Not to break the spell, the dream-like quality of the moment. The way my heart fills with happiness when I realize the band weighing over my ribs is his arm, his other wedged under my head in guise of a pillow, and his strong body is fitted to the curve of my back.

We’re spooning.

My pulse speeds up. Oh God, it’s… sweet. Never done this with a guy before, and it makes me all tingly and fuzzy inside.

His breath ruffles the hair on top of my head. His chest rises and falls, pressed to my back. I can feel every breath he draws, feel his steady, slow heartbeat.

I study the ink on his arm, afraid to move, not to wake him up, tracing with my eyes the dark whorls and lines, up to the snake covering his shoulder. He has fine dark hairs on his forearm. His hand is large, the fingers long, the nails blunt and square, and then there’s the scar I noticed before—old, white, running from the inside of his wrist down to his palm.

It fascinates me even more than his ink, and I run my fingertip over it, following the upraised skin up to his wrist. Strange that he didn’t try to cover it up with a tattoo, I think, as he shivers, his flesh breaking into goosebumps.

“Manon?” His voice is heavy with sleep, deep, resonating through me.

Freezing, I wait to see what will happen. All uncharted territory to me. Never slept with a boyfriend before—even a pretend boyfriend. Never woke up with one.

“Morning.” He shifts behind me, nuzzling my hair, and something long and hard pokes my ass.

Oh God, he’s aroused. Solid hard. Fire shoots up my belly as he snuggles closer, shifting again, trying to accommodate his erection.

“You’re awake,” he whispers.

“Yeah.” I lay my fingertips over the scar. “What made this?”

“What…?” He shivers again when I stroke it. “Oh fuck.”

“Looks like it was bad.”

He groans. “It was. Knife.”

“How did it happen?”

“My stepdad happened. High on drugs. Tried to cut me up.”

Shit. I twist, trying to turn, to look at his face, but he won’t let me. “My God. What did he do to you? Did—?”

“I’m okay, it was… Fuck. It’s over.” He pulls his hand away.

“Where was your mom? Were you home alone with him?”

“She was there, stoned out of her fucking mind.” He groans. “Listen… it’s too early for this shit.”

I grab his wrist again. “Please.”

He stills, his breathing quick and uneven. “What now?”

“If you were my boyfriend…” I swallow hard. “I’d want to know.”

“Fuck.” It’s quiet and heartfelt, so much so I want to take it back, back away, let him be.

But I can’t. “You said you thought your mom was dead. What happened?”

“What do you think happened? She left. Never called or came back. I thought she died.”

“You were close?”

“Ha. Good one.”

“You weren’t.”

“Not by a long shot. For one, she was never there, and even when she was, she was high, or low, depending on what she was using. She took my money, money I stole or made with small jobs. She often had her boyfriends at home, motherfucking bastards, so I made sure I was never there. End of story.”

My heart is in my throat. Jesus. “They beat you?”

He laughs, and the sound is like a blade, sharp and cold. “Yeah, they beat me. Then I grew up, moved out, and that was that.”

“Where did you go?”

“To Shane’s house. It was good, and I managed to straighten up and go to school for a while, too. Those were… they were good times. Until they were over.” His voice roughens, and he swallows audibly.

“What happened?”

“Then Shane’s mom died in an accident, and he went off the rails. I tried to help him, but by then…” His breath makes a strange hitching sound. “By then it was too late for that, and my own mom fucked me up.”

“Fucked you up? What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter what I mean.” He rolls away, his arm lifting, leaving behind cold. “Nothing fucking matters. She had her boyfriend break me, then they took off, left me for the police to find. So she’s still dead to me. Nothing’s changed.”

Oh God.

I finally turn around to face him, and the pain in his eyes is heart-wrenching. “You’re here. That’s all what matters.”

“You can stop, you know?” He sits up, swings his legs off the couch. “Stop playing for a sec, stop pretending.”

He makes as if to get up, and I throw my arms around his neck. “I’m not playing. I’m happy you’re here. I’m so sorry for what happened to you in the past. You’re safe now.”

“Shit, I wish that was true,” he whispers, and I can’t take it anymore. I want to erase the pain from his gaze, from his mind, make sure he’s okay.

I kiss him. I cup his rough jaw and pull him to me. This boy isn’t mine, but God I wish he were.

He wraps a hand around the back of my head, deepens the kiss, and shit, I’d forgotten he was naked. Like, one hundred percent bare, and also still hard. As he hauls me onto his lap, my body reacts, my breasts tightening painfully, a throb starting between my legs.

“If you were my girlfriend,” he mutters against my lips, “the first thing we’d do on a Sunday morning would be to fuck.”