Текст книги "Sudden Desires"

Автор книги: Shanora Williams

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“Yeah,” I murmur as his lips skim up to the lobe of my ear.

I continue to stroke him through the fabric until I’ve had enough of just cloth. With dire need to feel flesh on flesh, I lower his boxers and grip his hot thickness in hand.

He groans and I sigh as his rock-hard member travels across my palm. “Feels good?” I whisper.

“So good,” he groans again.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Griffin. Whatever you need in order for me to satisfy you, I will do it.”

He picks up his head, studying my eyes. Then, he moves my hand away, watching my tongue run across my lips. “Turn around then,” he demands.

I swallow my desire, hesitantly turning my back to him. His warm fingers come up to the back of my bra strap and he unlatches it.

My D-cup breasts bounce when they are freed, and he brings both hands around me to cup them.

Toying with my nipples, he thrusts his groin against my ass and I breathe deep as he holds me tight to his hard body.

God, he’s so hard and thick. Everywhere. He grinds himself on my ass, still squeezing my breasts, his chest to my back. His breath runs across the bend of my neck, the sweet, natural scent of him driving me wild.

The rain comes down harder only a few feet away, the pleasant sound of white noise mixing in with heated breaths and scorching bodies.

“Whatever I want?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” I return, rolling the seductive words off my tongue.

“Kay.” He pulls one of his hands from my breast and runs it from the small of my back to the tip of my spine. He then shoves me forward, face down, and I gasp as his erection slides through the crack of my plump cheeks.

“Stay just like that,” he growls.

And I do as I’m told, holding still for him.

His fingers skim my waist, and once he finds my panty line, he tugs the strings down, bringing them around my ankles.

Once removed, he groans, trailing kisses up my spine, one hand circling around to my thigh. Slowly, he runs his hand up, nearing damp heat.

My teeth catch my bottom lip, and I shut my eyes, intoxicated with desire. And once he finds my clit, still kissing my body tenderly, I buckle. Because he’s there… right there.

With ease, he guides his fingers through my slit, and dips his fingers into my entrance. Pulling back out, he groans, lips planted by my ribcage. “Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he murmurs, voice deep and vibrating through me. “I assume it will always be this way for me.” His finger comes back up to my clit, and he applies a gentle amount of pressure. I start to buck, but he presses down on my back, keeping me still. “Just like that, Angelina. Like that. Don’t move.”

He continues circling my nub, going faster and faster with each passing second, causing my knees to buckle and my back to arch. “Oh, God,” I groan.

“Feels good?”

“Yes,” I breathe, tossing my head back.

“Finish,” he demands.

My eyes shut, and with a few more slow, sensual swirls around my clit, I cry out, cursing loudly again.

Griffin pulls away slowly, watching as I collapse and bask in the bliss.

I breathe raggedly, but I’m not granted enough time to settle because he drags me to the edge of the bed and flips me over, adjusting between my legs.

He’s still unbelievably hard. His pre-cum glistens on his mushroom tip when I look down, studying his hard length. So thick. So long. So fucking big.

I know I’m in for ultimate pleasure.

Hovering above me, Griffin plants his hands outside my head, his cock at my entrance. I inch closer, wanting him to sink deep, fulfill my ache, but he doesn’t.

He holds back with a gleam in his eyes.

Thunder and lightning hit the sky, the breeze blowing stronger through the open door. I whimper, and he shakes his head. “How badly do you want me to fuck you, Angelina?”

“Badly, Griffin.”

“Yeah?”

I nod, running my hand down his chest, grabbing hold of his cock. His nostrils flare, eyes squeezing tight as I lower my body until my tongue can slide between the slit on his thick tip.

I know I’m only making this harder for him. His cock is so fucking hard I think he might explode with one simple stroke.

But, he proves me wrong. He lifts me back up and grabs my wrists, planting my arms above my head. And in one swift movement, he dives deep inside me, stilling—body locking for what feels like an eternity.

My back goes into an instant curve, a heavy moan spouting through my lips from the unforeseen stroke. Griffin sucks on one of my nipples as he starts moving, grunting like a savage, slamming into me repeatedly.

His hands continue to hold my wrists, and with the speed of a jackrabbit, only his hips move, drilling, screwing, filling me up with each rapid thrust.

Skin slaps, and beads of sweat ride on his chest. He grunts, squeezing my wrists, eyes hard on mine, refusing to look away.

I close mine, but when I do he pulls away from my wrists, grabbing my face in his hands.

My eyes shoot open and when ours connect, his head shakes. “Watch me,” he rumbles. “Watch me own this pussy, Angelina.” He leans forward, lips coming to the shell of my ear. “You say you can’t be owned. I’m about to prove that theory false.”

Still gripping my face, he keeps my eyes on his, his cock still hammering away, sinking deep inside me. I clench around him, moaning, panting, and sighing.

My body goes wild, my sex soaking his cock.

With each stroke he grunts, and in no time at all he switches positions, shoving one of my legs up and sinking so deep I feel him in the pit of my belly. He steadily rocks, increasing speed, gripping my ankle and pounding mercilessly.

“Oh, yes,” I groan. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” he asks, dropping down to steal away a damp kiss. My fingernails drag across his back, our lips locking, tongues stealing tastes that we know we shouldn’t take.

He releases my ankle, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His body locks, but his cock feels so much harder, so much bigger.

He’s on the verge. Pulsing. Throbbing. “Cum for me, Angelina. I want to feel you all over my fucking cock. I want to feel how fucking wet you can get just for me.”

I cling to him, his breath running through my hair. He squeezes the hair on my scalp near the back of my neck, pulling out that sweet mix of pleasure and pain.

A little rough sex never hurt anyone… especially me.

In fact, it further increases my appetite. It brings me more pleasure, and when he does it again, I begin to quake beneath him. My hands run down to his hips and I clutch, fingers sliding with the rhythms of his thrusts.

“Give me that pussy, Angel. All of it,” Griffin breathes. “Give it to me.”

And that is exactly what I do. I give it to him, all of me… to him.

I cum so hard around Griffin’s cock that I see shooting stars that mingle with the lightning. As the thunder booms, the crackle of lightning sparking this moment, I shudder and shake, allowing him to bring me beyond oblivion.

My body twitches in ways I never thought possible, eyes squeezing shut, words spewing out of me that I’ve never heard before.

Griffin’s body curls as he tries to bring me back into position. He wins, and the deep strokes of his cock continue to make me drizzle and soak the length of him until, hastily, he cums too.

“Ah, fuck, Angel,” he grunts, voice thick and heavy.

He slams once.

Twice.

Three times, still taking little strokes like he can’t get enough, panting so hard it seems he’s run a marathon. I watch as his face oozes with the pleasure I’d longed to witness since day one—how it is my womanhood that makes him shudder, makes him groan and twitch with each surge of release.

Finally, our bodies settle, and when our eyes lock, our lips do as well. I sigh beneath his kiss, whimpering as he moves his hips and triggers another tender spot. And when he pulls out and flops beside me on his back, I can’t fight my smile.

Goodness… I’ve just fucked Griffin Boyd.

My associate in business.

This could ruin a lot, or it could better things.

Whatever.

That doesn’t matter right now because right now all I can think about is this.

Sex with Boyd.

And I can’t lie. He has some pretty amazing dick.

EIGHT

Griffin

I lay flat on my back, panting out labored breaths.

That was an incredible fuck.

My God, this woman’s pussy is just as I imagined.

Wet, waxed, and tight. Every man’s dream.

Angelina sighs and runs her palms over her face, pitching a giggle. She’s embarrassed, but honestly she shouldn’t be the embarrassed one.

In my drunken stupor I came onto her. I claimed her mouth with the bottle of whiskey that I bought, running a trace of it over her lips, marking her. Staking my claim.

I knew better. I fucking knew better, but I meant what I said on the balcony. I’m tired of caring—tired of suffering because I have a wife who doesn’t love me.

But, my God, I think I will trade it all if I can have Angelina over and over again. A woman that I can please physically and mentally. A woman that will grant me access whenever I wish.

Hmm… maybe I should file for that divorce. No use in dragging dead weight. No use in prolonging this mess of a marriage I’m in.

“So… um…” Angelina perches up on her elbow, looking me over. Sheen coats the front half of my body and when her eyes go down to my satisfied dick I laugh.

“Um?” I tease, cupping my relaxed sack.

“That was… amazing. I can’t even put up a front.” She smiles hard, running a hand across my chest.

“I, uh, should probably apologize, right?” I sit up, looking down at her.

She scrambles to sit up as well, brows puckering. “What? No, way. I… well, God, Griffin…” she laughs hoarsely, dropping her gaze. “Well, if I have to spell it out to make you understand, then I will. I wanted this to happen.”

I quirk a brow. “With me?”

She nods.

“You understand that I am married, correct?”

“I know.” She folds her arms, concealing her once exposed breasts. Her eyes drop, and I feel shitty for making her feel insecure so I reach forward, pulling her arms down and sliding in closer. She doesn’t resist.

I tilt her chin back up, lean in, and place a tender kiss on her mouth. She sighs behind it, eyelids fluttering. I sense hope deep inside her and it’s wrong of her to feel.

Time to set some things straight.

“Angelina,” I breathe, laying her flat on her back.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want you to think much will come out of this… out of me and you.”

She blinks up at me as I kiss her cheek. “I… don’t. It’s just sex, right?”

“Right. But… I’m just saying. This—well, shit, I have never done anything like this before. Mess around behind my wife’s back, I mean.”

“So what does that mean? That you feel guilty about all this?” Her face stiffens. She doesn’t dare blink as she watches my face for signs of doubt, hints of regret.

I let out a hoarse laugh, head shaking. “Actually… no. I mean don’t get me wrong, I know I should but… I don’t.” My throat works hard to swallow. “It just means that you are one hell of a woman, Angel.”

“How can you call me that?” she asks bashfully, cheeks blazing. “I… tempted you—I mean subtly, yeah…but still. In a way, I made you want me. I am no angel Griff.”

“Griff.” I smirk. She looks at me, confused. “I like it. The only person that ever called me that was father and my mother.”

She smiles. “Aww. That’s cute.”

I laugh. “I guess. But back to you… yes,” I murmur, grabbing hold of her chin again and kissing those supple pink lips. “You are an angel. A sexy. Beautiful. Angel.”

Between each word, I’m kissing her full mouth and drawing her slender body closer. She moans when my tongue slips between her lips. I collect a taste, fingers running up her thighs until I’m at her clit.

“What about your wife?” she breathes.

I shrug. “She’ll never find out… not that she’d even care if she did.”

“I don’t believe that to be true.” Her breath hitches when I circle her clit and run a finger deep inside. “About her not caring, I mean.”

“It’s true. Don’t worry about her, alright?”

Right now I don’t want to think about the wife who despises me. I want to keep pleasing this angel before me, coat her sweet, tight little pussy with my cum until I’m fucking dry. Adorn her slick walls with traces of my pleasure.

So I aim to make her cum again, dipping into her pussy with two fingers before drawing them out. I press a hand against her chest and ease her onto her back.

“Lay still for me, Angel,” I breathe, placing my head between her legs. “I’m about to take care of you right now, but when I’m done I’m going fuck you senseless. Make you milk my cock again. Sound good?”

“So good,” she breathes with an adorable smile, and after she replies I suck on that clit and fuck her pussy with my mouth. No hands required. It’s just enough.

Her body reacts to every touch, every trace of my tongue.

When I nibble, she bucks.

When I suck, she moans.

When I lick, she grabs my hair.

It’s perfection, really. I have to admit that right now, I don’t feel like a married man. I feel like a young college boy with much more control.

My eyes shift up to the ring on my left finger, on the hand that is gripping Angelina’s waist.

I made a vow seven years ago to remain loyal to my wife till death do us part, and I should feel terrible about this act of sin I am committing behind her back, but I don’t.

I feel a splash of guilt circulating through my blood stream, but that is it. It isn’t potent, nor is it dominating my emotions. It’s minimal and it’s sad to say that I will probably get over it very soon.

How?

Because this angel with my face between her thighs is probably the greatest thing I have ever had the pleasure of tasting in a very long time. Her pussy is delectable, so juicy and sweet.

Christ, I could eat her all fucking night long—forever if I wanted.

Yes, I have Colette back at home, but let’s face it. She isn’t up waiting for me. She isn’t expecting me to call or tell her about my day. She probably isn’t even thinking about me, dying for me to fuck her.

But Angelina, I know she’s thought about it. I know because I’ve thought about her one too many times.

I jacked my fucking meat off to the mere thought of her—before all of this. I’ve just busted my load deep inside her cunt.

I can’t take that shit back. I can’t fight this. I want to… but I just can’t.

This girl is officially mine now. There is no turning away.

There is no fighting what we all knew was bound to happen.

Shit. There is only so much rejection a man can take before he finally just… gives into temptation.

NINE

Colette

I am livid.

Normally, Griffin responds to my text messages, no matter how harsh they are. He’ll either text back or he’ll call to try and settle disputes.

Of course I won’t respond because I like to see him pleading, but tonight is different.

He has been very distant the past few days… more distant than usual actually. The night we argued about me being the “good wife”, I realized one small thing. He was becoming truly fed up.

He was finally losing patience with me. Sick of my complaining, my bitching. Never has Griffin stormed away from me like that. I’m not sure if I should take that as a good sign or a bad one.

When I sent that text, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t expecting an argument because I was. I wanted him to argue because arguing means you care… but he didn’t.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m doing this for his attention or because I’m really upset that he isn’t home… or because I really can’t stand him right now and if I’m in misery he should be too.

I did some investigating, looking into San Diego’s weather. He is right. There is a storm, but so what? It doesn’t seem too bad.

Maybe he didn’t respond because he’s searching for an airline that isn’t afraid of a little rain. Good. Let’s hope that’s the case.

Sighing, I walk into the bathroom, clutching the edge of the porcelain sink. I study my tired green eyes, my damp, golden hair. I am exhausted. I worked late last night in my study, continuing a masterpiece that is nowhere near done. The gallery will love it when it’s complete, though.

I’m too tired to start again tonight. I’ve worked on it all day. I’m not too tired to have a little fun though.

I stand up straight, tilting my head as admire my reflection. I trace my fingers down the bend of my neck, running them across my bare shoulder.

I need touch… some attention.

Hmm… it’s been a while since I last saw him.

Maybe tonight will work out since Griffin will be staying the night… not that he’ll actually care to find me not home if he just so happens to arrive.

With a light smile on my lips, I walk to my closet, humming a tune by Lenny Kravitz as I take down one of my favorite black dresses.

It’s slimming, and reveals a decent amount of cleavage. Not too much to make me seem like a slut, but not too little to make me seem modest.

I walk back to the sink, open the cabinet below, and take out my blow dryer. I give my hair a quick dry, still humming, and when I’m done, I style it, half-up, half-down.

I put on my dress next, slipping my feet into red pumps. I give my teeth a brush, my face a simple application of makeup, and then add a spritz of perfume to my wrists and around my neck.

Walking back to the bedroom, I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, admiring my rapid concoction.

Beautiful.

Simple.

Good.

Shutting the lights off, I leave the bedroom and head downstairs towards the kitchen.

Arianna is reading a book by Jasinda Wilder at the table, and when she hears me coming in, she looks up, lowering her novel. Her eyes immediately dart to my dress and curiosity fills her irises.

“Mrs. Boyd? It ten o’ clock at night. You have plans this late?”

“I do, Arianna. I will be back soon, but don’t wait up.” I walk towards the door, grabbing my keys off the key hook. “Oh, and can you make sure my bathroom is clean when I get back?”

She nods. “Sure, Mrs. Boyd.” Her lips press.

She knows I’m up to no good, but I ignore her motherly stares and make my exit, slamming the door behind me and heading for my car.

I jump in, starting it immediately and leaving my house.

It takes ten minutes to get there.

When I arrive, I pull into the parking deck and shut my car off, applying a careful line of gloss to my lips. I pucker and pop them, then tuck the lip-gloss container back into the purse in my passenger seat.

I grab hold of my cellphone, my clutch, and push out of the car, adjusting my breasts through my reflection on the tinted window when the door is shut behind me. Once I’m satisfied with my look, I go for the entrance.

These condos are extravagant. Elegant. The chandeliers are a dead giveaway of how much money people put into paying their mortgage here… not that money really matters to them. It’s all about good living.

I ride up the elevator, up to floor six. When I’m out, I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips as I walk towards room 612. I knock and pull away, planting a hand on my waist.

I hear footsteps on the opposite side. They stop and I know he’s peeking out of the peephole.

I smile at it, and in an instant the door swings open. His eyes are wide as he meets mine, and a grin sweeps across his sculpted mouth as he sighs.

“Damn,” he murmurs, folding his arms and leaning against the door. “It’s been, what, two weeks since the last time I saw you? I was wondering when you’d show again.”

I shrug. “Yeah, well, I just need an escape right now. Who better to come to than the master of escapes himself?” I grin and he smiles smugly.

“You know that’s what I’m good for.” He drops his arms and stands up straight, taking a step back. “Come in.”

I walk through his door, drifting down the foyer and making my way to the familiar living room.

I love this place. His white leather couches, the glass coffee table, and the white-tiger fur rug. It’s appealing to the eye… to a woman like myself.

Griffin doesn’t like animal fur or white leather. He hates white furniture period, the reason why our home is disgustingly bombarded with black or brown leather or suede couches.

The designer was so hung up on him, taking his side. Stupid bitch.

Footsteps sound behind me and I glance over my shoulder as he walks into the living room with a thick, rectangular silver case in hand.

That silver case contains all the magic. He walks around me, winking before sitting down on the couch. I peer towards his open laptop and the collection of papers on his dinner table.

“Did I interrupt you?” I ask.

“No.” He shakes his head, opening the case in hand. “Not at all. I actually need a break right now. Things are fucking insane. My mind isn’t clear.”

“Really?” I walk around the coffee table, taking the spot right beside him and watching as he pulls out a small plastic bag and a razor. “Why are things insane?”

“Just are.” He lines up the white powder on a magazine, sorting each thin line evenly. Two for me, two for him. “That’s work shit. It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters,” he murmurs, dropping the razor and turning my way, “is us right now. Right?”

I smile up at him as he runs a hand across my jawline. “Right.”

Leaning forward, he presses his soft, rosy lips onto mine and I sink against his chest. “You look great tonight,” he says.

“I know. Thanks.” It’s nice to receive a compliment every once in a while and he does just that. Every time I see to him. That’s how this all started, really.

I was fed up with Griffin, and this guy I saw very often, mainly for stuff related to his work. He always made small talk, stayed in touch with Griffin. I quickly realized he wasn’t staying in touch for Griffin. He was doing it for me.

Even in sweatpants and my hair tied up he’d call me beautiful. And he’d stare at me with those warm, brown eyes and make me drift down his path more and more with each visit.

We vowed not to say names when this started and whenever we are around Griffin together we don’t say much to each other or look at one another for too long. He would notice.

Griffin notices everything.

“Where is that husband of yours?” he asks, pulling away from me and quirking a brow. “You only swing by when he isn’t around.”

He leans forward, his face hovering above one of the white strips. Covering one nostril, he inhales, and I can picture the blow instantly hitting his brain.

He makes a pained expression, but I know the feeling. The pain—the sting—always comes but it passes so quickly you don’t even think twice about it. And once it hits, you feel unstoppable.

“He is in San Diego,” I sigh, leaning forward when he pushes the magazine across the table in front of me. I snort like there is no tomorrow, ready to feel the high. It stings like a bitch going straight through my nostril but I love it.

Swiping at my nose with wide eyes, I sit back, looking towards him. “He was supposed to come back home tonight but there is a storm.”

I refuse to tell him that we argued because I was ignorant enough to demand him to make a way back to me, no matter the storm. I don’t want him to think of me as imperfect.

“You should travel with him. Get out of the house more.” He rests his arm on top of the couch behind my head.

“Pssh.” I wave a hand. “Been there. Done that. I went on one business trip with him a while ago and it was the worst decision I could have ever made. All he did was answer calls and work on papers. It was like I wasn’t even there.”

“Who says you have to sit around? Let him work while you go exploring. Make fun for yourself.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like to explore new things alone.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, revealing two dimples on his clean-shaven face. “I forgot I’m the one who got you into this.” He looks down at the lines of coke.

I fight a grin, rubbing my nose again. “You wouldn’t happen to have any wine, would you? Maybe some of that relaxing jazz music?” I slide closer to his side, running my hands down his chest and across his rock-solid abs.

I gradually unbutton his dress shirt, eager for my palm to touch his hot skin. He looks down at me with heated eyes, lips tilted up with satisfaction.

“You know I have everything you want and need, Colette. Unlike Griffin, I will never fail to please you.” He swoops me into him, and I clash against his bare chest. I yelp a bit from the possessive tug and then giggle, looping my arms around the back of his neck. His eyes drop to my lips, and his face goes a bit hard.

“Ride my dick, baby,” he whispers into my ear, the tip of his nose skimming my cheek. “Ride the shit out of it, and when you’re done I’ll treat you to some of that wine and jazz… maybe even a little bit more to keep you happy.”

“More like what?” I return, voice breathy.

“Like me eating that pussy ‘til the sun comes up.”

“Oohh, really?” I grab his face in my hands and crush his lips. He smiles behind it, all the while unbuckling his belt and shoving his dress pants down, all with me on top of his lap.

I didn’t put on any panties because I knew this would happen. It always does and I always enjoy it… maybe a little too much.

There is something about this vow I break. There is something about having two men want me that drives me crazy. I feel superior. I feel strong and in control, and I also forget about my worst issues. The past.

Griffin aches for my pussy, but I hardly give it to him because I’d much rather share it with the man that has nothing on me.

I’m not his wife. I’m not even his girlfriend. We get high together, and when we commit this sin it feels like I am fucking a stranger.

I love the danger of that.

The twisted riskiness.

How much he envies Griffin.

Though he is far from a stranger to me now. He knows what my body enjoys.

So when he lifts my hips and crams his cock into my pussy, I toss my head back and release a breathy laugh. I laugh because he will keep trying and trying to own my pussy, fucking me raw with desire, but knowing I will never truly be his.

He will keep showing me attention, even when he doesn’t feel like it because he yearns for the rare taste of me, a sexy, married woman with no boundaries.

I laugh because he is not my Griffin. Frankly, I am over Griffin now.

Humph.

Too bad I can’t just let him go.

Poof him away like the magic I snort occasionally.