Chapter 21

I THINK we both knew he was going to try and fuck me that night. I think we both knew I wanted him to.

I hadn’t expected him to wait so long. I fell asleep in bed, watching some random infomercial that tried to convince me I couldn’t cut a tomato properly without their gadget. I waited and tried to conjure up enough indignant thoughts to help me tell him no when he came a-callin’. It would probably have helped if I hadn’t found his stash of fine whiskey and helped myself.

He thinks you’re crazy. Is that really someone you want to sleep with? Absolutely not. And yet? We clearly weren’t going to be together in the future. No one could blame me if I had one more for the road. Or two.

I woke when my door opened, and I blinked at the figure silhouetted in the soft light emitted by the TV. God, even in that light, I could tell he was only wearing a clingy pair of briefs. His body still put mine to shame—all toned musculature and broad, football-player shoulders. I slammed my eyes shut. I’d never been any good at faking sleep, but hope sprung eternal.

My straining ears heard his soft footsteps pad toward the bed. And then a pause as he stared at me. A long, suspicious pause. I tried to breathe quietly. I hadn’t yet decided what I was going to say or do. And if I had to fake sleep for a few moments to buy time, then I was gonna do it. He chuckled softly, and the bed dipped suddenly. There was heat at my back as he draped across me from behind and molded his body to mine. “You’ve got to be the worst fake sleeper in history,” he rumbled in my ear.

I had to sigh. Yes, I was. I leaned up on one elbow and turned to tell him off. But before I could utter a word, he leaned in and captured my mouth in a long, drugging kiss—a kiss strongly flavored with dark Tennessee whiskey. I winced when he finally pulled back, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He groaned and tangled his fingers in my hair. “Fuck, I thought that whiskey tasted best in a beveled glass. How wrong I was.”

He took my mouth again, and when he finally let me breathe, I confessed, “I found your stash.”

He pushed me flat on my back so he could see my face better. The light of the TV cast his smile in relief and shadow, like the Cheshire Cat. “Guess I should find a better place to hide things than a popcorn tin.”

That kiss was different. Slower. Softer. Just a brush of lips against lips. “You do realize this isn’t going to make things better,” I managed.

“Don’t want to think about that right now.” In the dark his eyes looked almost black. They were steady on mine. “Just this. Us. Okay?”

I let out a frustrated breath. I guess I wanted that too. But what about the other shit that followed? “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

“Right now? I just want you. Want to take that sweet ass. Ride you hard.” He trailed kisses down my jaw. Softly. Tempting. His voice was low and rumbly. He punctuated his words with kisses. “Want you, want you, want you.”

God, I loved it when he was like that. Only in the dark of the bedroom, only when it was just the two of us did he turn from stoic and hard-to-read to needy and wanting. Nothing was off the table, nothing was too sappy or too sweet or too raw to say, and I loved that shit.

I took his searching, heated mouth with my own and bit and licked and sucked on those lips to my heart’s content. When I opened my mouth under the onslaught, he didn’t waste time, but plunged his tongue into my mouth. “Want you back,” I muttered. I pushed at his shoulder until he got the picture and rolled us, reversing our positions so I was on top.

He watched, bemused, as I worked my way down between his spread legs. I didn’t know if I wanted to rim him, blow him, or fuck him senseless. Options, options, options. “Farther,” I commanded and gave his upraised thigh a healthy smack.

“Yessir.” His teeth briefly shone in the dark as he complied and inched his feet farther apart, heels firmly pressed into the mattress. A flush of arousal darkened his skin, all dusky and golden and satiny, and his chest rose and fell visibly. “Anything else?”

I stared up at him, more than a little tipsy. Made it too hard to think. Dick. It was always a good place to start. I pushed his briefs down, bunched them around his thighs, and watched avidly as his dick swung free. The thick length of it was already glistening, slick with precum. It jerked against his taut belly, and my mouth actually watered with my desire to taste, to have him helpless in my mouth.

His body tensed as I lapped at the fluid pearling the tip, pulled back to watch more form almost immediately, and chased that down the sides with my tongue. I repeated the process again and again, a little drunk with power, until his fingers slid through my hair and gripped. Hard. Trying to guide me.

I licked down the sides to tease. Taking my sweet fucking time. He made a desperate sound and tried to guide my mouth again, but I shook my head and drifted even lower. I got closer to that deep, heady, strong scent of him, buried my face under his balls, and inhaled deeply. “God, you smell so fucking good,” I managed. “You just have no idea.”

“Rain,” he said warningly. “Just remember that payback is a bitch. A bitch with blue fucking balls.”

And because I knew he always meant what he said and had a very long memory, I only took one more teasing lick before I took him down to the root. He had nothing else to say, smart or otherwise. His hips stuttered into movement as he groaned and tried to get even deeper. I let him set the pace for a while and just enjoyed the feel of him as he worked in and out of my mouth. My gag reflex tingled a bit, and I pulled off and let his cock slide from my mouth with a soft pop. Then back in. Off. Back in. It was definitely a sloppy blow job, fueled by liquor, and according to the sounds he made, that was a very, very good thing.

“Turn around,” he ordered a little breathlessly. “Want you at the same time.”

What a coinkydink. Sixty-nine was my favorite number too.

I ditched my boxers, straddled him, and turned so I could continue to suck him at my leisure. And then his hot mouth was sucking on me too, and my eyes briefly crossed. His cock slid from my mouth and I winced as though in pain. I wasn’t, but damn, I’d forgotten how good it could feel.

“So good,” I managed a little dreamily. “So good.”

He chuckled and slapped my ass. “Get to work.”

A nice shiver worked its way down my spine. Out of bed, if he so much as told me where to put a cereal bowl, I’d give him hell. In bed? There was nothing hotter than Danny telling me what the fuck to do. So… I got to work. I sucked him back down to his resounding groan, and we pleasured and tried to outdo each other.

He finally let my cock slide from his mouth, and I moaned a little in protest. “Not yet.”

“Want you to sit on my face.”

Oh. My face went warm. There was really nothing more I loved than a good rimming before a good fuck, but it was certainly intimate. A lot of trust involved. “I don’t think—”

“You think too goddamned much,” he muttered. He gripped my hips and brought me down, my knees on either side of his head.

I tried my damnedest to hold still and just let his tongue lick at my entrance. Don’t grind on his face like some cat in heat. Don’t…. His tongue slipped inside me, and I groaned. I was trying to reciprocate, trying to focus on giving him the best blow job of his life, but it felt so fucking good. My hips began to gyrate, almost without my permission, as I pressed down on his tongue in my hole as he worked me open. And suddenly he decided to add a finger around his seeking tongue, and I really had something to work on. I worked my ass up and down, moaning when I got what I wanted, grunting when I didn’t, my mouth slack and open as I breathed against his thigh and shame-facedly forgot about my end of the deal.

Finally he pushed me forward with a little growl. “Enough. You’re going to make me cum.”

I was? What about what he was doing to me?

I wished I could make words. All I could do was lie there on my stomach, listening to him rifle through the side drawer, feeling like a quivery, sensitized mess. I rose up on my elbows as he came over me and wasted no time as his cock dropped between my asscheeks and went for my hole like a heat-seeking missile. And then he thrust into me, and I let out a helpless wail.

He fucked me hard and gave me no quarter. He knew exactly what I liked and knew exactly how to give it to me. No build-up, no games, no begging. I hadn’t done that in quite some time, and it was a tight fit—almost like with every thrust he made, my ass tried to pull him back in. He bit my neck and sucked it at intervals, and I knew tomorrow I was going to look like I’d gotten busy with a vampire. Kevin would have a field day.

I shut my eyes and tried my best to prolong my orgasm. Anything just to hold on to the moment. I tried to think of other things—erection-killing things—but it was no use. I could probably have seen a white-haired grandma in a G-string and pasties right then, and I still wouldn’t be able to hold back. He nailed my prostate again, and it was the final fucking straw.

My back and shoulder muscles tightened. My dick thickened, my ass clenched, and I wasn’t even half surprised when I came, hands-free.

Even my lazy elbows buckled, and I dropped, flat on the bed, right into the mess. I couldn’t care less. Felt too good. I was far too high on my orgasm to worry about logistics and cleaning up and wet spots and stickiness. I just wanted to put real life aside and be his fucktoy for a little bit longer.

I kept my legs spread for Danny, as I lay there, replete. In a few minutes, it would probably be too much, but right then, I was still enjoying the feeling of him thrusting inside of me. I only wished I had the energy to urge him on. I clenched down hard on him to help, and he cursed and his body went completely taut. He finally came with a low moan and a sigh, and I wasn’t aware we had a problem until I felt his warmth inside of me.

“Oh fuck,” he swore as he thrust in and out a few more times. “Fuck. Baby, I think the condom—”

“I know. I feel it.”

He slowed and finally pulled out of me, still breathing hard by my ear. “Sorry. I would’ve never—”

“It’s fine, Irish. It’s not like you’re some random hookup at the club.”

I tried not to think about how good it fucking felt either. It didn’t matter how many times I’d thought about him coming inside of me. We couldn’t do it again. But there was no sense in crying over spilt… fluids.

I couldn’t help the frisson of arousal that went through me at the thought of his cum leaking out of my ass. I felt him dealing with the broken condom, and I still didn’t move, secure in the knowledge that he’d take care of it. Danny was good like that. He never minded taking care of me.

And then I felt his tongue against my well-used hole, licking at the rim. Licking up his own cum out of my ass. God, he knew all my dirty kinks. Our wedding cake would just have two freak flags on top, flying high and proud. Against all odds I could feel my cock take interest. “Oh fuck. You’re such a filthy bastard.”

“Don’t you know it,” he muttered and speared his tongue inside me again.

He delved particularly deep, and my back arched so hard I thought I might get a cramp. I reached back, tangled my fingers through his hair, and forced his head where I wanted it. My half-interested cock had turned into full-on, ready-to-go-again interest.

He finally pulled back and gently bit one of my asscheeks. “I want you again,” he said flatly. “Want you now.”

That was just so wrong. And I meant everything. Him. Me. Us. Having hot sex that was going to make it harder to part. Everything.

But hell. It’s not like I hadn’t been wrong before.

I let him take my ankle and roll me on my back. “Again.” I demanded while I spread my legs and stroked my cock. I sent him a lazy smile as he eyed me hungrily. “And this time fuck me like you mean it.”