THIS WAS a terrible idea. Beyond terrible. Reckless. Dangerous.
All things she made him.
Energy and excitement roared through him. His senses felt like they’d been cranked into hyperdrive.
It was wrong, and his brain knew this was going to end poorly. For the good of everyone who depended on him, the best course of action was to go home and get ahold of these wayward thoughts and irrational emotions.
That is not the best course of action, his boner argued, drowning out the rational part of his brain. He and Livvy would screw tonight, and then they could mosey on with their lives, happy and satisfied the pattern of their behavior had been fulfilled.
Fool. His penis was a fool.
Nicholas drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the lust beating in his veins.
When they’d been young, they’d come to this motel on the outskirts of town a time or two. The place had been run-down then. Now it was veering sharply into seedy.
She came out of the office, her short skirt fluttering in the breeze, lifting enough that he caught a glimpse of her bottom under the deceptively innocent schoolgirl-plaid skirt, encased in black tights. Her small breasts strained against the white button-down shirt she wore, her red bra visible.
He didn’t want to think of her going to a bar in that ridiculously provocative outfit, or about other men salivating over her thighs and breasts and neck.
Neck?
Yes, goddamn it, even her fucking neck was sexy, long and elegant, with that cute little hollow at the base, the perfect spot to suck on while he was fucking her. Surely she wasn’t trying to drive him crazy by possessing that neck, but here she was, succeeding nonetheless.
She didn’t glance at his car. It had gone against the grain to let Livvy reserve the room, but she’d merely had to make the valid point that he could be recognized, and he’d reluctantly conceded. He could be recognized, depending on how old the clerk was and how long they’d lived in this place. Livvy, though . . .
Despite her ridiculous schoolgirl outfit, she wasn’t the girl she’d been when she left town. Her hair, her clothes, even her attitude was subtly different. He’d watched every change happen over the past decade in a time-lapse video. There was nothing he didn’t like about the differences in her now.
Dangerous.
Right. Right. This was about sex. Nothing else.
She headed down the walkway, the flickering streetlamp in the parking lot burnishing her hair with red and black. She didn’t wobble a bit on her pencil-thin heels, reassuring him that though she’d been in a bar, she wasn’t anywhere near intoxicated.
He got out of the car, taking care to pull his collar up and lower his head, feeling ridiculous as he did so. He was a grown man. Who cared if he had sex with another consenting adult?
Lots of people, starting with his father, but he wasn’t going to think about them right now.
His strides were longer than hers. Her heels and skirt made it difficult for her to do more than mince. He made it to the door a second after she got it open, and followed her in, kicking the door shut behind him. She stripped off her light fall jacket and tossed it on the floor. “Liv—” was all he had a chance to say before she was in his arms, shoving him back.
It was dark, the only light coming in from the crack between the dingy curtains. Her lips pressed against his, and he inhaled the scent of her, each drugging kiss making his head spin. She crawled up him like he was a pole, her arms and legs clutching for balance.
It took him only a second. One second of having those red lips devouring his hungrily, one second of that hot sinner’s body pressing against his own, and all semblance of rational thought flew out of his brain.
Who cared about tomorrow? He was too enflamed to wonder about anything but the here and now. Too excited to even consider this a bad idea. He kissed her back as if he would die if he didn’t get her mouth, licking and sucking and memorizing the very taste of her. He slid his hands over her ass, gripped her luscious cheeks tight, and spun her around, pushing her up against the door.
He ripped his lips away, holding her from him when she might have forced her way back. “How do you want it?” he growled. He had an inkling, from the signals she was broadcasting, but it had been a while since he’d had to read those signals.
“Hard . . .” She scraped her nails over the back of his neck. “Use me. Make me feel it tomorrow.”
The wild look in her eyes was sharper than he’d ever seen it, and it ramped up his own lust. He dragged his hand over her ass, rubbing the fabric against her bottom. “This outfit is indecent.”
Her lids dropped to half-mast, and she arched her back. “You don’t like my clothes? I’m heartbroken.”
“You look like a schoolgirl.”
She tightened her legs around his waist, rubbing up on him. Her heat and wetness was obvious, even through the twin barriers of her underwear and his pants. “A naughty one? Who needs to be punished?”
He should feel ridiculous, but instead his body hardened more, blood engorging his dick. “So naughty.” His hand slipped up her leg to her hip and the strip of fabric there. He used his other hand to arch her back farther, feathering his fingers up her spine. “I could see your ass while you were walking outside.” He traced his hand around the waistband at her back and clenched the fabric in his wrist, pulling the bikini and her tights taut, digging into the folds of her pussy. Her eyes widened.
He tightened his grip. “Were you purposefully strutting around in this skirt, your ass hanging out of it?”
“N-no.”
“You’re lying. Do you know what I do to liars?”
Her nails dug into his skin. “Tell me you spank them.”
A red haze swam in front of his eyes, and he pushed her legs down so she was standing. Then he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around to face the door.
He grasped her by the hips and pulled her to stand with her back in an arch, then flipped up that ridiculous plaid skirt. It took him a second to lower her tights to her thighs. Her red panties barely covered the curves of her ass, making him growl. He didn’t know what bar she’d been in, but he imagined her seated in some dingy smoke-filled dive, anonymous bastards salivating over her tight body. Fuck, all it would have taken was one shimmy, and everyone could have gotten a free show, these tempting round globes exposed but for the silly scraps of fabric she’d put over them.
You have no right to be jealous.
He palmed her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the plump flesh. “Do you know how badly I wanted to pull you onto my lap and flip this skirt up the second I saw you?”
“To fuck me or to spank me?”
“Both.”
She arched her back more, her ass wriggling. He didn’t think, merely lifted his hand and smacked one full cheek, his rational, caring side standing far apart and watching in horror. He’d never spanked a woman before. As scrappy as Livvy was, he hadn’t thought she’d like this.
Her moan suggested otherwise.
He got it. He got the appeal of this, with Livvy bent over in front of him, legs spread, skirt lifted, red panties exposed, and the hot flesh of her ass filling his hand. He slapped her other cheek, and she moaned again, louder. Hell. He could see the appeal of literally doing anything with Livvy, to be honest.
“Was that okay?” he had the semblance of mind to ask her.
Her hands had braced against the door, and her fingers curled in. She nodded, her red-streaked hair rippling over her back.
His next tap was harder. “You’ve been so bad, Livvy. Tempting all those men tonight. Tempting me.” He smacked her again. “You’ve never stopped tempting me.”
She whimpered. “I’ll stop.”
“We both know that’s impossible.” He squeezed her left cheek, dropping to his knees behind her. With his teeth, he carefully lowered the panties over her ass to meet the rolled-up waistband of her tights. He stayed there, luxuriating in her body as he pressed soft kisses over each cheek, punctuating each tender touch with a slap of his hand.
When she was rocking back against his mouth, he pulled away. He came to his feet. Unable to take his gaze off her tight body, he walked backward until his knees hit the cheap bed. Nicholas slid down to sit on the floor, his back supported by the bed. The sliver of streetlight illuminating the room highlighted her sweet, reddened buttocks. He tore at his jeans, growling when his hand met his throbbing cock. He needed to jerk off or get in her pussy. Something. Anything. Literally whatever would relieve this ache as soon as possible.
She peeked under her arm and straightened, skirt dropping down to cover her bottom.
A crime, covering that butt.
Livvy stripped off her tights and panties and then turned to face him. “Nicholas?”
He ran his hand down his cock once, then twice when he noted the hunger in her gaze as she watched him fondle himself. He grazed the tip, and his body jerked. “Take off your clothes. Shirt first.”
“Do I have to?” Her breathless question was pseudo-innocent.
“Unless you want to be punished.” How he’d punish her, he wasn’t sure. More spanking? Licking her until she wept with the need to orgasm? Fucking her until she screamed?
These didn’t sound like terrible punishments for either of them.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, and she undid them one by one, so slowly he knew it was a tease. He tightened his hand on his cock, because he knew if he didn’t, he’d demand she come over here so he could rip the offending material right off her.
She stripped it off her shoulders, leaving her in her bra, her toned belly inviting his lips.
“Now the bra.”
She unsnapped the front snap and drew both cups of red lace away from her breasts. They were perky and lifted on their own, the small handfuls the perfect fit for his palm. Her brown nipples were tight and pointed, giving away her excitement. Her breasts rose and fell, her gaze locked on his hand. He made his pulls slower and more explicit, both to give her a show and to make sure he didn’t blow too quickly.
Her hand dropped to the waistband of her skirt, shoving it down, leaving her completely naked. She licked her lips, making the remnants of her lipstick shiny and vibrant. He imagined those lips wrapped tight around his cock, him whispering, Suck me, while guiding her head over his lap.
He shook his head, trying to shake the filthy image from his brain, and released his cock. “Come here.”
She walked over. Her hand unselfconsciously slid over her belly and pussy. She was wet and hot and plump, nearly hairless, save for a small landing strip. The pot of gold tattooed at her hip was a dark shadow. “Closer.”
She planted one foot on either side of his hips. With his position sitting on the floor, her pussy was right at eye level for him.
“Show me how wet you are.”
She swallowed, a flush rising up her chest. Her painted fingernails caught the light as she moved over her folds. With her index finger and thumb, she held herself open as she stroked her fingers over her clit and then inside.
He was helpless to watch her pleasure herself. Her head fell back, and her hand moved faster even as he stayed in complete stillness. It was self-preservation that had him gritting out, “Stop.”
She halted immediately, her chin lowering, eyes opening. Her hand eased out of her pussy, the cheap lighting casting a glossy glow over them. “Do you want a taste?” she murmured.
“I always do.”
Her fingers traced his lips, the scent of her arousal driving his higher. He opened his mouth, waiting for her to slip them inside, but instead she drew her hand away, bringing them to her own lips. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked each finger, a smug, satisfied look in her eyes.
He tilted his head back against the bed and ran his tongue over his lips, taking in whatever little bit she’d deigned to give him. Nicholas ran his hand up her legs until he could grasp her ass. Quickly, taking her off balance, he yanked her closer so his head was right between her thighs. She cried out and widened her stance, placing her hands on the mattress above his head for support.
Nicholas drew her ever nearer, creating a dark, wet place for him to feast. His tongue slid along the crease of her thigh, tracing the shaking dip, then the other side, before burying against her pubic bone.
He’d seen her au naturel, completely bare, sporting various designs in her hair, and one interesting year, decorated in sparkling accents.
He didn’t care how the hell she decorated her private places, so long as he could lick them.
A god. That’s what he felt like when he was between her plump thighs, his tongue and lips driving her to madness. If he could, he would eat nothing but Livvy for sustenance.
“Please, Nicholas.”
He nuzzled his nose against the strip of hair there. “Please, what?”
“Please lick me.”
He gave her a tiny swipe of his tongue, and her thighs went rigid on either side of his head. “Nicholas.”
Another swipe.
“Harder.”
“Say it.” He punctuated his demand with a slap against her ass.
“Fuck me with your mouth.”
He growled against her flesh and pressed wet, openmouthed kisses all over her vulva, using two fingers to open her up.
He stiffened his tongue and thrust inside her, spanking her harder than he’d dared before, squeezing and pulling apart her ass cheeks as she gyrated above him. Her cries grew louder and he supported more of her weight as her legs shook.
She’d always been a screamer.
Her pussy contracted around his tongue and he welcomed every tightening and releasing motion, drinking in her pleasure. When she relaxed, he ducked out from her legs and came to his feet. She’d worked most of her body onto the bed and lay sprawled in an undignified heap, face-down, her legs still spread. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, taking a second of sanity to grab a condom from his wallet, before stepping up behind her, selfish desire riding him now. He needed to pound himself so deep inside her she’d feel him for days to come. “Brace yourself.”
LIVVY WAS so boneless she could only clutch weakly at the cheap bedding. The hotel hadn’t been renovated or touched since she and Nicholas had snuck off here when they were young, and there was an odd nostalgia in grasping the orange-and-green comforter while his hungry hands roved over her.
Except neither of them were young anymore. The tongue that had devastated her was a man’s tongue, the big hands arranging her into position, back arched, booty high, were a man’s hands. She was his—his woman, his to use and fuck.
Like you’ll always be.
There was no way she could excise him from her system. Not with a one-night stand, not with annual meetings. Not ever.
A tiny part of her broke apart as she confronted her deepest, darkest fear, and she buried her face in the scratchy comforter like an animal sticking its head in the sand. Later. She’d think later. First, she’d pretend she was his, and he was hers, even if only for a few minutes.
His latex-clad cock brushed against her bottom, and lower. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her arms.
“Christ, you have no idea how much I love seeing you like this. Laid out and wet and open.” His fingers trailed over the crack of her ass, then below, probing her softness, and he made a deep noise of appreciation. “You taste so good. I could lick this all day. You’d let me.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded, stripped of her bluster. Yes, she’d let him. It was the one constant whenever they got together. He dived between her legs like he couldn’t get enough, his technique and skill improving every year. She wasn’t about to complain. A man who loved to give head and was spectacular at it? He was a goddamn prince.
His fingers slipped away, and his cock replaced them, the pressure promising her untold delight. She pushed her ass toward him so he’d take her. He gave a rough laugh. “You’re so hungry. Ask me for it.”
“Fuck me.” Her voice was high and barely perceptible.
He teased her, the head pushing inside and then pulling out. “I can’t hear you.”
“Fuck me,” she said, louder, crying out when he thrust, seating inside with one push. She gasped, sweat falling into her eyes, her hair sticking to her back.
He didn’t give her the steady thrusts that would get both of them off but held completely still, letting her feel every twitch of his cock.
A big hand carefully gathered her hair up, every tug on her scalp sending electrical tingles down her spine and body. She gasped as he wound the strands around his hand the same way he wound his tie to fold it up. When they were secured, he pulled. He lowered over her, plastering his body against hers, resting his lips against her ear. “You fuck me.”
She shoved her hips back against his hard, immovable body, but he had her almost pinned to the bed, and she could only fuck herself on a couple of inches of his hard dick. It wasn’t enough, the thick length barely moving. She sobbed. “I can’t. Please.”
His mouth descended on her shoulder. She stiffened as his hot tongue traced the tattoo there. This was about as much light as they’d ever had when they screwed. He wouldn’t be able to see all of the marks she’d put on herself. That was good, even if it did send a shot of sadness through her. She had to keep him from her soft parts.
Well, not all her soft parts. He bit the flesh right above a prickly flower, and she tried to rock again. “Fuck me. Please, I need your cock so bad. I’ll do anything for it.” Sex words. True words.
He gave her hair another tug, then reared back, his cock withdrawing from her body, leaving her clenching around nothing. She made a low sound of yearning.
“I shouldn’t let you have it,” he rumbled above her. “I should punish you for making me want you. For making me need you.”
“If you punish me, you’re punishing yourself.”
There was a moment of silence, their loud breaths syncing together. His big hands settled on her hips, and he flipped her over. His face was strained and covered with sweat. He yanked her legs wide and moved between them, his fat cock shoving in deep enough to make her scream.
She strained underneath him. “Plea—”
“Shh.” His cock sank inside her again and he rested his hands on either side of her head. “No more begging now.”
She lost herself in the steady roll of his hips, the in and out that was both familiar and altogether new. She had to close her eyes to avoid his intense blue gaze, the way his brow furrowed as he carefully catalogued her face.
“Livvy—”
“Stop talking. Just fuck me. Harder.” Hard enough she didn’t have to remember this was it, the last time it would happen.
His hips picked up speed, slamming into her. She could always tell when Nicholas was close because he fucked like a train run off course, his hips blurring. She bit her lip to hold back her cries, well aware that these walls were thin, but then his fingers were at her lips, his thumb inserting between her teeth. “You want to abuse a body, abuse mine. I don’t want a mark on those lips.”
Her body tightened around him, and she moaned, her teeth sinking into his flesh, taking him at his word. She bit harder as she climaxed on his pistoning cock. At the last minute she drew her arms around his neck and brought his face down so his lips were right next to her ear. His breaths soughed in and out, and he groaned, long and low. He shoved in deep and came, his body convulsing in her arms. She pressed her fingertips against his back and stared up at the ceiling, post-orgasmic bliss almost letting her forget this was all she’d ever have of him.
Almost.
He lifted his head, his eyes still closed, forehead creased like he was in pain. He slipped out of her arms before rolling to the side of the bed. He sat there for a long time, both of them breathing hard.
She’d been mistaken. Her heart didn’t feel dinged. It felt pummeled.
She stared at his back, the blank canvas of muscles and sinew and bone making her want to roll over and trace her fingers all over it. Tears and sorrow clogged her sinuses. She had no right to that back. Or his cock or his tongue or any part of him. This had been it. A few brief moments of forgetfulness to tide them over.
Say something. Do something.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, feeling lost.
She jerked when he came to his feet, but he didn’t look at her. The muscles in his butt flexed as he made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him with a thud of finality. A faucet turned on.
The noise was an impetus. She lurched from the bed and gathered her clothes, not bothering to adjust her bra when it gave her a quadri-boob. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her phone and opened an app, muttering a sigh of relief when she saw there was a ride within a minute of her. She called for it and stuffed her feet into her shoes.
The water shut off in the bathroom as she exited the room, and the headlights of the car she’d called cut across the front of the hotel. She hesitated for a second, then typed out, I’m fine. Got a ride, and hit send.
She jumped in her ride, her eyes stinging. The car pulled away, and she caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. Thank God her driver was utterly oblivious. She looked like a girl who had just gotten fucked. Her hair was tumbled, clothes in disarray. She tugged at her jacket to make sure it covered her breasts. So much for being healthier.
Her nose twitched, and she placed her finger under it, trying to stave off the flood of emotions. You’re a tough cookie. Hang in there.
She opened her conversation with Nicholas again, aware she was getting dangerously obsessive. That made five texts she’d sent him now.
A bubble popped up on the bottom of the screen, indicating he was typing, and her breath strangled. He’d never replied. Not once. She waited, hand clutching her phone tight.
The bubble went away and tears stung her eyes. Unable to look at the damn thing a second longer, she typed, Bye, hesitated for a second, and sent it. Then she deleted the conversation and sat back, wishing she could delete him from her life just as easily.
She’d lied to herself, but that was nothing new. She was weak. For never being able to stop wanting Nicholas, for using the same dumb rationale every year to see him again, for accepting the crumbs of his physical affection.
She sniffed, hard. She’d said it before, but this time she meant it. She absolutely had to move forward. It was done. They were done. For good.