SANDRA
Her fantasies over the years were nothing compared to the real thing.
She’d forgotten what true pleasure felt like. Could something be truly wrong if it felt so absolutely right?
Sandra buried her fingers in Trace’s thick hair as his erotic tongue swirled over her heated core. He explored her frantically, like he’d never get enough. His tongue delved deeper, finding her entrance and plunging inside. She was embarrassingly wet, but she couldn’t actually find enough willpower to care. Her hips bucked up, grinding herself against his mouth. She shamelessly opened herself to him, demanded more with the little incoherent moans escaping her throat, with her fingernails digging into his scalp.
His tongue circled her again, from her entrance back up to her clit. She tensed as it flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“This is mine,” he groaned.
It wasn’t. She wasn’t. Not after he left. For the moment though… yes, she was his. “Yes, I’m yours,” she said breathlessly. She’d worry about semantics later. They both knew what this was; some very long delayed closure. Desire. A mutual session between two people who weren’t finished with each other. That was it.
Trace’s strong hands spread her thighs open wider. “I want all of you,” he said darkly, thickly.
Sandra opened her eyes and watched him lick his lips. Her body jolted at the knowledge that he was tasting her, licking her juices from his mouth.
“So wet,” he groaned. “So swollen and so fucking perfect.”
She responded with a whimper when he bent his head and continued his slow torturous exploration. He suckled her clit unexpectedly and she nearly shot off the couch. Her hips jerked up hard into his face. He laughed, a long low rumble, and moved down lower, away from the spot that was going to set her off if he kept suckling and licking it like he was doing. He strayed to her entrance and god, that was just as good. His tongue delved inside of her and her back arched up. Her nails dug into the tender flesh of his scalp. She rocked her hips hard into his face, craving more, needing more.
The pressure was delicious. The feel of his thick tongue, warm inside of her… she wanted it all. She wanted something else there, but she could wait. He made her want to wait. The torture was exquisite, everything she’d literally dreamed of, better than any memory.
Trace was a master at what he was doing. He traced hot strokes over her folds, danced over her clit. He was like a magician with his tongue. His fingers dug into her thighs, keeping her legs spread. He was the one in control, she had no doubt of it. She liked it that way. She wanted it that way. He took nothing for himself. He gave her all the pleasure she’d longed for as he fucked her with his mouth.
Her world narrowed, everything focusing in on that one point, on the pleasure sweeping through her veins. Her toes tingled, her legs shook, her hands trembled. She clung to Trace while she dug her heels into the cheap pleather couch.
“I want you to come for me,” he ground out right before he bit down gently on her clit.
The sweet nip, something that no one had ever done to her before, sent her over the edge. She cried out wildly as she came in blinding waves of pleasure. She cried out something that sounded like Trace’s name. Her back arched completely off the couch and her hands scrabbled fiercely, tugging and ripping at his hair. Actual lights burst behind her eyes. Her breath remained trapped in her lungs as pleasure coursed through her veins. He didn’t stop. He didn’t give her a reprieve. He kept licking her, circling her with that glorious tongue, even though she shook and trembled under his touch. Just when she started to come back down, he brought his hand to her entrance and plunged two fingers into her channel, sending her straight back into the black oblivion.
Each climax was more intense than the last. Sandra felt it to her toes and to the roots of her hair. Her fingers went numb, her legs went numb. She sucked in air like each breath was going to be her last. The waves of pleasure were so sharp they were almost painful. She’d never felt anything so good or come so hard. She shook and trembled and Trace fucked her with the devastating hand mouth combination.
Was it possible to come for so many minutes straight? She had no idea. She couldn’t remember it ever being like this with him, even the first time around. Maybe her memory was faulty. It had been nine years. A lot had happened since then. She couldn’t remember it feeling like this, coming so hard that she was afraid she was forever ruined for any other man because they couldn’t possibly compare.
Maybe it was like that before.
Maybe that was why she’d never been able to make it work with anyone else.
Because, just like she’d said, no one else was Trace.
Finally Trace took mercy on her and leaned back. He waited until her eyes fluttered open before he slowly licked his lips. His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned, savoring the taste of her. “You’re so fucking sweet,” he growled. “I love the taste of you. I’ve missed the taste of you. I never forgot how sweet you were. I’ve never tasted a pussy as glorious as yours.”
She could have come just from watching him lick his lips, from his gravelly words. “Don’t stop,” she panted, her voice unrecognizable as her own, almost as rough and thick as his. “Please.”
Trace’s eyes narrowed and darkened. His pupils were so dilated they nearly consumed the irises completely. “What do you want me to do?”
“I- anything.” Her face flushed. She should feel some modicum of regret for what they’d done already, but she couldn’t. He’d given her the best orgasms she’d had in her life, or at least, that she could remember.
A few dark strands of hair clung to Trace’s damp forehead. He reached up and swiped them back. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and again she was struck by how she wanted to put her lips there, her tongue there, trace the bulge, trace all of him.
“Anything?” One dark brow arched. “You shouldn’t tempt me like that.”
“Why not?” She wriggled her hips, giving him a full show of the most intimate part of her. She was generally a shy person. Not with him, though. Never with him. If she’d been afraid of anything, it was of her passion, her wildness, the beast he unleashed in her.
“You have no idea what you’re asking,” Trace groaned.
“I think I do.” If he thought she was letting him go now, he was mistaken. If she was going to live with regrets, she was going to make them good. A lifetime’s worth. She wasn’t nearly finished. “I want you inside of me.” She tempted him with a coy smile and a tilt of her hips. “I want you filling me. I remember how big you are. I remember how much it hurts at first and how sore I am after. I need you. I want to come with you inside of me. I’m on the pill. I want to feel you come so deep inside me that it feels like you’re in my stomach.”
Trace’s eyes slammed shut. “Fucking Christ, Sandy.” His hands clenched into fists. She watched the hard play of emotion across his face. “I want you so fucking badly. You’re right that it’s going to hurt. I’m not going to be gentle. There is no way for me to be gentle, especially not when you talk like that.”
“Good.” Her tongue snaked out and wet her lips. “I don’t want you to be gentle. I want you to fuck me. Now.”
She watched his thread of control snap again, just like it had before, when he’d rucked her dress up and eaten her pussy. His hands unclenched and flew to his pants. He fumbled with the button. The zing of his zipper sent a pang shooting straight through her core. Her breath hitched when he tugged his pants and boxers down. His cock was huge, she remembered that, but apparently her memory was indeed unreliable, or maybe just fuzzy, because she didn’t remember it being that big. He was huge. His shaft was long and thick with perfect veins. The head was swollen, an angry red. Beads of moisture dripped from the tip.
Her mouth watered and she wished she could have taken her time, but she knew they were past that. She ached to have him inside of her.
Trace wrapped his hand around his shaft. He never tore his eyes away. “Are you sure? You can still tell me to leave.”
“Are you crazy?”
He nodded slowly. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone told me I was.”
He leaned forward though, covering her with his massive form. He still had his jacket on, his pants, his damn shoes. She didn’t want him to take any of it off. Of course she wanted to caress his skin, to lick and taste him, but they’d never done anything like this, fully clothed, their need to have each other and claim each other far greater than their need to take their time and undress.
Trace gripped her hands in his and forced them above her head. She wrapped her legs around his hips on instinct and froze when she felt him there, throbbing and so unbearably hot. The ache inside of her turned into a full on inferno, burning her up.
He claimed her lips, bruising her mouth, warring with her, kissing her breathless. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and stroked hers hungrily. Every single motion was echoed down between her legs.
“I want you,” she panted when he broke away. “I need you. Please.”
Trace tucked his face against her ear. His rapid breaths echoed loudly there. She loved the warm puffs that heated her sensitive skin so erotically. “Don’t worry,” he growled. “I’m not going to stop. I need you too fucking badly. I’ve always needed you.”
She closed her eyes as he surged forward. He filled her on a single thrust. She cried out and pushed her hips up, struggling to take all of him. He filled her unmercifully. He stretched her with his hard, thick length. It hurt. It burned. It fucking tore her apart. She loved it. She loved every single second and sensation.
Trace trembled above her, the effort of holding still obviously more than he could bear. She moved first, a little wriggle of her hips. He growled near her ear again and moved. There was no halfway with him, no holding back. She’d unleashed him, all of him. And fuck, she loved it. She wanted it. All of it. All of him. Exactly as he was.
Trace surged inside of her, thrusting hard. He pulled out and slammed back in, filling her again, pistoning until he was deeper than before. He pumped into her over and over until she was used to the feel of him, until she could take all of him, until his balls slapped against her ass and the slick, messy, glorious sounds of their bodies joining echoed through the living room.
Sandra hung on- barely. She dug her heels into Trace’s ass. She closed her eyes and savored every sensation, every stroke. She throbbed around him as he thrust harder, faster, more frenzied. She rocked her hips in time with him, into the hard pumps, taking him deeper. The pressure built, coiling, growing until it was all consuming. Trace strained above her. The tremors in his arms passed through her, where their hands were still joined above her head.
She knew he was waiting for her, waiting so that they could come together. She’d only ever done that with him. It was fitting that she was going to do it again…
She let go and let herself soar. The climax was sharper, like fire, burning her up. It exploded through her, sizzled through her veins, down her limbs, took hold of her and wrung her out. Every single nerve ending was alive with sensation, awash in the pleasure and the pain. She screamed and writhed, bucked and twisted. She screamed his name on an exhale, coming down.
He waited, the bastard waited. He waited until she was at the end before he surged hard one last time. She’d said she wanted to feel him in her stomach and when he came, he buried himself so deep inside of her that she really did feel him all the way in her stomach, in her womb. He vibrated hard, his massive body trembled, his cock throbbed and kicked as he exploded deep inside of her.
“Fuck, Sandy,” he ground out thickly. He bit at her neck, licked and suckled her while he trembled.
The warm jets sent her into another wild climax. She clung to Trace as the waves washed over her. She took everything he had to give her, her body greedy, desperate, starved for him. He clung to her like she was a lifeline, one he’d have to release and be set adrift once more.
Sandra was still shaking when Trace slipped away. He righted himself, tugged her dress down roughly, and adjusted his clothing. He refused to look at her.
She sat up slowly, her body still reeling from what they’d just done. She thought she could let him go after. That she could just let him walk out the door and that would be it. She was wrong. God, she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want him to walk out of her life for good.
“Wait,” she panted. “Please. You can’t just leave. Not after… not like this…”
She didn’t miss the flicker of hurt and regret in Trace’s dark eyes. “I have to. We both know that.” His jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth together.
“No.” She shook her head. She was soaked, her dress wet with sweat. She was still sore and pulsing between her legs. “You can’t just walk out again. I’m not going to let you do that.”
“Sandy… please. We both know that I’m no good for you. I’m worse than I was before. You don’t know the things I’ve done. The things I’ll have to do yet…”
Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they spilled down her cheeks. “Please.” She’d never begged anyone before. She never had to. He didn’t give her the chance the first time. She was too shocked to respond properly and he’d just walked out of her life. “There has to be a way out. A way- I’m not- I’m not done with you yet. I- I wasn’t done with you then. Please. Don’t walk out on me again. Not- not yet.”
“This could never work. You- me. It’s not- I’m not the kind of man that you can love.”
“Maybe that’s not your choice.” She cast her gaze upward and when he inhaled sharply, she knew that he knew. She loved him. She’d always loved him. She’d never stopped. She’d tried to lie to herself, to keep her heart from shattering completely. She’d given up hope long ago, but that seed in her heart remained rooted, even in the most barren ground.
“I’m dangerous,” Trace insisted. “I’m no good. Only pain and heartbreak would come from this. From knowing me.”
“No! You made the decision last time. You walked out on me. I didn’t get a say. I didn’t have a choice. My car ran out of gas for a reason. You, of all people, were there for a reason. It brought us back together. I’m not letting you go. I can’t- I can’t bear it again. I can’t go through that again.”
Trace shook his head angrily. “I’m sorry. I never should have done this.” He whirled and stalked out of the room. He didn’t look back at her. He didn’t even slow his pace or hesitate.
The door slammed shut with a cold hard finality.
Sandra knew. She knew that she’d never be the same. That she’d never been the same. Nine years ago, a man named Alex ruined her for any other man. A different man, a man who looked like Alex, but was harder, changed, fiercer, darker, a man who called himself Trace, stepped back into her life and shattered her all over again.