Dirty Scoundrel

Clay’s completely and utterly naked.

This is the first time I’ve ever seen his cock after years of wondering what kind of equipment he’d have. The severity of his tan lines are jarring, his skin above his waist a glorious warm brown, and the skin below his waist is what you would call . . . well, lily-white. He’s still incredibly muscular, though, and the tan line seems to cut right across his obliques, and from there, I can see everything. The line of hair that’s no more than a happy trail down his belly leads to the dark curls at his groin, and his cock juts out from there. Didn’t he just come? I didn’t expect it to look so . . . big. So deeply pink.

I . . . should have watched more porn us so I’d have more knowledge. Damn it. Books and movies don’t prepare you for your first time with a guy, not the way they should.

Because what he has is pretty impressive and I wonder if he’s average or well endowed or if I have no clue, because he looks enormous to me. And it makes my thighs tighten together, just a bit.

He moves to the side of the bed and then crawls back over to where I’m lying, throwing the blankets aside and revealing my body again. “Don’t you cover up from me. I like lookin’ at you.” He grins at me, teeth stark against his heavy beard. “It’s clear you like lookin’ at me, too.”

“Hush,” I say, embarrassed. “I was just . . . looking,” I manage with a strangled admission.

“You can look all you want.” At my silent nod, his amusement seems to increase. “You can ask questions, too, you know. I don’t bite.”

“Are you a shower or a grower?” I blurt out. I figure I’ll never know unless I ask. Or, well, that’s not true. I can just wait until we have sex and see for myself. I feel stupid.

Clay laughs. “Right now it’s a little of both. Dick’s still hard, but it’s not at full potential at the moment, because I busted a nut before I should have.” His eyes gleam. “It meet with your approval?”

“It’s fine,” I say primly. I do wish I hadn’t taken Lexi’s weird advice and “gone all Sasquatch.” I half want to ask him what he thinks of my pussy, but those words will never come out of my mouth. I’m too much Southerner, too much of a reserved Weston to ever say such things.

“Like I said, though, I’m gonna look at this as a good thing.” He leans in and presses a light, flirty kiss to my mouth before giving me another devilish grin.

“Why’s that?”

“Because that means I’m gonna be able to go down on you until you come without worrying about if I’m gonna lose control. Already lost it, so the edge is gone.” He presses another kiss to my lips, then begins to slide lower on the bed.

A worried squeak escapes my throat, the sound almost as embarrassing as what comes out of my mouth next. “You’re going to what?”

“Go down on you, baby.” He’s already moving to the edge of the bed, and grabs me by the ankles, hauling me forward a good foot or so. “Been dreamin’ about getting my mouth on this pussy for ages. Now that I’ve seen how sweet it is, you think I’m gonna lose this opportunity?”

I’m beyond flustered. Of course I want him to go down on me. At the same time, I’m utterly terrified. What if he doesn’t like my taste? What if he thinks I . . . look strange? Oh god, why didn’t I freaking shave?

I’m never listening to Lexi again. This is what I get for taking the advice of a woman who dresses up at Christmas as “Cthulhu’s Little Helper.” Lexi’s a sweetheart but perhaps not the best for dating advice. That does it. I’m picking up a Cosmo magazine the next time I go out. “Maybe,” I begin, rattled. “Should we wait? I mean, you don’t have to. It might not be your kind of thing or—”

“Nat,” he says, glancing up at me even as he grabs the waistband of my bunched-up panties. “Stop talkin’ already. I’m doin’ this and you’re not gonna hem and haw your way outta things, all right?”

Well, who am I to demand that a man not go down on me? I suppose if he doesn’t like it, I’ll know soon enough. Still, I can’t help but feel a little . . . stressed as I wait for the verdict. He said he liked the way I looked, but what if he hasn’t looked closely enough—

My panties roll down my thighs and then Clay flings them to the floor. There’s a look of delight on his face, like it’s Christmas Day or something. One hand runs down my leg, his thumb skimming the inside of my thigh. “You really do have the best damn legs, Nat. Fuckin’ thick and juicy.”

“You make me sound like a drumstick,” I mutter. Not exactly the sexy talk I was hoping for to ease my worries.

He just wiggles his eyebrows at me, grinning. “You know why? Because—”

“If there’s a finger-licking joke in there, I’m getting off this bed right now,” I warn him.

Clay throws his head back and roars with laughter, and I have to admit a little giggle sneaks out of me, too. “Busted,” he says between chuckles. “It was too good to pass up.” His grin turns sly and he leans down, kissing the inside of my knee. “Much like this pussy.”

Oh, heaven help me.

I watch as Clay drops to his knees. He pulls mine apart, spreading my legs, and I feel more open and vulnerable than ever before.

My nervousness ratchets up and I can’t help but hold my breath, waiting. Waiting for his mouth to touch me, or for him to get up and decide he doesn’t want to bother. I don’t know what to expect. Then his hand goes to my knee, and I practically jump off the bed in my anxiety.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs. “This ain’t gonna hurt a bit.”

I give a little snort, because that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard yet. Of course it’s not going to hurt. I’m distracted, though, and I don’t realize how far in he is until I feel his beard brush against the inside of my thigh.

Oh god. He’s about to—

And then he is.

And then I’m melting.

His mouth goes over my pussy and I feel his tongue drag against the seam. He makes a low humming sound in his throat, and then parts my folds with his fingers, and licks me again. This time, I feel his tongue move directly over my clit.

I nearly come off the bed.

This feels . . . indescribable. I literally have no words, no thoughts, no nothing. I’m just a big ball of mush. My bones? Gone. Voice? Gone. Everything is gone except my ability to feel—and it’s all concentrated squarely on wherever his tongue lands.

Clay makes that noise again, and I realize it’s not a hum as much as it is a groan. “Lemme know if I’m doin’ it in a way you don’t like,” he murmurs, and his beard brushes against the insides of my thighs again, tickling me. I can hear him kiss my pussy—oh god—and then his tongue drags over my skin again. “Wanna make this good for you.”

I’m having a hard time thinking. I’m having a hard time doing anything other than just melting in the bed. “S’good,” I breathe. “Y-you okay?”

He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, right where my leg meets my pussy, and it’s the most erotic thing ever. “Better than okay. Mind if I stay down here awhile?”

Do I mind? Is he crazy? “Only if you want to.”

“Baby, there is nothing I want more. You taste fuckin’ amazin’.” As if to prove his words, his head ducks down again and I feel his beard against my thighs a moment before his mouth goes over my clit again.

This time I can’t help the needy cry that escapes my throat. I press a hand to my forehead, as if that’ll somehow help me hold it together.

“That feel good?” he rasps, and presses his tongue against my clit again. A second later, he’s using it the same way I showed him how to touch me—light pressure around my clit instead of directly over it. And dear god, it feels amazing. I’ve never felt anything better—until he hitches one of my legs over his shoulder and slides a finger deep inside me.

My entire body jerks in response, and I feel as if I’m about to explode. “Clay,” I pant, and my hands go to his head, as if I can hold him in just the right spot.

“Come for me, Nat,” he growls against my thighs. His tongue circles my clit again and his finger pumps inside me. “Want you to come all over my face.”

The little cry is building inside me, and I dig my fingers into his thick hair. Oh god, I want to come, too. I want to come so badly.

He redoubles his efforts, finger thrusting deep as well as his mouth and tongue working over my clit. I tighten my grip on him, because I’m so close and yet terrified he’s going to pull away, or change his rhythm, and that elusive, slowly building orgasm is going to disappear before—

And then it happens.

Everything in my body seems to clench all at once, and something bursts inside me. I cry out, even as Clay continues to work me with his mouth and fingers, and then I’m coming so hard I’m seeing stars. Over and over, the pleasure washes through me, stunning in its intensity.

I’ve never come so hard before. Masturbation has nothing to the reality of Clay’s mouth.

I’m lost to the world, riding the wave of pleasure, until he lifts his head and his fingers slide out of me. He presses little kisses to the inside of my knee, his beard tickling my skin, and I sigh heavily when all of the strength ebbs out of me.

God, that was . . . Yeah. I have no words. I’m just stunned at the intensity of it all.

His teeth scrape against my inner thigh and Clay strokes my leg. “Feel all right?”

“Mmm, yes,” I breathe. I feel better than all right. I feel . . . remade. Like I’ve been beaten to a pulp (in a good way) and then reshaped again. It’s a weird sensation.

He chuckles. “Good. I’m gonna go grab a condom.” He gives my knee one more kiss and then bounds up from the floor. It takes my dazed brain a moment to realize what he’s just said, and by the time I sit up, he’s returning, a small foil packet in hand. I watch as he rips it open and then pauses by the end of the bed to roll it down his length. I’m fascinated by the flushed color of his skin down there, as well as the thickness of his length. Definitely bigger than before. Definitely fascinating. Definitely fills me with a lot of emotions at the sight.