Dirty Scoundrel

Oh, I planned on it. I continue to just use the tip of my tongue, though, dragging it over the head of his cock in tiny little circles.

“Fuck, I love your mouth,” he tells me between panting breaths. “Only thing I love more than your tongue are your lips.”

I swallow back my giggle. “Is that a hint?”

“You can do what you like with me and you know that,” Clay murmurs. “I’m at your mercy.”

The thought gives me a giddy rush of power. Here, on my knees, I’m the one in charge of this man and his pleasure. I can do what I want with him . . . Lucky for him, I want to drive him crazy with lust.

But first, I want to play a bit more. I lean in and give the head of his cock a smacking, puckered, girlish kiss. “There. All done.”

His groan of frustration is like sweet music, and I can’t help the laughter that erupts from me.

“You’re the cruelest woman to ever touch me.”

“I’m the only woman to ever touch you.”

“That, too. Still the cruelest.”

But I feel a fierce sense of possessive pleasure in the realization that he’s all mine. No matter what happened between us in the past, he didn’t move on. He waited for me. Maybe we’re meant to be together after all, and this won’t be just a quick thing between us. We have a history, him and I.

I slide a hand underneath his cock and cup his sac. I haven’t had much of an opportunity to play with this part of him, and I have to admit, it’s pretty foreign to me. I’m not exactly sure how to work it, so I decide to go the safe route and caress it while I work his cock with my mouth.

“Look at you,” he grits out, as if it’s difficult to speak. “So pretty with my cock in your mouth. Love seein’ that.” A low groan escapes him. “God, you’re good at this. A fuckin’ natural.”

Excited by how turned on he is, I work even harder, rubbing and caressing his sac as I suck on his cock. I take him as far into my throat as I can, using my other hand to guide him as I drag his length back and forth over my tongue. He shifts his weight forward, almost thrusting into my mouth, and his hand grows tight on my hair once more.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “I want to be inside you when I come. Stand up, baby.”

I release him with one last sad lick, then get to my feet. He cups my face and pulls me close in a fierce kiss, then cups my ass with his hands, squeezing tight. “Wait here. I’ll get the condom.”

“Should I think about getting on the pill?”

“Nah,” he says. “Won’t do any good. Wait here.”

Weirdly enough, my feelings are hurt. The pill won’t do any good? Is that because it takes a month to kick in? And . . . we’ll be done by then? Pain stabs through me at the thought. I don’t want to be done. I don’t ever want Clay to leave me again. I don’t know how I’m going to cope—

Stop it, I tell myself, closing my eyes and leaning into the shower spray. You promised yourself you’d live in the moment, remember? You weren’t going to worry about tomorrow.

Easier said than done, of course.

But then Clay returns, condom on, and gives me another fierce kiss, and I’m swept up in the passion of the moment. He wants me. I can feel the hard length of him pushing against my stomach as we kiss. There’s no question he wants me. Maybe the attraction can grow into something deeper again.

If not, then I’ll deal with that when that day gets here. Until then, I know what I’ve bought into. It’s a contract, nothing more, and I can enjoy it just as much as him.

I wrap my arms around his neck and return his kiss with a fierce intensity of my own. He grips my hips, holding me tight against him. “Turn around,” he whispers after a moment. “Put your hands on the wall and present that pretty ass to me.”

I shiver at his delicious words and do just as he says.

A moment later, his hands go on my hips and he thrusts into me, hard and sharp. I suck in a breath, shocked at how good it feels, how full. I’m always amazed by that first push into me, no matter how many times we have sex. It’s like my body forgets just how incredible it is to be filled by him.

His hands go tight on my hips, and I know this isn’t going to be a lengthy session of lovemaking. We’re both too keyed up for that. I brace my hands as he thrusts into me again, as hard as the first time. Then again. Over and over, he rocks into me with possessive determination, until my fingers are curling against the tiles and I’m crying out his name. The slow, elusive orgasm I’ve come to think of as the “belly” orgasm begins to build, and I whimper, “I’m close” to let Clay know that he needs to keep moving just like that.

But he doesn’t—he pushes into me deep and his other hand goes to my pussy. His fingers spread my folds and in the next moment, he’s rubbing against my clit, and thrusts into me once more.

I shatter.

He doesn’t stop, and it feels as if my climax builds on another. With every circling touch of his fingers around my clit, every thrust, it feels like I’m coming anew, and I sob as the orgasms fly into one another. Clay comes a moment later, his hand finally moving away from my clit, and he tangles his fingers in the curls covering my mound, as if claiming it for himself, and buries his face against my neck.

“Nat,” he breathes, and I wait for words of love. I wait for him to tell me that he loves me, so I can tell him how I feel.

But he just presses a kiss to my shoulder, and I realize I’m going to have to keep waiting.

Chapter Fourteen

One Week Later

Clay

“Quit squirmin’,” I tell Nat as she shifts on the seat next to me. I put my hand on her thigh, letting my fingers graze close to her pussy, because that usually distracts her. Today, not so much.

She just squirms even more, craning her head to look out the window of the sedan as we drive down the highway. “I’m just nervous.”

“What about?”

“Everything,” Nat tells me breathlessly. “You’ve poured so much money into this and I just want it to look right. I want everything to look good. I want you to get your dollars’ worth out of it. I want to feel like— Oh look! There’s the billboard!” She presses her fingers to her mouth and practically glues her forehead to the window as we pass by a large advertisement on the side of the interstate. It’s a black-and-white picture of her father in a sailor hat from one of his movies, and the new logo. The sign reads CHAP WESTON HOLLYWOOD MUSEUM AND MEMORABILIA—NEXT EXIT!

Doesn’t look like anything I’d ever be into, but Nat’s eyes gleam with happy tears and it makes me feel good.

Also makes my dick hard, but I don’t say anythin’ about that. Ain’t the time.

My sweet Nat worries about everything and I want her to enjoy herself today. It’s been real apparent to me that my Nat has been stressed. She worries about her father, who’s been increasingly demanding in his requests that she spend her time with him instead of passin’ him off to nurses. She worries I’ve thrown too much money away on this silly contract of ours. She worries my family’s gonna think she’s usin’ me for my money. She worries I’m not gettin’ enough out of this to make me happy. Nat’s always been a sweetheart who thinks of others before herself, but this constant state of agitation is worryin’ to me. She ain’t gonna make everyone happy, so I’m not sure why she even wants to try.

I’m happy. She’s happy. That’s all that matters to me.

I let my hand play on her thigh, rubbing my thumb back and forth over the soft floral material of her skirt. She’s wearin’ one of those typically “Natalie” light-colored sweaters over a little floral dress that falls to her knees, and it makes me wanna flip the skirt up and expose her pretty ass. Maybe I’ll distract her and joke that we haven’t explored anal yet, and it’s in the contract. Lord knows my poor baby needs distractin’.

Suppose I could always have the driver find the nearest hotel and distract her for a few hours in my favorite kinda way. I like that thought. So does my dick. I’m pretty sure Nat would like it, too—one of the things that’s so amazin’ about her is that she’s just as excited for me to touch her as I am, every damn time. I thought maybe once we got the initial torrid bouts of fuckin’ out of our systems, things would slow down.

Not so much, though. If anythin’, it’s been gettin’ worse. Now all it takes to get me hard is a whiff of her perfume, or a hint of her smile. Nat laughing? Dick hard. Nat sighing? Dick hard. Nat glancin’ over at me in the car like she just did? Dick instantly hard.

Doesn’t take much. I’m crazier about the girl than I ever was, and I thought I was insanely in love seven years ago. Doesn’t hold a candle to how I feel about her now. All of this has just kinda reinforced that she’s meant to be mine. That we’re meant to be together forever.

I slide my hand a little higher up her skirt, my pinky finger awful close to the promised land. Nat only sighs and shifts her weight in her seat, as if she wants my hand there, too.

And I think a bit harder about gettin’ that hotel room. Though I guess it ain’t a good idea—I don’t have condoms on me. I think back to her mention of the pill from the other day. Didn’t really think about it too much because every time it comes up, I’m wantin’ to be deep inside her. But truth of the matter is, I don’t want her on birth control.

I wanna be deep inside her, fillin’ her up with my seed. I want her belly to be rounded with my baby, like Ivy’s is with Boone’s. I want us to be a family. I want to make her mine permanently.

Birth control just seems like that’d delay things. So I shoot it down every time she suggests it. When she’s ready, we’ll discard the condoms and I’ll slide into her, as bare as anything, and fuck her the way she should be fucked.

Damn it, I’m getting uncontrollably hard just thinkin’ about that. Wish she’d let her hand wander over to my cock the way mine’s wanderin’ toward her tasty little cunt. Maybe she’d let me fling that skirt over my head and I could lick her for a while here in the back seat—