Authors: Alexx Andria
Oh, who was she kidding…she didn’t really care as long as Bronx was the one punching her V-card — but let’s be honest, the bed was softer!
A carnal grin stretched his mouth as he watched Delainey run from the room to her bedroom and he took great delight in following. Her room was much like her apartment — filled with girlie and frilly things, yet punctuated with serious artistic expression that he’d missed the first time he’d seen it – and it was the dichotomy of the two opposites that tugged at him in a deeper way than just surface attraction. But hell yeah, he was attracted to her and that wasn’t no act. Everything about Delainey was lush and beautiful even though she might’ve considered her extra flesh a flaw. Hell, he might’ve before this moment but she was like a Goddess, overflowing with delicious sexual energy, pebbling her sweet nipples and begging for his mouth.
He pounced the minute he entered the room, discarding his underwear and boldly walking toward her, his cock leading the way. He grinned when her eyes widened at his obvious erection and he wondered how much experience she’d had in the sack. Well, she’d admitted she wasn’t a virgin —
— but something told him she didn’t have a whole lot of notches on her bedpost and that was okay with him. He didn’t much care for the idea of too many guys going where he was about to stake his claim.
He arched his brow. “You’re still dressed,” he said, shaking his head. “If you hope to keep that blouse, I suggest you take it off now.”
With trembling fingers, Delainey slowly removed her top. When she hesitated at her bra, he motioned for her to continue, thoroughly enjoying the show. There was something sweet and innocent about the way she became bashful and uncertain. Not his usual style but it was a nice change of pace from the seasoned bitches and whores who often shared his bed. Delainey was like a breath of fresh air and he was ready to fill his lungs to bursting. But when her bra slid from her shoulders, revealing those pillowy mounds of sweet flesh, it was Bronx who suddenly felt off-kilter. He wanted to fill his mouth with those pink, pearled nipples and his fingers curled at his side, itching to claim. She had — hands down — the best tits he’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot.
But Delainey took his stunned silence as a bad thing and immediately tried covering up but he was on her before she could. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Miss Jones,” he asked in warning, his gaze roaming the hills and valleys of her body, reveling in the bountiful softness beneath him. “I told you I wanted you naked. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She nodded shyly before asking tentatively, “Do I…I mean, do you still like what you see?”
He chuckled without answering, choosing instead to slowly slide down her body, past her trembling belly to the gentle mound hiding what he wanted most. So cute. She didn’t shave like most women today but she was trimmed nicely, which he appreciated. There was nothing more irritating than getting a muff hair stuck in the teeth but honestly, she could’ve been sporting a ‘70s era bush and he would’ve been totally into it, and the fact that he realized that, threw him for a loop. Everything about Delainey was a shock. Particularly his reaction to her. Disconcerted by the tenderness of his thoughts, he grabbed her hips and jerked her to him with a dark smile. “Let’s get a taste of that pussy, shall we?” he said, laughing when she gasped and covered her face with her hands at his bold, almost crude talk. “What’s a matter, sweetness? Don’t you like dirty talk? Don’t want to know what I want to do to you?” She shook her head wildly but he didn’t believe it for a second. “Aww c’mon, sweetness…I promise you’re gonna like it. Never had any complaints, I promise.”
“Just do it,” she squeaked from between her fingers, stiffening as he tested her wetness, dragging his index finger along the seam of her folds, inhaling the spicy musk of her pussy as if it were the finest perfumes because it fucking was. Damn. She smelled like heaven. Almost unreal.
Enough talk, get your face in that pussy
! Bronx wasted no more time and dove between her thighs, burying his face between those fragrant folds, losing all sense of anything but dick-pounding lust.
He sucked her swollen clit into his mouth, teasing the bud with rapid-fire flicks of his tongue, loving the way she moaned and gasped, her fingers wildly clutching at the comforter as he made her dance to the tune of his choosing. Her tits bounced with the jerking of her body as she writhed and he couldn’t wait to see those lovely breasts jiggle when he started pounding her hard. There was something so sexy about a pair of big breasts going crazy as a woman was getting railed.
Slipping a finger inside her drenched pussy, he fingered her G-spot, thrumming that special spot until she cried out, completely lost to the pleasure that he was giving her. Sweat beaded their bodies and the scent of lust was its own aphrodisiac as far as he was concerned. Hell, he’d always loved the smell of sex and knowing it was Delainey he was making come, shuddering and panting as if being chased by a wild beast, made him feel like a rock star. Suddenly, she stiffened and collapsed with a keening cry that she couldn’t hold back no matter that the apartment walls were probably thin as fuck and the neighbors were likely getting an earful of their fucking.
He grinned as he pulled away, wiping away her pussy juices from his mouth, his cock harder than granite as she continued to breathe heavily, her chest heaving from the force of her orgasm.
Yeah baby, that’s how we do!
His ego swelled in proportion to his swollen cock and he wasn’t above gloating a bit but he was too horny and desperate to be inside her to really enjoy it fully. “That was…wow!” was all she could say and he laughed as he rolled her over to her stomach, shocking her as he pulled her hips up so he could see that perfect ass.
He gave her flesh a sharp tap, grinning as she gasped an outraged “What are you doing?” but he liked putting his stamp on the flesh he was about to fuck. His hand print, reddening nicely, looked like a brand — his brand — and the knowledge that Delainey wore his mark, if even temporarily, rocketed his arousal to a previously unknown level. He had to fuck her. No more foreplay. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
Time to give it up, baby
But just as he positioned himself behind her, ready to slid his cock into that warm, wet heaven…she cried out in alarm “No! Wait!” and he was barely able to stop from plunging to the hilt as she scrambled from the bed to rummage in a bedside drawer.
“What the hell for?”
She exclaimed in triumph when she found what she’d been looking for — a condom — and he was suddenly grateful at least one of them had been thinking straight long enough to prevent a tragedy. “Gotta be responsible, right? You’re not ready to be a dad, I’m assuming,” she said cheerfully, handing him the foil wrapper, gesturing for him to do the honors. He shook his head with a shaky laugh and sheathed himself but the moment his cock was covered, it was game on. He wasn’t going to wait another second. And in fact, he just grabbed her and bent her over the bed, thrusting his cock hard and fast into her slippery heat. He groaned as sudden carnal bliss blocked out everything but the moment until just as quickly he realized his cock had punched through what she’d told him wasn’t there.
A fucking virgin. She’d lied to him. Another groan escaped him as he continued to thrust into her, knowing he ought to be gentle but he simply couldn’t stop. Sweet Jesus, he’d never felt so out of control before with a woman. So incredibly tight and warm, slippery and juicy, he gripped her hips, squeezing the generous flesh as he pounded her hard.
So much for the Casanova act
, he thought dryly, squeezing his eyes shut as the monster of all orgasms came bursting from his balls to shoot down his cock, splashing into the latex tip of the condom, leaving him spent.
…he should’ve stopped. He should’ve walked away. Fucking virgins. Why had she lied to him? He withdrew slowly, not quite ready to leave that sweet heat, and pulled off the used condom to toss it in the bedside trash before stumbling away from Delainey, his heart banging like a drum at the realization. “You lied to me,” he said hoarsely, shoving his hand through his hair. “Why’d you fucking lie to me about being a virgin?”
Delainey flipped around, her eyes wide as she chewed on her lip. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” she admitted in a small voice, wincing a little as she shifted. Fuck, he’d just ridden her like a seasoned whore, the poor woman was probably hurting pretty good. His conscience pinched at her obvious attempt at appearing fine when in fact, she probably wanted to cry. He’d never felt like such a shit in his life — and that was saying a lot. “Was it bad for you?” she asked, as if that were the biggest issue.
“No, it wasn’t bad for me,” he answered impatiently, hating that she put his feelings before her own. “But it probably wasn’t a picnic for you. If I’d known…”
“If you’d known you probably wouldn’t have done it,” she finished for him, which was right, shocking him when she added, “And I wanted it to be you. I’m sorry…I used you a bit.”
? Well, hell…if she wanted to think of it that way, who was he to challenge her belief? The irony forced a short laugh from his mouth, startling her. He reached for her, drawing her into the shelter of his arms. “Honey,” he said, “you can use me all you want if it makes you feel better. I feel bad for you, though. You got the short end of that stick.”
“Didn’t feel very short to me,” she said in a muffled tone against his chest and he laughed. She glanced up, offering a sunny smile that immediately took his breath away. Damn, she was so hot and she didn’t even know it. “Are you considered a large man?”
“A little bigger than average,” he answered gruffly. “Did it hurt too much?”
“Well, I really liked that thing you did before you…”
“Before I fucked you raw for your first time?”
She blushed and nodded. Bronx chuckled and said, “Get the shower started. Looks like I’ve got a reputation to save.”
Delainey rushed to do as he told her and soon he could hear the water running and the faint sound of singing. Her voice was as sweet as her ass. For a moment, Bronx just listened. Her voice tickled his insides and created a warmth that threatened to change his religion if he wasn’t careful.
Have some fun, but stay focused. You’re not here to play house. Someone out there wants you dead. Don’t forget that simple fact,
a voice reasoned
bringing him unhappily back to the present.
Yeah, yeah, how could he forget? But seeing as the damage was done, he might as well have a little fun, right?
Sure…as long as he remembered that he was just killing time — and using Delainey to get what he ultimately wanted…payback.
Bronx joined Delainey in the shower, crowding her in a deliciously unsettling way and she worried that she was taking up too much of the space until he pulled her into his arms and decimated her ability to think with the power of his mouth on hers. Good God, the man could kiss! Their bodies meshed together in a perfect way, the hard planes of his body seemed to complement the soft valleys of hers, and soon enough they were all over each other again, except Delainey didn’t have a clue as to how they would manage sex in her tiny shower. Bronx seemed to realize that as well and slowed his sensual onslaught. “You have a good voice,” he said, against her lips as he pulled away. “Have you always enjoyed singing?”
“Only in the shower,” she admitted with a blush. “I couldn’t possibly get up on stage and do it. I’d die of stage fright before managing the first note.” She risked a shy look at him to ask, “Do you have a secret talent? I mean, aside from that really awesome thing you did with your tongue on my…”
“Clit?” he supplied for her, enjoying the way she squirmed. She nodded vigorously, still too embarrassed to speak so openly about her own body. Damn her conservative upbringing. Her parents had been suitably appalled that their daughter had become an artist. Imagine their horror if they discovered she’d become a wanton woman who openly talked about her sexual needs as casually as one would the grocery list! The small mental walkabout caused a giggle to pop from her lips, causing Bronx to ask, “Something tickle your funny bone?”
“We’re total strangers, I know, so you wouldn’t understand if I were to tell you that my parents are very conservative, which means, even though I became an artist — which is totally outside their sphere of acceptable careers — I still suffer from the belief that good girls shouldn’t talk about the things that make them tingle.”
“Fuck that,” Bronx replied readily, grabbing the soap and sniffing it. French vanilla, she hoped he liked it. When he didn’t wrinkle his nose and began to soap her up with it, she figured it’d passed the sniff test. “People should stay out of other people’s bedrooms,” Bronx told her as he slowly soaped her breasts with more attention than was probably warranted, not that she was complaining, of course. “What turns you on, should be your fucking business…no one else’s.”
“What turns you on?” she asked, curious.
Without missing a beat, he answered, “You” and Delainey nearly swooned.
“Yeah…you’re hot, why wouldn’t I be turned on by you?”
“C’mon, you don’t have to say that. I know I’m not super model material.”
“Listen, I know you’ve got this thing in your head that you’re not sexy because you’re a woman with banging curves but if I could spend all day between those thighs…I would. And any real man would feel the same. Although, I’d rip another man’s fucking head off if he tried,” he muttered, and if Delainey was shocked by the possessive statement, Bronx seemed doubly so because he shrugged it off with the next comment, saying, “I mean, I’m just saying, you’re highly fuckable and whatever so you need to stop being so insecure.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re beautiful,” she shot back, secretly enjoying the way Bronx couldn’t seem to stop staring at and touching her breasts. If she had to admit to any sort of vanity it would be about her breasts. She had to admit…she’d always had a great rack. Taking the soap from his hands, she returned the favor and began running the French soap over his hard body, loving the way the muscle rippled beneath her fingertips like waves on the ocean. “When you walk into a room, you turn heads, not only with that heart-stopping face of yours but this body is out of this world. You can’t possibly know how it feels to be rejected on a daily basis because you don’t fit the cultural standard of beauty. Trust me, I work in graphic design. I’ve mastered the art of Photoshop manipulation and most of that skill is used to make people look less like people and more like perfect, pore less mannequins.”