Deliciously Obedient (19 page)

“
No.
A friend’s.”

“
Wealthy
friend.”

His
breath was hot against her cheek, his body so fast she didn’t know
that someone that big and tall could move like a ninja.
A sex
ninja
, the thought making her giggle as his fingers circled her
waist, pressing her against his obvious erection.

“
I
love it when women giggle as I come on to them.”

“
Then
you must love it a lot.”

With
that, his arm went under her knees and he scooped her up, her nose
banging into his neck, her body feeling awkward in his arms. Men
didn’t pick her up like this. Too heavy and solid; on the few
occasions someone had tried, they’d tipped over, falling into a
heap.

Jeremy
lifted her like she was a child.

“
How
can you—” Step by graceful step, the sentence couldn’t be
completed before he plopped her on the bed, not even breathing hard.

Well,
not from exertion, at least.

Flexing
his biceps, he said drily, “Beer. It does a body good.” Then he
patted his nonexistent belly.

She
laughed. “And coffee. Don’t forget coffee.”

“
I
want to talk about other things I can put in my mouth,” he murmured
as he lifted the hem of her turtleneck and found her breasts. Popping
one out of the bra, he took the nipple in his mouth so deftly that
she squeaked, the rush of warm wetness making blood rush low,
engorging her clit. Lost in the sensation, she barely felt him reach
around and unclasp her bra, then slowly savor her other nipple,
fingers tweaking and twirling against the puckered skin of the other.

She
moaned, enjoying the feel of a real bed under her, the silence of a
hermetically sealed apartment, the quiet a balm and so different from
the past days in the woods. Each breath was an aural caress, the rasp
of cloth against skin like a poem, his mouth a sonnet. Grandma’s
crisis, the missed talent show, her abandoned friends and family at
the campground, the mess with Mike—it all faded off, like atoms
separating and entropy achieved, as Jeremy’s hands and mouth took
her out of her thoughts.

The
slip of the cotton neck of her shirt over her head and the fling of
her bra off the bedside made her sit up, wanting Jeremy’s bare skin
against hers. His hoodie flew across the room onto a chair, and they
panted on the bedspread, half naked and wild with need.

“
I
want to be in you. Bury myself in you. Lydia,” he whispered,
cradling her jaw, those silly eyes serious and focused only on her,
layers of emotion that she wanted years to study coming out in this
moment. “You make me feel. Really feel. I don’t—no one has ever
touched me like this.”

She
knew he didn’t mean with her fingers.

Breath
still, she took in his words, letting them wash over her, the
pounding push of arousal through her veins tempered—then driven—by
what he said.

“
I
need you,” he said, his body over hers as he crawled to her, the
long stretch of him, abs touching, the feel of his chest hair against
her nipple, the soft sweetness of his neck making her unfurl and
uncoil.

The
words he hadn’t said pounded through her, relentless and quivering.

It
wasn’t time yet.

Yet.

But
that day was coming.

Rolling
him to the side, her fingers flew to his waistband, unsnapping his
jeans and unceremoniously pushing the pants down. With a few kicks
they were off, and she did the same, then he hooked his fingers on
each side of the cloth of her panties and brushed them down to her
ankles, like a wizard’s touch, spinning magic inside her belly and
the folds of her vulva, clit swollen with need, her release less
important than the long, slow, deliciously obedient savoring they
were about to do to—and with—each other.

This
was no heated rush.

Jeremy
joined her in being nude, stripped bare on this stranger’s bed, the
holiness of silence turning the room into a sanctuary, away from all
the craziness that life had delivered this past month. Just two
months ago she’d been a different Lydia, that person so foreign to
her as the push of his tongue against her teeth made her wet, his
hand at her ribs, the other pressed into her navel, fingertips
teasing and stroking her curves as he held back, not touching where
she wanted him most, but instead turning his journey of her body into
a rambling tour.

The
stale air was warmed by their breath, the room a comfortable
temperature, the cotton of the bedspread the kind of spun gold that
only a very wealthy person could afford. Not the well-worn flannel
she was accustomed to, or the crisp cotton sheets Madge had sworn by
(and passed on to her).

Jeremy’s
hands continued loving her, his mouth dragging along her neck and
chest, leaving goosebumps and an unabashed sense of enjoyment at just
being touched. Distracted for a moment by the unfamiliar
surroundings, she took a moment to orient herself, looking down at
him as his mouth rested on one taut nipple, his eyes closed, his face
all-consumed by her.

Them.

The
joking, interfering man who’d appeared in Iceland weeks ago was now
her lover, and a damn fine one at that. So unlike Mike, whose raw
intensity fairly radiated out of him like an energy source, as if he
were nuclear fusion itself, Jeremy’s entire being was more languid
and fluid, his ability to relax and just hang out a treasured
quality, because how many people could do that? In a world of stress
and rush and worry and haste, Jeremy’s decidedly calm, mellow
self—which was currently licking her navel as one hand traveled
along her inner thigh—ignited something in her that simmered
instead of bubbling over.

The
two men would have made a perfect complement to each other, and her
mind wandered to her dream about Mike. Ah, to have both. At once. Was
that a betrayal? With Jeremy at her service and her legs rubbing
against his rigid cock, his hands gripping her breasts, the salty
scent of him mingled with coffee and his spicy soap, she didn’t
care. Blood rushed once more through her as he changed course, and
soon, commanding hands parted her thighs and he gave her what she
needed most, right here, right now.

Release
from her thoughts.

The
orgasm would be secondary, an afterthought, she surmised, mind racing
with too many intrusions as his tongue sank deep into her folds,
palms rasping against her full ass, sliding between her and the
comforter to hike up her hips. The angle improved and he sighed, a
sound of a man finding his way to pleasure.

Heat
pulsed through her as he took her in, so free with his own body and
reveling in touching, tasting, teasing and cleaving with hers. This
was what she had thought sex should be, the welding of mind, body,
and soul, and as his words—
I need you
—flashed through her
mind, she wondered if next she would hear the words she’d not been
told in a very long time.

I
love you.

Mike’s
face replaced the vision, invading without provocation just as
Jeremy’s tongue touched her clitoris with a whisper that made all
her stray strands of thoughts whip into a centered core, like ribbons
on a Maypole that suddenly wove around the post, leaving nothing left
to be tossed in the wind.

“
Oh,”
she groaned, the sound spurring him on, his unfailing rhythm and
motion, the slow circle of his tongue a practiced movement designed
to bring her to cries of joy. And he would.

She
needed him, too.

Widening
her legs, she reached down to open her lips to him, giving better
access to what he sought with his tongue, his fingers now slick with
her juices and using her own body’s proof of desire to elicit more.
One, then two, fingers slipped in her, her muscled walls clinging to
him for dear life. Fire poured through her now, her hips bucking
against his mouth with controlled strokes, Jeremy meeting her every
move.

Each
ragged breath only added to the cloud of intensity hovering over her,
body dissipating into a mist of lust as she felt herself begin the
journey to climax. An unexpected—and unarticulated—craving for
his finger to play with her in new, recently explored territory made
a bolt of flame fly through her, his mouth stroking her to ecstasy,
fingers riding her and playing her from within, the alluring sense of
being consumed utterly by this man—his sole focus—enough alone to
make her cry out with release.

And
then—he read her mind, one finger teasing the tight muscle of her
ass, slick with her own juices, his finger playing her perfectly.
“Oh!” she gasped, shocked by how right it felt, how naughty and
dirty and oh so wicked.

Perfect.

Frenzied
and even wetter, she made a strangled sound as his mouth released her
clit, the cool absence of his lips on her like some form of
punishment. “Okay?” he asked, checking in.

“
More
than okay,” she gasped.

“
Good,”
he murmured in a deep voice that made her want to ride his mouth for
the next century. The finger that explored her ass turned her breath
from a gasp to a series of hitched cries, the feeling pushing her
completely to overflowing, her body weeping with joy and struggling
to let go of the monumental build-up inside her. Quaking, her limbs
shivered, her clit pushing against his determined tongue, his motions
matching hers like a hunter unwilling to let go of prey.

“
Jeremy!”
she called out, his name the only word she could remember as his
cheek scratched against her inner thigh, his lips suckled her clit,
and his tongue went on, still knowing it was too much, his fingers
now taking over the work of giving her as much as he could within the
constraints of overwhelm.

“
Oh
my God!” she screamed, aware that they were alone in an apartment
where no one could hear them, and if anyone could it was no one she
cared about. The campground, the hostels in Iceland—neither had
afforded this range of abandon, and she let loose with a force that
allowed her to scream, to let herself unleash completely, through her
body, her fingers that gripped the bedspread as if it were a tether,
and to call out until her throat was shredded, until her entire being
had exploded with a pulse of rock-hard muscle and soft, mewling
whimpering that made her go limp.

And
then he was gone.

Barely
able to focus, clouds of multicolored plumes behind her open eyes,
she watched Jeremy’s bare ass as he walked into the attached
bathroom. The rush of the sink, the rummaging in a cabinet. His
return gave her a look at his cocky face, dark with desire, and
playful. The look of a man who knew exactly what he was about to do.

To
you.

In
his hands he held a condom and a bottle of lube.

“
Both
unopened,” he said, as if prematurely allaying her fears.

Her
entire body, from nipples to ankles, from breastbone to earlobe,
throbbed with the waning of the earthquake he’d triggered in her. A
cold wash of something animal made her shiver as he put the items on
the nightstand and got back in bed next to her, sidling up, his arm
over his head, thick pecs stretching his chest out like a muscle orgy
that needed one more in there.

Her
finger.

Tracing
the outline of his nipple, she smiled without teeth, letting the
pulse at her neck regulate, feeling the tingling in her lips and clit
fade into a blurred warmth.

He
inhaled sharply as she nudged her hip against his rigid cock, which
stood like an attentive soldier, awaiting orders. “Is that for what
I think it’s for?” she said shyly, surprised by how the topic of
anal play made her feel like a nervous teen. Why? He’d shown
himself open to it, and even Krysta said she’d done it, which was
like learning that your grandma knew how to use your new smart phone
features better than you did.

His
eyes narrowed with a sharpness that told her he’d picked up on her
nervousness. “It’s for whatever you want.”