Ecstasy (7 page)

Laving his tongue back and forth over the hard nub of her nipple, he moved his index finger into the cleft of her pussy and just as he touched her incredibly swollen clit he bit down slightly on her left nipple.

She screamed again and Charlie sucked as hard as he could on her breast while ramming his finger in and out of her feverishly.

Thinking of all the heat pooling in her juicy cunt gave Charlie an idea. He took the long, slim pillar candle and slid it into her, just a little at a time. By the sound of her moans, he knew she was still coming, and easily turned on enough for whatever he wanted to slip between her legs

In the midst of her orgasm, Charlie removed his lips from her breast and joined the candle with his tongue on her clit. Even as she was resurfacing from her explosion, he felt her twitching again beneath his tongue. He could feel the candle jerk as her inner muscles clenched.

Charlie untied the silk bindings around her arms and legs. Leaving the blindfold on, he picked her up in his arms. Her body was completely limp from her five intense detonations and slick with a faint sheen of sweat.

Gently, he carried her over to the chenille rug in front of the fire.

She wrapped her slim arms around his neck and as she sank into the deep rug, softly pressed her lips to his.

Charlie was unprepared for their first kiss, and even the merest touch of her lips on his was more than he could handle. Roughly he pulled the silk fabric away from her eyes and stood up, pulling off his jeans and shirt as he did so.

In a few seconds he was completely naked and kneeling on the rug between Candace’s legs. He paused briefly, knowing it was longer than he could stand to wait, but he’d kill himself later if he didn’t have this image of Candace burned into his brain forever.

He memorized every gleaming, creamy, perfect inch of her incredible body, her luscious breasts. He pushed her legs open wide, bent her knees so that she could take him into her and reached for one of the condoms he had placed at random in the room, just in case he should get as incredibly lucky as he was right now.

Her eyes followed his movement, and she shook her head.

“No. I want you like this.” She reached out tentatively to touch him with the tips of her fingers. “I want to feel you inside of me. Skin to skin.”

Charlie wanted it too, more than anything in the whole world, but he was torn.

“I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

He shook his head and grinned ruefully, “Me either.”

“Thank god!” she exclaimed, laughing as she reached for him. As their lips touched, her laughter died in her throat.

“Take me, Charlie. I need to feel you inside me.”

Her words were punctuated by a firm squeeze of her fist on his throbbing shaft. For a moment, he was afraid he was going to spurt all over the creamy skin of her belly.

Charlie reared up, kneeling between her legs. He wanted to watch as his cock slid into her pussy, just like the candle, but this time it would be his own throbbing flesh and blood pumping into her.

He angled the tip of his cock into her soaked labia and probed her entry with the very top of his head. The head of his cock was slick with his sperm, slick with his intense desire to blow inside her womb.

If she was going to come again, he wanted her to do it before he got inside her, lest the convulsing of her muscles send him to his own end too fast.

Reaching his hands up to her breasts, he rolled her nipples between his fingers, cupping her breasts. His cock was his weapon of delight on her pussy, her clit, and within moments her eyes drifted shut and her neck arched. Her hands held fast onto his ass as she came against him.

Taking a deep breath, he slid into her an inch. She was so tight, which he already knew from how snugly she held onto his fingers when he pushed them inside of her, he wondered how he was going to make it one more inch, let alone the next eight.

He grasped for control, not wanting to blow his wad before he had sheathed his entire shaft inside her. More than he had ever wanted anything his whole life, he wanted to feel Candace’s slick heat wrap around his cock, her tight muscles milking him dry.

Gritting his teeth, he moved hands underneath her hips to cup her butt cheeks in his hands, and he slid in another couple of inches. She began to buck into him while using her own strength to pull his cock into her.

“Charlie, you feel so good,” she moaned.

Charlie began to say, “Candy, you’ve got to let me move slow here. Or else...” but let his words drift off as she smiled a wicked little smile.

She lay back against the rug, rubbing her hands up and down his thighs. “I wouldn’t want to disobey the teacher,” she said, her voice a husky whisper of need. “You might have to bend me over your knee so that you can spank me,” she added, her voice thick with desire.

A vision of himself spanking Candace’s sweet ass as she cried out on his lap gave him no choice but to plunge as deeply as he could go. Mindless with the need to ravage her, to blow his seed as deep within her as he possibly could, he dragged her legs over his shoulders and rammed into her again and again.

Joined to him in the most elemental way, Candace’s hips bucked wildly, taking him all the way inside, then forcing him back out along her slick canal. She cried out his name, begging him to send her over the edge, but the roaring in his ears was so loud, he could hardly make out her words. He thought he tasted blood in his mouth, figured he must have bitten his tongue in his crazy rush to savage her.

Breaking through his fog, he heard Candace’s impassioned sob, “Oh Charlie, oh god, yes, yes, there, now!”

Gripping her hips against his, they pounded back and forth in perfect rhythm. And as he collapsed beside her, with his heartbeat sounding louder than a bass drum in his ears, he said, “Sweetheart, you are definitely an A+ student.”

Chapter Seven

Sunday morning, less than twenty-four hours after the most mind-blowing sex of her life, Candace sat in her cozy home office at her cherry wood desk with her laptop open to a blank word processing file. She stared blindly at the cursor as it blinked at her.

“What happened to me yesterday?” she asked herself for the hundredth time. Her breath fogged up her computer screen, but she didn’t notice. She couldn’t see anything beyond the images in her head of her writhing beneath Charlie, of Charlie plunging into her, of his fingers wet with her, touching her, making her scream out his name again and again.

She couldn’t for life of her figure out how she had managed to put her clothes on, find her way to the front door, get in her car and drive home. Less than twenty-four hours later, she looked back on the entire experience and could barely make out the details of the scene through the thick sensual haze that blanketed her memories.

It was as if she was looking into a forbidden realm of pleasure, where only the privileged, where only the elite were allowed to participate. And since Candace knew she had never been one of those elite, her brain was bewildered by the entire experience.

She had hardly slept the night before. Every time she closed her eyes she could swear she felt the imprint of Charlie’s tongue between her legs, and when she gingerly touched herself she was wet. So wet that she couldn’t resist touching herself some more. She couldn’t resist thinking about everything he had done to her body. Everything he had done that made her feel so damn good.

As soon as Sunday morning had arrived, bright and shiny through her windows, she dragged herself out of bed. She put on her robe, made herself a hot cup of strong coffee and sat down at her desk.

Candace had never let another human being control her before. Always, even when she thought she was in love, she held a part of herself back. Kept a part of her soul safe.

But with Charlie, surrounded by rose petals, candles, and sumptuous fabrics, she had given in to his every touch. If he had stopped touching her, stopped tasting her at any point, she would have begged him for more.

Disbelieving still, she shook her head and tried to make sense of her feelings. After she caught her last boyfriend cheating on her, after he had made it perfectly clear that it was her fault for being a prude, for being cold and lifeless in bed, she accepted that she was never going to know true passion. Even worse, she believed she wasn’t good enough for the bastard and all the men who had come before him. They all wanted to fuck her boobs, but didn’t give a shit about her heart.

But now that Charlie had pleasured her more ways in one afternoon than she had ever felt in the first twenty-eight years of her life, she wondered if it was because they had a deeper connection than just bodies.

She sighed and told herself to get over it. Just because their mentoring lessons had spiraled way out of control—Candace hadn’t forgotten that it was entirely her own idea to take off her clothes—he was probably thinking how she was just another fan, another wannabe writer who wanted to get into his pants.

“I’m not in love,” she said aloud. “I’m in lust. Big difference.”

Feeling a little better, a little saner, Candace took a sip of java. Suddenly words began to dance through her mind.

Jolene was a good girl. She was the kind of girl boys took home to their mother’s and said, “I’m going to marry her, Mom.” They took one look at her angelic blue eyes and smooth golden hair and knew she was pure as driven snow.

Jolene had spent her entire life with nuns. In Catholic school uniforms. When she was a little girl, she thought every other little girl got ready to go to school in the exact same way she did, automatically reaching into their closet for the blue and white plaid jumper and white cotton shirt. She thought the only clothes in the world were white cotton knee socks and black patent leather Mary Janes.

Mary, Jolene’s mother, was pleased with how well-behaved her daughter was. They were more like sisters than mother and daughter, and Mary thought Jolene told her everything. But if Jolene ever had secret thoughts in her pink and white ruffled bedroom late at night, under the covers with a flashlight, reading the latest Nancy Drew mystery about a mysterious boy who kidnapped her and gave her forbidden kisses, she never told her mother about them.

The day Jolene turned twenty-one, she was offered a full-time position playing piano for the church. For the first time in her life she was torn. She loved the nuns with all of her heart. Growing up in the safe environment of her private school had brought her nothing but happiness, but lately she had begun to feel a yearning inside of her that grew stronger every day.

Unbeknownst to her teachers, to her parents, and to her few chaste and respectful boyfriends, Jolene had been sneaking off to the used bookstore downtown and spending her allowance on books.

Jolene had long ago outgrown Nancy Drew. Her fingers trembled as she read Judy Blume. And then Jude Deveraux. And then Katherine Woodiwiss.

Jolene would have sworn that no one liked sex, that her parents had copulated only to create her and then settled back in their separate bedrooms as soon as her father’s sperm sunk into her mother’s egg.

In these books she saw a far different reality and knew it was something she had to experience for herself. Before she agreed to marry one of the boys who wanted her only as a wife and mother. Before she agreed to spend the rest of her days playing piano in accompaniment for little girls as they sang their hymns.

Bravely she told her parents and the nuns that she was going to spend some time in the city. She told them she was going to work with a local church there—which in fact she was, part time—and they were all so proud of her. Her parents found her an apartment and paid for six months’ rent and didn’t worry about their precious daughter. Why would they, when she had never given them even the slightest bit of trouble?

Jolene Mackenzie was a good girl.

* * *

Zane stood behind the bar and wiped another glass dry, sliding it beneath the counter in preparation for opening the bar. His bar.

He still couldn’t believe “Piano Man” was his. Every time he pulled up underneath the neon sign on his Harley, he got a rush. But as he wiped down the brass counter one more time, he frowned at his reflection. If he didn’t find a great piano player, and fast, “Piano Man” would be a laughingstock among piano bars. Unfortunately, the last five guys he had auditioned stunk.

Hell, he could play better than them, and he could barely read a note.

Someone from outside pushed the door open slightly and a shaft of blinding light hit Zane across the forehead.

“Excuse me,” he heard a timid little voice say.

“We’re closed,” he said gruffly. “Come back at five.”

But the girl disobeyed him and walked through the door.

Zane looked at her in disbelief. The last time he’d seen someone as prim and proper as the young girl standing before him, he was in church looking at a nun. And lord knew he hadn’t set foot in a church for well over a decade. Maybe two.

On second thought, no nun ever had such gorgeous blue eyes and a mouth he could imagine wrapped around his dick.

“I said we’re closed,” he said, glaring at her. It was pissing him off the way his dick was perking up just because some meek, blond girl, barely out of pigtails, was walking across the floor toward him.

“Are you the owner?” she asked him, as if she hadn’t heard him tell her to leave twice already.

He glared at her, trying to scare her away, but when she kept staring at him with her huge, blue eyes, and held her ground, he nodded.

“What’s it to you?”

She held up the want ads. “I’m here to apply for the piano job.”

He snorted. “You?” He threw his head back and laughed in her face to drive the point home. “Honey, this ain’t no church, and you certainly ain’t no piano man.”