Full Circle (60 page)

She thought about it a second then said, “We
don’t fight enough for me to be able to effectively answer that
one.”

“We’ve had a couple of big arguments.”

She regarded him with a one-shouldered shrug.
“Yes, but I can’t say the sex afterward was any better than
everyday sex. I mean, Mark, your everyday sex is pretty hot.” She
leaned toward him, running the tip of her finger down the center of
his chest and torso. “Of course, if you ever want to role play a
pretend argument followed with pretend makeup sex, I’m completely
fine with that.”

He closed his fingers around her hand and
lifted it to his lips. “Noted.” He kissed each knuckle. “Although
faking an argument with you could be pretty difficult.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” She grabbed the
next card. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he said, releasing her hand.

“Tell me the dirty phrase you most love to
hear in bed.”

“That’s easy. My name.”

She gave him an admonishing glare. “Your name
isn’t a dirty phrase.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. ‘Fuck me,
Mark
,’ or ‘Oh God,
Mark
, I’m about to come.’” He did
his best to imitate her voice while emphasizing his name. “It’s how
you say it that makes it sound so dirty.” He narrowed his eyes
lasciviously, if not a tad mockingly.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Yes you do. You’re just too busy coming to
hear yourself.”

“And you’re not?”

He winked and gave her a lopsided grin. “Good
point. But . . .” He held up his index finger. “Do I
get brownie points for setting up a good pretend argument for
later?”

She blew out a puff of breath. “You’re
impossible.”

He pressed forward so his lips were barely an
inch from hers. “And you love it.”

She closed the distance and gave him a sweet,
heated peck. “More than you know.”

“Thought so. By the way, dare.”

“It’s your turn.”

“I want you to go again.”

She fought not to smile and stared into his
eyes for a long moment. “Okay, fine. I’ll go again.” She reached
down blindly, pulling a card from the pile. He sat back.

When she read the card to herself, she shook
her head. “No way.”

“What?”

“It says for you to imitate what I sound and
look like when I orgasm.”

He laughed. “Didn’t we just discuss this?
We’re both too busy coming to actually know what we’re hearing and
seeing from the other, right?”

“Exactly. I’m picking again.” She tossed the
card aside and grabbed another. “Sit on my lap or let me sit on
yours for the next three cards.”

“This could be dangerous.” He inched backward
then patted his lap.

“Or severely shorten how long we continue
playing.” She crawled over the cards and straddled his crossed legs
then wound her own behind his back.

“This is all just foreplay anyway.” He
cradled her exposed rump in his hands.

“Ah, so the truth comes out.”

“You know I never do anything without
ulterior motives.” His fingers tapped her bare cheeks then
squeezed.

“True.”

One hand left her bottom, and she heard the
soft whisper of the cards sliding over each other before he
selected one and glanced to the side to read it. “Truth or dare,
Mrs. Strong.”

She couldn’t get enough of him calling her
that.

“Truth.” She draped her arms over his
shoulders.

He met her gaze. “When I’m on top of you,
what’s your favorite part of me to watch?”

“Ooohhh, that’s a good one.” She closed her
eyes and imagined them having sex. He moved more like a powerful
ocean wave than a human body, every muscle rippling as he surged
into her then retreated only to flow against her again with even
greater force. But it was the little details about his movements
that she enjoyed the most.

“I love looking into your eyes,
but . . .” She slowly swept her hands along the
backs of his shoulders and down his biceps. “I think my favorite
part to watch are your shoulders and your arms. And your chest. The
muscles bunch and flex and kind of roll and twitch really hard when
you’re about to come. It’s really sexy.”

His eyebrows lifted as if he hadn’t expected
that answer. “I never knew that.”

“I never thought to tell you before.”

“Mmm, this game has allowed me to learn
something new tonight. Maybe I can return the favor. Do you want to
know what my favorite part of you is to watch when you’re on top of
me?”

She nodded, snuggling closer, feeling his
erection beneath his smooth linen pants.

“Your hips.” He gripped them and rolled them
forward. “I don’t know if it’s all your yoga training or if it’s
just the way you naturally move, but you move your hips in the most
incredibly sexy way. You hold the rest of your body almost
completely still, but your hips . . . God, it drives
me wild watching you fuck me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She had no frame of reference. Before Mark,
she’d slept with only two other guys, and neither had taught her
much about sex. Then, last year, she’d been with Brad, but he was
nowhere near as imaginative and attentive in the bedroom as
Mark.

“Are you saying that most women
don’t . . . you know . . . use their
hips the way I do?”

“I’ll just put it this way. You are unique in
every way, Karma. You truly were made for me.”

That sounded like a thoughtful way of saying
he wasn’t going to talk about other women on their wedding
night.

He reached behind her, snagged a card, and
slipped it into her hand. “Truth.”

Feeling like the luckiest woman in the world,
she read, “Which is your favorite kind of sex: soft and sweet or
aggressive and feisty?”

“Both,” he said without hesitation. “You and
I have done both, and, as you know by now, I have a dark side that
likes to come out and play occasionally. So . . . I
like both equally, depending on our mood. I love the intense
feeling of connection when we make love. But when we
fuck
 . . .” He emphasized the word to
indicate that he considered feisty sex fucking and sweet sex making
love, “I love the way we lose ourselves. It’s as if we become
different people when we’re fucking. There’s something extremely
exciting about that, especially given my enjoyment of role-play
sex.”

“I feel the same way. I like both, too, for the same
reasons.” She was normally so conservative and straight-laced, but
Mark had a way of pulling out a different side of her. One that was
her polar opposite. Conservative became daring. Straight-laced
became wanton. He was able to persuade her good girl persona into
the shadows while coaxing out her inner vixen.

His grip tightened at the small of her back.
“I think this is something we need to explore further now that
we’re married.”

“What did you have in mind?”

He gave her one of his looks that said he
wouldn’t divulge anything tonight, but that she should expect the
topic to come up again sooner rather than later. “We’ll see.” He
picked another card. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What is the strangest thing that has ever
turned you on?”

This was a no-brainer. “When you speak
Italian.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Then you aren’t paying attention. Haven’t
you noticed how hot I get when go all
Italian Mark
on me? I
mean, I practically had an orgasm back there.” She hooked her thumb
over her shoulder, indicating five minutes ago.

“Mmmm, I have to remember that.”

“Yes, please do, because that is damn near
the sexiest thing ever.”

“I thought
I
was the sexiest thing
ever.”

She slid her hands up his chest to his
shoulders. “You’re a given.”

“Aren’t you sweet.” He pushed a card into her
hand. “Dare.”

“You sure enjoy the dares.” She flipped the
card around to read it.

“No risk, no reward.”

“Then you’ll love this.” She cleared her
throat. “For the next sixty seconds, touch yourself like you’d like
me to touch you.”

The way his eyelids fell and the corners of
his mouth lifted, he clearly liked this dare. Leaning back on one
arm, he rubbed his large hand across his chest then played with the
sparse, dark trail of hair down his sternum, plucking with his
thumb and forefinger. “You do this thing I really love.”

What was he talking about?

Her confusion must have shown on her face,
because he said, “You like to pluck my chest hair.”

“I do?” She hadn’t even realized she did
that.

He nodded. “I love it. After we have sex,
when you’re lying next to me, your fingers play over my chest.” He
brushed his fingers back and forth to illustrate. “And every so
often, you pull the hair. Not hard. You’re very gentle.” He tugged
at a couple of tufts then grew more serious as his hand trailed
south. “But what I really love . . ..” He untied the
drawstring on his pants then pushed the waist down to expose his
ruddy erection. “Is when you wrap your hand around my cock.” He
did, and seeing his fist engulf his girth made her draw in an
abrupt breath. “Your hand is smooth and gentle, yet firm.” He
stroked upward then back down. “And you never rush. You seem to
enjoy holding me right at the edge, keeping me balanced between
getting there and going over.” He stroked a few more times then let
go of himself without covering back up. “And . . . I
think that’s sixty seconds.”

Why did time fly when she was enjoying
watching him masturbate?

She reached behind her, snagged the first
card she found, then handed it to him. “Dare.”

“Mmm, a dare. You’ve been mostly about truth
until now.” He scanned the card.

“No risk, no reward, right?”

His hooded eyes met hers. “Now you’re getting
the hang of it.” He read her dare. “Slowly trace my lips with your
tongue.” He flipped the card away so that it lifted on an invisible
draft then tumbled and rolled to the opposite corner of the
bed.

He was still reclined and supported on his
arms, so she had to unwrap her legs from around his waist and shift
forward so she draped along his body. His erection rubbed against
the wisp of a thong that only just barely covered her privates.

“Like this?” She ran the tip of her tongue
along the seam of his mouth.

His lips parted as he moaned. “That’s
nice.”

Tracing around his mouth with tiny flicks, as
if she were teasing an ice cream cone, she ran from one side to the
other and back again. He rolled his head as she did, challenging
her to stay on course as he sought her tongue with his.

Giving him a playful swat, she nipped his
bottom lip. “Quit moving. I’m supposed to be the one licking you,
not the other way around. You’re just supposed to sit—”

She let out an abrupt, high-pitched moan—a
startled squeak, really—as he swallowed her words, blistering her
mouth with a searing kiss that curled her toes and made her roll
her hips involuntarily against his cock.

The game had taken a fiery turn. He pushed
forward and snared her in his arms, assaulting her mouth with his,
claiming her breath.

When he broke away a moment later and shoved
a card in her hand, snarling the word “dare” before attacking her
neck and shoulders with the same intensity as he’d taken her mouth,
she fought to focus. How did he expect her to read when he was
kissing her with such fervency?

“Using your mouth”—he was already using his
mouth to exceptional effect—“make your way from my wrist to my
ear.” She tossed the card over his shoulder as she dropped her head
back, opening her neck to him. “Take your time.”

He chuckled low and deep then dragged his
mouth between her breasts as he lifted her arm. His tongue leaped
from her sternum to her wrist and swirled a long, heated circle on
her tender skin, sending a ripple of pleasure up her arm.

This was her husband. She was making love to
her husband for the first time.

His lips blazed a trail up her arm, stopping
briefly in the crease of her elbow so he could stroke his tongue
side to side. Then he nipped his way along her upper arm, across
the slope of her shoulder, up the side of her neck, finally
reaching her ear, where the tip of his tongue circled all the way
around before he whispered, “I’m done playing.” He gently thrust
his hips between her legs.

She almost came on the spot, her whole body
shuddering. Licking her lips, she nodded, gripping him like he was
her life raft in the middle of the ocean. “Me, too.”

He rolled her to her back, rose to his knees,
gathered the cards in a haphazard pile, and dropped them to the
floor beside the bed. Then he pushed his pants down his thighs and
slowly peeled them off one leg at a time while she watched.

As always, the body that greeted her was
perfection. Strong, powerful, dominant.

Sinking on his haunches, he pushed against
her legs, raising her feet off the mattress so he could take hold
of them and lift them to his chest. He pressed her soles against
him, held them there, then let go as he leaned forward and seized
the thin straps of her G-string on either side of her hips.

Like a man opening a treasured gift, he
peeled the wisp of fabric away, exposing her, and dragged the
G-string up her thighs, over her knees, to her ankles, where he
wrapped the swatch of satin around her feet and caressed her ankles
with his free hand.

“Take that off.” He nodded toward her
negligee, his voice husky, gruff, and commanding.

He refused to release her feet, making it
harder for her to comply. As she wriggled out of the cotton and
lace babydoll, he began kissing her toes and the top of her foot,
burrowing his nose into the satin thong.

“You’re glistening.” His heady gaze drilled
her between the legs, and he released her feet so he could slide
his fingers between her labia.