Man Hungry (3 page)

“Have you?” Really? Did his voice have to crack?

“Yes. Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about? All
day? In the classroom?”

“What?” He jumped as her thumb made a foray over his tight
balls. He had to remind himself not to lean her back on the banquette and fuck
her right here in the bar.

“I’ve been thinking about sucking your cock.”

He moaned. That’s it. Just moaned. He was incapable of
anything more because her words stole his sanity and replaced it with delirious
visions of her mouth stretched around the head of his cock. And better yet, his
cock sliding deep into her throat. His cock erupting in her mouth and her
sucking every drop.

She licked her lips. His pulse roared; he fought back the
nearly overwhelming urge to come.

“Dear God, Jessica. We have to go.”

“I haven’t finished my beer.”

“Please. We have to go now.” He wanted to be alone with her.
And he wanted it now. Needed it.

She must have sensed it, tasted it, realized the depth of
his desperation because she nodded and collected her teeth from the table.

“You won’t be needing those,” he informed her.

She responded with a sly grin. “You never know, buster,” she
said and slipped them back in.

It was then he realized that perhaps he might be falling for
her, and falling hard.

And it didn’t even scare the shit out of him.

Chapter Four

The door to his apartment was barely closed when she fell to
her knees before him in the foyer and started fumbling with the snaps on his
jeans.

“Jessica!” He grabbed her hands, halting her onslaught.
“Sweetheart, we need to get you out of that outfit first.” Seriously. It was
kind of killing the mood.

She yanked out of his hold, released his cock and looked up
at him with a triumphant grin.

Oh. Thank God. She’d removed the teeth.

“You forget, Mr. Sweetwater. I am a man-hungry schoolmarm.”
She ogled his rod. “And I am hungry for man meat.”

She took him in her mouth then and sucked. And…dear God. He
collapsed against the door and let her have her way with him because, damn, the
girl had talent. She ran her tongue over his supersensitive head and suckled at
the little eye. The sensation of her tongue nudging at it made his knees weak.

He couldn’t help fisting her hair but she wouldn’t allow him
to direct her. This was her banquet and she was managing the feast.

And feast she did. Her mouth was hot and wet and tight as
she wedged his length between her lips. She sucked him in, all the way in, and
then sucked some more until the tightness, the tension became unbearable.

Somehow he managed to bear it.

When her fingers joined the action, he nearly cried out
loud. She stroked his most sensitive places, his ass, his balls, the tender
spot between them, all as she drew his cock into her mouth again and again.

Heat scudded through him, tightening the muscles of his
belly, his chest, his thighs, until he strained, quivering before her. He
fought against release because the torment of denial was so incredibly sweet.
But Jessica was relentless, her mouth a velvet cavern welcoming him and nursing
him and nuzzling him.

When a slender digit danced closer to his ass, he knew he
was a goner, and sure enough, as she eased it in, wiggling it a little just to
make him moan, he came.

Cum rushed from him in a hot stream, followed by another and
another aching, anguished jet. She took it all. Took it all and swallowed it,
milking him. Her satisfied moans urged even more of him.

When he was finished, he slipped down the wall to the floor
and pulled her into his arms.

Goddamn, she was good.

He wondered if he’d ever recover.

Something told him he wouldn’t.

While he recuperated, they lounged on the big leather sofa,
eating hot-fudge sundaes and watching a show about crazy pageant moms. She
curled up in his arms. He loved the warmth, the weight of her against his
chest.

It wasn’t long before his desire stirred again.

But she was wearing that
outfit
.

Slowly, surreptitiously, he began sliding the pencils from
her hair. Really. It was a wonder she hadn’t punctured him with one of them
earlier. They fell noiselessly onto the carpet. Then he released her hair from
that hideous bun. It took awhile because she’d been serious about keeping it in
place. In the end, she had to take over because he lost all patience with the
countless pins. The schoolmarm blouse came next. It had way too many buttons.
And once that was off, he stared at her and laughed.

Beneath the thick, ungainly material, she wore an
old-fashioned corset. Not a
hot
old-fashioned corset, like with satin
and ribbons and lace. This was an ugly creation designed to torment women and
irritate men.

He became frustrated with all the snaps and hooks and tried
to rip it from her body but it was far too sturdy for that. Yeah. She had to
take care of that monstrosity as well.

The prairie skirt was pretty easy to dispense with. He
laughed when he saw the bloomers she wore beneath.

“Seriously, Jess, where did you get these clothes?”

She grinned. “It’s amazing what you can find in the thrift
store.”

He knelt before her and tugged the bloomers off. “Did you
have to go back in time?”

“Just a little bit.”

And then all conversation about her sartorial style halted.
Because she was naked. And her hair was flowing and free. And her teeth were
normal size. And…she was exquisite.

Still on his knees, he took a moment and buried his head in
her lap, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

But she was restless. And demanding. And petulant. She plucked
at his shirt. “Off.”

He complied, removing the offending garment and tossing it
heedlessly across the room. He stared up at her. “You haven’t come yet.”

“Is that a complaint or a promise?”

“Both.” He insinuated himself between her legs and took her
nipple in his mouth. It was hard and fat and when he licked it, she squirmed,
rubbing her belly against his cock. He liked the way that felt so he did it
again. At the same time, he drew designs on her bare hip. That made her wiggle
and sigh as well.

He made his way to the other breast and tormented her there
for a while then licked and sucked and nipped his way down her abdomen to her
creamy belly. It quivered when he kissed her there, quivered and clenched. She
thrust her hips at him and he caught her gaze.

“What do you want, Jess?”

“Justin!”

“Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“Lick my pussy.” She spread her legs wider.

He pressed on her mound with the heel of his hand. Circled.
She moaned. “That’s not a very polite way to ask.”

She put out a lip. “Are you going to make me beg?”

He couldn’t hold back his grin. He circled again. “Oh yes.”
He stroked her pussy with his thumb. “Come on, Jess. You know you want it.”

Her breathing devolved to little pants. She twitched and she
tried to press against him. Mercilessly, he teased her. “‘Please’,” he
prompted. “It’s just a little word.”

He found her clit, that tight little nub, soaked in her
juices and he nearly lost his resolve. Somehow he managed to restrain himself.
He wanted to taste her, eat her, make her tremble and moan, but he wanted that
one little word more.

Finally, she broke. “Please! Please!”

He separated her folds with two thumbs and lapped at her,
just lapped, a soft, slick swipe and she came. Cried out and shivered and
shook.

He did not relent. He did not give her time to revel in the
rapture. He buried his face, his mouth, in her cunt and feasted. He licked her
clit and flicked it, he lapped at her, sucked that swollen flesh into his
mouth. Dipped deeper, nudging her with his nose and filling her cunt with his
tongue.

She tasted like ambrosia. Her cream was thick and slick. Her
cunt was awash in it. His fingers slipped in easily and filled her. She growled
and panted and clutched at his hair. He brought her to bliss again and again
until her voice was hoarse.

He would have kept going if her naughty little toe hadn’t
found the turgid length of his cock. That and the sultry look in her eyes
reminded him there were greater pleasures to be had.

He pulled her up off the couch and arranged her over the
coffee table, taking great delight in the sight of her ass, her cunt, displayed
for his review. Impatient, she wiggled her butt and glanced over her shoulder
at him.

“Come on, Justin,” she whispered. “Please.”

His mouth went dry. His cock and balls tightened and twitched.
“What do you want, Jess?” he rasped.

“Please fuck me—”

He was in her before she finished her plea. In her and deep
and God, it was good. He pulled out and thrust in again, fixated on the
delicious way her cunt sucked at his cock as he withdrew, and quivered around
him when he sank back in. She was so tight, so wet. Her internal muscles were
incredible, tugging at him, massaging him, setting up a resonance that shook
them both.

“Harder.”

“Yeah. You like it hard, don’t you?”

“Yes. Please. Harder. Ah! Ah! Ah!” She grunted with each
thrust and her grunts, her groans, became louder, more frantic as he increased
his pace.

He could swear he felt her womb, her core, when he shoved in
deep like that. And he wanted that. He wanted to come on the mouth of her womb,
drench her with his seed and mark her as his own.

Something feral and desperate rose within him. He desired
her, yes, but he wanted more than that. He wanted…everything.

He held her down, held her in place, dominating her, fucking
her, taking her. His cock was like a piston, sluicing in and out of her at a
manic pace. Her cries rose, her orgasm crested. He could feel it in her cunt,
the rising tension, the heat, the dribbling evidence of her passion as it
lubricated his path.

When she came, when the bliss took her, she tightened around
him with a blinding intensity. The exquisitely tight caress of her cunt milked
him.

And a burst of fireworks exploded in him as his cum surged
forth, desperate, burning for release. He shook, he lurched, he spasmed in
spurt after spurt after blissful spurt. Together they flew, soared, drowned in
ecstasy.

* * * * *

Jessica had no idea how she ended up in his bed. The
aftermath of that last orgasm—bent over the coffee table as he pounded into
her—had stolen her sanity. But here she was, cuddled around him, deep in his
blankets. Warmth suffused her.

His fingers drifted up and down her back. His breathing was
steady and punctuated with little grunting moans.

“That was amazing,” he murmured into her hair. He kissed her
brow.

“It was.” She nestled deeper. “What do you think of
schoolteachers now?”

His chuckle reverberated through her. “Pretty damn hot.”

She peeped up at him. “Even kindergarten teachers?”

“Especially those.”

“Well,” she sighed. “I guess my work here is done.” She made
to leave the bed but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not?”

“No. I may have need of you later.”

She laughed and drew little lemniscates on his broad chest.
His skin was like warm velvet. “I don’t see how.”

“What?”

“I don’t see how you could need me later. I drained you
dry.”

“I’ll refill. Trust me. Besides,” he tightened his arms, “I
want you to stay.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

She dropped her head back onto his chest, nibbling at her
smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that, missy. You just do that.”

She did.

Chapter Five

He woke her in the night with a soft caress, a whisper. She
came to consciousness aroused and ready and he didn’t make her wait. Without a
word, he levered over her and spread her legs with his knees and slipped in.

She groaned at the sensation, the delicious fullness, the
familiarity of his touch, his cock. She wrapped her legs around his waist and
moved with him, drawing him in, attempting to hold him there.

Before long, his thrusts became short and hard. He nestled
his nose in the crook of her neck, laving and nipping until she quaked. He
continued to feast on her there as he moved inside her, faster and faster, at
an ever more frantic pace. And then he swelled. His cock, already tight inside
her, became deliriously so and she came again, clasping him, squeezing him,
milking him.

His cum was hot. It jetted into her in sizzling streams. The
feel of it set her off yet again. And even after he pulled out, even after he
drew her against him and sighed, she continued to quake with delight. She fell
asleep before the bliss receded. Fell asleep in his arms.

* * * * *

When she roused again it was to the smell of bacon, which
was, all things considered, the best smell in the world. It took her a moment
to work out where she was—her brain was awfully fuzzy and she was in the grip
of a dream she just didn’t want to release. When she realized she was still
here, in Justin’s bed, a shudder skated through her. Okay. Through her cunt.

Somehow she’d come to equate him, this bed, with exquisite
pleasure.

She found a robe on a hook in his bathroom and wrapped it
around herself before padding into the living room. She stopped and stared at
the sight of him in the kitchen. Frying up bacon. Wearing an apron.

And she realized she was in trouble. Feelings like this
weren’t normal. Not after two dates.

You could call them dates, right?

He just looked so adorable. So domesticated.

It was horrifying.

He glanced up and shot her a grin. Twin shards of lust and
bone-deep fear slashed through her. How could a man look that amazing in the
morning? After keeping her up all night?

“Hey, babe. Want some coffee?” He didn’t wait for her
response. He poured her a cup in a Rangers mug and brought it to her. He kissed
her. A light “well, good morning, you” buss.

But it was wonderful. His scent, his warmth, the taste of
him, suffused her and brought back all the memories of the night before. And
the night before that. And all the sad empty nights he hadn’t been part of.

The dichotomy was stark.

“Do you take cream?”

“Huh?” God. He was talking.

“Cream?”

“No.” She shook her head, a slight twitch. She needed it
black. She needed her caffeine undiluted. She needed her sanity.

He chuckled and headed back to the frying pan, where the
bacon was starting to spit angrily. “Don’t tell me you’re not a morning
person.” He held up a rasher on a fork. “You do you eat breakfast, don’t you?”

“I love breakfast. But Justin…I have to go.”

He glanced up at her, a hint of unease in his eyes. “Go?” He
crunched on a slice of bacon and her mouth watered. She loved crunchy bacon.

“I have to work.”

He buttered a slice of toast and dropped it onto a plate
then added a couple rashers of bacon. He carried two plates to the table. The
smell of bacon, eggs and buttered toast made her stomach growl. “Work?”

“Yeah.” She hungrily eyed the plates.

He took his seat, spread a napkin over his lap then fixed
her with a steady look. “It’s Saturday, Jessica.”

“It is?” Holy moly. She’d completely forgotten.

“Have some breakfast. And then we’ll talk.”

Her stomach growled again and she couldn’t resist, realized
it was stupid to even try. Even though in her heart of hearts she was scared to
death—panicked by these feelings for him, these crazy, incomprehensible
feelings for a man she’d known two days—she was famished. And they did need to
talk.

And it was Saturday.

She settled into the chair opposite him and picked up her
fork. His eggs were perfect. Fluffy and exquisitely seasoned and buttery and…
Oh. And the bacon. Divine. She crunched into a piece of toast and moaned.

Nothing on earth tasted better than buttered toast. And he
had toasted it. Really toasted it. It was brown and crunchy and perfect. The
butter dribbled on her tongue. Some people just warmed bread and called it
toast, all limp and pallid and pasty. Those people should be locked up. That’s
what should happen to those people—

She froze as she realized her plate was empty. Heavens. She
must have wolfed it down. She glanced up at Justin to see him watching her with
a bemused expression.

“Hungry, were you?” He took a sip of his coffee. His plate,
she noticed, was half full.

“I-I yes.” She cleared her throat. “It was very good.”

“I’m glad you liked it. But Jessica, we have to talk.”

She made a face and put a hand on her belly. “I think I ate
too fast.”

He nibbled on his lower lip. As though he was trying very
hard not to laugh. “Yeah. I think you ate too fast too. But we need to talk.”

She glanced at his plate. “Aren’t you going to finish that?”

“Why?” He quirked a brow. “Did you want my breakfast as
well?”

The humor in his tone made her snort a laugh, made her
relax. A little. She sipped her coffee. Warmth cascaded through her. “So… What
would you like to talk about?”

“I think you know.”

She nodded. Stared at the dark swirls in her mug. “Us.”

“Yes.” He blew out a sigh. “Us.”

“We’ve only just met.”

“I know.”

“It’s crazy to—”

“I know. But Jess…” He mangled his napkin. “I can’t stand
the thought of anyone else touching you.”

Her heart hiccupped then leaped. “What?”

“I know. It’s nuts. But when I think about you dating anyone
else, I just want to do damage.”

“But we only just met.” A whisper. It was all she could
manage. Her pulse pounded at a dizzying pace.

“I know!” He raked his fingers through his hair and glared
at his eggs. “I know.”

“Well, maybe we should…explore this.”

He stilled. Looked up. “Maybe we should.”

“I don’t like the idea of anyone touching you either.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. Then a big one. “You
don’t?”

“No. And I’m not fond of bitch-slapping some poaching tramp
but I’ll do it if I have to.”

“So are you saying you would like to be…exclusive?”

Her breath hitched. Some hot lava found its way into her
bloodstream and warmed her to the core. That word from his lips… “Okay. We’ll
be exclusive. While we explore this.”

“While we explore this.” His expression changed then, from
one of profound satisfaction and relief to something dark and erotic. “There’s
something else we can explore.”

Her pulse thrummed in anticipation. “What?”

“There’s some hot fudge left in the fridge.” He glanced down
at his lap and waggled his eyebrows.

Jessica wrinkled her nose. “Oh, I couldn’t eat another
thing.”

But somehow she managed.