Must Love Curves (Six Wicked Shorts) (10 page)

“Invite me in, Amber.”

I answered with a whimper.

His lips found my throat. He sucked at the hollow harboring my pulse then licked a short line up to the lobe of my ear. “You can be more decisive than that, baby.”

Decisive was other people’s forte, not mine. My parents, Beau, Melinda…

His hand delved deeper into my bodice, parting the fabric of my bustier from my skin. Finding the nipple, he gave it a soft pinch as he bit lightly at my jaw. “Invite me in.”

“Would you like some tea?” My lips kept quivering even after I finished the query. My hips had started to move, my round bottom shifting against the seat cushion. Muscles pulled tighter, squeezing my labia together as his mouth moved back down my neck.

“Tea?” Amusement rippled through his voice.

“I don’t have any coffee…we could go get--”

“No,” he laughed and released my seat belt. “I can work with tea.”

Sam came around and opened my door for me, holding my hand for balance as I stepped from the car. He helped me open my front door, too, when my hands proved too shaky to thread the key into the lock.

I have a simple little house, mostly paid for. No garage, just a carport. A single bathroom and two bedrooms, one of which serves as my home office. The kitchen and living room are divided by a breakfast bar and overhead cabinet instead of a wall. No one walking inside would think I come from money. Same goes for Beau’s house. Our father doesn’t tolerate any slackers. We draw regular salaries, same as anyone else doing our job at the company, and most of our shares are held in trust until the day we take more senior positions.

Since there was no grand tour to give, I headed into the kitchen and started filling the kettle. I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling and the water splashed against the side of the sink. Sam came up behind me, put one arm around my waist and took the kettle away.

“Baby, I don’t think you’re safe in the kitchen right now.” He nuzzled my neck and then twirled me until I was pointed in the direction of the breakfast counter. “You park that sweet bottom on one of those stools and let me do this.”

Blushing madly, I obeyed. I directed him to the cupboard where the tea was at, then the one that held my grandmother’s serving set. In between his preparations, he watched me. Not quite a leer, his gaze was suggestive. Sexually Machiavellian if there is such a thing. He had me squirming in under a minute the way he used his eyes to caress my breasts, hips and legs.

“I’m starting to think you’re incorrigible, Samuel Pepin.”

“I can’t help it if I love looking at you, Hollywood.” His cheeks actually turned pink beneath his tan at the admission. “Makes me hungry watching your nipples pucker and that sweet, round ass wiggle as you wonder just what I’m going to do to you.”

I looked away, a shiver running through my body. I had been wondering if his hands would soon follow the path his eyes were taking, just how far he wanted to take things tonight and how far I would let him go.

Was it wrong to let him go all the way? Too soon? Would I ever see him again if I let him take my virginity tonight? Would I see him if I didn't?

Feeling his hand on my hip, I gave a little jump. I hadn’t sensed him crossing the room.

He turned my face so I was looking at him. “I’m not sure I like what you’re thinking, Hollywood.”

I stared down at the sliver of space between us. “What am I thinking?”

“Big questions is my guess.” He wrapped one of my naturally tight curls around the tip of his index finger. “Serious questions. You want to ask them out loud?”

I immediately shook my head. He didn’t need a front row view of my insecurities.

“Mmmm…Let’s start with the simple questions, then.” He arranged the curl he had toyed with behind my ear. His lips touched my cheek. “Do you want me to touch you?”

That was an easy
yes
, my reaction so prompt I felt his mouth spread in a smile against my skin. “Good, because--”

The kettle started whistling, drawing him away from me. I started to rise and follow him, but he gestured for me to go into the front room. I sat down on the couch, my legs tucked to the side. The skirt of my dress fell above my knee from the position. I went to adjust it and stopped.

Sam had already seen a lot more than my knee and it was just the two of us. I brought my knees a little higher up on the cushion and let the fabric of the skirt drape behind the back of my lower thigh. I studied the effect for a second then looked toward the kitchen area to see Sam lift the serving tray.

With his long, muscled legs, it didn’t take him very long to reach me. He placed the tray on the table. Lifting the lid from the sugar server, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Three cubes,” I answered.

He lowered three cubes into the cup and slowly stirred the tea, his gaze once again freely roaming my body. He landed, at last, on my exposed knee and a smile crept up the right side of his face. I immediately moved to lower the hem.

“No you don’t, Hollywood.” Placing the spoon on the tray, he brushed the hem of my dress a little higher up my thigh. Returning to my tea, he lifted the small cream jug.

“Just a tip,” I whispered, my throat suddenly dry.

He poured the cream in, gave the tea another stir then started to hand the cup to me. I reached for it, but he pulled back.

Sam looked at the shake still infecting my hands. “Can you promise me you’re not going to burn yourself?”

Closing my eyes, I tried to calm my nerves. It was ridiculous the way I was shaking. A trembling virgin -- so very cliché, but absolutely true. I opened my eyes again, touched by the genuine concern that shaped his face.

“I can’t promise.”

Putting the cup back on the tray, he nodded. “We’ll have tea later. Right now, it’s time for cream and cake.”

“Cake?” I wrinkled my brow at him. I was pretty sure I didn't have any in the house.

Another nod as he advanced on me. “Yes, baby. I love cake.”

His hands curled around my shoulders and exerted a gentle pressure, pushing me into the side pillows. When I was on my back, his hand wrapped around the calf of my inside leg and lifted it onto the couch as he slid onto his knees.

Pinching the hem of my dress, he slowly peeled it up the length of my thighs. “And, boy, do I love cream. Your cream, Amber.”

“I…we…uhm…” I tried to scoot up the couch, away from his fast descending lips.

“Remember, baby, simple stuff first.” His hands gripped my hips, stopping my retreat. “You want me to touch you.”

Yes, yes, yes!
I took a shuddering breath in. I wanted him to do what he’d done at the wellness center. I wanted him in me, too. I wanted him to hold me, take me. I wanted to hear the rough whisper of his voice as he came with me.

“I do.” I agreed.

His eyes closed, his expression serene as he brushed a bristly cheek against the inside of my thigh. When he looked back up, I felt the heat of his gaze searing me. He palmed my mound, gave it a few rhythmic squeezes and then he thumbed the gusset of my panties to the side.

I knew I already was very wet. My juices had been flowing most of the evening. All it took was the briefest caress or contemplative look from Sam and I got all moist.

Sam stood and reached his hands out to me. “Baby, I want you in your bed.”

Holding his hands for support, I rose. My legs were trembling now, the heels suddenly dangerous. He wrapped his arm around my waist, steadying me. It took a full minute to get down my short hall. He pushed me up against the wall at one point, his hands covering my breasts. He mashed them, mauled them, his mouth possessing mine as the hard line of his erection pressed against my stomach.

Still in the hall, he stripped my dress from me. Sinking to his knees again, he pulled the waist band of the panties down to the top of my thigh. He nosed the fur covering my sex and then his tongue pushed through the silky strands to run a line up my clit. He pulled the panties down slowly, a lick for each inch he lowered them. My hips took up a slow grind.

Sam had me step out of the panties and then part my legs. He spread my labia, his teeth grazing my clit before he stood up and led me the rest of the way into my bedroom with only the heels and bustier on me.

Pushing open the door, I groaned internally. The room was clearly no man’s land. I had the same canopied double bed I’d slept in as a little girl, moved and re-installed in my home by my brother and dad. A duvet my mother and I made together of white eyelet with pastel colored ribbons threaded through it covered the mattress. Lace fringed pillows rested against a headboard of pale tulipwood. More lace wrapped around the four posts that held the canopy up.

I lived in a Disney kind of bedroom -- guilty as charged.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

Maneuvering me toward the bed, he gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t be, baby.”

He placed me on my back, center of the mattress. He raised my hands above my head, crossing my arms at the wrists. “Close your eyes, Hollywood. And keep them closed.”

Aching for the site of him undressed, I shut my eyes reluctantly. I heard him moving around, heard the crisp fabric of his shirt as he stripped it away and the rustle of his dress slacks as he stepped from them. He returned to the bed, pulled my right leg toward the right edge of the mattress. Climbing onto the mattress, he pushed my other leg to the opposite edge.

His hands slipped beneath my bottom and pulled me about a foot down the mattress. My pumps still on, he lifted my legs again, hooking the heels on the top edge of the footboard.

Eyes shut, legs spread, my pelvis tilted up, I felt completely exposed but not the least bit vulnerable.

Sam decided to tease me to the point of near madness. His fingertips traced the inside of my legs from my ankles up to the split of my thighs and back down again. Then he stroked the line of my pussy before kneading its plump lips.

“Baby, you’re all wet.” He tugged at the lips, stretched them to let his thumbs massage the edges of my tight hole. “Bright pink and swollen.”

“You know at the center, your legs spread, I could see you were untouched.” He swirled the tip of his finger in my juices. I felt the whisper of the finger’s pad inside me. “What drove you to make an appointment with
Slow Hand Sam
?”

My lips pulled back in a grimace. I felt guilty for even having heard him called that, worse yet for contributing to the rumors he had to live with at work. I grimaced, too, because I felt like a freak. What twenty-six year old woman couldn’t orgasm on her own?

“I had never reached climax,” I confessed. “I tried, on my own…you know? But nothing.”

“I’ll help you learn to enjoy your own body, Amber.” He sealed the promise with a kiss against the inside of my left knee. “But first I want to make you come for me. And I want to come with you -- in you.”

“I want that, too.” I moaned in agreement. An unrelenting tension already possessed me, one that only Sam could erase. My bottom shifted against the mattress, sliding a little left, then to the right. “Can I open my eyes?”

“Not yet, baby.” His hair brushed my thigh as he lowered his mouth and covered my sex. He sucked at my clit, tugging and slurping at it like he hadn’t had a bite to eat in a week.

At the first lift of my hips, he broke contact, shushing and soothing me with his voice until I lowered my bottom back to the mattress. His big body must have been curled in a tight ball, as close as he was to the footboard, but he brought his mouth even with my throbbing circle of need. His tongue traced its edges and then I felt it flick inside me soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings as he tested my sensitivity.

Shuddering with need, I wrapped my hand around my opposite wrist to keep from reaching down and touching him. I was impatient, wanting to see him, wanting to come again, wanting to come with him.

Sam stopped and blew cold air against my hole. “Soon enough, baby. It's only your first time once and I want you drowning in pleasure when I enter you.”

He lipped the spine of my clit, gnawed lightly at its tip before sucking it into his mouth. With the pads of his thumbs, he smeared my juices down to that other hole, teasing its opening as his mouth worked the length of my clit.

The tension in my thighs set my lower body to vibrating as I urgently whispered his name. I could feel the swollen flesh of my labia pull up as the muscles deep inside me started to contract. “Sam…oh…”

He eased back, letting my bottom grind against the mattress as his palms caressed my thighs. Only when I quieted again, the threat of my release retreating, did he return to teasing my pussy. More little licks inside me, his tongue sweeping top to bottom. One hand rubbed along the spine of my sex, the pressure of his touch firm and full of promise.

He had me panting, my breasts rising and falling quickly as I fought to get enough air. Reaching up, he found the top edge of my bustier and tugged it down, freeing my breasts so he could pinch and pull at the nipples. Every inch of my body ached with the need to come.

Just when I thought the torture would go on forever, his mouth closed over my clit once more. His suckling alternated between fierce and gentle until it eased to a slow grind that had my hips dancing in circles. My stomach clenched and then every muscle I had squeezed tight. I bucked against him, my mound jerking violent as my climax whipped through my body. I cried out as another wave of released roared through me. My skin felt electric, almost painful but completely alive.