Pretty and Reckless (13 page)

ELISE

 
He stared at me, our eye contact thickset, while he fought with his desire. He was battling with himself, deciding if I was worth the risk or not.

I pushed away any lingering doubts from my thoughts. I had my mind made up. I undisputedly wanted him and I didn’t care if he was out of bounds or forbidden.

I stood up on my tiptoes and grazed my lips against his. “This isn’t a good idea,” he muttered. I could feel the hard air of his breathing pushing along my lips.

“To hell with good ideas,” I whispered. He trembled when I slid a hand behind the back of his neck to hold him in place while moving my tongue along his lips, testing him to see how he’d react. A blitz of titillation flowed through me when his tongue slid into my mouth slowly. The taste of cinnamon and paint blended on my tongue.

A deep growl broke from his chest when I bit into his plump bottom lip, capturing it with my teeth. He deepened our kiss, his lips claiming mine like he’d always owned them. My veins pulsed, shooting all of my blood to the center of my thighs. His fingers curled around my waist, putting deep pressure into my sensitive skin while he slowly walked me backwards.

I grew wobbly, almost falling down on my ass, as he settled me down on top of the sheet. I struggled to pull myself up on my elbows to watch his every move when he moved away from me. He enveloped the paint cans and brushes in his arms and then dropped them down next to me.

“Now let’s not forget the task at hand,” he said in amusement, kneeling down at my side. “I told you that you’d be expressing yourself today and that’s what we’re going to do.”

My eyes turned wild, unable to focus on anything but him when his hand dipped underneath my t-shirt. I shivered against his palm, splayed out across my stomach and moving in circles.

My skin quivered, silently begging for more. The only way I was interested in expressing myself was with him inside of me.

“I think I like this form of expression,” I said, gasping when his strong hand palmed my breast. “But I think we need to dig a little deeper, get a little more personal.”

He bent forward to push my hair back and ran a finger along my cheek. I felt the weight of his body when he climbed over me, his eyes burning with dominance, and straddled my thighs. The hard bulge between his legs nudged against the exact place I needed it.

Then it hit me. He looked down at me when I frantically snatched his hand up. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked, scooting away from me, looking guilty. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry”
 

“No,” I said, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth. I didn’t want to him stop, I only needed to make one
minor
adjustment. “I need to be on top,” I told him, shamelessly. “I have to be on top, I don’t do the bottom.”

Never had I willingly allowed anyone to fuck me missionary, doggy style, or any other way. Call me boring, but the only way I took dick was how I wanted it: riding it. No Kama Sutra, no reverse cowgirl, just plain old dick riding was my specialty, and that wasn’t open for discussion. When I agreed to have sex, it was my choice to say how I wanted it.
 

He pulled out of my grasp, and paint spread through his curls when he ran his hands through them. “This isn’t going to happen. I won’t touch you anymore if you don’t trust me.”

I warred with myself, trying to muster up my best argument, but I couldn’t focus. I ached for his hands to be back on me, his skin on mine, and decided I needed that more than I needed to be in control.

I’d lose him if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. He’d stop right then if I didn’t validate how I felt for him. He wouldn’t go there with me until he knew I trusted him and didn’t see him as a product to make myself feel better. He wouldn’t let me use him like I had other guys.
 

“I trust you,” I said, pushing my hand down and placing a finger into the paint can. “I completely trust you,” I lied, running a streak of red paint down his arm.

“Thank God,” he growled, kissing me.

The only thing he wanted from me was the hardest for me to give. Fucking trust.

He hastily dragged my shirt over my head, my declaration empowering and exciting him more, and tossed it to the side. Next was my bra, disposed to the side along with my top. Butterflies swarmed through my stomach when I watched his hungry eyes fasten on my bare breasts. He used an elbow to spread my legs open and scooted closer between my thighs.

My back arched at the feeling of the cold liquid floating along my stomach and then circling around my breast. The brush tickled like tiny sparks crackling across my skin. The sound of my jeans unsnapping and our breathing were the only noise in the room. I hiked my ass up, assisting him in pulling off my jeans, and then kicked them off my heels.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, licking his lips. Then he went silent. He used his hands to express himself. His five fingers, like tiny weapons, generated everything he wanted to say. I waited, withering underneath him, while he created his masterpiece, my skin as his canvas, and awakened all of my senses simultaneously.

The bristles of the brush combined with the soft
touch
of his fingers set me ablaze.

The pungent
taste
of lacquer glaze on my tongue.

My heavy eyes
watching
him concentrate on my sprawled out body, like he was getting paid millions for his creation.

The heady
scent
of chemicals dragging through the air and engulfing my nostrils.

The
sound
of our low, steady breathing drawing in and out.

He worked meticulously, taking his time to focus on my most sensitive spots. “Can I kiss you here?” he asked, tossing the brush to the side, his cold hands roaming along my inner thighs.
 

“Yes, please,” I groaned out, pleading. “You can kiss me anywhere you’d like, but definitely there, yes.”

He looked up at me, grinning sheepishly, before lowering his head. I lifted myself up, watching him ease his hand underneath my panties and slide a finger through my warmth. I wanted him to lick me. I wanted his tongue in between my legs, lapping me up, and then I wanted him inside of me.

“Whoa, eager one,” he said, around a chuckle when I tilted my hips up to meet his touch. “Patience.” He took off his glasses and rested them at the top of his head.

“Fuck patience,” I muttered, pulling my panties down my legs hastily.

I let out a moan when he spread me wider. Liquid poured between my legs and I bucked forward when he came into direct contact with my slick folds. His breath caught in his throat, his face scrunching together, when he felt how soaked I was for him.

“I thought you were going to have your mouth there,” I said, my voice shaky.

“Lie back,” he whispered, a hand going to my chest and pushing me down. “I’m going to take care of you.” His fingers went to work between my legs, touching me everywhere but the place I wanted it most. The hand resting on my chest wrapped around my needy breasts and my back arched when he flicked a nipple.
 

“What the hell are you doing to me?”

“I’m going to make you feel good,” he told me, confident. “I’m going to make you feel more and cum harder than any of those men you use.”

I thrummed with pleasure when he drove a finger inside of me, using it to slowly tease me. Just a single finger –in and out, in and out- as he hit every nerve ending in his path. My body was completely receptive to his every touch. He added another tentative finger, pumping inside of me with the other, and my head fell back.
Shit, that felt amazing.

I yelped, my mouth flying open, at the brush of his tongue in between his fingers working me. He used his tongue and fingers in intervals, replacing one with the other over and over again.

“Keep doing that,” I gasped, moving my hips to meet his finger. I sighed at the loss of his touch, losing a finger one by one, until only his tongue coiled inside of me.

“I love the way you taste,” he said, his voice vibrating against my pussy, and a finger went to my clit. “So fucking good.”
 

I made noises in the back of my throat while he sucked me and licked me up. I whimpered when I lost the feel of him playing with my breasts, but grinned when he used it to lift my hips up closer to meet his mouth. I tried to hold back, wanting to turn my body down so this could last longer, but it was all too much. His tongue devouring me, his finger toying with my clit, and the look of his head completely shoved in between my legs. I snapped up when a thousand waves moved through me, hitting me in places I never knew possible.

“Holy fucking shit!” I yelled out, my head spinning when I let out my release. I gripped his hair, needing something to hold onto, while my body spiraled out of control.

His lips brushed up against each thigh before he lifted up to look at me. He grinned in triumph, licking his lips, and then sliding his finger covered with my juices between of them. “You, my dear, taste fucking fantastic,” he said. “Even better than I imagined.”

“You’ve imagined eating me out?” I asked, coming down from my high.

He laughed, shaking his head. “More times than you think, love.”

“Oh really?” I asked, raising a brow. “Do go on.”

“That will have to wait until I’m inside of you, taking you slowly, and whispering every fantasy I’ve ever had of you before I act them out.”

I gulped. “How about we do that now?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, you’re not ready.”
 

With that, he picked me up, and carried me down the stairs, landing us in the bathroom. He set me down on the toilet and turned on the shower. My jaw dropped when he stripped off his clothes. My eyes glued to him, ready for him to turn around and show me every inch of him, but he didn’t give me the time to stare. He swept me up and planted me in the shower while I frowned.

He stood behind me, scrubbing the paint off of my body, with the heat of the water rushing down onto us. It seemed so intimate.

“So how did I do in therapy today?” I asked him. “Did I express myself well?”

He chuckled, massaging manly scented shampoo into my hair. “You did amazing, you are phenomenal.”

I pulled away, turning around to face him, but he wouldn’t let me. I wanted to see him, to kiss him, to feel him, but he was holding back. I pushed my ass into him, deciding to play dirty, and moaned when I felt his hard cock rub against my ass.

“Nu uh, love,” he whispered into my ear, taking a step back and disrupting my seduction plan. “Today was about you, not me.”

 
“I showed you mine, it’s only fair I see yours,” I whined.

He let out a breath, rinsed my hair out, and then slowly turned me around. My stomach flipped and my nipples went erect as I took him in. His eyes glistened against the water while I looked at him in surprise and darted my eyes south before he had the chance to turn me around. His firm, muscular chest heaved in and out. He was fit, like really fucking fit, with muscles finely sculpted into his stomach. I tilted my head to the side, admiring him.

“Damn, why don’t you show yourself off more,” I asked, moving my eyes down to look at his firm cock. He was thick and perfect. I could feel myself growing wet just looking at it twitch underneath the water drops.

“Show myself off?” He asked, swiping away my wet hair from my face. “It’s not necessarily legal for me to run around with my cock out.”

“Well, it should be.”

“I don’t want to be known for my body. I want to be known for something more.”

“So do I,” I whispered.

His head cocked down to kiss my forehead. “You are.”

ELISE

“How many girls have you had sex with?” I asked, throwing up my arms for Weston to pull my shirt over my head after drying me off.

“I think that’s irrelevant,” he said, kissing me on the forehead and then reaching for his jeans.

“Not really,” I said, pulling back my wet hair, wrapping it up around my hand. “You know my sexual history, I think it’s only fair I know yours.”

“Five,” he answered, looking away from me while he pulled his jeans on.

“Five?” I asked, dropping my hair in shock. “That’s it? You’ve only had sex with five women and you’re how old?”
 

“Twenty-eight,” he replied, his voice muffled as he dragged his shirt over his head.

“Wow,” I said loudly, drawing the word out. “And I feel like a total whore.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, his eyebrows crushing together. He grabbed my hand, helping me to my feet, and smoothed down my hair.

“I’m eight years younger than you, and I’ve had four times as many sexual partners. If that’s not slutty, I don’t know what is. No wonder everyone thinks I’m a whore.”

I knew my number was pretty up there, but I didn’t think it was that out of the ordinary. Holly was close behind me, and I knew the men I’d been with were just as bad, if not worse. I wasn’t used to a man who didn’t whip his cock out to every willing pussy around.

“You’re not a slut. Don’t compare yourself to me. I’ve been in long-term relationships,” he said, attempting to make me feel better. “I’ve had plenty of sex, don’t get me wrong, but they were with girlfriends.”

 
Not with random people like I have.
“All of them? You’ve never cheated?” I asked, prying.

He looked me, insulted. “Never,” he said, harshly. “That’s not me. I don’t sleep around or do one-night stands. If I’m sleeping with someone, I’m committed to her. Remember that.”