Protect (26 page)

She put out a hand to stop him, reaching for
the hem of his shirt. With a smile he pulled it off himself, then
all she could do was stare. She mimicked what he’d done to her,
flattening her palm under his throat and then sliding it downward.
He breathed in with a hiss, which made his abs jump into view all
the more. When she stopped with a hand resting over the fly of his
jeans she looked up into his heated blue eyes and licked her
lips.

With both hands she did away with the belt
buckle, button and zipper. The jeans dropped and he was naked. One
hand closed around his erection and he grabbed both of her
elbows.

“Jesus,” he muttered. But he didn’t try to
stop her. His voice was coarse, and his whole torso was tense. She
was as much his undoing as he was hers.

Shaking free she reached behind to undo her
bra and let it drop. His hands were on her breasts before the bra
hit the floor but she slid down, out of reach. There was a noise of
frustration but she took him in her mouth and the noise
changed.

One hand and her mouth worked his cock, her
other hand sliding under to cup his sack and he made another
fantastic sound, his hips jerking as though out of his control. He
was trying to keep himself from mouth-fucking her.

She was smiling as he came, swallowing what
he gave her, then backing off and licking her bottom lip, wondering
what the fuck she’d just done.

He saw it on her face, and stooped to pull
her up by her arm. “Last time I was tested I was clean. And I
always wrap up, swear to God.”

She nodded, a little dazed, but when he
started kissing her again she went with it, melting into him again
and winding her arms around his shoulders, loving the sensation of
his skin on hers. He walked her back to her bed, and her knees hit
the edge before he gave her a little shove back. She hit the bed on
her ass and tried to scramble up but he grabbed her hips, again
with that smile. Then he was undoing her shorts, and she had to
plant her toes on the floor to lift her hips and help him get her
naked.

When he was on his knees in front of her she
realized what he was doing, and she knew she couldn’t say no. The
last time he’d gone down on her had been exquisite, her body would
not—could not—resist.

He didn’t wait for her to recline. He lifted
her legs up to his shoulders, then she fell back onto the bed with
a low moan because he was kissing and nibbling at her with his
lips, teasing her. Delicious torture.

“Fritter,” she gasped, squirming as his hands
had her hips pinned. “Please, you’re killing me.”

With a low chuckle that she felt throughout
all her erogenous zones he did as she begged, closing his mouth off
on her clit, suckling and licking at her with dangerous intensity.
With anyone else this would be too much, but with Mark Horton it
was absolutely perfect.

She enjoyed the build, the brain-scrambling
worry something would prevent her from reaching that peak, then the
breaking sensation of the orgasm washing through her, from the top
of her head to her toes. Her head wrenched back, jaw cracking as
her mouth was forced open in a silent cry.

With a few more long licks Fritter made her
wriggle more. “Please, stop.”

He looked up at her, the same one-sided smile
on his face. “You wanna stop already?”

She had to smile back. “That’s not what I
mean.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” The smile got a little
wider as he crawled up over her. Her skin warmed again from the way
his arm muscles bunched as he did it.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed, then
realized she’d actually said it out loud.

He froze, smile still in place. “What was
that?”

“Nothing.”

He poised himself over her, eyes on her face,
his grin far too smug. And attractive. “Did you mean that? Do you
think that?”

He was hard again. She could see it, licked
her lips at the sight of this strong, male body. “I do mean that,”
she admitted.

His eyes ran over her, and he licked his
lips, too. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled. “I don’t know
whether to lick you or fuck you.”

Her body wanted to be fucked, but the thought
of licking was nice, too.

“Fritter,” she pleaded again, reaching for
his shoulders.

He gave that same grin then backed off the
bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m getting a condom. Don’t worry,
babe.”

Babe
. She was too old to be called
that but she liked it coming from Fritter.

In a flash he was back, lowering his weight
onto her, pulling the bedspread down so they were in the sheets.
That was awfully considerate of him.

She wiggled around to help, but it only
served to rub her chest on his in a most distracting way. When the
blankets were no longer a concern he fell on her, kissing her again
and dropping into her hold. His cock was hot and so hard on her
leg, and he moved his hips back and forth, rubbing on her. She
moaned, trying to move him to where that rubbing would feel the
best, but he kept his hips firmly planted as they were. His hands
linked with hers, pulling her arms to the sides.

Then he slid down to pull a nipple into his
mouth, tonguing the tip while he sucked. Her head thrashed back and
forth. She fought against how her hands had been pinned, but he was
stronger and she was enjoying the torture far too much to make an
honest effort.

“Please, please,” she whimpered.

“Please what?”

“I need it.”

“Need what?” It gave her goose bumps—how
rough his voice sounded.

“I need you to ... make love to me.”

He froze again, eyes fixed on her face. Shit,
she blew it. Why did she ask that way?

“I mean, I need you to—” He cut her off by
kissing her again, dropping all of his weight onto her body. One
arm slid around under her back, creating an interesting angle as
his hips came forward into hers. He filled her fluidly,
completely.

She gasped into his mouth, but he was rearing
back and moving forward again, and she whimpered this time, but
still he didn’t move his mouth from hers. His tongue was in her
mouth, his cock filling her pussy, and every other part of her was
contained in and around him. What a fantastic trap.

The roughness he usually showed her was gone,
though. It was still
rough
, but how he had her held so
tightly meant they were closer. A knot of grasping, flexing,
sweating, skin and muscle. There were words but it was hard to tell
what they wanted to say to each other. Muttered nothings, sweet
sayings, dirty talk, all rolling around in between kisses and
whimpers and moans. It was all an erotic and thorough
conversation.

With the slower pace the build took much
longer, but she hadn’t been keeping track of time. The climax hit
her by surprise, spilling throughout her like a hot shock under her
skin. Her fingernails dug into his back where they’d happened to be
resting, her legs tightened around the backs of his thighs as she
trembled. And then she squeaked.

Sharon didn’t usually scream, or cry out,
with orgasm. The previous one had been an exception, but when it
was really good and she was incredibly relaxed she had been known
to squeak before. It had been years since it happened, but she
couldn’t hold back the sound—akin to a rubber chew toy—that tumbled
out of her throat. Luckily, she set Fritter off with her release
and he moaned along with her, body tightening as he planted himself
deep and held.

They were both coated in sweat. She could
feel her hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks, her neck.
Absently her hands trailed over his back, making long ovals on his
skin as they both caught their breath.

Every inch of her body was happy. Blissful.
And then he spoke.

“Did you ... was that a squeak? Or a
chirp?”

She immediately felt herself turn pink, and
she pushed at him. He rolled to the side, and when she risked
looking at him he was grinning. She had to cover her face. “Oh
God.”

“I’ve never heard a squeak before.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re my first squeaker.”

“Shut up!” she was laughing too, joining in
with his deep, warm belly laugh.

“That is so fucking cute.”

“Now I think you
wanna
get hit.”

“Sorry,” he said, which sounded like a lie.
He rolled to the edge of the bed and did away with the condom
before reaching for the edge of the top sheet. They got underneath
the cool cotton and settled on their sides, facing each other like
it was the next part of a script.

“Is it okay if I stay here for a bit?” he
asked.

“Sure.”

“Don’t want to be alone.”

She swallowed and reached out for his hand,
which he gave her. “Me neither.”

He was staring at their clasped palms,
obviously deep in thought. Before she could ask what was up he
spoke. “This is such bad news, isn’t it?”

Her smile felt sad to her. “Yeah. I think it
is.”

His first thought was that he’d had a
fantastic fucking sleep. His second was wonderment at how fucking
hard he was.

Fritter groaned, rolled to his back and gave
the old woody a good scratch. Then he realized he was not in his
dorm
or
his room at his mom’s place. The sheets were too
soft, and they smelled amazing.

Turning his head to the left he remembered
why everything smelled so good. It smelled like Sharon and sex and
laundry detergent. She was sleeping on her stomach, hugging her
pillow to the side of her head, facing away from him. The sheet was
resting at the small of her back, the swell of her ass making such
a fine shape under the cotton.

Knowing she had to be exhausted, he realized
he should really leave her the hell alone. But seeing her like that
caused his erection actual pain. It was her fault, really.

Carefully he rolled to his side and inched
closer to her until he was nearly pressed along the side of her
body. He leaned over, breathed deep. Damn, she always smelled so
good. Without any permission from him his hand settled itself on
the small of her back. It was so firm; there was no extra weight
here at all. The line of her spine was a pretty dip in the muscles
of her back, curving up at her shoulders, downward again at her
lower back, then it ended at her ass. Her perfect, delicious,
stunning ass.

He slid his hand lower, under the sheet, and
she squirmed. “Fritter,” she moaned, annoyed. It made him grin and
he leaned over to speak closer to her right ear.

“Did I wake you up?”

“You know you did.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” He pressed a kiss between her
shoulder blades. When she sighed he had to smile. He kissed her
again, lower on her back, and her hips rolled a bit. On the third
kiss she made a low moan. “Should I stop? You’d rather sleep?”

“I never said that.”

With a growl he flipped her over by the hips,
making her gasp and widen her eyes. But he was mostly interested in
the way her tits bounced before settling in place. He stooped over
her to kiss each one, taking extra care to reacquaint his tongue
with those pearly pink nipples. Her shoulders pressed back,
thrusting her flesh into him. He palmed one breast, teasing at the
nipple by playing his thumb back and forth softly. The other he
drew into his mouth, sucking while running his tongue over the tip
hard.

Her fingers pulled at his hair, the sharp
surges of pain making him rub his cock against her leg, but she
wasn’t going to hurry him up. When she started rocking her hips as
well he pressed a hand between her legs, making her gasp again.
God, he loved that sound from her.

With his middle finger he traced down her
slit, dipping inside long enough to wet his finger. Then he played
along her folds, ignoring her clit, while continuing his worship on
her breasts. She was moaning, whimpering, trying to trick his hand
by moving against what he was doing but he was focused enough not
to be fooled.

“Fuck,” she finally whispered, and he noticed
her face was flushed and she was glaring at him. “You’re an
asshole.”

That made him laugh, and he moved up to
quickly kiss her. Shit, he loved that she was letting him kiss her
now. But he kept it short, pulling back to watch her face as the
pad of his thumb pressed into her clit.

The way her neck arched was gorgeous, and she
did that silent open-mouth thing—something he now realized was
authentic to her. She wasn’t just trying to keep it down. A few
hard circles, her hips jerked, and he waited for it.

When the little “
Eep
!” came he had to
grin, softly stroking her clit to make sure she finished. When she
was done she grabbed his wrist to stop him, then opened one eye.
“Not a word,” she muttered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut up.”

“I really like that.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“That sounds is, though.”

“Shut up.”

He kissed her again, smiling when she moaned
and relaxed. “I gotta get a condom,” he whispered, brushing lips
over hers, running his hand up over her stomach and ribs. “Stay
right here.”

“Okay.”

Quick as a wink he was out of the bed,
digging in his kutte pocket for the strip of condoms he’d taken on
the run. With the supply tucked under the pillows, one snugly fit
in place, he climbed back under the sheets. She hadn’t moved, just
watched him the whole time, her face gradually losing her healthy
blush. But her eyes were hot as she took him in.

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her by the
hip to the center of the bed. She gave a grunt of protest that he
interrupted with his mouth. At the same time he wound his hands
into her warm hair, grabbing a fistful in each hand as her legs
pressed to his side. The best welcome there was.