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Authors: Linden Hughes

Tags: #Multicultural; Contemporary

Taste of Lacey (9 page)

BOOK: Taste of Lacey
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“What? Don’t look so surprised. You know how much I want you,” he whispered and aligned her center to his. “Even now you’ve got me so fucking hard I can’t see straight.”

He shifted them to the darkest corner of the room, and there, they gave up all pretense of dancing. After steadying her against the wall, he stepped between her legs, and before she could catch her breath, he cupped her breasts until they filled his palms. She whimpered when he scraped her pebbled nipples with his thumbnails.

“I hated this shelf-bra thing earlier tonight.” He plucked her bead-tipped breasts. “But now I think it’s my friend. I dream of these every night. Their size. Their shape. Their color. God, their taste,” he said as he massaged the sides of her aroused globes. “They’re so sweet I could suck them for hours.”

He had to know what he was doing to her. He was a puppeteer, and she was his marionette showing no signs of life until he manipulated the strings. This feeling of being consumed might be something other women embraced, but it downright terrified Lacey.

She was a college-educated, independent business owner whose every move was based on planning and logic. Yet once again she was grinding against Rye in public like she had no pride. She couldn’t deny this man anything. Did he know how easily he could make a fool of her? Was he this masterful and intense with all his women? Was she one of many? On some level she knew these questions were important but strangely, she didn’t care. If he wanted her pussy right where they stood, without a doubt she would give it to him—audience and all.

“Rye,” she moaned and held on to his corded biceps for support. “Sometimes I don’t know how to handle what you do to me. It’s overwhelming, out of control.”

He gripped her waist and lifted her off the floor so the apex of her thighs rested on his throbbing hardness. In a bold move, he thrust forward, sending her desire soaring when he pressed against her aching clit. “Out of control? Could you take me hard and deep right now? Could you, Lacey?” The question came out more like a demand.

She nodded.

“Fuck.” Slowly, gently, he let her slide back down until her feet touched the floor again. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They gathered her belongings and then approached the hotel lobby. She thought they would exit through the valet station, but his grip tightened around her waist, and he guided her toward the bank of elevators instead. Once inside, Rye used his key card and then selected the penthouse button. The quiet car ascended to the forty-eighth floor. Her jaw dropped when they entered a beautiful suite.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” she murmured as she took in their surroundings. A sitting area with a sofa and two armchairs was all she saw before Rye picked her up and pinned her to the door with his chest. His firm, chiseled bare chest. It seemed while she’d been admiring the suite, he’d shed everything except his pants. They were unbuttoned and unzipped, and his shoes were off. She managed to chuckle through her desire. “Anxious much?”

He narrowed his eyes and lowered his head toward her. He didn’t kiss her mouth as she expected but flicked his tongue across her shoulder. She trembled, and her nipples hardened. He paved a hot trail along her collarbone, held her hips, and rotated his cock against her soft center.

“You’re lucky we made it this far. I would have fucked you in the elevator.”

She would have let him.

Chapter Eight

Rye couldn’t suppress a growl as he pulled the sexy top of Lacey’s dress down to her waist, baring the luscious mounds he desperately needed to see and touch. It was amazing just how easy it was to get to them with the flimsy support system.

“From this day forward, you are not allowed to wear one of these again unless you’re with me. Understood?”

She nodded.

“I’ve wanted to taste these since I first saw you this evening,” he muttered before opening wide and fitting as much of her as he could into his mouth. He feasted on her ripe curves because he was starved, and they alone could provide him sustenance. He lifted until only the thimble-shaped tip rested between his lips; then he licked a path around the beaded areola. Over and over he circled with tongue, his greed knowing no bounds. Her fingers gripped his scalp, and she ground her pelvis against his cock.
. She was getting just where he needed her to be.

Determined to heighten her arousal even further, he pushed her breasts together and the hard nubs almost touched. Knowing how sensitive her tits were, he split his time between the two, licking and sucking, rejoicing in her whimpered, unintelligible words. God, he loved those noises: delicate and soft but for sure expressing she liked his mouth on her.

“Are you wet for me?” he whispered as he worked her bodice down and then over her hips, admiring her smooth brown skin as it was revealed. He propped her against the door and sank to his knees, putting himself at eye level with the prize he’d been seeking: her sweet pussy. One glimpse at her thong-covered mound made him shake like a schoolboy. His mouth watered, desperate for a taste of her. How did she manage to turn him into this quivering inferno time and time again? And how could cotton underwear be so fucking sexy?

“Baby, you’re killing me,” he said before nudging her drenched thong to the side to expose the trimmed piece of heaven that had him not seeing his parents, not wanting to hang with his buddies, upgrading to a more comfortable vehicle, and hell, buying a waterfront lot. Most of all, this pussy made him not want any other pussy. Lacey had fucking kryptonite between her legs, and he was powerless to resist it. He didn’t want to resist it.

He used his thumbs to part the plump flesh covering her most intimate secrets. When her clit came into view, he could not catch his breath. Instead of latching on to the bud like he wanted to, he turned his mouth and sucked the soft skin of her inner right thigh hard enough to leave a mark. As expected, she bucked and screamed her frustration.

“Rye, touch me there,” she whispered, rolling her hips.

He intended to put his mouth on the epicenter of her pleasure, to pull and suck until she came, but he wanted her begging for cock first. For
cock. His desire was raging, and he needed her with him every step of the way. Not giving in to his need to taste her just yet, he applied a hard suction to the left thigh while he massaged her nether lips with his thumbs.

“Rye,” she protested, twisting and pushing her sex toward his face.

“What is it, baby?” He lifted his head to look at her.

“Do it,” she seethed over her heaving breasts.

“Do what? What do you need, Lacey?”

“You. To lick my clit. Make me come,” she said in a brash, broken voice, one he’d never heard before. It made his cock harder and slicker.

He took his time and spread her swollen labia apart. Once she was wide open, he made a shallow foray into her opening with the tip of his tongue. He continued his exploration by lapping against her clit as ordered. His reward was a shock of pleasure-pain of her squeezing his ears with her palms. She wouldn’t be still, rolling her hips as she scored her nails against his scalp while he gorged on her pussy. When he wrapped his tongue around the bud in quick, tight circles, she started sliding down, but he held her fast. Nothing was going to keep him away from her clit. He latched on and sucked. And sucked some more. Her shouts of ecstasy were almost deafening, but he didn’t stop. He was determined to take her to another level, so he speared his tongue not directly on her nubbin but into her vaginal opening, fucking her just as sure as his cock would.

“Yes,” she screamed. Then her entire body jerked with harsh pants as she informed him she was coming again. “Stop. Stop, please,” she cried, as if overwhelmed by achieving the very results she’d demanded.

His hands weren’t too steady, but he managed to carry her to the king-size bed. He stripped off his pants, and because he fucking had to, he put on a condom. Then he pulled her bottom to the edge of the high bed.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

She obeyed. Immediately he sank his aching manhood into her molten tunnel. “Ah,
.” He gritted his teeth as relief enveloped him, pushing him toward the precipice. She looked so sexy accepting his cock, licking her lips like she wanted him in her mouth too.

Seeing his woman in the throes of passion was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and swirled his hips harder, faster. It felt so good. Lacey supported herself with her elbows on the bed as he bent his knees for more leverage to travel as high as he could get inside her. No way could he temper his movements, so he let go, and she moaned his name in a low, raspy plea every time he hit her sweet spot.

At one point he was so deep he smoothed his fingers over her stomach to see if he could feel his cockhead there, physical impossibility or not. If he couldn’t, it wasn’t for lack of trying. A rush of sensation started in his tingling sac. He looked at his woman as he fucked her hard. Lacey’s glassy browns were at half-mast, her look one of wonder as she stared back at him. Since the floodgates were about to open anyway, he lowered his gaze to land on her chest and almost lost it when he saw her full, firm tits jump and shake with each desperate thrust of his cock.

“Baby,” he moaned and gathered speed mesmerized as her breasts bounced higher. Her nipples were hard and pointy, as if begging him to wrap his tongue around them, but he knew he couldn’t. Sucking those pointy morsels would end him, and he wanted to stay in the suspended state of euphoria forever. Now the tingling was at the base of his rod. Shit, he was about to come, so he allowed his eyes to shift to where they joined together. The visual feast of her juices coating his aching dick with every stroke was too much to withstand. He came, catapulted to nirvana as his orgasm went on and on, aided by the massaging action of her inner muscles milking him, draining him dry. Owning him.

* * * *

Lacey woke up freezing. Rye’s hot-natured self always set the thermostat to icicles-hanging-off-the-ass degrees, but she didn’t mind because she loved when he wrapped his furnace of a body around her, keeping her warm. Somehow she’d gotten away from him with no cover. She started to burrow against his side but hesitated when she felt the stickiness between her legs. She couldn’t blame her situation on Rye, because he’d used a condom. This was all her. Grimacing, she dragged to the bathroom, her muscles groaning and protesting with every step. Rye usually took care of the cleanup, but he’d fallen asleep immediately after disposing of the condom. Poor baby. He had to be exhausted after working so hard.

She pulled down a plush robe from the bathroom closet and slipped it around her shoulders. Their last go-round was so fierce she’d be walking bowlegged for a week—not that she was complaining; she’d loved every single second. Now she needed some air, some time to think without Rye’s long, hard body as a distraction. She stepped through the French doors onto the balcony overlooking Atlanta’s skyline.

The moon was bright, and it seemed she could see the entire city. Muted traffic sounds drifted from way below, but otherwise their oasis was peaceful and calm. The air was thinner this high, and it must contain some kind of truth serum, because there was a new realization floating in her head: she was in love with Rye.

“Damn it,” she groaned and swept her hands over her face. What had she gotten herself into? This had not been her plan at all, and she didn’t know how to undo it. Or if she wanted to.

They were just supposed to be having fun, enjoying the sex without the added pressure of a full-fledged relationship. It was ideal because they knew each other already and didn’t have to go through an awkward girl-meeting-boy phase. No pretense. When it ended, they would to go back to being friends, and all would be well.

But she hadn’t expected to miss him so much when he was gone, nor the thrill she experienced when he returned. She couldn’t have predicted how she would react to his hanging a keyboard on her mudroom wall to organize her multitude of keys after seeing the pitiful tray she kept them in.

The simple act of him rubbing her feet after she’d stood on them for hours at an event was sweetness epitomized. Then there was the time he picked up her five-year-old Volvo and returned it with four new tires because he wasn’t happy with their tread. And how many times had he helped out at Thymes’s functions? He was a working executive at one of the largest engineering, architectural, and consulting firms in the country, yet he never thought twice about rolling up his sleeves and loading dirty serving platters into her work van.

In addition to making her love him for his thoughtfulness, she was also “dicknotized.” For goodness sake, she had been pressed up against a hotel door, legs wide open, yelping like an operatic soprano while he ate her out. Granted, she’d come like a freight train, but how much lower could she sink? Anybody could have passed by and heard her as names had definitely been called. She had turned into a sex fiend for no one but him.

His takeover had not come in an underhanded manner; his approach was bold and to the point. It started their first night together when he made good on his promise of fucking her until she couldn’t walk. When she’d gotten out of bed the next morning, her legs had felt like rubber bands, every muscle in her body useless. For the first time ever, she had called in sick to her own company. Here she was months later, once again reeling after a night of hot sex, scared out of her mind.

She didn’t exactly know how she was going to regain control of the situation, but she had to do something soon. There is no way she’d be reduced to the antics of previous women who’d darkened Rye’s bedroom door. She used to shake her head in wonder at the poor, pitiful women she’d witnessed act a fool over him; now she empathized with them. She knew the care he took to make sure she was satisfied before seeking his own pleasure. She knew the power of his arms—how strong they were, how protected they made her feel. How was she going to walk away and still be intact?

She didn’t have a clue. However, she knew her traitorous body would always respond to him. As soon as he was ready, she’d be with him again. And again. Right on cue, the balcony doors opened, and she heard his bare feet on the smooth tile.

BOOK: Taste of Lacey
2.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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