“It depends,” I sigh, eyes drooping as his fingertip strokes my swelling lips, dipping lightly into my passage. “Am I awake this time?”
His laughter shakes my whole body as his broad chest settles over mine. The crisp hair on his chest rubbed against my breast that he’d cajoled out of the shirt. “Yeah, little girl. You’re awake. And aware.”
“Are you … uh …” My eyelids fluttered closed. God, how could a fingertip feel so good? Just his fingers alone were better than the entire body of anyone I’d ever slept with.
“Yeah, baby?” His teeth were nibbling very delicately along the line of my collarbone. “What do you want to ask me?”
This time, my voice was small. “Are you gonna eat me?”
His laughter could be heard outside, in the meadow where the deer lifted their heads. “Only a snack every now and then. Just a sip,” Steve whispered into my ear. “I’ll never hurt you. But the way you taste…” His groan made me sigh, pushing my hips back against his.
God, he was so warm against me, cheeks flushed, skin ruddy. And those plump lips descended on mine again for a lingering moment before he pulled away, examining my face.
This time, I slid my fingers into his thick blond hair and pulled him back down, moaning against his mouth as his hands slid up my ribcage, taking his t-shirt with them. One, and then the other of my legs were thrown casually over his shoulders and I caught a glimpse of my calf - unmarred and perfect - before Steve's teeth, lips and tongue were playing with my suddenly and embarrassingly wet center.
I forgot to ask about my suddenly flawless leg when his thick fingers slid inside me, stroking over my passage, pressing and very gently scratching pressure points that made me gasp and grip his shoulders, nails unknowingly digging in as I tried to anchor myself. This was … real, right? I was awake and this beautiful man - V word - lumberjack - handyman - was suckling wickedly on my clit and it was making me wildly, terribly sensitive. But when I tried to edge away, a forearm, thick with muscle slammed down over my hips and held me in place.
“Ah, ah,” Steve chided, “you be good and still for me. I have work to do here.” I started laughing helplessly as his mouth fastened over my center again, his tongue slurping a long, shameless lick from my back to the front of me, then his entire mouth covering my pussy in a greedy, open-mouthed kiss.
It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for me to come, and he looked up with a wet beard and mischievous grin before sliding up and putting the head of that kind of alarmingly large cock between my legs. I arched my back, bringing my hand down to put him inside me. This earned me a brisk slap on my painfully sensitive clit and I yelped.
“No, no,” he chided, “bad girl. I’ll put it in when I decide you’re ready.” And his painfully good bumping and slipping and stroking with that thick shaft continued until I was boneless and moaning and covered in sweat and my own slick. And then he pushed up into me. “Such a good girl,” he rasped, hips moving slowly, first in a circular pattern and then shoving roughly, crudely along my wet, swollen channel. “Taking my cock so well, you’re so beautiful when you’re stuffed full of me.”
I made a high-pitched girlie noise that I knew would embarrass the hell out of me later when I remembered it. I put one of his big hands on my breast and slid the other tentatively to my throat.
“I don’t know what to ask for,” I gasped, “but I remember how it felt.”
His fingers tightened briefly on my neck, thumb stroking along my carotid artery, pulsing helplessly, eagerly along with the rest of me. His other hand went to cup my mound as his thrusts speeded up. His fingers spread, bracketing his cock and stroking me as he felt how he split me wide.
“You want this?” Steve grunted.
“I th-” I yelped at a particularly hard thrust. “Th- think so?”
Then I was coming and he was coming, flooding me with heat and wet, so I barely heard him whisper, “Just a taste.”
After he’d cleaned me up and made me drink a bottle of water and then some tea, my lumberjack, handyman, not handyman, vam… I justcouldn’tsay it - slid back in bed with me, rolling me onto his ridiculously broad chest. Running the back of his hand over my cheek, Steve smiled down at me, a kind smile. "What kind of books do you write?"
He seemed a little surprised at my slightly hysterical giggle until I answered him.
"Murder mysteries."
He howled over that revelation, and after a moment I joined him, laughing until I was weak and sleepy again.
“Rest, baby. I got you…” was the last, lovely thing I heard.
Chapter 8: Revelations
In which not everyone gets a happy ending.
“WHERE IS SHE!?”
I could hear James’ anxious voice bellowing through Steve’s open living area and chuckled. Yep. There was my agent. I heard his steps pelting up the stairway.
“Aura!”
“Hey, James.” He plopped himself on the side of the bed, grabbing my hand. He was still stupidly handsome, blue eyes wide and a fashionable stubble decorating his face. And he was still wearing an impeccable Tom Ford suit.
“I got on the first flight out of Seattle- god, I am so sorry this happened to you, honey. I never....“ James shook his head, struggling for his next words.
